My body does not work anymore. Not the way I want it to anyway.  I’m only 38 and it hasn’t worked the way it was designed to for many years. I am frustrated by this. I have been ashamed of this. I started out as a teen with anorexia. Once I could not continue with anorexia, I started with bulimia. I did bulimia for about 9 years. Throwing up in bathtubs if I had no where else to throw up. I’ve let the food sit in toilets and rot. Eventually, it would be found out and I would have to clean it out by taking it out of the toilet and putting it into garbage bags. I think I did this because I did not want to flush the toilet and be found out, so I’d throw up in the toilet for a long time .  I could no longer continue the bulimia when I was 25 because I started getting chest colds after throwing up. So, I gave up the bulimia, but my voracious eating habits continued and even worsened. I continued covering up my self loathing and emotional pain with food until my body gave out and I was diagnosed with a host of health issues that were a direct result of the chronic abuse and addictive behavior I inflicted on myself. I had blood pressure that was diagnosed at  190/110. This is stage 4 hypertension and the next stage is death. I was obese at over 200 pounds and developed Type II diabetes and thyroid abnormalities. Due to the decades of abuse I inflicted on my digestive system, I have chronic heartburn and digestive issues that can really flare up and cause me pain and fatigue. I am owning up to this damage I have done to my own body because I want to live with the blinders off and accept the state of my body and live with the truth. I never respected my body because I never respected myself. Never saw it’s value because I never saw my value. How could I? I was never taught my value or how to love myself. I was taught how to shame and judge myself. I was taught to loath and despise myself.

I’ve given up myself for the approval of others. I’ve done things for the purpose of getting approval and avoiding rejection. I’ve ignored my own wants and needs to accommodate everyone else in order to feel “safe” and avoid conflict.  I’ve been codependent, expecting others to be responsible for my feelings of approval, acceptance, worth, and safety. This behavior gave me a sense that I had control over how others saw me and how they treated me. In reality, it left me feeling empty, extreme anxiety, and fearful. How could I not? I was at the mercy of how others treated me! I was not in control of anything because it is not possible to control your external environment and any attempt to do so amounts to self abandonment. This is not a judgment statement. It’s just fact. Because your internal environment is the only environment you can control.

So here it is. I take full responsibility for destroying my body. I take full responsibility for abandoning myself to the extent that I was slowly killing myself. A slow suicide indeed. This is the truth. This is the reality of my self loathing. Because I did not know how to love and accept myself, I was slowly killing myself with my addictive behaviors. Not just with food, but constantly shaming and judging myself as inadequate and worthless. Why would I treat myself any differently with the belief that I was worthless? Shaming myself gave me a false sense of control over my external environment. I subconsciously thought to myself that if I could just get it “right”, then I could avoid rejection, criticism, and judgment from others. It felt too “unsafe” to experience rejection, criticism, and judgment from others because it reminded me of how helpless I was as a child and the extreme abuse I suffered and had no control over. So, just as I had learned to as a child to avoid rejection, criticism, and judgment from my parents, I applied this behavior to my adult life. This codependent behavior was developed as a child when I truly had no control over my environment and was at the mercy of my parents. I did not feel safe and it was not safe to be me. At least, that is the message I walked away with from my childhood. So, I created an acceptable version of myself which I now know is what kept me alive through my childhood. But I am not in my childhood anymore and it is VERY safe to be me. Does it mean I won’t be judged, criticized, or rejected by others for who they think I am? Nope. But I can handle it now. I’m no longer that helpless child. I and ONLY I determine my worth and no one else has the right to do that for me. It is only when I give that right over to others by taking their behavior personal (as if there was something wrong with me and that is why they are treating me this way), do I give my personal authority over to others to define me.

I am grateful for the self abuse. Because it resulted in life threatening illnesses that were a wakeup call. A wakeup call to my value as a human being. Without these illnesses, I would never have been pushed to heal from the abuse I suffered at the hands of others and myself. I take 100% responsibility for my behavior and I have deep compassion for a person who slowly was killing herself because she saw no value or worth in herself. For me, it was the lack of self love and acceptance and a fear that it was not safe to be me that motivated me to slowly kill myself through addictive behaviors. It has been an eye-opening and wonderful journey using the very pain I was running from all my life to discover the false beliefs about myself and my environment. I realize now that true power comes from unconditional self love and acceptance and not from trying to control my external environment or get approval from others. I am so happy to say that I have learned to love and accept myself to the point that (gasp) I am actually being assertive, helping myself see that it is safe to be my true self, willing to lose everyone and everything rather than myself, putting my health before everything and everyone else. Seeing my true self. I know it sounds corny, but when I deal with the pain instead of running from it, I am able to see that it is a scared little girl who still thinks I am 8 years old and am going to get thrown head first into the piano again. Well, I love that little girl and I am so sorry she ever had to go through horrible abuse and neglect. But I am no longer ashamed of my childhood because it is part of who I am and shaming it is shaming myself. I am coming to terms with my childhood and embracing all of it, the good, the bad, and the ugly. As I deal with the pain from my childhood, it is being set free and I can see it for what it is, as it was intended. I do not know why I was abused except that my parents were terribly abused in their own childhoods and never knew any better. That is the earthly explanation.  The spiritual explanation is that all the abuse has allowed me after decades of suffering to come full circle and realize what very few people on this earth fully experience, unconditional love and acceptance. I gotta tell you, once you experience self love, it is more powerful than anything you can get externally from others and things. It takes practice and we are human, so I will always run into situations or events that challenge this and I am grateful for them. Because if I dare to look into those feelings, I find the false beliefs that need my love and acceptance. Like a butterfly, they go on their way and I am a bit freer and authentic.

