[

mood

|

distant

]

God in my laughing, here in my weeping. God in my hurting, God in my healing... be my everything. Be my everything. Be my everything. Please... please... be my everything.

Isn't it amazing how things can all come crumbling down around your ears with one single word? One little admission... and your reality begins to tear itself apart, setting you back into square one. The place where you were most afraid, most uncertain. It leaves you to your own devices, alone. Quite alone.

I'm not above trying to understand this. I'm trying hard... I'm trying to open up my arms as wide as I can. Trying to remain vulnerable. But it's hard. I suppose it's the combination of the revelation and my own emotional distress.

I hope you do read this, my friend, I think I could use your input...

I ended up telling him the truth. I didn't mean to, not so soon. I wanted to wait a few more months... but... He inadvertently guessed that I'd been abused. I almost didn't answer, but... I felt like he deserved the truth. I felt like... if he loves me, like he says he does, he needed an answer. So I said yeah. And... I had to clarify, so he wouldn't go crazy from the wondering and the not-knowing.

The first part was easy. Telling him who had done it to me, telling him how long ago and for how long... telling him it wasn't just physical. It was emotional as well. The part that I hesitated over was the final factor of the abuse. It took me nearly ten minutes to finally say that I was going to be blunt... and I told him the thing that I can't even type, at times. Tonight is one of those. One tangible admission is enough vulnerability for now.

He told me some things about his past, too. It took me off-guard. I imagine my admission must have surprised him too, though he did admit that it explained some things. For the past couple hours, though, I've had trouble accepting/understanding what he told me. It's easier, now that I've had some time to think and drain a little bit of the excess pain/emotion away.  Everyone makes mistakes and... I don't think he's going to repeat them with me...

I suppose the thing I'm having trouble coping with right now is the sudden feeling of vulnerability. Of being exposed. I've been doing an awfully good job of tearing down my walls lately, and I'm nearly petrified. The ball is in his proverbial court now and I have to trust that he loves me like he says he does. I'm going to try not to pull away this time.

I... don't want to disengage. Not yet. I want to hold on this time... I can't let go to rebuild my walls, things don't and can't work that way. Not this time. If I don't take risks, I'm never going to live my life free of fear. It's nearly strangled me...I have to keep going. I have to be brave and I have to be strong.

I'm capable of love. I know I am... I have to be, I have to be. I have to risk it on someone who could hurt me very easily. I have to trust. Even these doubts, even these fears, even these little pains... The idea of a world where I feel nothing absolutely terrifies me. In spite of my fears, he keeps me feeling. He gives me hope that I won't end up a frozen statue -- cold and immobile... Dead...

I think I've been looking for a tether. Some way I can remain grounded, understanding the important things in this life. I've also been looking for some way to heal, to re-analyze the old wounds I've allowed to fester for so long. I still can't shake the feeling that there's so much old poison stored up inside of me that I have to extract... I've got to pull it all out, somehow. Somehow I have to let go of the things I've been tied to for so long.

This life is one great big tightrope act, you know. We're all just trying to keep our balance and hoping against hope that we find something to break our eventual falls.

"I want to become brave and courageous, not buried in a self-pity of my own.
Ashamed and alone from all that's been done to me. 
It's not my fault, I remind myself.

You say don't be afraid, but I feel afraid.
You say don't laugh or cry, but I show emotion.
You say food will be on the table and birds in the sky;
But I'm hungry, so hungry,
and it's cloudy outside.

You never loved me like a daughter. You never even loved yourself.
And now you treat me like a burden, just another object on your shelf.
I want you to know now that I love you, and this pain that I carry is not my own.
Ashamed and alone from all that's been done to you.
"It's not your fault", I remind myself.

You say don't be afraid, but I feel afraid.
You say don't laugh or cry, but I show emotion.
You say food will be on the table and birds in the sky;
But I'm hungry, so hungry,
and it's cloudy outside.

No matter what I've done
or what is done to me:
Nothing's unforgiveable
or unable to be set free.

You say don't be afraid, but I feel afraid.
You say don't laugh or cry, but I show emotion.
You say food will be on the table and birds in the sky;
But I'm hungry, so hungry,
and it's cloudy outside.

