A Girl Like Me

 

A girl like me never gets flowers.

A girl like me is always called sexy or hot.

A girl like me is never told she is beautiful.

A girl like me gets sent dick pics and not kind words.

A girl like me never gets asked out to dinner.

Guys only want to fuck a girl like me.  A girl like me never gets to have a relationship.  

Guys don't love a girl like me.

A girl like me starts to doubt our self worth.

A girl like me doesn't feel like they are loveable.

A girl like me feels used and tossed away like a used tissue.

A girl like me cries themselves to sleep because they wish they had someone to hold them.

A girl like me deserves better.  A girl like me deserves 100%.

A girl like me wishes that I wasn't a girl like me.

Losing My Religion

I just took the dog out to pee and the night air was so mild.  I looked up into the night and found myself praying to God.

This might seem sort of normal to most (or not) but for me it was profound.

I've been an atheist for years.  I had lost my faith.  After so many hurts and scars, I lost my trust in so many, even God.  I suppose many could judge me and wonder how I could turn my back to God.  When prayers went unanswered and a pastor and congregation failed to be an instrument of support in my most desperate time of need, it was easy to let go of my faith.

I don't talk about the bad things.  They still linger in the background, more as a reminder of how strong I can be.  The best way to heal to to acknowledge the past but look to the future.

I think the most profound aspect of healing was my decision to move back home.  

Back to where I was before I was broken.

Catching myself praying for strength during this time caused tears because I knew that my healing process is working.  I am letting people in.  I tell people that I love them and that they matter to me.  Opening up my heart to accept love in is all part of it.

Tears fell and I was thankful that I am able to forgive God for some of the heavier wrongs in my life.  I think I am seeing them more as scars, not fully healed but still able to see the wound and remember that it didn't kill me.

I am not fully healed, hell, I may never be.  

But I have begun to forgive myself, those who have hurt me and most importantly....

forgive God.

Amen

The Guarded Heart

I’ve been fighting demons again.

The struggle becomes so difficult that I’m my own enemy.  My mind becomes a weapon against me.

My walls are so damn high and I am just lost.

I need to get back into therapy before it becomes too late.

I used to love so easily and freely. I gave myself to those who didn’t deserve it, sacrificing myself in the process.

Lately I don’t even recognize myself.

I feel so unloved and unwanted, not only by others but even I don’t even want me.  I feel so unloved and closed.  I hurt.

A lot.

I don’t know what to do.

I sit in my solitude.  It is so quiet but at the same time I hear my mind just screaming.  I wish it would just stop.

The lies.  I know my mind is lying but sometimes is just easier to just accept the fact that I’m not worthy of a life of love and laughter.  I’m not worthy of someone’s time.  I’ve become an afterthought or even just a booty call and that’s all I deserve.

My mind is a liar and I just accept it.

I don’t know how to ask for help.

Tears stream down my face as I type this.

Every day I just feel more broken.

Obviously....

She loves you, ya know.

Can't you feel it when she kisses you?

She will never tell you though.

Can you see it in her eyes when she looks at you?

She will never share it with you.

Can you feel her heart beating faster when you take her in your arms?

She can never let her feelings slip out.

She sometimes watches you sleep, breathing your breath.  She lays on your chest just willing you to understand.

She shares your laughter.

She frees her time.

She loves you, ya know.

She keeps it to herself.

She was hurt once...

Badly...

She sometimes wishes she could tell you.  That part she keeps hidden.  

She treasures your smile, the one you show her.  She listens to your voice, it calms her.  She looks at your hands as they hold hers.

The taste of you, the smell of you, the sight of you....

Feels like home.

She loves you, ya know.

Obviously 

But she will never tell you.

Inside My Hurt Locker

"You eat too much."

There's a statement, huh?

Funny how such simple words can cut deep and scar long.  

I heard the words a few days ago.  In fact, my own dad said them to me.  

I still have tears just typing them.

I was excited and was looking so forward to his visit. I don't see family much and I've been working long, crazy hours.  

The visit didn't go as I had hoped or expected.

It was almost as if I was back in my childhood. A very unhappy time with two parents who fought often and harshly.  Sometimes their anger towards each other spilled over onto us kids.  In fact, I often think of my childhood as being inside of my own hurt locker.  

I grew into an adult who craves to be loved and cared for.  I grew into an adult who's unable to make a decision because she was never given the confidence.  I grew into an adult who looks in the mirror and sees her long hair making her face look fat.

I know as a reader you might be thinking that my parents were horrible people but they really weren't. Looking back, I can understand their adult lives and emotions.  Perhaps they parented the best they could.  But even with understanding, it doesn't keep my child-self from hurting.

I do catch myself wishing that I had a different childhood.  One where parents hug you and tell you that they are proud of you.  One where mom and dad hug each other and speak to each other in normal tones.  

Perhaps my dad didn't mean his words to be as hurtful as they were received.  

As a parent, I don't ever say anything to my kids that cause them to second guess who they are.  I tell them that they can choose to do or be anything that they want to be.  I never make them feel stupid for trying to help with a project.

I hope my children never have to feel like they have a hurt locker.  

I Don't Love You

Those were such harsh words.

"I don't love you."

These were spoken by a guy I was dating.  I was really into him.  I enjoyed every part of being with him.  He made me feel alive.

Well....until he said that.

And those words constantly haunt me.

They were said a couple of years ago.  They appear in my dreams.  The appear in my quiet moments.  They appear when I least expect it.

