I Am Enough

Lazy and unmotivated are two words that hopefully would not be what people use to describe me. But I have this mentality that being “good enough” is really not good enough. I feel like I have to be perfect in everything I do or else I feel like a complete failure.

It’s my biggest defect in character, my biggest struggle. Everything is either black or white with me. I’m either successful or a failure. “Bad” or “Good”. I want it all or I don’t want a damn thing. I am wildly enthusiastic or I don’t want to get out of bed. I swing from one side of the pendulum to other constantly. What the heck is balance?

I need to accept that I am doing well for myself. That I am successful. That I am doing good enough and that good enough IS good enough. I am my own worst enemy. I am so hard on myself when I don’t achieve something I want, when something doesn’t go as planned, etc. I need to stop punishing myself for things that are truly so minuscule.

Please God, help me get out of my head. I have a wonderful life to live, people to love and my services to give. Time to give up these negative thoughts and get out of my head and into the real world. The real world where I am doing good enough, I really am.

Bad Sleeper

Sleep and I have never had a good relationship. We’ve never even been friends. I constantly chase sleep and then find myself pushing it away. A good night’s sleep is my white whale. I suffer at night. Bedtime is full of fear and disappointment. When I am alone with my restless mind, I feel like the whole rest of the world is asleep and gone. It’s awfully lonely. I am so tired of being tired.

Going to bed has always given me anxiety. I dislike doing things I am not good at. As soon as I become prone, my head will just unpack itself. My mind will turn on and start endlessly buzzing. Trying to go asleep is often when I feel most alive and engaged, when I have the best ideas. This is my brain trying to trick me that I need to work overtime. I need some rest. I have a lot to do.

 

Pigs are Men, Men are Pigs

Always the hook-up and the friend, never the girlfriend. Post divorce, I’ve dealt with my fair share of men and it always ended up the same. Sometimes it’s frustrating being the “cool girl”. So many times I seen men being hurt by women they think love them, they think are right for them, the ones they think they’re going to marry. I sit back on the sidelines, shaking my head. No, no, no, you are so wrong. Why can I see it, but you can’t?

R, the boy who has been my friend during my marriage and helped me post divorce in small ways. I never wanted a relationship with him, but at times I did feel some attachment to him. He claims he wants to be my friend, but then texts me asking for sexual favors and pictures. Now that I’ve grown a backbone and refused, he has stopped texting me. Surprised? No, not really.

A, my current crush, the guy I can’t get out of my head. The guy who has broken up and gotten back with his ex-girlfriend, a gone girl, so many times. A girl he thinks he wants to spend the rest of his life with. A girl who verbally abuses him. A girl who is only after his money and status. He recently went on an extended vacation with her. He posted some pics and as captioned said the vacation was romantic, but wished he could have spent it with a girl who loves him for him, not his money and status. All I could think to myself was “You fucking idiot. That was me. But you tossed me aside like trash.” I don’t want his money. I don’t care about his clinical diagnosis. I think he’s amazing. But, yet, he still cares not an ounce for me.

I’m tired of having intense feelings for men that don’t give a shit for me. How do I get over this? Should I become like Samantha from Sex and the City and just use men for sex or should I just keep hoping? Just be myself and maybe one day some guy will see it and appreciate it?

Single

I’m not the marrying kind. I’ve decided that for myself. I can’t get a date. If I do, I can’t keep them. It fucking hurts, but I’m trying to accept it. A life in solo can’t be all that bad, right?

Blue

And here comes Depressive episode #1 of 2015…..

I was feeling pretty good for the last few weeks, but now *boom* depressed. It really seems like it comes out of nowhere. I truly am tired both emotionally and literally of feeling this way. I know I should go see a professional. My depressed episodes are usually pretty bad, but I fight them so much. I can function, but it’s a struggle. If I could, I would stay in bed all day. Perhaps I have BP II. I’m so terrified of taking any medications, but I guess I’m now at the point where the benefits of the drugs may outweigh any of the side effects. I’m not expecting a cure. I just want to feel a little less pain.

I crave sleep so much. But, more often than not, I end up pushing it away. As soon as my head hits the pillow is when my mind decides to race and go through everything, tell me I’m stupid and worthless, I’ll never have him, life is pointless, etc.

I’m not doing as well as I want at work. In all honestly, I’m struggling. I almost can’t pay my bills. I’ve even gone so far as applying for a second job for a graveyard shift. I need to get some bills paid off and sleep seems like something I can sacrifices in order to get this done. If I get called back for an interview, great. If not, I’ll figure something out.

An Open Letter to Him

Maybe one day I’ll have the guts to actually tell you all this in person. Maybe one day when you’re not so sick, you’ll listen.

