Little Girl Lost

 

I am often asked why I am still single.  I'm told that I am smart, funny, beautiful, fun, etc.  It is hard to explain to someone who asks why.  I know why.

I hesitate to write this as it may seem that I hate my family or others but it isn't true.  I love everyone.  (Well, not that crazy bitch...some of you know who I mean.)

In all seriousness, no one is really at fault for how I feel.  We cannot change the past but we can have an understanding of how things were and how we now deal with feelings and situations.

And with that being said....

I've been in therapy for awhile before I had a full understanding of why I choose men who abandoned me.  My therapist was very good at asking the right questions and interpreting my answers in order to help me stop the cycle.

After my last break up I was deeply hurt.  I thought everything was good and never thought that he would do what he did to me.  But he did.

I sought out help.

What I learned is why I am still single.

My choices in relationships all stemmed from my relationship with my parents.  I had learned that my mother was extremely narcissistic and controlling.  I was conditioned to understand that receiving her love was more like a transaction.  If I didn't conform to her wishes, her love was taken from me.  I saw her do it repeatedly to others and my biggest fear was losing her love for me.  

It was such a fucked up way to grow up.  I thought that if I was a certain way, I would be loved, not just by my mom, but by everyone.

I had met my aunt and uncle for lunch once and my aunt told my kids that I was such a loving child.  Every time that they would come to visit, I would run to them for hugs and kisses.  Tears stung my eyes.  Thinking back to those times I realized that I was such a love starved child, I just wanted to be hugged and feel unconditional love from someone.

I never was hugged by my mother.  Her hugs were always cheek to cheek.  I never heard praise.  It was usually a comment that "you could have done better" or she would make it a point to tell me that she always did it better.  

At the time I never thought it was a wrong way to be loved.  For me, it was normal.

When I became the age for dating and boyfriends, it became a nightmare.

I was in the mindset that love came with conditions and expectations and if those weren't met, then it wasn't love.  Being in relationships was always incredibly stressful for me.

My father was pretty stand-offish.  I do think my mom had some contribution to the relationship I have with my father.  She demanded that she came first and if I didn't chose her, there was always mental hell to pay.

I wish that my father was more caring.  It seems that he wanted perfect kids, correcting our English, no laughing at the table, no asking how our day was. (At least that is what I remember.)  He never hugged us or tucked us in at night.

My father always seemed to love everyone else.  He was always good to others, willing to help them and even hug them.  I held in so much anger because these people got the attention from my father that I had wished he had given me.

My parents fought verbally and sometimes physically.  

Not only did I have a fucked up view of love, my view of relationships was even more fucked up.

Again, at the time, it was my normal.  I figured that the Brady family was abnormal and no one really lived like that.

I cannot go back and redo my choices in relationships.  I am sad that I gave two men two very beautiful children and those men were incapable to see me needing their love.

I am thankful that my children didn't grow up not getting hugs and goodnight kisses.  I did make it a point to never let my kids grow up like I did.

I am also sad that I didn't get help sooner.

The difficult thing now is learning to accept love from others.  I cannot even explain how hard it is to allow people to love me without thinking that there is a condition attached to it.

I had been getting better.  I tell friends that I love them and I feel them love me.  I am even learning to love myself for the shit show I think that I am.

There was a huge set back recently that sent me into a tailspin.

My father was visiting.  I have always looked forward to seeing him as I thought we were working on the relationship that we have.  We have had talks about the past but I don't think he really understands the toxic environment that we were all in.

He had a little too many spirits and told some of my new friends that I was not a good person and that I was a "jerk".  That was so hurtful as I didn't want them thinking that I was just putting a fake side forward.

Someone walked in the club and he wrapped his arms around her and said how good it was to see her.  I held back tears.

He told people that I hadn't seen in 30 years that I didn't deserve the car that my son bought me.

I probably will never understand why he feels the way he does or why he doesn't see the hurt he caused me.  I also don't understand why he never took what we talked about to heart.

I love my dad but at the same time I don't want to let him hurt me anymore.