You say don't be afraid, but I feel afraid.
You say don't laugh or cry, but I show emotion.
You say food will be on the table and birds in the sky;
But I'm hungry, so hungry,
and it's cloudy outside."
-- Unforgiveable by Plumb

[

mood

|

relieved

]

 There comes a moment in everyone's life, at least once, when you realize a grand, earth-shattering epiphany that alters everything all at once. I have had at least three of these. The first was when I was six years old.

I was watching my little sister on a Saturday morning. We were watching Saturday morning cartoons together -- remember those? Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Pepe Le Pew, etc., etc. Those were always enthralling for me.
Mark told me to watch her -- he left to get cigarettes. I don't know how long he was gone or for how long things were alright at home. All I know is that I glanced to my left and saw my sister standing on her tricycle, somehow having gotten the window cord wrapped around her neck. I had no idea how to get it off of her, I had no idea of what to do except that she couldn't fall because I knew she would die.
However long it took, I stood there with her, holding the tricycle and her in place to make sure that she didn't fall and strangle. It couldn't have been very long, children like us don't have much stamina on either end. But Mark came back and disentangled her. He was absolutely furious with me... told me I should have watched her better. I can't even remember the words he used anymore, only that it was my fault that she had nearly died.

That was the day I came to believe you couldn't count on anyone except yourself. Everyone would let you down, everyone else would eventually blame you, even if you were doing the best you could. Later, I went against this epiphany and decided to believe in people in spite of it.

My second epiphany came twice. The first, when I ran away from home at the age of nine. I looked up at the sky and saw it filled with clouds and saw one shaped like an eagle. I told myself not to be afraid because that was God watching over me. Then, when I went to this church camp, with some people from CFC. I'm not sure what was so special about this, it was in the mountains. There was a "prayer labyrinth" which was basically a tape trail spread out on the floor of a room. I'm not sure what the specific moment was or what brought it on...but the epiphany was re-affirmed.

That's where I realized that I genuinely believed that God existed. I didn't believe it just because other people do, I believed in Him for myself. I knew it for myself.

My third epiphany happened this past Friday, on the eleventh, and Saturday the twelfth. I won't go into many details because I want those to be mine. I want them to belong to my memory, I just... I want to keep them gleaming and treasured. It wasn't anything terribly big or unusual, no event in itself was lifechanging. But I had a dream Saturday afternoon -- a nightmare, actually. Simply put, I dreamed I was on the highway with my friends. I dreamed that the gas pedal and brake pedal had been switched and when I tried to slow down, I could only go faster. I crashed off of an exit ramp into some guy's yard. No one was hurt, thank goodness, but the guy was hassling me about it. For some reason, I dreamed that I IMed Trey and... suddenly he was right beside me. And everything was okay again.

I know, it sounds horribly cliche, doesn't it? I'm not trying to be melodramatic, not trying to make any wild claims, or assertions. In fact, to the untrained observer, this must all seem horribly mundane and unimportant. It is a fact that for as long as I can remember, all except for 3 of my dreams have been nightmares. Two of them were nightmares with endings that left me feeling at peace.

... except for this week. He... takes away my bad dreams... in a way I'd never thought possible. I'm not afraid of him... I'm not afraid of him at all. Do you know how long I've been waiting to say that and -mean- it? I never thought I could have a day where I lived it without fear. I -never- believed I could be completely free.

Don't get me wrong, I know I'm not completely healed from what's happened, but... this changes everything. My hope's not misplaced after all. It never was. It was all worth it, all the pain and all the fears and worries and trying to change myself... It was all worth it... the end will come and it will have been so, so very worth it.

[

mood

|

mellow

]

It recently occurred to me that maybe some things are different when they happen by your own personal choice -- I mean, when you REALLY choose something instead of having it forced upon you, regardless of any protests you might have. I know this seems like something that would be common sense but when you're caught in a cycle of fears that reinforce themselves for protection... it's hard to tell if things really would be different at all.

But supposing things could be different. Suppose... just suppose that maybe embracing things I run from could be enough to break the walls I've been trying to solidify around myself for so long. I have this image in my head of a literal brick wall that I'm trying to tear down. I know, in my heart, that it's going to leave me vulnerable. It's going to leave me open for anything, be it an attack or something that can heal me from what's happened before. But the truth is that if I keep it locked away, I'm never going to get better. I'm never going to stop being afraid, I'm never going to completely escape the potential of going numb, I'm never going to break free of his shadow.