I now use my body to tell me if I am on the right track. The right track, meaning being fully and 100% responsible for my feelings of safely, lovability, and worth. My body tells me when I am putting someone or something before me. It tells me when I am scared of being criticized or rejected. It tells me when I am shaming myself as inadequate. This has helped me no longer need blood pressure meds and as I continue on my path of healing emotionally and physically, I see myself being restored on all levels. That being said, even if I am never totally healed, I am grateful for everything. I forgive myself for the self abuse. The only reason I abused myself is because I did not know how to give myself love and acceptance. That I was still living in fear that it was life threatening to be my true authentic self, a deep false belief from y childhood that still shows itself from time to time. But the difference is that I am here for myself in ways that no bag of salt and vinegar chips could ever be. I have come full circle and I am fulfilling my life purpose, to learn to love and accept myself unconditionally.

Here is my mission statement:

I am willing to lose others before losing myself. I am willing to lose everything rather than lose myself. I will NEVER risk my health again. It is more valuable to me than anything else and it is no longer acceptable to put ANYTHING before it.

Almost a year ago, The Princess gave me a Maverick Sleeve from Babeland. It quickly became one of my favourite toys. I hauled it with me to Europe and to various events. I don’t know why a simple piece of silicon with a few fronds inside can feel so fucking good, but there you have it: a batch of lube inside it and I got real jerk off pleasure. I also like the easy wash and care aspect of it: I have a fleshlight but that takes a lot of extra effort to disassemble, clean dry and dust with corn starch to keep it from sticking to everything including itself. Plus the Maverick is blue and tight: it’s like buggering Papa Smurf.
The problem is, in my sad combination of tidiness and slovenliness, I cleaned the damn thing a couple of days ago and after letting it dry on the edge of my bathroom sink, decided that I needed to clean the sink itself. Since there are few uncluttered surfaces in the bathroom, I stuck the sleeve in the first place at hand: the radiator. It being the middle of the day, it was turned off at the time, but imagine my horror when I remembered about it today and went to find the sleeve slumped into the gap between radiator and wall. I peeled it free and found huge dents melted into the sides.
It’s the kind of carelessness that always makes me berate myself. Especially since money is a little tight and I can’t just go and get another one.
I’m going to have to get reacquainted with my naked hand.

Understanding Autism Spectrum Disorder Behavior: Scratching, Picking, Hair Pulling and Self-Stimulation
Autistic children exhibit frightening behaviors like self-abuse and mutilation. As a child, I exhibited autistic behavior; later I taught autistic children. I’ll explain self-abuse from experience and research.
Read More

Could you remain celibate for a year?

Far: Why would I want to…? A woman never has to worry about not getting any…

Jen: I have…so YES by choice…but would I do it again..if there wasn’t anything worth while to do..yah, probably…

TechBabe: If celibacy includes masturbating, then I’d have to say NO. Otherwise, yes. With good cock-replacement, it can be done. For dudes, on the other hand…well, that’s just it. They have the other hand.

SMH

Teach our daughters (and sons) that bulimia, anorexia, and binge eating are all forms of self-abuse, and that this violates God’s will.  [I Corinthians 6:19-20; Romans 12:1]

Teach our daughters (and sons) that they have Someone in Jesus Christ who understands their trials and hurts, and Who desires to meet their deepest needs.

Teach our daughters (and sons) Scriptures that directly help them deal with all that life throws their way as teenagers and pre-teens. [Philippians 4:4-9; Deuteronomy 31:6; Psalm 62:5-8]

For More Like the above, see: http://www.christiananswers.net/q-eden/eatingdisorders.html

Teach our daughters about their beauty and worth in Christ. [Psalm 139:14]

The following Tips come from: http://www.remudaranch.com/articles/how_parents_can_prevent_eating_disorders/index.php

Teach our daughters (and sons) by example, respect for ourselves and other people regardless of weight.  This will reduce the pressure they feel to change their bodies.

Develop our daughters’ (and sons’) self-esteem by pointing out their positive qualities that go beyond physical appearance.  And help them value and appreciate the things that are really important about themselves.

Point out to our children specific ways we see the culture, media, and peer relationships pressuring weight loss.

Teach our daughters (and sons) about the dysfunctional and problem-filled lives that many celebrities lead (even though they may have what society calls a “perfect body.”

Teach our daughters (and sons) by example, how to enjoy all foods in moderation, as well as how to enjoy exercising for fun and fitness…not weight loss.

Teach our daughters (and sons) that diets do not work and actually endanger the body, but show them the benefits of eating healthy.

Do not force children to eat and do not stop them from eating….as long as they are consuming food that is good for them.

Help them know that you love them no matter what they weigh.

“Respect women. If you put down or treat women unequally, your daughter will feel put down too, and your sons may continue this tradition of emotional violence against women. This cycle can lead to eating disorder behavior in both boys and girls.”

“Do not use food as a reward or punishment. Do not label foods as good or bad. Do not label eating habits as good or bad.”

“Know the warning signs of eating disorders. See Signs of an Eating Disorder.”

For about a decade I led a lifestyle drastically different to the one I choose now. It was self abusive. I don’t want to go into great detail as it’s now painful for me, my family, and people I love. It was a combination way to punish myself for being “Born Bad” (click here for previous post) and way to pay for a lifestyle I hadn’t dreamt before.

I was married for 8 years to someone who cheered and suggested these decisions. He disagreed with my numerous attempts to start leaving the lifestyle, the money, the spoils. We lived off my profits alone for many years and the toys/house/cars/nightlife got bigger and bigger. While my desire to end this circus got stronger. We were, obviously, not positive forces in one another’s lives. 

Sometimes people are there to benefit from your weakness, not your strengths and happiness.  Realizing this is a good indication for change.

I ended the relationship, entered therapy, and slowly started un-doing the complicated, empty life I’d built.

The choices made, I’m not proud of them because they wound up hurting me and people I love. They’re not a big part of my current life. Therefore they won’t be discussed much, if at all, on this blog. But they are part of me and my growth. For the sake of reference I wanted to include this post. I don’t want to consistently make veiled mentions and then have some overblown “coming out” drama.