I’m known you for only a short time, not quite a year. I’v helped you get through a rough time in your life. I’ve helped you get your health back on track. At first, I didn’t like you. I thought you were obnoxious. I thought you were lazy. You were at first difficult to coach and thought you wouldn’t work with me for long. As time went on and I got to you know you a little bit more, I started seeing a fun guy. A sweet guy. I remember telling myself “Don’t fall for this guy.”

We planned to meet for a date. Who asked who? Was it mutual? I don’t remember. The date was lovely. We had lunch, we opened up a bit to each other. We went on a spontaneous trip of looking at houses in a new residential development. I remember you telling me in later texts that it was obvious I was looking for a boyfriend, but from what I remember you were talking about wanting a family, kids. You want 3 or 4, I playfully argued back and said 2 is the max. How was I not suppose to think you were looking for a partner for yourself? We end up back at your place after a movie. We have some wine. We talk some more. I remember thinking I wanted to kiss you so bad, but I held back. I want to thank you for making me feel so wanted, so attractive. It truly was the best date I’ve ever had.

A week later, we meet up again. This time at my apartment. We talk a bit more and we end up making out. You were holding on to me so tight, you left red marks on my skin. A few days after that is when you stop talking to me. You disappeared completely. I spent so many sleepless nights wondering what I done. There was so much chemistry between us. The attraction was obvious to everyone around us. I had people coming up to me asking if we were together and why we weren’t.

I find out you went on an extended vacation with your ex-girlfriend. The same girl you told me has hurt you before in the past. I wonder why you would take back someone who is so wrong for you. Someone who verbally abused you so much. Were you that lonely? You could have had me if that was so. Did she come crawling back, saying how she loved you or twirled her fingers and you fell for her again? Now that, again, the relationship is over, I wonder if you’ll take her back yet again if a year from now she comes back again. I would have done anything to have been the one to go on that trip with you. I would have appreciated it so much more.

I like you so much, you have no clue. I don’t care about a clinical diagnosis. I like YOU. I don’t know why. Maybe I like someone I think I know, but from what I’ve seen I think you’re a great person.

I think you’re an idiot for not seeing that we could be good together. I think you’re an idiot for going back to her again. I secretly think you know we go well together, but you’re afraid. Of what, I do not know. Please tell me. I think I could be the best thing you’ve ever had. How else would you know? But then again, if we were to get together, out relationship could crash and burn too. It’s a chance I’m willing to take. No relationship is perfect, but two people who are passionate about each other can make it work. But, it seems only one person is passionate right now. It pains me so much that I can’t have you. That you won’t have me. I suppose that’s why it’s called a crush. If it wasn’t so painful, it would be called something else.

The Here and Now

I separated from my ex-husband in 2012. The divorce was finalized in March 2013. Short enough to still suffer the hurt of the betrayal, but long enough to be ready for a new relationship. And am I ever ready. Being on my own for a while now has given me time to decide exactly what I want. I do want a husband (again), but this time around I’m a bit more picky. I want children. I want the pretty house. Basically, I do want the “American Dream”. I think everyone deserves that. But I know before I can have any of that, I have to play the dating game. And for me, the game is a huge challenge.

R was a friend of mine I met during a short stint at a crappy job I tried to hold while married. Post-divorce I leaned on him. He did help a bit to get me through the suffering. I almost fell for him. I was in a time where I was looking for love and comfort and he was giving me a glimpse of that. One night while at his apartment, we both had a little too much to drink. We ended up making out. We were both sober enough though not to go any further. We both become busy and we slowly stop contacting each other. I find out later he moved to a different city for a new job. He never told me. I haven’t spoken to him in a year. He texts me a few days ago looking to hook up. Why am I always the girl that guys want to hook up with but never date?

I try online dating for a bit. I meet some interesting men, but I’m not attracted to any of them. And they don’t understand my personality. I keep searching.

A is another friend of mine. I’ve helped him get through some issues he was having. We go on a date one day. A date that lasts 12 hours. Our attraction and chemistry is off the charts. At least, I felt it to be so. Neither one of us wants to leave the other. We tell each other some of our personal secrets. Another date, short this time. We end up making out. He holds on to me so tightly. We probably would have had sex, but we didn’t have any condoms. He suddenly stops contacting me. I go over and over in my head what I did wrong. He disappears what seems like off the face of the earth. I find out he is back with his ex-girlfriend, the same girl he has told me has hurt him tremendously before in the past. I wonder why. Why would he choose her over a girl who would treat him right? I can’t help but feel hurt. We were never officially together, but I couldn’t help to be hurt and jealous of the girl. I wanted it to be me. I don’t know what it is about him, but I want him so much it hurts. He contacts me again recently and we’re friends again. He has been going through his own issues recently. A breakup, his own personal demons, etc. I’m giving him his space, but at the same time I’m reminding him when I can that I am here for him. I can only hope when he comes through the fog, he’ll remember me. I believe we could be good together, but I can’t make him feel the same.