It's hard.

For most of my life I have feel like a very unlovable little girl just desperate for someone to love me.

As the same time, I have walls up so high because I don't want to keep being hurt.

I've been keeping to myself and licking my wounds as I have been doing for many years.

Someday I hope that someone will see me though a little hole in my wall and just love me unconditionally.  Because if they can do that, they would have all the love that I've been holding back.

His Voice

 

I actually heard him before I saw him.  His voice is the very same that once whispered in my ear, the very same that laughed with mine, the very same that lied.

He didn't see me.  I made sure if that.  If we had made eye contact, I am not sure what would have happened and I just am not ready to find out.

I knew I would run into him eventually.  I knew he had moved back to our hometown and it isn't a very large place.  Hell, technically, we live on a freaking island.

It was eight years ago that we last spoke, but my ears could tell, it was him.  I took a peek to see and it was him but only fatter and his hair was growing in a ring instead of being bald.  I made sure that he wouldn't see me.  I had my mask on and my hair over my eyes.  I am still not prepared for a polite hello or even a nod.

A punch to the head maybe.....

It is amazing how just a simple sound can trigger such an emotion.  Everything flooded back into the forefront of my mind.  The memory of an immense hurt and feelings of inadequacy, such a powerful emotion to feel.

I've been through therapy and worked hard at getting my strength back.  I have learned that what happened was not due to anything that I had done.  Cheaters and liars do what they do because of their own demons and they take apart anyone in their wake.

That instant of hearing his voice, triggered that one instance of going back to the place before I got help, that one instance of feeling small and insignificant.  I felt that I wasn't enough once again.  It was a dark place that I really didn't want to encounter again.

Seriously though, there wasn't anything special about him.  He is an ordinary man, doing an ordinary job in a small town.  He isn't a prince or even important.  He just was him.

And yet, during our time, he was mine and I trusted everything.  I believe everything.  

But that was my side of the coin....

A different reality was happening on his side.

I will never truly understand why he was the way he was with me.  I never will.  I can't just ask him because he holds no truth.

Sometimes I wish that he would know my truth.  How I was left and how broken I was.  I wish he could know how much hurt his deceit had caused.  Perhaps it really doesn't matter now. 

It's been eight years.  Eight long years of trying to figure out how to trust again.  How to open up and show my heart.  How to let someone in.  Even now, I still don't know if I can fully do it.  My heart hurts in fear just typing it.

Not everyone is my ex.  <-- I need that on a card or something to remind myself.

It is still strange how his voice is what I heard first after so many years.  It caused me to stumble a little, but I am good now.

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.  :-)

Ever Wonder What it Feels Like?

I've reread some of my old blog entries.  I pulled several off of my blog and tucked them away in a safe place.  I was told once that they made certain people uncomfortable.

Well, hell, ,depression IS uncomfortable.  It is an icky, awful, mood altering, horrible, alone kind of feeling.  You feel it envelope you like a greasy skin weighing you down so much so you feel like you will never ever stand up again.  You lie when you are asked if you are ok.  You fake a smile or a laugh when inside you are crumbling.  You feel unlovable, broken in some way.  You think that everyone who sees you, sees your ugly side.

Doctors can give you pills, therapists can give you advice, but it still lurks and awaits your weak moment and then.....

BLAM!

it hits you.

So yeah, it is uncomfortable.

duh...

I was told once (during my ickiest feelings) that someone came across my blog and was made to feel uncomfortable by some of my writing.  I was upset and pulled them all.  I probably shouldn't have.  I don't mind sharing my feelings and thoughts.  I am sure that there are hundreds if not thousands out here just like me.

So I was thinking about that moment where I was told about making someone uncomfortable.  Then I went to my blog stash and reread my feelings and thoughts that I wrote at the moment of feeling them.  I also remember how it felt to write it down and do a mind dump.  It can be therapeutic.  It can also let someone else know that they aren't alone in this feeling.

So if you just read all of this and feel uncomfortable.....

just imagine how I feel.