A Bittersweet Destruction….

So as me and Jo were getting on each others nerves, I tried to make more “girl time” between my friends and I. We went to this local bar that held a dj, cheap drinks, fine looking men and women, great friends, good conversation, and the occasional interesting bar fight which exposed girls tits now and again.  There was never a dull moment at this place, and there was always an after party to follow, with plenty of booze and cocaine for everyone. It was only a matter of time before someone caught my eye. Now, I wish he hadn’t because he was trouble from day one when I heard the word “Vegas” come out of his mouth…lol!  A friend of mine knew this guy…. we’ll call him “Carl”.  Carl was a smooth talker, but too arrogant for me to tolerate. However, he was full of adventure, so I thought, that drew me to him. Yeah, I still had my own scenario that was dwindling down which I discussed in my prior post, but I had no idea where I stood with that, so it was pretty much free game. It was like teenage years all over again. Endless nights on the phone with countless hours of conversation. Debating back and forth between baseball teams, the latest trends, the dating scene, all while counting the minutes until he had to leave for work at 5 a.m.  How could I possibly resist this? Here’s a complete stranger that thinks I’m important enough to sacrifice his own sleep just to talk about bullshit. We definitely had a connection. He was from a troubled family, and I had thought he had a lot to offer since not only did he have his own vehicle and I wouldn’t have to transport him back and forth to his job, and he actually HAD a full time job. A GREAT job at that.  And his own place.   But you know that joke about the knight in shining armor turning out to be a loser wrapped in tin foil? Well that’s what I got. This guy was driving his car on a Cinderella license because of a default in child support, lived in a studio apartment that was about as big as my walk in closet, and had two kids.  Now, when it comes to me, I’m never one to judge anyone from their past. How can I? You’ve all read my previous blogs right? I’m no one to judge on the fucked up shit people do. How can I fault someone that has as much as they CAN have in that part of their life. As long as I’m happy right?   Right???

The first incident that I couldn’t let go of was on my birthday.  Two months after we started dating. It was New Years Eve and we were at his families house. He was so drunk that in a middle of a conversation about us to his brother in law he proceeded to say that I “was the biggest girl he’s ever been with”.. Okay, well, now “Jo” who I discussed in my prior post was a cook. Whatever, I got comfortable, and yeah I put on a bit of weight. Not disgustingly heavy. I definitely carried it well, but really??? How could he say that. I’ve seen a few of his exes and to even say something like that totally crushed me. And from the looks on the faces of his family, they weren’t too impressed with his comments either.  As he continued through the next two months of resisting calling us boyfriend/girlfriend, it was like I was a child all over again, trying to prove myself like within “daddy issues” to prove that I was worthy enough to be loved and cared for. He resisted, and I persisted. 

 

We ended up being together for three incredibly long years. With bruised faces and egos, arrests, and restraining orders later. It’s still so bittersweet. There were so many instances in regards to other women, lies, friendships that developed so much turmoil along the way.  On the lighter side of it all, this guy showed me a lot of smiles. We did a lot of things together, and I grew very close to his kids. It’s so unfortunate that he became a pathological liar, or so I think. This guy became so bad that he accused me of sleeping with everyone under the sun. I had never cheated on him whatsoever, no matter how much crap he put me through. Well….. except for ONE time, when I woke up on my own couch, in my own apartment, after being tormented all night and then getting a phone call from my mom the next morning telling me to get my ass to her house. Jo had came to Massachusetts to visit. He showed up at my moms house in his brand new car, and told her all about his job, and said “Your daughter told me to get my shit together. And so I did. And I want her back.”  THIS was probably the hardest thing in my life. Here’s the guy I believed was my soul mate telling me that he got his shit together to better his life and to build a life with me, and here I am dealing with with an abusive asshole that I couldn’t understand how he could be so bad to me when I was so good to him.  He told me to quit my job and move out there and that he’d take care of everything until I could get on my feet out there, just so we could be together.  Unfortunately, the town I’m from is all I know. I hate it. But I’m an only child, who’s mom is my best friend, and this is where my family is. I was very nervous about that choice because of how independent I’ve been over the years, which is probably the only thing I can be proud of. I didn’t have a choice. Everyone I’d been with has been broke, or “in a bad spot” that never seems to go away, which leaves me no choice but to fend for myself. Like a cub in a pack of wolves playing the game of survival of the fittest. This really sucks. This isn’t a life a female should live. Yeah it’s taught me some great skills, but for it to be a way of life??? No effin way. 