I continue on this charade of love and heartbreak. Sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth it to try. All I know is that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life single. I’m OK with it being so now, but eventually I want a good man. I’ll be his queen and he’ll be my king.

 

A tool that will no doubt help me out.

 

Sam

Meet handsome boy, Sam, off an internet dating site

Instant attraction and chemistry

We begin dating

Physically intimate after a week. Sex is fun and enjoyed several times a week.

We go on a cruise. We pig out. We fuck. We joke we’re going to live on the seas.

We move in together in a crappy, one bedroom apartment. To us, it is home.

We get married. Small ceremony. Less than 30 people. I am happy. He is happy.

We get a dog, Petey. He becomes our child. Spoiled rotten.

We begin to fight. Things we used to find endearing about each other are now getting on each other’s nerves.

My mood swings are unpredictable. When manic, I pounce on him. We violently tear off each other’s clothes. I bite as part of sex, but never enough to draw blood. I leave scratch marks in his skin. I drive him wild with blow jobs. He enjoys it. In return, he softly chokes me or pulls my hair. Thrusts so hard I am sore the next day. When depressed, I lash out at him. Too much time at work. He leaves me. Doesn’t return my calls. Doesn’t return my texts. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you. Please come home.

Rinse and repeat. Manic sex. Abandonment. Makeup sex. Abandoned again. Apologies from both sides.

I am pregnant. 3 weeks later, I miscarry. I am devastated. He doesn’t know how to cope. We’re not ready for a child anyway he says.

Fights become more frequent. Sex stops even in manic phase. He pushes me away when I try to instigate sex.

He is away at work longer and longer. Some days not coming home until after 9pm. I believe him when he says he’s working on a major project.

I discover his mistress. I am beyond shattered. I cry. I am not one for revenge.

I call mother. Can I move back home? Yes, she says. She comforts me, but not before telling me it was a mistake to marry him anyway. I told you so. You didn’t listen.

I file for divorce. I get a full-time job. I take some money out of my savings to pay for my career certification so I can support myself. I vow to never rely on a man to take care of me financially ever again.

I work. I study. I am interviewed for my dream job. I am accepted. I am on my own and surviving just fine without him.

***Author’s Note: This was a hard one for me to write, hence the shortened writing style. ***

The Onset

ELEMENTARY

I was an awkward child. I was clueless on how to be social. I always had trouble making friends. My father was in the military so we were stationed on a military base in Germany. The school I went to was of decent size. I remember my classrooms being about 20 students total. I was teased constantly because I’d read books or draw in a notebook.

Bus rides home. Gum thrown in my hair. Boys trying to trip me in the aisles. Girls pointing at me and calling me a nerd, a weirdo. I clutch my books tighter.

Lunch hour is spent sitting in the corner most table, alone. I eat. I read. I look over all the kids and wonder why I’m different.

Third grade. I have an evil teacher. She uses a chart system to track her student’s behavior. Behave well and you get a gold star for the day. Have 4 or more gold stars each week, get a prize. She also uses a punishment system. A card holder on each desk with 4 colored cards: green, yellow, orange, black. Each time a transgression is committed, a card is taken. She doesn’t like me. I do not know why. I pay attention. I do well on my assignments. She calls me out for things that she does not on others. She takes several of my cards each day. Each day I am looking at orange, or at black. I feel like a bad child. I never get a prize the entire school year. I watch the other kids as they pick out little, worthless toys and wonder why I am so awful.

Fourth grade. Counselor tells me to try harder to make friends. At recess, I approach a group of kids and try to talk to them. They look at me like I’m diseased. I ignore it and continue to talk, try to make conversation. Perhaps they’ll warm up. No success. A boy calls me a freak and pushes me down. Everyone laughs. Inside, I’m crying.

My parents inform me that dad has been requested to transfer to Texas. I consider it a blessing. A new country. A great country. AMERICA! I am excited for a new start and the amazing life I’ll have. Little did I know how wrong I was.

Fifth Grade. New school. New faces. Completely new ideas of what is cool. I still don’t fit those ideals. Sadly, I am immediately outcasted. From my out of style clothes, my library books I carry around, my weird accent. I am told by a boy I am ugly. I am told I am a Nazi. What am I doing wrong?

JUNIOR HIGH AND HIGH SCHOOL

The hell years. The worst years of my existence.