The memory of those words is as haunting as any ghost.  They torment.  They hurt.

I often find myself wondering why I am not lovable.  Why would he say something like that?  Why am I so alone all the time?

When I look back to my past relationships I remember the ones who cheated, the one who disappeared, the one who gave up.  I think about why am I attracted to these men who don't respect a relationship and honor a commitment.

The only thing in common is me.  I must have the problem some how.  

I have been to counseling.  We discuss the fact that I feel so unlovable.  We relate it to my relationship with my mother and why I never felt really loved and most likely cannot have a normal relationship until I love myself.  Blah Blah Blah

I get that.

But still...

Words can be so hurtful.

Lately I feel so closed off and almost like a dog licking it's wounds.  I roll into a ball and just cry sometimes.

I should be good enough to receive love and respect but I just don't know how or where to start to find it.  I feel so dysfunctional.

And I'm angry.

I wish I knew how to fix it.  I wish I knew how to trust someone not to leave me.  I just wish I didn't have to be so alone all of the time.

Anonymity is a Voice of Cowards

Today was a trying day to say the least.

I have been having weird issues with headaches, dizzy spells, metal taste in my mouth, losing hair and abdominal pain.  I saw the doctor today to rule out some things but nothing really got ruled out.  I just have to see a different doctor on May 9th.  I won't say too much about what is going on since I don't have the answers yet.

I can deal with it.  Even though I am worried, I can deal with it.

She did discover that I have a sinus infection...still.  I thought it was cleared up but apparently is it really good at trickery.  So I have some huge horse pills to take.

Isn't that great?

So let's get to the point of this blog entry....

I come home from the doctor to find a letter in my mailbox.  There was no return address and no signature on the letter.

The letter is anonymous.

It goes on to tell me that I need to make the decision to be happy. Apparently, I am not happy and this person gathers this from whatever I post on facebook.

Yeah, facebook drama....

I hate facebook but then again I can't turn away from it.  Isn't that weird.  I suppose that many people have this issue.

Moving on...

the writer of this letter also tells me to move on and to get over it.  I guess I am angry all the time too.  

hrrmmm

The writer of the letter talks about my mother and what she did to me. (look up narcissistic mothers and the damage that they do...just look).  I'm not letting that go, not yet.  My therapist said that it is ok for me to be angry about it.  I am allowed to be pissed off and bitter and have negative feelings.  There is some serious damage done and I am NOT letting that go.  If that bothers you, then too bad.  Too fucking bad....

I guess the writer says that I am passing this anger on to my children.  Um, I don't think so.  I have done a lot of work to not be the kind of mother I had.  I allow them to follow their dreams and do what they love.  I support them emotionally.  I tell them every day that I love them.  And if that is passing my anger on to them, then so what.

The writer also used the phrase "be happy" so many times, I wanted to vomit.  Choose to be happy, just be happy, in fact....be happy were the last two words on the letter.  Really?  Just be happy?  Is that all it takes?  This person must be on some sort of medication or doesn't really understand depression.  

If I don't make the choice to be happy then I guess I prefer to live my life in misery.  Yep, that is what it says.  Sounds like this person doesn't know diddly about me at all.  

Also, the writer stated that my mother, me and my daughter are angry, bitter, drama queens.  

Pfft....whatever.....

Oh and the very best part....wait for it.....

Wait

For

It

The writer says that I suck the good, the positive, and the happiness out of people because of my choices.

Yep....that right there just pissed me off.

So many people enjoy my company.  They enjoy my conversation and my humor.  I have an ability to take whatever stressful situation and put a funny spin on it.  The doctor's office today was a great example.  I can make my broken ovaries a very funny discussion.

If anything sucks, it has been numerous people and what they have done to me.  I have been taken advantage of so many times.  I guess that has been my choice in the past.  I chose these people to be around and they sucked me out of my happiness.  So, I no longer really talk to those people anymore.

The letter goes on the say that my father and my exes help me out and I have a nice place to live and blah blah fucking blah....and I should be grateful for it.  I am grateful, really.  All three of them really caused a lot of hurt in the past and I got over it and moved on.  I forgave the cheater, the pansy and the leaver (I won't say who is who, just that all three of them left me and left me wounded.)  I am grateful for my ability to forgive and my ability to ask for help.  I am grateful that I can look past the past hurts and allow these three people to be a part of my life.

How's that for being grateful?

Therapy has been a very positive choice that I have made.

I have become so much stronger.  I have realized that I am entitled to be angry and pissed off.  I allowed to have feelings.  I am also able to look in the mirror and see what a beautiful person I am despite all the negativity I have dealt with.

Apparently, what I write on the interwebs is always up for criticism.  I never minded that.  I don't really ever give two shits what anyone thinks.  I am who I am.  I am not here to impress anyone.  I never cared about stuff like that.  If you don't like me or what I say, that isn't my problem...it's yours.


This person could have sent me a nice card.  Maybe something to cheer me up, you know, a card with puppies or kittens on it.  They could have told me how pretty I am or how wonderful my kids are.  Hell, they could have not bothered to send anything at all and kept their freaking stupid opinions to themselves.  Now there's an idea.

So whoever wrote this letter and took the time to mail it, is a fucking coward.  This person think they know me and all my crosses, all my hurts, all my smiles, all my thoughts and feelings.

They don't.

They suck at anonymity.  

I know exactly who they are; a cruel, ugly, mean, horrible, stupid, heartless, little person.

and that made me happy to write that.  :-)