I recently finished an 18 month course of cognitive & behavioral therapy. I am a survivor of multiple victimizations, as many women are. Some were experienced in childhood, some as an adult.

I wish I could say my experiences with trauma and it’s results were unique. Sadly, they are not.

While I don’t identify as “A Victim”, I do identify as a Survivor. It is a badge of honor and pride to live fully, healthfully after trauma. To strive to live without shame, guilt, or merciless hypervigilant fear.

Getting to the healthiest point you can is a journey. I wasn’t always as well equipped as I am today. And hopefully years from now I’ll have even better tools than today.

“Born Bad” was the term we gave my former way of thinking and behaving. It was my mental software virus, so to speak,  imperceptable to nearly everyone, including myself, but running constantly in the background. It colored every interpretation of life and people. My place, within the hierarchy of life as “Born Bad”, was below. Less worthy.

Why? “Born Bad” was my way of trying to take power for things I had no power over during points of victimhood.  I, like many survivors, was unable to accept that I had been powerless, blameless for abuses. Or deliberately targetted by predatory individuals.

To accept this would be to see the world and it’s people in a way “Good Girls” didn’t: the world would piss me off. I would have to see and blame many people (both involved and auxillary – offender, neighbor, family), the situations, and court system clearly. They failed me or threw me out. There was no protection. At the time, I didn’t want to, could not accept this.

As a result I slipped into believing I had deserved the abuse because I had been “Born Bad”. Of course people and institutions didn’t help or back me up, I wasn’t worth it. I didn’t deserve the good other people did. It was false, but it explained everything so neatly. I fit perfectly, snugly into this premade box.

So what happened when I got good things/people/situations? I was always waiting for or expecting them to end. Because it was a mistake, I was a fraud in my mind. Life or people would find out I wasn’t a good, normal person. The goodness would disappear again. So I deliberately ran. Dutifully accepted the punishment the “Judge” in me meted out through abusive jobs, relationships, etc.

Enter therapy.

It was time, after much self abuse, to answer crucial questions about who I was, why I made certain decisions, what my value was & where it derived from. Time to stop walking around in a cloud, disconnected from myself in a near-constant state of dissociation from my body and almost everything that went on in life.

It wasn’t easy to unlearn, “Born Bad”. It’s unravelling ellicits an entirely new level of grief: pure, righteous rage. Which is just as important to move through. Feel it, fan it, cheer it. Until you tire of it. And move to the next level in the journey.

There are points I have been a victim and points I have been my own victimizer.  And today, that’s ok with me. I don’t forgive the people who perpetrated my victimhood. I accept my humanity. I have weaknesses, but I am equal to anyone else. And deserve as much.

I want to share with survivors of rape, childhood neglect, domestic abuse, or military combat service (all of whom are prone to ptsd and dissociative disorders):

I highly recommend a psychological therapy called EMDR. If you can find a therapist who offers it, give it a try. It offers faster results than traditional talk therapy, even if it can be tougher. Both the American Psychiatric Association and the Department of Veterans Affairs have it on their highest level for effectiveness in treating trauma and it’s long term symptoms.

It is worth it.

WARNING: Content may contain raw and harsh truth that may result in the reader becoming emo.

I’ve wrote about this before but if you’re new here then you may not have been aware that I was a cutter. Not the geeky cool band of bicyclist from Indiana :: if you never saw the movie Breaking Away then do.. it’s an oldie but a goodie :: but some one who cuts themselves when everything internalized needs to find an outlet.

No.. this is not a picture of me

And you know.. just in case you REALLY don’t know anything about cutting or self-mutilation or self abuse or carving into your skin with anything you find hanging around… it’s not an attempt at suicide. It’s just release valve. I never wanted to kill myself.. just wanted the pain to go away. Internal pain needs a way to manifest itself and cutting is a way to make it a physical pain. At least it was for me .. I don’t know if all cutters feel the same way about it. Some people use drugs.. some drink.. I used to cut. Hello, my name is Leese ( Hi Leese! ) and I am a cutter!

I stopped cutting on November 8, 1998.. and yesterday for the first time in almost 11 years I cut myself again.

I tried taking a picture of it but I couldn’t get a good shot because of where it’s at and because it really isn’t deep. Actually, I think paper cuts are deeper but yknow.. that’s not really the point.

So I guess your asking why? Why after all this time? What was so fucking bad THIS time that I had to cut six or seven parallel lines on my arm where most barflies get real bad tattoos?

I’m not sure.

I mean.. I know what happened.. the events leading up to it.. and yea, it was bad but I’ve been through worse so I don’t think it was the actual one event that triggered it.. I just think it was a cumulation of things that’s been building up and building up..

Life beat me up this time.

And yesterday, as soon as I put the utility knife down :: sorry, nothing poetic like a straight razor or soduku knife .. however you spell it :: maybe for an instant I felt that rush of release. I guess that’s how heroin addicts feel. Dunno, I never did heroin but that’s what they all say on Intervention.

But then I felt horrible.. disappointed in myself.. guilty. I never thought I’d do this again… sure there have been A LOT of times when I wanted to but I was always able to talk myself down and not go through with it.

This time, I was so mentally warn out from everything that happened Friday and Saturday morning.. so warn out from feeling like my emotions and feelings were being battered against a brick wall.. so warn out of the screaming LOOK! LISTEN TO WHAT I’M SAYING! LISTEN TO HOW I’M FEELING! silently that I guess I just couldn’t take it anymore.

But the trigger.. the one phrase that Chief said to me that made everything fiber in my being shut down.. grow cold.. and tunnel visioned to the utility knife in his dresser was YOU.SHOULD.KNOW.BETTER.

So let’s back up to Friday morning.