Anyhow, as I’m in a relationship with a complete douchebag, and here is my god’s gift begging for another chance, I tell Jo that I can’t, because I have to respect the current relationship that I’m in. What a fuckin idiot I was. 

Still didn’t stop me from going out to Connecticut during a huge PowWow in my apartment…..  That was a crazy emotional weekend. I knew where I was suppose to be, but I couldn’t leave my family and my job behind. That’s all I had. I couldn’t trust him while in midst of our conversations he’d be scrolling through his phone. What kind of disrespect was that? It just brought me right back to where I was when I was 27.   How could I possibly have a relationship for the time being with my “soul mate” who lived two hours away, where my jerk boyfriend at the time lived now 30 seconds from my house.  (Yeah I forgot to mention I kicked him out after a long night of fist throwing).  I don’t know what kept me with Carl for so long.  Like I said, maybe it’s a crazy complex that I feel like I need to conquer to just prove to people that I’m really worth loving and that I’m a nice person. It just take a real strong person to claw past my harsh exterior to get to the real me. To show my true self will take a lot of dedication from the person that wants to see it, and it’s not an easy task, but I just can’t afford to put my heart up for gamble anymore….

So the end result with Carl, it got to the point where I didn’t even want to sleep in my own apartment anymore. This was MY place. It was MY name on the rent. I got two bedrooms in case I needed a roommate if things didn’t work out between him and I. We went through stupid endless nights from best friends, to arguing, to sex, to arguing, to distance, to best friends and all over again the next day. This was the true definition of a bi-polar relationship.  After three years though, I really did love him. Maybe not a healthy love, but there was love. The more he accused me, the more of the “tough guy” persona I unleashed, showing that he wasn’t going to bring me down no matter what he said or did. I wanted him to see the strong side of me, not the one he could break with a word or a fist.  Our routine got stale, and we no longer did all that fun shit. I hated that he had to pay so much child support, but respected that I, we, wanted to build memories that brought us close for the things we shared that he would always no matter what put money aside to spend time with ME. It was amazing. He made me feel important in his life. Is that why I stayed and put up with the bullshit? 

There were stories of other women that I turned my head to. Maybe because I knew of the secret sexual encounters that carried over from my guilt between me and Jo throughout that weekend in Connecticut, or when he came to Massachusetts to find me.  Maybe I didn’t see such an issue with the physical aspect of the abuse because I dealt with it so much already and I wasn’t going to let him get away from trying to make this work so easily. I don’t know. I can’t explain it.  Either way, after spending countless nights being faithful, sleeping at moms, sleeping at friends, sleeping in my car, just so I don’t have to face the verbal assault while I walk into my own apartment, I had to end it no matter how I did it. 

That week that he was to move out was the week of our anniversary, and the local govenor issued a warning for everyone to stay indoors due to the storm weather outside. I tried to make the best of it by agreeing to watch a movie and have him stay in the room, because in the meantime he was sleeping in the other bedroom. Which was quite okay with me. It was weird, because I was already past the point of being “okay” with how things were going. That’s just how I am. Once I get to that point, good luck getting me back to the way I once was.  Anyway, here came the trials. Let’s go to the casino. No. Let’s go to the movies. No. Let’s go to dinner. No.  I wanted no part of it, I was done. There was no turning back after everything he had done and made me feel. I couldn’t take it anymore, although I still had love lingering along.  He knew four days from then, he needed to be out…..

Four days later, his shit was still all over the place, unpacked, and he was passed out on the futon in the other room, hungover from the night before filled with his favorite bar with a side of cocaine. I stormed into that room and forced him to go. I had given him a whole month and a half to find a place from the last time we had gotten into a physical altercation and I wasn’t letting him milk it any longer.  He called his sister to stay in her building and a group showed up to move his stuff out. I stayed in my room, and cried. My mom and aunt came over for emotional support, and he was gone…. until a few days later… and then the torture began…..

The One Who Got Away….

I was 24. He was 21.

I invited my friend Will to come over and go swimming at my moms house. He was with his uncle, and with his friend from out of town named Jo.

Jo.

We clicked instantly. We spend the afternoon and night cracking jokes, drinking beers, shots, mixed drinks, whatever we could find stashed away in the pool house. He was staying at his fathers in my town for the next three days, then going back to stay at his uncles house in a town about an hour away.  I wrote my number down on the Queen of Hearts from a deck of cards that we had used to play, and hoped to hear from him again.

Jo, Will, Will’s uncle, and myself jumped in the pool, wasted, each holding a different bottle in our hands.  That’s when Jo and I shared our first kiss.  This seemed more intoxicating than all of this liquor combined. I didn’t want him to leave.

I had to work the next day, and when it rounded close to midnight, a cab needed to be called. I asked Jo to stay with me and I’d bring him home in the morning. I didn’t wanna do this, since I really liked this guy, but I was afraid I would never see him again and wanted to take advantage of this situation for whatever it would become.  As the cab drove away with Will and his uncle in the car, Jo and I stripped off our bathing suits and had sex on the couch in the pool house. Good sex. No, great sex. It wasn’t about the physical entirely. This dude got me. I’ve never had anyone look me in the eyes and pierce right into my soul.

Jo and I became inseparable, and the excuses of why he couldn’t go back to his uncles an hour away got longer. Neither one of us wanted to let go. It was a connection I’d never felt or experienced before. He made me want to be a better woman. A better woman that wanted to eventually become a wife. A mother. A partner. A friend.  I still to this day, 7 years later, have no idea what it was that became the centrifugal force between us.

We were together for about a year and a half before we split up. Over stupid stuff. Immature stuff. Insecure stuff. During that break was when I met Don from my prior blog posting.  When I came back from the Dominican Republic, me and Jo linked right back up and picked up right where we left off.

I truly loved this guy. You could see it in our photos, our eyes, our company, everything. This guy did whatever I wanted or needed him to, and I never looked at him like a ‘sucker’ or a pushover. He genuinely wanted me to be happy. We were inseparable. We shared so much. We were best friends. No, MORE than best friends. He came back down to my town and we moved in together. Nothing could have been better. I loved his family, and they loved me. We did so many things together, So many adventures. So much stupid shit, lol!  I love a certain type of flower, and him and I use to dress up like ninjas and go to neighborhoods that we would see these type of flowers in peoples yards and go cut them down like we had samurai swords to take home as a souveneir of our ‘bad-ass-ness”. This, was my soulmate.

We decided to take a trip to Puerto Rico to see some of his family.  That’s where he proposed. I gladly accepted, and we were such a happy couple.

Then I started looking at the big picture. I worked at a corporate office, while he was part time flipping burgers. He did what he loved. Cooking. Whether he worked in a fancy restaurant, or a fast food type of environment, and I accepted that. But I tried to express that he needed to work full time, and save money for the wedding. We planned a lot, but his dedication showed different. We needed groceries, and he was buying video games. This hurt me. I felt like he didn’t see this as important as I did. I started resenting him, and putting up a wall. I got insecure when he was always on his cellphone, and started thinking he was cheating. My mind was going crazy. Long story short, I rebelled, and let him get away. I tried to hold on so tightly, that I drove myself away. I drove “US” away.

And there he was. Gone. Until……….

….The Hot Tub Experience

So there we were. Me and the birthday girl that I had known for years through school and we hung out here and there. Really nice girl, but a little wacky. I can’t put my finger on what it was about her but she always seemed a little, “off”.  As I sat on Jake’s couch next to his roommate, (Jake was vacationing in another country at the time) and she sat on the loveseat,  she casually says to me “You’ve kissed a girl before, right? What’s it like?” Now I can’t remember what exactly we were talking about that inspired her to ask me that. I’ve kissed plenty of girls before and had no problem discussing it. I’ve always been attracted to women. I had never gone further than kissing, but that’s only because I really didn’t know how to initiate anything smoothly and was afraid I’d freak the girl out. All the girls I’ve made out with was all pretty much under the same circumstances…. drunkenness. Which for ME, I’d think that would be the BEST time to take it another step and blame it on the alcohol the next day if the other person had regrets.  It was usually me making some sort of joke like that their boyfriend better watch out for me, or if they were single, I’d say something like we should just ‘totally date each other because I’d do you’ and play it from there.