13. I am growing taller. I am no longer wearing clothes from the children’s section. My mother takes me to the mall. I see outfits that are considered “cool” by my age group, what Seventeen magazine tells me I should dress to be a happy, sociable teenager. I instead fall in love with Converse high-tops and band T-shirts. Another new obsession is music, especially rock music. I relate to the angsty lyrics.

P.E. A class I hate. I hate undressing in front of all the girls. They make fun of my scrawny body. No curves. How are these other 13 year old so developed? I do well in athletic events. I outrun almost everybody. I can kick a ball very well. I can shoot balls into a basket effortlessly. Teacher tells us to divide into two teams for kick ball. She picks two leaders, the leaders take turns picking for their teams. Everyone is getting their name called. I am the last one standing. The teams have been evened out. I am 21st student in this gym class. I can play well, but no one wants me. Teacher tells me I can keep score and help referee. I accept, but would rather be playing. I go home that day in a fog. I go the bathroom and discover a red stain on my panties. I am a woman.

14. I meet Tom, Emily, Tara, Josh, and Kim. They become my friends. My only friends. For the first time in my life, I know what it’s like to be liked, to be wanted. We talk late into the night on Instant Messenger (no texting cellphones then). The beeping booping of incoming messages drive my mother crazy. She comes in every night and tells me to go to bed NOW. I feel on top of the world. I am loving life. I am loving high school. My grades are doing well. I take part in after school activities. I have many acquaintances. I still get picked on for reading books, for being too smart, for being a nerd, but I wear it like a crown.

15. We celebrate Tom’s 17th birthday with a bang. Tom plays football, but has friends in every social group at school. A true floater. A charmer. Everyone’s friend. But, he likes me. I am one of his best friends, he tells me. Tom’s parents are out of town on their second honeymoon. Tom invites me over to his house to hang out. We watch a movie and pig out on snacks. Something happens. Tom tries to make out with me. I push him away. I tell him no, you’re my friend, that’s it. I get up from the couch. He follows. He grabs me and throws me to the floor. I am in complete shock. I do not know exactly what is happening. He tries to pull my pants down. I kick. I squirm. He slaps me. I continue to fight, he continues to fight back. In desperation, I bite him. I taste blood. He screams and loses his hold on me. I run away from him. I run away from the house. I run and run and run. My home is 5 miles away and I run the whole way home. My mom cradles me for hours. She lets me cry. She holds me and rocks me. I am taken to a hospital. I am still a virgin. A therapist attempts to talk to me. I don’t say much. I just want to go home. That night, I take a scalding hot shower. I try to erase the pain with more pain.

The next week at school, people are point at me. I hear names being called out to me; “whore”, “slut”, “skank”, “Hey Babe, are you free tonight?”. Tom is laughing with them. My other friends are not sure what to think. I tell them my side of the story. They make me feel like its my fault for agreeing to go to Tom’s alone. I trusted Tom. I considered him a best friend. He lost my trust. He violated me. He ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it. I lost not just Tom, but all my friends. What I have I done to deserve this? All I wanted was some true friends and to be content with life. I never spoke to Tom again, but his presence haunted me the rest of high school. I could wish curses on him. I’m sure he’s married with children of his own now.

16 and 17. Oh, sweet 16. Or so it should have been. My grades begin to drop. I sleep in class. I lash out at my teachers. I eat lunch in the library. I don’t even try to make friends anymore. I continue to read. I listen to darker and darker music. I get my driver’s license. More freedom. But, I use it to go to the library at my own leisure. To go to record shops and discover new music.

In class on day, a boy turns around from the desk in front of me. He looks straight at me and says I am the ugliest girl he has ever seen. I should just kill myself because would ever want to touch me. I tell him to fuck off. Inside, I seethe. My hands shake. An image pops in my head of me crashing my car into a brick wall at a high speed. I shake it away.

I meet Taz. He is sweet. He likes me. We begin dating. He pushes for sex. At first, I say no. Finally, one night I give in. I agree. I believe I am love. He tells me so. I enjoy it. Perhaps I am what they call me behind my back. Our relationship becomes based around sex. We stop talking to get to know each other. All we do is fuck. We go to a house party. He gets drunk. When I find him passed out drunk on the patio floor, I decide I’ve had enough. I end it with him.

I sleep less and less each week. Everything irritates me. I begin to lash out at my parents. My mom the most. Our fights are chaotic. The walls shake. Our dogs cower and hide. I am so angry, but I just want to be loved. I don’t how to tell my mom this because back then my emotions were so confusing.

Somehow I graduate. I am so happy. I continue to have hope that life will be better now. From here on out, I’ll be in more control of what happens, what people I deal with.