I've lived in his shadow for nearly eleven years now, you know? That's an awfully long time to spend glancing over your shoulder, having your heart go cold whenever you see someone who looks like them. It's an awfully long time to go without hugging people whom you otherwise would've hugged. A long time to spend wondering if maybe the things they told you were true after all. Too many years spent smiling in the sunshine and waking up in tears at night from bad dreams. It's just all too long.

I've told people before that I have an exceptionally developed power of will. It's the truth and I exercise it most powerfully when trying to change myself. I am the person I have the most control over, right? I have to be the change if I'm ever going to be free. It's such an odd feeling to feel like you're at war with yourself... I feel like I'm grappling with a shadow-image of myself, trying to make sure that my better side prevails.

Well, even that's not quite right. I'm fighting the me-that-was, trying to become the me-that-could-be. I don't hate the me-that-was anymore, I don't think. I used to. I used to think the worst of myself but... I... think I'm eventually going to be able to forgive myself for the things that I did and didn't do. For the things that happened to me and around me. One of these days, I'll fully forgive myself for that.

[

mood

|

pensive

]

I'm slowly coming to realize a common sequence of emotions whenever I become romantically involved with someone. They masquerade as different fears and anxieties every time but they're actually the same.  Behind the outer mask of "happiness" that comes from "dating" someone lurks a darker undercurrent of fear. I'm always afraid of these undercurrents that lie within other people. Behind every set of pretty eyes and the steady stream of even prettier words, I'm afraid of what they actually are. What sort of person they actually are underneath it all.

It's actually the reason I have so many nightmares about monsters and demons and zombies, I'm pretty sure. I'm afraid that underneath their skins, these people aren't who they seem to be. I'm afraid of the violence potential they possess. I've ceased to see it in myself but it's overly reflected in the guys I'm attracted to.

I've come to associate physical attraction and actions -- sex -- with violence. With fear. With dreading and loathing and the inevitable monster it turned my sister's father into. This is probably why I've avoided dating and guys for so long. I've been trying to play it safe. I've been trying to keep the memories of these monsters hidden away and at bay. But I can't erase them. I've tried.

I look into the eyes of a guy who adores me... who tells me that I'm beautiful, treats me like a lady... wants to spend time with me, to listen to what I have to say... be around me... and I'm afraid of him. I find myself lost in nightmares in the middle of the day. Afraid to be alone with them, to trust them with anything at all. Afraid to let them like me too much.

It really is a perverse dichotomy. I crave being close to other people. I watch people in relationships and wish I had someone to be close to. Yet whenever I find guys who do want to be close to me, who do want to be in a relationship with me... I find myself pushing them away. Wishing I could run away. It's so terribly odd. I'm always torn. I have a brave smile I put on and soldier on through the time I do have with them, all the while flinching every time they so much as rest a hand on my shoulder. Shivering when they just want to lean on me.

I hate this so much but I can't bring myself to break free of it.

What's holding me back? What makes it so hard to trust them? What makes it so hard to trust myself? Why is it I want to run away so often? Why am I secretly relieved when I know a relationship won't work out? Why do I pull back when I finally feel like a guy might want more than just to hang out?

Why am I so afraid?

Of course, the fact that my intuition is generally correct about men doesn't tend to help matters. Oh, granted, it's only in the smaller areas. Knowing when they no longer feel the same for me, knowing when they feel too much, and knowing when I'm not the only one in their lives. Knowing who's lying, whose hangup is what. None of the biggest things that I've feared have come to pass. That's a good thing. It's a relief. Maybe I'm a good judge of character but there are some things that I really am being irrational about.

Maybe sometimes that's all they really are. Maybe fear is, sometimes, just fear.

I feel the compulsion to end the post with the sentence above, to not acknowledge that it isn't really the conclusion. It is a conclusion, certainly, but not the conclusion. This is something I have to keep working on to understand. Something that may take awhile for me to figure out.

