When you have lived in the dark for so long, you forget what the light feels like. You forget that the sun rays give you energy. Give you strength. You forget how it nourishes the body. You forget the joy. Dark clouds come but you cannot allow them to remain.
When you live in darkness for so long, you lose yourself. You lie alone in the bed, in darkness. You curl up on the couch, eyes closed, in darkness. You go to work and dark clouds are looming over you. You are afraid of the light because you are reminded of the comfort that darkness brings you. When you are alone, in darkness, you become consumed by it and trick yourself into believing you're in a safe space. A space where no one can touch you or hurt you. A place where you are tucked away in the comfort of your own sorrows and no one can come close to causing you anymore harm. But the entire time you are the one continuing to hurt yourself. Isolated away from all the good there is, focusing on all the pain you're holding onto inside. Every derogatory word ever spoken to you - about you, all the teasing, people who have come and gone, love lost, all the doors that have been shut in your face, are all flooding your mind as you sit and sulk in the darkness. Every little thought is racing through your mind as you sit in this darkness, you will lose all sight that the light still exists.
When you stop doing things that make you happy, the things that make you who you are begin to fade away. Sometimes you may not even recognize who you are on the inside or the outside. The more you dwell on what's wrong instead of whats right you lose the fight. Then you dig yourself deeper into the darkness and to a sunken hole and it gets harder and harder to climb out. You lose your strength, determination, motivation...... you are losing you!
You may not know my story, you may say it's nothing compared to what others have endured, such as losing a loved one or friend to violence, car accidents, or disease. My life may not have had me living on the streets or under a bridge in the cold and rain. I may have never ever gone through some of these traumatic events in life. I am not here to cry that my life was harder than someone else nor to compare stories. I am here to share my story about the battle that has gone on inside of me-with me.
There is so much to digest, so much to break down, yet I am going to do my best to just that. I don't know where to start, so I am just going to start wherever the keyboard takes me. From the time I can remember, I have always been labeled the teachers kid, Miss. goody too shoes, the white girl, Miss. you think your better than everyone else girl. People think I am privileged and never had to work for what I had or what I wanted. In some ways this is true, in other ways it's far from my reality. My parents wanted better for me than what they had growing up, which was not much at all. They wanted to teach me things early on that they didn't learn until well into their adulthood. I am grateful to them for this, but that is not the complete story.
I was sheltered more than all of my friends and family. I grew up not knowing a lot of black culture or seeing the darker side of the world around me. I didn't know or use a lot of slang. I was not privy to watch black "classic movies" like Boyz In Da Hood, New Jack City, Harlem Nights etc., or listening to the beginning of real 'hip hop' with Tupac, Dr. Dre, Snoop Dog, etc. I was not allowed on a trampoline nor was I allowed ever to hop on a four-wheeler. I couldn't even go to the mall with friends. Wherever I went there was a parent around, never left to the devices of just hanging with my friends. Growing up this way made me very naive and too trusting of others. This trickled into my life as I got older, even now. There are things about me that are hard for me myself to even understand or accept. Hopefully spilling my guts in a new way will help me gather some clarity and add the final pieces the the puzzle of parts of me that I have already faced, accepted, changed healed.
After being so trusting in my past, being manipulated, used, torn to pieces by others, I have become less trusting of peoples words and often their actions. I have become more insecure, vulnerable, and even more naive. It hurts. When I give so much to others and realize the love and respect was never mutual from the beginning, I was just too blind to see it, or chose not to see what I really saw.
This entire blog entry seems like a mess, but I am a mess. No matter what, I will keep working on me each and every moment of each and every day. I have come so far and I am so proud of myself, there is no way I am going to backslide and fall into that black hole again.
The feeling of not being wanted by your birth mother can sting depending on how you look at it, yet knowing you she cared about you enough to allow another loving family to care for you is blessing all in itself. But as you grow older, you when begin to see that your loving, caring mother is not so loving and caring affectionately stings even harder. Being unloved by two moms hurts worse than being unloved by one. This one is hard to discuss so I'll get back to it later.
Every time I love I regret it. Every time I love I get hurt. Every time I feel I am loved in return, I find out either the love was never real, or I was never enough. After being everyone's #2,3,4,or 5, you get use to your role and become overly comfortable knowing you'll never be anyone's #1. That's where where I have been the last 3-4 years. That's where I am now. I was comfortable accepting this and no longer desired love from a man nor from a friend or any kind. Then I met someone who seemed like a dream come true. A dream much bigger than I could have ever dreamed, and yet still, I am #2. As I write, I am beginning to understand what prompted this entire post. L.O.V.E. Am I really loved? Will I ever really be loved? Will I ever be enough to someone other than myself to be put first? These are questions that I let go far long ago that are resurfacing the more I give my love away. The insecurities are coming back, my nerves are always on 22, the anticipation of the next call or lack there of makes me wonder, what am I doing to myself. What is really going on and am I even 2% of a priority to the one I have given so much of my love to.