Anyway, so I told her it’s no different than kissing a man, just a little more sensual and I’d be willing if she was willing. She came over and I kissed her for about a good 30 seconds. I looked over at the roomie and told him to start up the hot tub. All three of us ended up in there and them two started making out and I proceeded to go down on her. All I kept thinking is “Oh my god, is this really happening right now?”As I continued alternating between oral sex and finger foreplay, I don’t know if she really knew how to respond to all this and I tried not to be too pushy because I didn’t want her to flake out.  Obviously since I was the first girl she’s kissed, all of this other stuff was new to her as well. I couldn’t let her know what I wanted in return, because I didn’t wanna fuck it up. I quickly got a little bored and stepped aside. He had a glass shower in the bathroom as well so I showered while watching him fuck my friend. It was pretty hot, but weird how I was so casual about it after I got out the shower. Going into the kitchen to mix myself a drink, do a line and try to process my surroundings. Now looking back, I shoulda been more involved and taken advantage of this opportunity.  But she was kinda dull, and I’d much rather it be a female that can be just as feisty as myself and reciprocate.

The next morning, we went back to her place (just her and I). She lived with her mother, but her mother was also out of town.  Although being hungover, I still thought, hey, maybe this’ll be a second shot at this experience. With her mind more clear, I payed close attention of how she acted to ensure that this didn’t freak her out or ruin our relationship. She asked me to stay with her and go back to sleep.  I stayed, we did kiss  and touch a little bit, but that was it. We ended up falling asleep snuggling with each other.

The next thing I knew, I had myself a Stage 5 Clinger.

Her and I would go out to the club and I’d be talking to my guy friends and she’d get upset and tell them that they better know that I’m going home with her. She started trying to make out with me in front of guys just to get the guys attention. She was constantly up my ass (not literally) with everything and an emotional mess which I had to wean this girl off due to her annoyance.

At least I got to have somewhat of an experience that I was interested in having. It’s funny in a way since the best friend of the guy I had lost my virginity to spread a nasty rumor in high school that we had a threesome, which was not true, and I spent so much time trying to set the story straight, and then years later, it was something that I actually wanted to experience. I never really saw that girl again since she moved to New York with her family. She’s reached out to me on facebook, but that’s it.  As for the roomie, as we discussed the hot tub stuff, I had told him that was the farthest I had gone with a girl, and he had confessed that he had this huge crush on Jake and that they’ve hooked up quite a bit and that it was a huge secret.. Wow. Jake was a dead end road, and I’m pretty sure there was no way I’d end up sandwiched between Jake and the roomie.  From my sexcapade with Jake prior, it wouldn’t have even been worth it……

….The Other Drugs

Ok ok, so where were we? Oh yeah, I just told you how I found out the guy I was hooking up with was married to my supervisor. Awkward. I didn’t really like her anyway, and I’m pretty sure she was up to her own shenanigans herself. This scenario continued for a little while, and it was that sneaky, playing with fire, thinking “I’m the cats tail” feeling that got me high. At work, I no longer got mad at the crappy work assignments I got handed to me, I took it out on my supervisors husband instead. Eventually that fizzled out, I got tired of it all, especially after I was fired. But that was my own wrong-doing. My late nights made it almost impossible to get to work on time, and if you couldn’t tell, my respect for my job wasn’t too serious. Now that I look back on it, I actually feel bad for partaking in that whole situation. But hey, I was 21, single, and heartbroken…  I realized there were plenty of other men out there, and quite a few wanted a piece of me. Or should I say, meat.  I certainly wasn’t skanky, but I definitely had my fun. With as many guys that I associated with, it was like an addiction to feel that type of “power”. I was untouchable. I couldn’t be hurt, I couldn’t be lied to, I didn’t care. I’d have my fun and toss it aside. I felt safe, and wanted, but disgusted all at the same time. Then there was Victor.

Man.

This was a bittersweet relationship. I purposely left out the part earlier that somewhere within being around the college area, everywhere I turned, someone was snorting a line of cocaine while balancing their beer in their other hand. Bathrooms. Bedrooms. Pinky nails. Countertops. You name it. I had never tried it, until then.  And somewhere along that, I found a way to make an extra dollar. I’m in no way shape or form, fit to spend time in jail. But I didn’t care. I was all around it anyway, and I didn’t judge my so-called friends because they accepted me, so why not??