Bubba woke up with his ass transformed into a Hell Mouth. So he stayed home from school. His room was still a mess so I asked him to clean it and told him I wasn’t going to ask again.

He cleaned it right away .. because, yknow, his cell phone bill was due. He then asked if he could mow the lawn or weed wack or “something” around the house.

I remember saying to him, “.. Look, don’t be offended by what do you want? Because the only time you want to help is when you want something.” He said that it was just boredom.. there was nothing to do.. and he knew that we were trying to get the house fixed up.

That’s a crock of shit but ok, I’ll take advantage of it.

So I tell him to paint the hallway downstairs that link our bedroom with theirs.

So he does. Meanwhile, I go about hanging new curtain rods and ironing panels.

He finishes .. well, rather, he stopped painting. The hallway was finished but the bucket of paint was left on the floor.. the brushes were just laid on the newspaper.. I mean, he didn’t finish the job because he didn’t clean up after he was done.

I was hanging the last rod when he says to me, ” .. you’re not going to pay my cell phone are you?”

I said, “.. do you think you deserve me to?”

He said, “.. I guess. I mean, I painted your hallway and cleaned the fridge handles.“

What does Judge Judy say? You’re not smarter then me on your dumbest day? Something like that.

I knew that’s why he was acting like SuperKid. So I asked him how many times I had to ask him to clean his room or do whatever? But ok.. my hallway was painted and I’ve been waiting for Chief to do that for EVER so I figured what the hell.. I’ll pay it. But I told him that this was the only free pass he was getting. Next month, no last minute effort to make up for a month of not doing what he’s suppose to do to earn the cell phone priviledge.

Fast foward to later on in the evening.

Spaz was in the bathroom when Bubba came out of his bedroom and turned on the PS3. Spaz comes out of the bathroom and tells Bubba that he was watching tv. Bubba does care. He just wants to do what he wants to do with no concern for anyone else.

It’s starts a argument and then finally Spaz says that he doesn’t care anymore. Let him do what he wants.

I actually thought that that was pretty mature of Spaz.

So then Spaz asks Bubba to take a round on the PS3.

Flat answer: No.

I was like.. you’re kidding me, right? He’s just going to say “no” like it’s his?

So again, an argument ensues with me telling Bubba to let Spaz play and Bubba telling ME “no” this time.. defiant mother fucking bastard.

Something was on the stove in the kitchen so when I went to go tend to it, Spaz followed me. I hear Bubba say, “.. go ahead Spaz. Watch TV” and then went into his bedroom. I tell Spaz to go in the living room and he said that NOW he wanted to play PS3 :: why, of course he did :: but that Bubba took the controller in the bedroom with him.

NOTE: Did I fill you in about the controller? How they broke yet another one and I refused to buy one since they’re 50-something bucks a pop? And then how all of a sudden a controller showed up at the house with Bubba saying that he borrowed it from a friend?

I tell Bubba to give Spaz the controller and he gets all defiant again. MORE defiant then before… SO DEFIANT that he slips up and says that the controller is HIS.. he BOUGHT it.

Ahhhh… so that changes everything now. Because NOW you lied to me.

And when I tell you that I got so TORQUED .. When I tell you that it took all that I had to not wind up and land a square one right in his puddy face.. that, my friends, is an understatement.

Okay boy.. I warned you that the bitch was going to come and here she was.

I grabbed my jacket and keys and told Spaz that I was going to be right back. Bubba.. knowing that something was up.. that he had pushed me way further then his idiot mind could comprehend.. offered up the controller.

I told Spaz DO.NOT.TOUCH.THAT.CONTROLLER.

Bubba tried to say something and I said I wasn’t listening to anything else he had to say.. no excuses.. no manipulations.. no more lies.

I was going to GameStop to buy another controller WITH the money I was going to use for his cell phone bill. You thought you got away with hood-winking me earlier with painting the hallway and the whatnot? Well guess what? Jokes on you.

So I leave and of course, in my haste, forgot my freakin’ debit card. So I stop at the shop and tell Chief that I need 60 bucks and tell him why. I’m literally bouncing off the walls.

Why did I react this way this time and not all the other times the boys did something? Dunno.. I guess enough was enough, yknow?

Chief agrees with what I’m doing but he doesn’t get as wound up as I am. I wanted him too.. wanted him to feel everything that I was feeling but yknow.. different personalities I guess. Whatever.

We go to GameStop and I buy a blue controller so that I can identify it from Bubba’s and we go home. Chief goes in the bedroom and I go into the kitchen to open the package that was sealed by Satan himself and yell out for Spaz.

You bought me a controller??? he says all excited.

Noooooo… I bought one for the house. Do you UNDERSTAND? This isn’t YOURS

Thank you, Leese! Thank you!

I told him don’t thank me, thank his brother because I used his cell phone bill money to buy it.

I know Bubba heard me. That was the point.

So Spaz goes out to play with the PS3.. Bubba is in the living room on his laptop :: that is now tethered to an ethernet cord because HA! he got a really bad virus from downloading Lime Wire and now the wireless card don’t work! Booyaa! :: and me and Chief sit down in the dinner room to eat dinner.

Chief asks Bubba why he looks all depressed and stuff. Bubba mumbles something.. gets up.. walks into his bedroom.. come out.. walks into the kitchen and says something like “.. people not keeping their word” or something random like that.

I jump in and say something like “.. oh, like you lying about the controller? Like you saying your going to do whatever so you can get what you want and then not doing it after you get it?.. that what you’re talking about?”

He tries to say that the reason he lied is so that Spaz would take care of the controller and I call him out on his bullshit. I had his back up against the wall.. there was no way in hell he was going to get around me this time and when Chief started in on both of them for the way they treat each other, Bubba does what Bubba does best.. he called the Crack Whore and cried foul. Telling her how much of a victim he is and that we’re always picking on him.