I know it's kind of silly to put this in blog format, but... God... I know that you see and know everything that goes on. I do need help... please guide me... please help me to know where to put my trust... please help me to unlock these doors at the pace they're supposed to be opening... please help me to understand and... please forgive me...
Signed,
The kid on earth who loves you 

[	Current Location	|	Alabama	]
[	mood	|	depressed	]

I really should learn not to get attached in any short amount of time. I honestly hate this part of me, it makes me feel weak. I can go through life smiling, laughing, and getting by with only the tiniest modicums of loneliness... until someone touches me. It sounds stupid and somewhat dirty but it's not. The simple act of holding my hand or giving me a hug... makes all of that loneliness and darkness flare up inside of me again until I'm confused and choking on tears and fears with every alternate breath.

I'm so starved for affection.
I feel like a little puppy dog, ribs prominent through the skin. Begging for a scrap of food, a scrap of kindness and ready to adore anyone who gives either. As adorable as puppies are, it frightens me. It angers me.  I don't want to melt for the first bastard who comes along sporting a silver tongue. I don't want to get attached to someone who's only going to kick me later. I'm afraid because I know how impressionable I still am, how devoted I can be to someone that I think I care for. I'm angry because people take advantage of it. I've only got God to thank that, so far, no one has managed to see just how big of a problem this really is. Just how lonely I really am.

Before you think this sounds melodramatic or physically-obsessed of me, I want to ask you something. How many hugs do YOU get a week? How many kisses on the cheek or friendly handshakes or tickling? How often does it happen for you?

For me... lately... I've been going for weeks on end without anything. Not a single hug. It never occurs to me how horribly lonely I am until a person takes the tiny amount of energy required... and hugs me...

It nearly breaks my heart every time. I want so much to feel close to people. To love them. To care about them. Play around, have fun with them. And... I want to cry every time I realize how low my self esteem actually is. I don't think anyone else quite understands it or even really knows about it, either. I wish I knew how to explain this properly because it seems that I'm to get no sympathy from my family on this...

I am not fat.
I am not ugly.
I am not stupid.

Near as I can tell, the only things wrong with my physical appearance is the fact that my left arm is deformed. There. I've said it. It's deformed. You can't tell when I wear a jacket. It doesn't slow me down. I don't often need any extra help and, if anything, I can often outdo some people who have no deformities. It feels the same as any other hand, it just looks... different.

I like to think that I'm relatively pretty. I'm loyal. I'm smart. I laugh at people's jokes. I play video games, I read, I sing, I study, I go do random things for the heck of it. I like to listen. I'm a Christian. I have dated a grand total of one guy. One. Count 'em. That's it. I dated him for three years. I thought I loved him until we reached the 2 and 3/4s mark. Things simply faded, that's it. Neither of us stepped out on the other. The distance was just too much.

I have fallen for two other guys. Total. Both times because they courted me. They fed the part of me that was hurting the most, made me feel better. Made me feel less hollow. They told me I was pretty. Told me sweet things. Told me that I... that I was a lady. Made me feel like a lady.

In all three instances, I have never done anything more than cuddle with a guy while a movie is running. That's it.
I have never been kissed.
I certainly have never had sex.

The latter doesn't bother me in the slightest. I almost count it as a blessing that I'm one of the few people around these days who is 19 and still a virgin. I don't care if you think it's stupid. I don't need one other thing making me feel dirty. Another thing making me feel used. Like a doormat. Like a damned doormat.

The doormat part is my fault, I think. It goes back to the part where I'm so desperately starved for affection that I'm willing to devote my attention to the wrong guy. Because it seems that the wrong guys are the only ones who find me, who talk to me, who want me near them. Is it so wrong to wish that, for once, I could find a guy who genuinely wants to be near me and not use me as an interim girl? As an emotional leaning post, a stepping stone? Someone who doesn't want to use me...

My self-esteem issue comes into play where I'm starting to believe that my only use is to be downtrodden. To be used as someone else's route to better things. Prettier things. Things worth their time. Or someone who can help a person through troubled times, help them think, help them heal. Assuring them that they're wonderful and worth it. That anyone would be lucky to call themselves their friend. I try to help them believe this, that no matter who they've been... or what they've done... that they're worth loving.

The hard/sick part about all this is that I don't think I believe these things are true about myself. I'm not sure if I'm wonderful or worth it. In fact, I feel tainted. I feel sickened. I feel like I'm missing chips and pieces of me... small but essential things that would make me whole. Things that would make me wonderful and worth it and clean and bright and pretty. The hardest part of this comes where I think that I'm starting to buy into this whole idea. Starting to think that maybe they were right... maybe I'm not worth it after all...