Anyhow, back to the story. So Victor. Victor was a good looking guy that I’d see around here and there, carried swag better than most, and I was drawn to him. Turned out he also was a dealer. Immediately we had things to talk about and compare notes. Not the best way to get to know someone, for sure, but his timid attitude was so desirable, and it was like in the back of my mind, I felt like we connected because we were both two adults, doing something we shouldn’t be doing, and that there was a better life for us to be living.  The endless nights of playing cards, dominoes, drinking beers, and doing lines. Swapping stories while watching the sun come up, and spending the next day in bed together which the occasional round of sex and chinese food takeout.  We vibed so well together….for about a year.

His best friend was an ass. He was a skirt chaser, and a trouble maker. I couldn’t stand him hanging around this guy.  One night while Victor was sleeping over, he got a phone call from his buddy in the middle of the night who started yelling at him saying that he found out that Victor had been sleeping with the girl HE was sleeping with. I could hear all this because I was laying beside him. Victor didn’t say a word. His buddy proceeded to say “Oh, your girlfriends there? We’ll talk about this later then….” I confronted him as soon as he hung up the phone, and he confessed that he had been sleeping with this other girl. He couldn’t deny it, since I had heard the conversation myself.  I was devastated. Especially that this other girl is so hideous looking it’s not even funny. Trust me on this.

After a while, and after me medicating by hooking up with another guy, I decided to try to give me and Victor another shot. That quickly died out when he hit me across the face because he thought I embarassed him since I asked my friend to see if he could get Victor a job where he worked, since Victor was looking for legal employment. I gave him a job…. to pick up all his shit I threw out the bedroom window.

It wasn’t long after that I was up to my old tricks. I had quit selling drugs, and moved back home, but I was still always ready for friends and bar scene adventures. Feeling lost all over again, I had to make my way back into the world, since I revolved quite a bit around Victor.  But I could never seem to find that feeling of belonging anywhere…

Back on the homefront, my mom had remarried to a guy we’ll call Ken. Ken was awesome at first. He was so much fun, full of life, outgoing, polar opposite from the strict law enforcer she married previously. Once they had gotten engaged, I’m almost positive he grew a set of red horns on his head. This guy spend most of the time at the bar, come home and either start a fight with mom just to have a reason to take off and go back to the bar. The best one was when he said he was going out to pick up rock salt in the Winter, and came home like two days later. Sans rock salt.  And this was no ordinary bar that he frequented. This was the local slumville. Cheap beers and a multitude of pills sold at every other barstool. There’s not a time you couldn’t drive by there and see a toothless degenerate standing outside with a dirty white Hanes t-shirt with their hair all desheveled while smoking a cigarette scheming on someone for spare change. It wasn’t too long after that Ken got addicted to pills, along with booze and cocaine, while my mom was home alone tending house.  The cycle was so icky that I turned the cheek a lot since it was my mothers life, and she was a big girl, and I had my own life that I had to figure out where I needed to be. She had her own crap going on. So of course, I embraced anyone and everyone that allowed me to.

Here I was. Working at a job I loved being at, although I still didn’t feel like I belong there. It was a small office staff, who have already built their ‘work family’ that I couldn’t seem to find my way through the indirect initiation to be part of the cool group that would go out for lunch together. Who had time for that anyway while my mind was being consumed with wondering why my biological father treated his other children so great and I got nothing but disappointment, my ex-stepfather cut off all communication since his new girlfriend thought he shouldn’t have ties since I wasn’t his biological child (which, by the way you’ll take notice from my previous posts that this now makes both dads cast me aside for another woman), my mom who is my best friend was miserable, sad and lonely, my stepdad was a drunk and a drug addict who was barely around unless he was home showering between work and the bar, or going through our belongings to find money to steal, my friendships weren’t solid, I didn’t fit in at my job, and I felt alone and unworthy of being loved properly. And then I met my boss’s nephew who worked there.  We’ll call him Jake…..