To all the boys I (thought) I loved before, Choir Boy and Fairfield are the ones who pulled the biggest number on me. Pulled the wool over my sweet, innocent, dumb, naive ass. They saw my weakness and my desire to be loved. Took advantage of it to gain whatever they felt they needed and wanted. One hurt my body & soul, the other ripped out my heart, shred it into pieces and held it captive until it was no longer useful to him.
I no longer wanted love. I no longer wanted comfort. I took the time to love and comfort myself, and it made me a better, stronger, more confident woman. I am proud of myself. But here I am again, same situation, same outcome. True definition of insanity! And I'll add on top of that this craziness is going on with my mom all over again. Will it ever end? However, the time I took to heal myself has helped me deal with both situations in a much healthier way than I ever could have before.
I have loved before, I have loved deeply before, but it was always an unhealthy love. A love where I allowed disrespect, because I simply wanted to love and be loved. It is much different now. It is a feeling I haven't ever felt and one that makes me super uncomfortable, uneasy and scared. It is more than love that I feel for another person. Its a sense of openness, security, and freedom. I feel as though I am floating-suspended in mid air, butterflies all over me and a clear head and PEACE! I know what I want and it feels too good to be true. It is a feeling that is so hard to explain that I BECOME FRAZZLED when trying to explain. It's a feeling I want to last for forever, but I'm afraid......
Fairfield took me to a place I have never seen. A place where I lost who I was and what I wanted. I lost hope and I lost love. I distanced myself from everyone, even from myself. Sometimes I'd go to work and leave early, or not go in at all. I became cold and silent. I began to think of how to make it all end. The pain became unbearable and too much for me to withstand. In order to cope, I turned to drinking. Not just a sip or two after work, but cans and cans of beer. Bottles and bottles of wine. Fifths on Fifths on Fifths. It never ended. I drank to fall asleep. I drank to escape the pain. I drank so much it became a part of my routine, I developed a habit. A habit I am still trying to break. I'd drink three bottles of Cabernet any given night before work the next day. I liked to think of myself as a functional alcoholic back then. I'd drink until I passed out, but got up and went to work the next day, took care of my household, my daughter, and the bills were always paid. Some days more functional than others, some days not so much. I loved Fairfield so much, I didn't realize nothing he did ever showed he loved me in return-then I stopped loving myself too.
I fell deep into a hole. One like in the movies and cartoons where you fall into a swirling abyss where you cannot see the end. I knew I needed help so I reached out and began therapy. After a few months, it was suggested I begin medication. I was resistant and wanted to get through it alone, but soon realized I needed the balance, at least for the moment. I agreed to the medication and shortly regretted it. Not only am I in an already sunken place, now I am gaining tons of weight. I mention it to my doctor, and she just shoves more pills down my throat. Telling me verbatim 'push away from the table and exercise'. Mind you, I was a Gym Director and work out daily. Exercise has been a part of my routine since I was a child. Later when I tell her again, all she does is increase the dosage of my appetite suppressants she previously prescribed for me. No one would listen to me. I gained almost 70 pounds in a few months, pushing me deeper into darkness. Frustrated on many levels, home, work, and love, I had enough and felt I had nowhere to turn. I hated myself on the inside already, then I began hating myself on the outside also.
I have worked hella hard to work on myself and to become a better me. I am grateful for all of the lessons i have learned and to all the people I lost in the process. I love me more than any of you could ever, and that is just fine with me. I am however finding it difficult no matter how much self-confidence I have gained through it all, trusting someone else with 'me' is still hard. I have come too far to become prey. I have overcome too much mentally to be used and exploited to satisfy someone else temporarily. Too magnificent to be emotionally tampered with on any level. My love is my strength and my weakness. My build me up and my downfall. My get through it all, and my fuck it all. But one thing for certain, my love is unconditional, sincere, genuine, everlasting and overflowing.
As I sit here writing these thoughts, I am finding it difficult to discuss or even remember those dark times in my own life. I am struggling to dig them all up and write them all down. It is a place I don't ever want to visit again. However, it is important for me to remember what I came through in order to not go back. This is no sob story or a note to seek pity. It is just me loving where I am in my life right now in these very moments each and everyday. My life is so beautiful. I am filled with so much joy that I have butterflies and warm feels on the inside of my body at random times of the day. This feeling is breathtaking and free and refreshing. I don't ever want this feeling to go away. However when I ask myself how could someone like me be able to feel so happy? What did I do to deserve to be so happy and full of life? Then I remember I fought for this! I fought to be free from darkness and all of the damage it caused me. I sure as hell bent, but I thank God I didn't break.
Until next time....
No comments
Leave Comments Here: