Adam and Rachel: the aftermath

Well, it’s been a couple of years. People say that everything happens for a reason, and I guess they’re right- terrible anxiety and depression can make someone stay in an unhealthy relationship because you don’t see a way out or you don’t think that you deserve better. I’ve written posts only to delete them because I needed time for clarity.

Adam is damaged. He was hurt by his family. He was also selfish. He led me to believe that he loved me. He hugged me all the time, and we did things together like a couple. He would hold my hand, kiss me, and be loving at home and in public until someone was looking. Then he’d back away and sometimes walk away from me altogether. He was also molested by his father and chalked his inability to cope with physical intimacy on that, and he said that he was attending therapy regularly. This was not true.  Through our entire “relationship” I was trying so hard to be what he wanted that I lost sight of what I want in life. I want a happy home and to help people. Those have always been my priories. I’m not materialist. I understand that it’s going to be okay if the water boils over on the stove. I understand that not everything has to be so clean you can eat off of the floor. Anyway, we had very different priorities in life.

After we “broke up” in December of 2016, I started dating other people and realized how far down I had gotten. I was changing my eating habits to hide my food choices because he was critical of them. Of course that didn’t help because then I was binge eating and gaining even more weight. He had always been critical of my weight. One time I got brave and decided to try to initiate something sexual, and he laughed at me and said “you’re beautiful, but you’re not attractive to me”. More to come about that later.

I say “broke up” because he told his family at their Christmas dinner loud enough for everyone to hear that I was NOT his girlfriend, and he would NEVER be with someone like me. That was obviously devastating. So when we got into the car to go home, I asked if that was true,  he confirmed that is the way he felt. He said that he loved me, but he was not in love with me. He also didn’t want for me to move out, since I already had my own room it was easy enough to stay.

In April of 2017 I went to visit one of my friends who lives outside of Washington DC. I had a fantastic time. We went out for my birthday, and had some long talks about why I was letting myself be treated so poorly. So in May, I moved to Maryland. I stayed till December. I got the perspective on my failed “not” relationship with Adam. I came back home to my job in Knoxville, and moved in with my parents to help them and to save up for my own space again.

Everything was going okay. I had let Adam know that I would be back in town to avoid the awkward run-in that would inevitably happen, and we had chatted a little bit. Then it snowed. He wanted me to come stay with him because he lived closer than my parents and he had an extra room (and my bed was still there). So I went. We slept together. We didn’t have any sexual contact, but we slept together, which is something that we had never done before. We had some deep and intimate conversations. He came out to me. It hurt that he had kept it from me for so long, and I felt great empathy for the man that I had loved so much. I thought that we could be friends once this happened, but just like everything else I had perceived, this was not true.

I saw Adam twice before he didn’t want to see me anymore. He still said that I could text him any time I wanted, but that’s not what I wanted. He moved back to Kentucky a few months ago, which has been a blessing. What has not been easy to swallow is that I STILL fucking worry about his mental health and what he does to other people. He told me he is gay, breaking down crying about it. Then I texted him on his birthday to tell him happy birthday and he tells me that he’s dating a woman. Well, he actually called her a girl, but I digress. That hurt my heart. I took it personally, but then I realized that he has to make his own choices. I really want him to be happy, and as far away from me as possible.

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Last Christmas was Hard

It’s funny how sometimes we wait till we have nothing left to say to try and say everything all at once. It’s like everything finally just catches up with us and spews out, whether we like it or not. There are some things of the past year that I wouldn’t trade for the world. And other things I wish that I could completely block out. I honestly have no clue where I stand. I feel like I’ve been drowning for the last few years. I could blame the abusive ex, but I feel like that gives him too much credit. I’m just a coward. I’m also someone that doesn’t really stand up for my own needs. Tonight, it’s Christmas, by the way. I got told (jokingly) that I shit on everything. Maybe if it weren’t how I feel about myself, I wouldn’t have taken it so personally. But depression and living in a constant fear of never being good enough can really take a toll. I’m just so ridiculously grateful when someone actually likes me, it doesn’t even matter how they treat me. Which I know is not a good road to go down, but I don’t even know how to stop it once it has started.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything. Mostly because I’m not even sure what to say. I’ve changed jobs several times this last year. I went from working with people with special needs, to working in a bakery, then to working in a factory, back to working at the bakery, and finally now I’m working in a call center. It’s not the best job, but I still somehow manage to have good time at it. I feel like I get to help people,  and it has pretty good benefits, along with decent pay. So yeah. My professional life has been all over the place, but I’m finally in a pretty good place.

I still live in the same place, with the same roommate. Nothing much has changed there. Of course, that is not exactly good, but also not bad. It just leaves a lot of questions unanswered in my mind. I’ve been good. I haven’t resorted to some of my previous behavior and dependence on vices other than food. Not drugs, but some things that can be pretty destructive still. Taking unnecessary risks and whatnot. Until tonight, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. I’m just tired.