If Jake walked up to you and told you he was a model, you’d believe it. This was a very unique experience. This was the first guy that made me blush every single time he walked through the door. I could barely speak without sounding like a jumbling idiot. I’d see his truck pull up and it was like I was a ten year old girl catching a real life glimpse of Justin Bieber. My boss told me that he was single, had a roommate who also worked for the company and that he had his shit together. I’m pretty sure it was obvious to everyone that I was intrigued beforehand. So what was I to do? Become friends with the roommate of course! Long story short, I eventually got invited to a house party they had, and the interior was decorated than any of my girlfriends places….. do you see where I’m going with this????   Well…. one night eventually, I got the phone call asking what I was doing. It must’ve been around midnight so I knew what was going on. But I was so incredibly nervous you woulda thought I was a virgin on prom night. Me and Jake hooked up, which I had psyched myself up daily by visualizing how it would be, that it was totally overrated. We never hooked up again, but me and the roommate stayed friends. Close enough that he let me and one of my female friends use his hot tub on her birthday after plenty of boozing with a side of curiosity……

Stay tuned for part 4…..

….And this is where it all began (Part 2)

In continuance to my last post of bringing everyone up to speed….

So, after that relationship ended. I went through a lot of relationships, using sex as a weapon, and still tried to find the place in the world where I belong. I hung out with many different crowds, and I could “feel” that they wanted me around. Everyone just always seemed happy those days, but I was still feeling the emptiness of a relationship and love. I met up with an old family acquaintance and we became a couple, and after about a year we moved in together. This was the first guy I’d lived with. He proposed, I said yes, but wasn’t really truly happy. This relationship resulted in him calling me by my best friend (at the time) name while we were having sex. Needless to say, I dropped him like a bad habit. Then to find out that he had tried to hook up with a girl from his school who she asked about me and he said that I was “nobody”. Turns out that this girl was a distant relative of mine, and when we bumped into each other after my breakup, she told me everything.

Jay, from the previous post, had toughened up my skin enough to not put up with crap anymore, which I am thankful for. Back then, I was fit, I hung around the college kids who accepted me because they didn’t know me, I got a lot of attention from the male population, probably from the way I dressed, lol. Back on the market I went…..

At this point, I was now 21 and was more in the “real world” clientele rather than near the college people I knew. I didn’t even go to college. It was just a friend of a friend of a party, etc and I met a handful of people that nowadays, I couldn’t tell you where or what they’re doing unless I look them up on facebook here and there.  Being 21 and working a full time job and going out a lot of the men that for some reason I was attracting were married, or at least in a relationship. At first I was disgusted with the disrespect they had shown for their ‘special lady’, but then it came to the point that my mind frame went to “Well, if it’s not ME he’s cheating with, it will be someone else anyhow” which eased up my conscience.  I was just happy to have a “man” interested in me, and knowing that it was my safety. I wouldn’t have to worry about him cheating on me, because I knew where I stood. I never believed, nor wanted to hear, the sob stories of “how their wife doesn’t understand them” or that “they’ve been sleeping on the couch”, or “I wish it was you…” blah blah blah.  Liars. I guarantee if they put as much effort into either working it out or ending their relationship because they’re that unhappy that they spend trying to find a spare moment to see me, I’m sure the girlfriend/wife would have reciprocated.

The first older man that was interested in me was absolutely gorgeous. I wanted every single piece of him. Excited just over the way he would look at me. He was a product delivery driver at the place of employment I was at.  After showing up late excessively from partying with the college kids, I was eventually terminated.  I knew I’d only have to hope to see him some day in traffic, or ‘randomly’ bump into him at the gym where I worked out, and he played basketball. Or even leaving after work since the next job I got was next door to the delivery company, which is total coincidence by the way….

…..and then, I see him walk through the locked door at my new job, meet eyes with me, walk past me, right up to my direct supervisors desk and kisses her on the lips………….. I could’ve died, right on the spot.

Gotta go finish up the work day… Stay tuned for part 3 continuance…….

….And this is where it all began (Part 1)

So I’m still trying to navigate through this site since I’ve just joined, and I haven’t quite figured it out yet. I don’t know how to find “followers”, I’m not even sure that these posts are going public for people to comment on. All I know is that I wanna write and I want feedback. That’s all. No bells and whistles. No navigating around. Just something simple, like email. I vent to you, you give advice. Can it be that simple??

I actually don’t even know where to start for the hopefully potential followers to be up to speed.  Hmmm, let’s see… I’m a female in my 30’s, I’m pretty sure I’m the only person I know that doesn’t have any kids, I’m changing jobs next week, I just moved in with the boyfriend, my mom’s my best friend and my dad is a jackass. Four years ago,  I dumped and lost the best thing that could have happened to me, and I don’t think I’ve forgiven myself yet, and I’m reminded constantly by the things done/not done by my partners since then… and I struggle with that frequently….      My friends are pretty lame seeing that I constantly put it out there to hang out and do fun stuff to enjoy the Summer, but I’ve consistently being blown off, but good enough to hang out at the bars with. I’ve questioned and shaved off people from my life from time to time, but after a while, when I’m trying to connect with different groups of people or to do different types of things and getting the same result, I start questioning my own self value.  I’ve never been a conceited person by any means, but I’m damn sure that I’m a good person.  I’m smart, I’m self-sufficient, I think I can be an attractive person, I have a fun and adaptable personality, I’m a good listener and always willing to give advice or help a friend. And it’s tough to emotionally struggle because of wanting to love life so much and be treated well and just be happy, and then I see people who are “less deserving” seem to have the world.

So let’s take it back, shall we?

When my mother was pregnant and engaged, my father cheated on her with her best friend. Therefore, my mom ended up a single parent, which I’m grateful for. I’d go see my father every weekend until his wife (not the best friend) had a jealousy issue with me being a child from her husband and my mother, and she thought it was a better idea that I start sleeping over bi-weekly instead. My father, the effin coward, abided by her and put her first. Then proceeded shortly after to start bringing me to my grandmothers and take off to spend time with yet another girl he started banging behind his partners back.  Of course as a child I didn’t know all of this, I didn’t find out the reason of all the “drop-offs” until later, which my dad of course denies.  After him initiating this horrible complex of me feeling so self-negative due to being cast aside for ‘something more worth their time’, i.e. another woman, I decided at about the age of 12 I really didn’t want to spend my bi-weekly time at my grandparents house while my dad banged the mistress, or keeping myself occupied while I actually was with my dad while he slept or did his own thing.

To make matters worse, I can clearly recall asking for things for us to do that he turned down. McDonalds happy meals was about as far as my smile went. There was one time my mother actually gave my dad money telling him to take me to the amusement park that I wanted to go to. My dad wasn’t broke, he was just an ass.  When he got married, he ended up having a handful of kids which got everything they breathed on and more. It was rough watching that because I’ve never been a spoiled brat, and I tried to be ‘the bigger person’ but it still doesn’t take any of the sting away.   All of this resulted in yet a second complex, which I associate that with “Daddy Issues”…..

When I was about 7-ish, mom got married to a man in the law enforcement. It was really nice to have a father figure there, even though I never called him dad. He was incredibly strict though. All of my friends practically had to submit a blood sample in order to coordinate a sleepover, which is awkward, but now understandable.  Forget having boys as friends. He’d have these little condescending ways about him that back then I didn’t know how to handle to avoid it from making me feel inadequate. Things eventually became so mentally crippling that it ignited suicide attempts.

Cutting was the first thing. I don’t think I really wanted to die back then, I just felt stuck and alone, shoved in a corner, and emotionally beaten with no one/where to help. I remember making that phone call to my mom at work telling her that I hated my life, and that I hated how much I wanted my stepdad to be more loving and that the only thing I got was his law-enforcement attitude that he wore 24/7. Of course I only annoyed my mom telling her that while she was at work, but hey, I was about 13 and it was a direct cry for help. I thought expressing feelings when they get that heavy was good, no?

Mom ended up divorcing him when I was 14 after he told her that one of her extra-curricular activities that she picked up to spend more time with me ‘interfered with her home chores’. Then I found out a lot more that I really wish I hadn’t. Apparently he use to tell my mom that he wanted his own flesh and blood child, and that if my mom didn’t have one, then he would cheat on her to get the other woman pregnant to have a child.  This was after my mom had told him she couldn’t have any more kids, but still tried to keep him happy, and ended up pregnant, and then miscarried.  Obviously that was for the best, but it took a toll on me to know that he would do such a thing to my mom, and to our family for his own selfish needs, and of course made me feel not good enough to love. That makes two “fathers” that created these self-hate demons within….

And that’s where the madness began.

I had gotten good grades when I was younger. Always went above an beyond doing extra work, spent my summer filling in extra textbook work that my teachers had just to keep my mind active, and I truly enjoyed it. When all this stuff happened and I hit middle school, acceptance became my priority over everything.  It was like I almost didn’t have any standards or boundaries just so I could get, and keep, people in my life even if they didn’t deserve to be there.  I lost my virginity at 14, which was a nightmarish experience to begin with. A few months later I was raped by a friend that we liked each other, and this happened in one of my friends house, with my friends in the next room.  I started smoking weed, smoking cigarettes, and drinking. My best friends mom was the “cool mom” that would go to the local store and buy our boatload of friends booze and butts and we’d just have a co-ed fun fest all the time. I’m not really regretting all of that because honestly I had a lot of fun, have some great memories and felt the love between myself and friends back then.Plus, majority of teenagers have these experiences. I only regret it because the hurt I had inside didn’t allow me to have a conscience anymore….

Got myself into a relationship when I was 14 with a guy that we can call “Jay”. Jay was my longest relationship of four years, and the absolute worst. He gave me the time and attention I craved. He liked me, and back then that was good enough for me. I ended up pregnant 3 months into the relationship and was convinced by my mother to get an abortion, which I was against, but now feel like it was one of the best decisions of my life. After a year into the relationship, he started becoming mentally and physically abusive. I’m pretty sure I stuck around because I felt the need to prove that I was worthy enough for love and respect and that he’d open his eyes and realize how great of a person I have told myself I was over the years. Things only got worse, and sex equaled my vision of love.  We’d bang like jackrabbits as teenagers do, but then I’d have to worry about being an individual without pissing him off enough to become abusive. Not to mention when it came to other females he was kinda sketchy. I lost pretty much all of my friends because they told me that they can’t stand to look at my bruised face or hear my stories and not be able to do anything. Of course I didn’t have a dad for guidance, and my mom had found herself a new boyfriend that was incredibly awesome that passed all the test of being the potential fill-in daddy but I was so focused on what was going on in my life and trying to prove myself and deal with everything that I didn’t look for help at home. I’d get stoned instead.

And then the suicide attempts began again after a heavy dose of verbal abuse one night, picking on me and making fun of me, and him casting me aside for a girl he claimed was his cousin. I proceeded to take 34 sleeping pills and cut my wrists. Jay called mom and told her, and she broke my door down, caught me, and brought me to the local hospital where they fed me charcoal to absorb the benadryl, and shipped me off to a mental facility for a week of observation. At this time, I was about 16, almost 17, and all I wanted to do was get outta there and go see Jay. I was worried about what he was doing since he knew I was in a facility that I couldn’t leave.  When I got out, he wanted to try to make it work, and now that I look back, maybe I not only wanted to die at the time, but maybe I wanted him to think about how he’d really feel without me and hope that he realized how great I truly was, and to treat me well. I’d given up everything. Friends, family, sports, attention in school, my self-respect. I mean, everything. Jay got physical with me in the hall one day in high school and got expelled, and I ended up transferring out of high school to adult education night courses where he ended up going, because I was afraid of him meeting someone new.  THAT decision actually worked out well for me since it was a smaller class, more direct, and my grades started accelerating. . .

Jay was jealous. He wanted me to stop hanging out with my best friend who happened to be male, who hated Jay. And my best friends girlfriend, wasn’t too fond of our friendship either. One of the breakups me and Jay had, I met up with the best friend, where we both found out at the same time that our partners were sleeping with each other. Karma came around when the girl ended up pregnant. Do you think that stopped me? Nope. I stayed with this guy literally until he got a message on his pager with the hospital phone and room number, and then proceeded to go with him to the hospital the next day. In the girls room and everything….

I’m not sure what happened shortly after that finally kept me away. I think it was just that I had absolutely no energy left to really give a shit…

Phew! Well… there’s three large life-changing pieces that I’ve shared, and there’s more to come to bring up to speed of my current daily life issues. However, I’m due to get up in four hours to go to the bad place (a/k/a work). Stay tuned, and thanks for reading….. 🙂