She wants to talk to Chief and I hear him tell her, “No.. not this time.” and then he went into what douchebags they are to each other and everything else about them not cleaning up after themselves, yada yada yada .. same old story.

He hangs up the phone and then starts in on Bubba again about how Bubba been treating him [Chief].. and how he looks at him with utter contempt, hatred and distain until he wants something like his laptop fixed and then he’s his best friend.

And then he asks him what his problem is with me.

FINALLY.. I mean.. really. FINALLY.

Bubba says he isn’t going to “.. say it in front of HER” meaning me and I yell out that if he has a problem with ME then he needs to man up and talk to ME because if he doesn’t talk to ME then there is no problem.

Bubba then gets back on the phone with the Crack Whore and basically, conversation over.

Bubba goes in his room.. Chief goes into his room.. and I’m left in the dining room waiting for.. something. Maybe Chief telling me what his conversation was with the Crack Whore?

Spaz asks me to play video games with him and since I’m also waiting for Bird to come over to get the kitten :: she had a vet appointment in the morning :: I go sit out there with him.

But it’s bothering me that Chief isn’t telling me anything.. that he’s not talking to me about what happened or whatever.

So I go in the bedroom and what’s Chief doing? He’s playing Call of Duty. Timing was on my side this time because his round had just ended so I said to him, “.. are you going to tell me about the conversation you had?”

“Oh.. yea. I’ll tell you” and he proceeds to say that she wanted Bubba to sleep over her crack den because he was upset and when Chief said no, she was concerned that Bubba was going to be picked on.

I started saying something.. I don’t know what.. I guess just rehashing what happened and how I’m not going to let a 14 year old play me.. or manipulate me or something.

Chief said not to feed into it and I said I wasn’t. Because if I was, I’d be in Bubba’s bedroom and not ours.

So what does Chief do? Goes back to playing Call of Duty.

I was stunned.

STUNNED.

Obviously, the next round was WAY more important then what I was going through. Dumbass me, right?

That room became a little box. A little box with no windows, doors or outside source of light and I had to get out of it. So I went back out to the living room. Spaz is talking non-stop about nonsense and I can feel my face getting numb and teeth clenching and ever muscle in my body getting tight. I’m desperately trying to remain calm for Spaz’s sake. None of this is his fault.. he can’t help if his father is an emotionally void asshole.

But then he starts telling me that he asked his mother to buy him a winter jacket .. and she asked why I wasn’t buying it for him and he told her something like I had to pay bills and I wasn’t getting paid or something like that. Something completely off from what I had told him before.

NOTE: The weather started to turn really bad the week between my unemployment checks so since he was going to her crack den everyday after school, I told him to ask her if she could get him a jacket .. since she was all ghetto rich and everything..

And that he doesn’t live with her so it isn’t her

And then I went off.. telling him that she was just a miserable person who can’t deal with anyone else being happy and it isn’t her place to tell him what she told him.. that she should call his father.

I don’t him that she can’t just be a “mother” when she feels like and when she doesn’t “feel” like it.. she can’t just dump it on me and make it seem like I’m the one who isn’t doing what they’re suppose to be doing.

While I was saying all this.. Chief had walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and then was standing behind me.. but I didn’t acknowledge him. I walked back into the living room.. he into the bedroom and that’s where he remained.

Bird finally got there and I told her the whole story. Being his cousin, having grown up with him and his brothers and staying mostly at their house.. AND having been in therapy for years.. she knows better then anyone why he is the way he is and does what he does. But at least I was able to get what I SHOULD be telling him off my chest.

But. yknow.. Call of Duty is WAY more important.

He never came out of the bedroom and after Bird left, I remained in the living room watching tv until I fell asleep. There was no way in HELL I was going to sleep next to him. I probably would have stuffed a sock down his throat while he was sleeping on his back snoring away. Really though, I didn’t want to be ignored anymore.

I know that the bedroom door was closed because the dogs stayed in the living room with me.. and somewhere in the middle of the night when I got up to roll over :: a feat not unworthy of medal on my couch! :: the dogs weren’t around so I know at some point he woke up and saw me out there and just wasn’t going to deal with whatever it was he thought he was going to have to deal with.

In the morning, he wakes me up because the kids had school and asks me why I was sleeping out there. I told him I was catching up on Project Runway and fell asleep.

My attitude was WAY off so he didn’t buy it but you can tell he SO wanted to.

He leaves for work and I take Bubba to school. Not that I wanted to.. not that HE wanted me to but he’s too fucking lazy to walk so I wasn’t going to be the one responsible for him missing a day. Especially on a Friday.

I came right home instead of my usual stop at the shop. I didn’t have to get him coffee and I had stuff in the house already for Spaz’s lunch. But around 8am he calls me and asks where I was at and sounds SO wounded that I didn’t stop at the shop because he had fixed me a cup of coffee.

“oh” was really all I said.

Spaz gets dropped off at school and I go down to the shop. I’m very low key. Not only is it morning.. not only did I not have my usual caffeine quota in me.. but I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything that happened and the way he acted / reacted … and I’m basically only at the shop out of necessity .. not because I wanted to be there.

He kisses me hello and I ask him if I have to go to the wholesalers.. or the produce place. No to both. I nod my head “cool” and then make my way to the front of the store to glance through the paper.

He’s in the back doing whatever it is he was doing but then he comes up front.. stands opposite me on the other side of the counter and says “.. are you upset with me?”

Only it doesn’t come out as, yknow, “Is there something bothering you, honey?” .. it comes out HOW DARE YOU BE PISSED OFF AT ME

Cuz.. like.. that’s going to make me feel better right?

So I said, “Yeah.. I am”

ROOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!!!!! WHAT DID IIIIIIII DOOOOO?????

I told him that I was trying to talk to him last night and he just turned away to play the video game.

And then he went on a rant. And when I say rant.. I mean R-A-N-T!

I can’t even remember everything he said .. but a few things stick out.

He said that I wasn’t trying to have a conversation .. that I was ranting and he wasn’t going to deal with that… I was like, “fine” .. “okay” .. I had no intentions of getting into a scream-fest because we were in the shop and the shop is NEVER the place to talk about anything important because of the interruptions.

He returns to the back of the store and then a few minutes later he comes back out and starts going off again. He said that I was torqued all night and that I was doing nothing but being aggitating so that’s why he went into his room.. and I was like, “.. you ALWAYS go in your room” and you may have thought he swallowed a toad.

No! No! He said.. you’re not going to twist it around and make it seem like I’m doing something bad. I get up early every day and I come home and Im exhausted.

Like I’m not.

He was just going on and on and at one point he said a reason why he was pissed at me but really, he was yelling so much and so loud that I more interested in keeping my sanity. Telling myself that I was not the one who was wrong here.. that I had every right to feel the way I feel..

You know.. that kind of thing.

But then.. then… then he went into how he heard my burst with Spaz and how that kid doesn’t need that.. how the crack whore acts like that all the time and he doesn’t know what I was going off on him about but he doesn’t need that..

AND I SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

Me.

I should know better.

Me.

Me who does everything I possibly can to keep this kid normal.

And then the curtain in my head came down and I was done. I could literally feel all the warmth in my soul drain. I could feel the emotions ice over. Whatever tears I was fighting back just went away. I was as hard as a rock. And I knew at that point that there was no talking myself down from nothing and the only way to bring me back  was the utility knife in the nightstand.

When I wasn’t responsive anymore, he went into the back again.

I yelled back that I forgot something at home and left.

I drove home.. went into the bedroom and did what I did.

I’m not going to lie… when doing it, it felt good. It felt real.

There’s a song called HURT, written by Trent Reznor of NIN and remade by Johnny Cash. The first two lines pretty much sums it up:

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel

But once I started to “feel” .. then I was mad at myself for getting to that point.. mad at the feelings of disappointment.. of  guilt.. of now having to make up a story if someone asked what happened.

“Life just beat me up” is what I planned on saying. Pretty much sums it up, right?

I go back to the store.. there were a few customers so I just put my game face on and acted almost normal. After they left, he came at me again. But this time I was stronger.. and this time I wasn’t going to pull any punches.

Honestly, I can’t remember verbatim. I usually can but there was so much raw emotion that I think my brain just said, “Nope. You don’t need to hold onto this one.”

I remember saying to him that he puts me on the outside until he wants me in the middle. He wanted examples and I told him that I didn’t have anything specific. I think I said, “.. excuse me for not being prepared but if you give me an hour I’ll go home and get my journals”.

I remember a point when I was screaming at him about his kids.. about how I’m with them more then he is and every single minute it’s nothing but arguing and bickering and fighting and mental gymnastics always having to stay one step a head of them.. but I do it.. and I don’t even tell him half the shit that’s going on because I know he’ll just go off in his own little world because HE doesn’t want to deal with HIS kids and excuse me for getting to a fucking breaking point.

And that’s when the tears started..

And that’s when he was like, “… There! See! That’s what you should have done.”

I have absolutely no fucking clue what he was referring to but I know I answered that why should there be something that I have to do.. if I was so over board last night and you knew it.. then why the hell didn’t you try and calm me down instead of just ignoring it? Why can’t YOU be the rock that I am for you?

That’s when he accused me of twisting things around. “See! You’re doing it! You’re twisting it around!” he was all pointing his finger at me and you know.. I’m from the ghetto.. you SO don’t point your finger at me.

Honest to God if he wasn’t on the other side of the counter I would have swung at him.. that’s how mad that made me. It literally brought me back to when I was married and the Spawn from Satan’s ass would say the same damn thing when he knew I was right and wasn’t going to admit it.

But instead of swinging at him, I shoved the stapler off the counter with such force that if it had hit the fridge door it would have shattered.

That actually geared him down and when there was a break in his yelling at me, I said to him… very calmly.. “Where you ever lied to?” I know he has been and I didn’t wait for him to answer. I said, “.. not a good feeling is it?”. He quietly said no and then I said, “… so not only does your son lie to me but you lie to me to”.

He was all indignant and was like, “.. when did I ever lie to you?” and I had two words for him. Two words that I had tucked up my sleeve waiting to  bust out at the right moment.

Parking Ticket.

I didn’t give him a chance to say ANYTHING .. I just said what I’ve been rehearsing in my head. How he threw me under the bus. How HE may be used to all this but I’M not.. because he didn’t want to get in trouble? Because he didn’t want to pay it? What the fuck, man?

And then while I had the floor and before he could say anything else.. I told him that a piece of me believes that a part of him is just waiting for this relationship to fail.. like all his other relationships failed.. that the crack whore was going to get to me.. that the kids were going to get to me.. and then I’d be gone and THAT’S the reason why when we DO argue, his response is always, “.. you’re going to do what your going to do” where I would fight to the death for this relationship.

He didn’t say anything.. he was quiet and just whispered “no”.

He told me that he wasn’t good with “feelings” .. not even his own. I told him that that was bullshit. He knows how he feels.. he just doesn’t want to.

I wanted to tell him about cutting myself and so I brought up about the last time when I had called him from my job and told him that I was hanging by a thread.. that MY demons were starting to surface and that I wasn’t coming straight home from work because I had found a S.A.F.E (Self Abuse Finally Ends) meeting. When I got home that night, he never asked me ANYTHING about it.. or how I was feeling or anything. It was hard for me to say.. I kept having to pause to regroup.

And then a customer came in.. and he had to go cook them something and then another customer came in and another and another and another and then his father.

Conversation obviously over.

Right before I left, I had to use the bathroom. Up until that point I was trying to avoid him.. not look at him.. not be anywhere near him. I had the game face on for everybody else but I just couldn’t wait to get out of there.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was standing there and when I went to maneuver around him, he said “Stop. Come here.” and just held me like he should have the night before. He said he wanted to go out.. just the two of us. Do dinner and a movie or something.. he didn’t care. Just as long as it was us.

I really don’t remember what I said. But I let him hold me because I wanted to be held.

And then I left. He walked me to the car and hugged me again and said, “I really, really, really do love you.”

Nice to hear but I ‘m not going to say that it made everything go away.

When he came home, I was sitting on the bed playing around with my DSi. I had a tee-shirt on and the cuts on my forearm were puffy and red and very noticable.

When he came into the bedroom and went to kiss me hello, he saw them. I saw his eyes look at them … but he never said anything. Nothing. At all.

But I know he saw them.

My beloved child, break your heart no longer

Every time you judge yourself, you break your own heart

You stop feeding on the love which is the wellspring of your vitality.

The time has come

It is your time to live, to celebrate, and to see the goodness that you are

You, my child, are Divine

You are pure and you are sublimely free

You are God in disguise and you are always perfectly safe.

Let go and breathe into the goodness that you are.

——————————————————–

My awesome friend Lara sent me this poem which is written by Swami Kripalu.  Lara’s always been an inspiration to me and right now she’s pursuing her dreams.  She’s saved up enough money to take a trip to Thailand.  She’s doing a great thing by teaching English to children in Thailand, and in addition she’s teaching them how to break the habit of memorizing and regurgitating info and instead learning and being able to think for themselves.

I love this poem because to me it’s about loving yourself, freeing yourself, seeing you for who you innately are…Divine.  For all victims, no matter what this earthly world has made you think of yourself, no matter what abuse you’ve wrongly received, this poem speaks the truth.  You are good, you deserve to celebrate, you deserve to live.  You deserve to love and be loved.

The abuse you’ve experienced, the injustice, the opression, had nothing to do with you.  It may be hard to believe if you haven’t discovered this yet, but it had nothing to do with you.  In abusive relationships, the abuser actually is very insecure and doesn’t know how to get in touch with the abuse they experienced themselves.  Normally abusers have been abused and just continue the cycle because they don’t know any better.

Choose to break the cycle, choose to live a life free from this abuse, choose to stop it now so the cycle doesn’t continue.  Choose to love yourself, choose to no longer be hard on yourself, choose to no longer criticize and reject yourself.  You are good no matter how bad or dirty you may feel.  I hope and pray you realize this to the fullest extent one day.  It’ll take a lot of work to realize this, but it’s worth it.  Now live, you are free, you are safe…

Kerry “been dumped by Iceland and punched my accountant – allegedly” Katona, Pete “Babyshambles – what do you mean you ain’t heard of us” Doherty, Amy “following a long line of wasted talent down the popstar shitter” Winehouse. Need I say any more?

Look mum! I'm on TV!

Well, yes. The world would be better off without the media continually exposing people who are famous for being celebrity fuck-ups. Personally, I don’t find anything remotely entertaining about seeing yet another newspaper story about Pete Doherty’s latest drugs arrest with yet another photo of him with his ‘Crowman from Worzel Gummidge’ hair, druggie complexion and spivs clothes as he’s led into/away from court. I mean, if he’d been remotely famous for some truly excellent music then perhaps, perhaps, his misdemeanors would be worth reading about. Once or twice. Maybe. But mention Babyshambles and I can only imagine some crappy pink and neon nightclub in Essex full of slappers – the only reason I know there’s even a band called Babyshambles is because of headlines like “Pete Doherty – lead singer of Babyshambles – sent to Prison. Again”. Basically, the guy’s a waste of time and space. BANG – there he goes, tumbling headfirst, his hat flying off and his fags all snapped and soaked in his own piss as he lands head-first into my very own ROOM 101.

Look at ME! I'm back! Again...

…But his landing is cushioned by the gurning face of Kerry Katona. Let’s see – another ex pop ’star’ (allegedly) who’s screwed themselves up with drink and drugs (allegedly) lost weight, gained weight, lost weight again (allegedly), relaunched career several times only to fuck themselves up again (allegedly) and punch (allegedly) their own accountant in the face (allegedly) – probably the last person you want to take it out on when you owe a bunch of cash to the inland revenue (allegedly). So desperate for cash (allegedly) that I and other commentators had better use ‘(allegedly)’ to make it clear that we’re only reporting allegations, and therefore not open to being screwed by any ‘no win – no fee’ type company. (allegedly).

"Fame! I wanna live 'til Tuesday! Light up my pipe with a flame.. FAME!"

Amy. Amy Amy Amy. Please, someone, buy her a nice coffee-table book for Christmas called ‘The Lives and Deaths of Rockstars Who Had it All But Pissed it, and Themselves, Away’. Surely she’s heard of Hendrix? For Pete’s sake (not Doherty… he’s probably beyond all help by now) do something original. Just because you’re a pop star doesn’t mean you have to fuck yourself up – do something original instead. Or, y’know, you’ll end up spending eternity in some cosmic ROOM 101 with Katona, Doherty and a hundred and one other celebrity fuck-ups. Allegedly.

GZS

Have you ever stopped and thought about the way you live?  Do you like what you see?  Do you like yourself?  Do you like where your life is going?  I’m very hesitant to say that I think there are a lot of people who don’t stop to think about these things and who just keep on going and going and going until things fall apart.  I say if things fall apart on you that’s a blessing in disguise because it stops you from living life unhappily.  I was hesitant because I feel I’ll get a lot of people angry and get defensive who say “I love my life!”  If you love your life, truly and deep down inside, this post is not for you.  This is for those who in your own private life, when you’re by yourself, are not so sure about how you’re going about your life, are not so sure how to stop.  This post is for those who think, “I’m better than this,” or “I can’t go on like this.”  I’m not gonna give advice on what to do because deep down inside you know what to do.

Post inspired by Tuesdays with Morrie movie

Two die, 19 become ill at US sweat lodge – Yahoo!7 News.

‘Self-help expert and author James Arthur Ray rented the facility as part of his “Spiritual Warrior” retreat..’

Pakistan: Five dead as suicide bomber strikes UN Islamabad office. Taliban blamed.

…but it marks your skin, until they break it ((Where Love Went Wrong — Augustana))

—

The first week of school has gone by, and I’m officially losing it. I honestly thought I was doing well thus far, until I completely exploded on one of my best friends about all the things I’m stressed about that I didn’t even realize I was stressed about until tonight. I guess I bottle things up so much that I didn’t even realize how much had piled up.

Here’s my list:

1. One of my best friends got into a car accident and has a concussion (that will permanently do damage because the last one she got really fucked her up).

2. Another best friend is on crutches & battling an eating disorder (I love her & I will always, always, always support her).

3. In the group of people I go to lunch with is a girl who reminds me of a really, really bad day in the summer. It’s not her fault at all that I dislike her (even though she’s awesome) by association to that day.

4. I keep seeing/dodging a male who watched me/caused me to freak the fuck out on the aforementioned bad day in summer (there are many posts related to that day in cryptic terms).

5. I may have to give up one of the few things about school that I actually love, technical theater, because I may not have the time this semester to work on the play.

6. My education is racking up a lot of dollars, and I hate asking my parents for money more than I hate myself most of the time (my dad’s unemployment money runs out next month). It literally makes me physically sick to ask them for money. SAT – 45. 2 college applications – 100. Sewing crap for a class called apparel development that I didn’t even want to take – unknown. ITS dues – 20. I will probably end up not telling them about half of it and pay for it myself, because I’d honestly rather use my own savings than have to ask them. Their faces look so okay about it, but I’m not naive enough to believe it — I know we’re having money problems, I’m not stupid.

7. I haven’t had time to practice piano all week because I’ve been so busy. I have a new teacher who I’m not fond of because it feels all wrong (I want my old one back), and I want to do well because my parents invest a LOT of money in my lessons. The least I could do is make progress, and I haven’t.

8. As far as cutting goes, I’m almost back to where I was 2 years ago — that’s how frequent it is.

9. I’ve completely lost my sex drive (which is usually on high gear). I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s one of the early signs that say I’m headed towards what I call my low, aka a period of depression/insomnia/stress.

10. I have so much school shit to do in the next two weeks that I can’t seem to wrap my brain all the way around it.

11. The only time I’m NOT thinking about all these things is in my sleep. And even then, it takes a while for me to fall asleep and I wake up 2-3 times a night about 4 nights a week with nightmares. The same one I’ve been getting since the middle of the summer. The same one I got as a kid. The same one that still gets to me after 10 years. The really fucked up thing is that I’m working in the same mall where that nightmare went down in real life. Oh and my brain threw in a new one the other night — I killed & mutilated 3 people in my home and then proceeded to have my parents cover it up (where that came from, I’m not sure).

12. I’ve been getting urges to pick up my habits that I used to use to get myself some sleep. Nyquil or alcohol. Lots of it.

What I hate the most is that at the end of the day I still have the same stupid demeanor plastered all over my body. During the day I’m nothing but a mummy — simply a shell made to look good while I’m rotting inside.

i’m fed up of pretending everything is fine.

its not fine that i go for men who either treat me like dirt or put me on a pedalstool, and then cheat on everyone. its not fine that i hurt myself. its not fine that i hate people for no reason. the amount i drink is definitely not fine.

i’m not fine. can i tell my friends or will they think im just attention seeking? my leg is so bad. i dont want to bring them down, but i’m fed up of them thinking im just a bitch and i dont care. thats not true. im so deeply ashamed of almost everything ive done outside of professional work and accademic grades.

i make such poor decisions. I slept with SA again, cause he let me cry about AA. how does that even make sense? I’m a terrible person.

Well I cut myself recently.  I’m not proud of it, but what can I do about it?  I was really upset.  Why do I have to be so weak?  I just don’t get it.  Why is it that I revert back to what I was?  I just don’t get it.  I tried so hard to fight it.  I really did.  I guess that I’m a weak person.  I wish I was stronger.  I really do.  I tried to fight it, but the urge to do it was too strong.

I can’t press down anymore and I think that’s a problem.  I’ve become such a huge coward.  I can’t cut myself like I used to and I think that’s a problem.  I don’t know why I always have the urge to cut myself.  I guess that I’m a huge fan of self-abuse since that’s what I always do.  I have to tell my case worker today.  I start DBT today so I guess this will be behind me sometime.

Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? Have you ever truly contemplated how you might do such an act? Its an interesting experience, the mind set most. Don’t mistake this as a ‘final note’ or whatever, i simple wish to try and make heads or tails of these clearly irrational thoughts.

I can not say that i would never do this, for no one person can say for sure what they will or will not do for sure. I know that i haven’t found clear cause for such emotions, save for my habit of bottling any matter of emotion to the point of implosion. IDK.

Just ignore me, i don’t even know why i wrote this…..yesh.

Yours is the doorway to death.
& I’ve let you on the inside.

I came
I came

& I came again

I couldn’t get you out of my mind.

My self destructive tendencies-
so cordial with how you waited

I wanted to die
I wanted to die

I wanted to die because I was baited.

You are the destruction
The Torment
the Death

I feel every day.

You stole my home
You stole my womb
You stole my life

& stole my fight.

I was a prisoner because you baited me
I should have known better

I tried

Am I powerless to change?

Am I powerless to be anything different after so many tries?

Will He redeem me?

Tell me to help myself?

Tell me He’s had enough?

or just let me die?

I’m tired of failing.

Every day I taste defeat.

You would think it tastes so great to me…

my stomach’s full beyond capacity.

I’m alone in my body.

My emotions,  my diseases, my body,

me…