 

 

Not a Burden

Sometimes it’s hard to admit when you’re wrong. I’m really stubborn, so I sometimes refuse to face the fact that sometimes things are just not going to work out the way I want or expect. Staying in those situations is how I have fucked my own brain into believing that I’m worth far less than I really am. It’s a sad reality for me.

I’ve gone through a few major changes recently. My relationship ended with the guy I had really hoped for things to work out with. They just didn’t work. I was never able to completely get over him saying that I was a burden and that the reason that we were together was simply because he couldn’t find anyone better. He said so many times that he didn’t find me attractive that I started to believe it.

I lived with him even though things were rocky- we were “trying” to make it work- till I had finally had enough. He got petty about me visiting my friend in another state for my birthday. He got really nasty, throwing constant insults about him and me, and he couldn’t be bothered to take me to the airport. He also didn’t help me move like he said he would, among other things. I won’t go into a lot of detail at the moment, but he was not the person that I am meant to be with.

What kills me is that I always end up feeling like I’m a burden to someone else. I always feel like I’m not *actually* wanted, and that people tolerate me for who fucking knows why. I’m awkward, have anxiety about everything, and I’m pretty damn boring on top of that! I don’t feel sorry for myself about it, but I’m not sure if I would put up with me as a friend.

So, I moved in with said friend I visited for my birthday. I’m in Maryland now. I live and work here. I’ve been here for just over 4 months, and it’s okay. Expect blog posts more regularly for a little while. I’m not a damn burden. I know that even when I am, my redeeming qualities MUST make up for it somehow.

I’m just so tired of doubting the sincerity of everyone’s friendship. I am not an island. I have wonderful people in my life- both friends and family, but I still find that I worry that I don’t do enough for them.

TL;DR: Break-ups suck. I stayed way too long with someone that made me feel like a burden, and it has impacted my life every damn day since.

The post I almost didn’t write…

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Happy 2017, ya’ll! I wanted to write today about how my life has changed in the last year. The many job changes I’ve had, and how other things have changed and improved. I logged into my blog to see this comment waiting for my approval.

 

It honestly hurt my feelings at first. It made me second guess all the friends I have made and kept after no longer working with them anymore, and even over a month later, I’m still struggling with my own depression and anxiety. Something so small shouldn’t impact someone so much, right?

Now that I look at it, though, it doesn’t even matter. Her comment made me laugh today. People are terrible, and I’m the furthest thing from pathetic. I’m awesome- even if after working 18 hours my feet DID stink.

EDIT: I had originally drafted this back in January, and decided not to post it because Adam said it would be silly to give her the time of day. Well, he’s gone, so I’m posting it. Fuck him.

Goals and Expectations. One.

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I suppose sometimes I let my dreams and wants and wishes get the best of me. I want things to change so much that I make my mind up that they will change, even if that’s not the reality of the situation.

I saw the image above today on social media, and it hit me really hard. I had so many expectations for my life. What I wanted to happen. What I wanted to accomplish, and yet very few of these things have actually happened.  I don’t normally make New Year’s Resolutions, but I do have goals that I try to meet each year. This year I moved and am in a different job. Not where I wanted to be job-wise, but I’m doing okay. I’m living in a much better place, and I really like my home. Work wise, well, that can use some work.

As far as my relationships go… that can really use some work. I still have no idea where I stand or what to do about it. I’ve been trying to reach out to more of my friends, but I haven’t had the money or motivation to really go out and do anything. It’s really frustrating. Anyway. One thing at a time.

My expectations for myself this year are:

  1. Getting back into the gym to work out. (I’m going on Wed to get a membership and some work out pants. I am going to do this on my own this time.)
  2. Getting a financial plan and budget in place. And using it.
  3. Eating better. This means that I’m going back to eating out only once a week. And eating at least 3 salads a week, and at least one veggie a day. You do not understand my dislike of vegetables.
  4. Visit at least one new place this year.
  5. Make new friends and keep connected to the friends that I have.

 

Things that I can do this week:

  1. Gym membership and work out pants on Wed. That’s already in the plan.
  2. Grocery shopping to include salad stuff on Wed. (That’s pay-day.)
  3. Spam friends for work out buddies.
  4. Start savings jar for vacation.

 

I’ll let you all know how it goes.

 

Weekend Adventures: Nieces. Take 1

I learned so much about my nieces this weekend. Not all the things I learned are open for everyone to know, but I am extremely proud of both of these young people.

Starting to see them as individual human beings with original thoughts an opinions was an interesting transition. I have missed so much of their lives because I’ve been living so far away and in situations where they would have not been welcome. Now I have a great roommate that is  happy to have them over, and it’s no big deal. It’s rather fantastic.

Anyway, the older one of the two had never been out of the state of Tennessee that she could remember. (She went to Georgia when she was three months old.) This past weekend, we went to Kentucky. It was a very short trip, and all we did was go and pick up my roommate’s Jeep from his mother’s house. We went out to eat at a cute little corner Cafe. It was a great trip.

I had more conversation in that 24 hours than I had in the last 6 months. At least more honest, real, and deep conversation. I have causal “How’s the weather today” conversations all the time. No biggie. But I got to have real conversations. It was nice, but a bit overwhelming. It’s hard for me to be that open with anyone, especially people that I know will have my back. And hopefully they know that I will have their backs too.

We talked about planning for college, and going on college tours. We talked about relationships and how much people suck. We talked about family. I have awesome nieces.

Fear of Argument

I’m never really sure how to address this issue with a significant other, friend, or any member of my family. So this will probably end up being word-vomit, but here goes.

I hate people being mad at me. I can’t stand it. I get so anxious and afraid that I can’t handle myself. Part of it comes from a continued culture of violence that was perpetuated in my home growing up, and part of it was from a very bad romantic relationship that I was in.

Yesterday, I left for work in a hurry. I had turned on the lights on the Christmas tree because they were so pretty, and I was sitting there enjoying them when I got a call saying that there was an emergency, and that I was needed as soon as I could get there. I quite literally changed clothes and left my house. I didn’t even grab anything to eat. I made a mistake. I left the Christmas tree lights on, and my roommate got home before me. He saw them on inside and was freaked out, because he’s very easy to worry. He thought that the house was on fire.

He called me a few minutes later, rather frustrated with me. He was as nice to me as he could be, given the scare that he had just had. He was frustrated and kept repeating himself over and over again, and I got really defensive. I told him that he was being irrational, and that it wasn’t as big of a deal as he was making it. I minimized his feelings, and I tried to talk my way out of being at fault.

He said something to me that really made me think. He said “I have a right to be upset. Even if there is very little chance of anything bad happening, the chance is still there. And that’s on top of the wasted electricity that I’m the one paying for.”

That in itself didn’t really do anything. But my sitting on the floor at work crying because I was afraid to go home because I had left the Christmas lights on and he was upset was a good reason to think. I know that unless I started a physical altercation with him, he would never hurt me physically. Even then, he would only use force that was necessary to keep himself safe. I know that I was not in actual danger, but my fear response kicked in.

People that know my family often only see how great my parents are. Don’t get me wrong, my parents could be far worse. They were mild to me compared to how their parents were to them, and most of the physical punishment I received stopped very quickly when I was old enough to tell them if they hit me, especially my mom, that I would hit her back.

I really don’t believe that my parents wanted to hurt me. I just think that they were trying to make me behave in a manner that would make me acceptable to the world. A well-mannered young lady.

I remember very vividly one afternoon, my mother caught me in a lie. I had said that I had already practiced my piano piece for the night, and that I was tired and wanted to go to bed. I was tired, but it was from playing outside with some neighbor kids instead of playing the piece that I was supposed to be working on. She didn’t actually touch me, but she told me scary stories about a lady that cut her daughter’s tongue ever time she told a lie, slicing it so deeply that she would have to stitch it up every once in a while. For really bad lies, you know. She told me this story as she sat behind me on her computer playing solitaire, making me stay up way past my bedtime to practice the piano. I was in third grade when this happened. I stopped playing the piano soon after.

When I was really small, my dad was my protector with from my mom. He was fair in his punishment, and he only resorted to physical punishment when I had done something really bad, and he never punished me in anger. Things changed when I was around 9 years old. Dad was diagnosed with an enlarged heart, and was immediately put on heart medication. He became very mean. He would threaten me on a daily basis. He would smack me in the back of the head for not jumping up from my homework to hand him the remote that was sitting on the table right beside him. But he wanted me to do it. So I did. I cooked, cleaned, did laundry, mowed the grass…. everything. I would hide in the back corners of our basement for hours, pretending to be doing homework or laundry. I would be hiding and praying for my dad to become my nice daddy again. I would immerse myself in fantasy worlds, but I could never write any of it down. I would get in trouble for wanting a different family because my parents weren’t as bad as their parents had been.

I remember when I was about 14, we had just moved into the house where my parents still live. My dad wanted soup beans and corn bread for supper. We didn’t have any canned beans that were unpacked yet, and dry beans need to cook overnight, or at least several hours. I told him this, and he stood over me while I looked through all of the kitchen boxes that I had packed. I finally found some beans and and a pot, after searching for almost half an hour. I found the supplies to make the corn bread, but I couldn’t find the pan that I typically bake cornbread in.

I served him supper at the table, and the cornbread was a little thicker and had a little less crust on it that normal. He was so angry at me that he threw the bowl of beans at me, and said as soon as he found the iron skillet that I was supposed to use, he was going to hit me in the head with it, like I deserved. I ended up walking out of the house and sleeping on the porch that night. He locked me out, and forbade my mom from answering the door.

I don’t tell these stories to be pitied. My parents and I have a much better relationship now, but I still get really scared when someone is mad at me. I feel like everything I’ve worked for is going to come apart, and that I’m going to fail and have to go back to that kind of life.