Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Truths
Facing some truths today that I don't want to. No big revelation beget it. Just... life, I guess. Growth, maybe. Letting go of some things that have been so precious and so desirous. But sometimes, in the light of day, things are so clear and so without guile that you cannot deny them. But I'm not devastated, so I guess that's good. I'm just... dealing. Hard to put away things sometimes but it's long past time that I did.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Big, bad word.
Abuse is a big word. I always think that it should be written only in capital letters – ABUSE. There should also be a symbol for it, like there is for hazardous material.
Abuse is not a word to throw around. Accusing someone of abuse is very powerful, very dangerous and can be very destructive. Too many people throw the word abuse around because they don’t understand what it means.
Abuse means fear. Living every day of your life in fear. Every encounter with the person who abuses you is infused with that fear. You go to sleep in fear, you wake up in fear. You live, breathe, eat fear. You get so good at it that you don’t even realize that you’re afraid. And if you asked anyone around you, they wouldn’t see the fear. They wouldn’t see the abuse. They might see something is not right but they won’t ever put the word “abuse” to it because the word is that big of a word.
I think every man has the potential to be an abuser. Now, before you start coming after me, let me explain why. Most men are not very in touch with their emotions. Most of them wouldn’t know an emotion if it came up and kicked them in the groin. That lack of connection to that core essence is what makes me believe that most men could easily become abusers. On the flip side, I think most women will, at some time in their life, think that they are being abused because we live so much in that emotional state. Every stupid comment, every little slight can get blown out of proportion to the point that one could think it is abuse.
The difference is fear. If your husband/lover/boyfriend/significant other points to your outfit and says, “You’re not going to wear that, are you?”, he’s an ass. He’s stupid. He’s ignorant of the fact that this simple statement could send you into a crying jag that will last for hours. But you’re not afraid of him. You’re not afraid of what he’s going to do if you don’t change that outfit. You’re not afraid that all night, he’s going to be judging you and at the end of the night, you will receive a very harsh, blow by blow account of what was wrong with the outfit, why you shouldn’t have worn it and, god forbid something goes wrong with the outfit, you will be told in no uncertain terms why that thing went wrong, that it was your fault because you wore said outfit and you’re not going to be stupid enough to do that again, after he’s told you over and over again not to wear that outfit. Then you go to bed, with him being angry because you wore an outfit that you liked and didn’t bend to his will and change. The next morning, he’ll remind you again of what a disaster that outfit was and he will tell you that he hopes you did something about it. Like what, I’m not sure, but you better do something about it.
Abuse is when innocuous things that shouldn’t matter become the focus of every day battery, whether it’s physical or emotional. It’s when dinner becomes the focus of all of your shortcomings. It’s when a dumpster that has not been emptied – and that you can do nothing about – is the jumping off point for a screaming rage attack on you. It’s when, all day, every day, every sentence delivered to you by the person who has your heart is simply a reminder of how pathetic you are and what a failure you are.
It doesn’t sound like much. But it’s like drops of water on cement. Eventually, the cement will give way to the water. If, every time you do some little thing wrong, the person you love responds with “of course you screwed up,” you begin to believe that you are a screw up. When you are consistently on the receiving end of the rage he has been suppressing all day because Target was out of the soap he liked and you didn’t spend the ENTIRE day going from Target to Target to find it, you begin to believe that you are a screw up. When there isn’t enough money to pay the bills and he refuses to participate in any process that will lead to a solution and when he blames you because the bills aren’t being paid, you believe you’re a failure. And that means you don't love him anywhere near as much as he loves you because you are incapable of that.
Abuse is when you find those things that make you happy and fulfilled and complete and the person you love can only find fault with them. It’s when he violently throws your belongings across the room when he’s cleaning but gently picks up and places his belongings safely away. It’s the screaming and yelling and cursing at inanimate objects that are then hurled across the room – but only if they’re yours and not his. It’s when he threatens to take away from you the very things that provide you joy because they are not his. It’s when any moment of pleasure or joy or pride becomes about him and becomes negative and bad and empty because he cannot allow you to have joy/pleasure/pride.
Abuse is being told that your feelings and emotions mean nothing. If you’re angry, just don’t be angry. Oh, I’m sorry, if you’re angry at him and he doesn’t agree with you, then don’t be angry because your anger is wrong. He has done nothing wrong. He never does anything wrong. It’s you, all you, you’re too emotional, you’re too sensitive. You shouldn’t take his screaming in your face about someone’s car blocking the driveway as any sort of attack on you. That’s just you being sensitive. He never disappoints, it’s just you being over-reactive. Just don’t feel, just don’t feel, just don’t feel. Your emotions, your feelings mean absolutely nothing because they do not serve him.
Abuse is when you shut down because the person you love only loves you when you’re shut down. Abuse is when you can no longer feel because that’s the only way to get through the day. Abuse is when he’s happy only when you’re silent.
My ex will never see he was abusive. Many of our friends probably now won’t admit that he was. Because ABUSE is a huge word. To utter it is to admit that it was there. Better to not say it, better to not use it, in case you’re wrong, in case he wasn’t.
I still have trouble saying it. Because I could be wrong. Maybe I was too sensitive. Maybe I was too emotional. Maybe it was my own emotions that drove me into a depression so deep that I almost killed myself. To accuse him of being abusive is hard and harsh and terrible and wrong and painful and uncomfortable.
But he was. And until I can really acknowledge it and get a handle on it, I will still be his victim.
Abuse is not a word to throw around. Accusing someone of abuse is very powerful, very dangerous and can be very destructive. Too many people throw the word abuse around because they don’t understand what it means.
Abuse means fear. Living every day of your life in fear. Every encounter with the person who abuses you is infused with that fear. You go to sleep in fear, you wake up in fear. You live, breathe, eat fear. You get so good at it that you don’t even realize that you’re afraid. And if you asked anyone around you, they wouldn’t see the fear. They wouldn’t see the abuse. They might see something is not right but they won’t ever put the word “abuse” to it because the word is that big of a word.
I think every man has the potential to be an abuser. Now, before you start coming after me, let me explain why. Most men are not very in touch with their emotions. Most of them wouldn’t know an emotion if it came up and kicked them in the groin. That lack of connection to that core essence is what makes me believe that most men could easily become abusers. On the flip side, I think most women will, at some time in their life, think that they are being abused because we live so much in that emotional state. Every stupid comment, every little slight can get blown out of proportion to the point that one could think it is abuse.
The difference is fear. If your husband/lover/boyfriend/significant other points to your outfit and says, “You’re not going to wear that, are you?”, he’s an ass. He’s stupid. He’s ignorant of the fact that this simple statement could send you into a crying jag that will last for hours. But you’re not afraid of him. You’re not afraid of what he’s going to do if you don’t change that outfit. You’re not afraid that all night, he’s going to be judging you and at the end of the night, you will receive a very harsh, blow by blow account of what was wrong with the outfit, why you shouldn’t have worn it and, god forbid something goes wrong with the outfit, you will be told in no uncertain terms why that thing went wrong, that it was your fault because you wore said outfit and you’re not going to be stupid enough to do that again, after he’s told you over and over again not to wear that outfit. Then you go to bed, with him being angry because you wore an outfit that you liked and didn’t bend to his will and change. The next morning, he’ll remind you again of what a disaster that outfit was and he will tell you that he hopes you did something about it. Like what, I’m not sure, but you better do something about it.
Abuse is when innocuous things that shouldn’t matter become the focus of every day battery, whether it’s physical or emotional. It’s when dinner becomes the focus of all of your shortcomings. It’s when a dumpster that has not been emptied – and that you can do nothing about – is the jumping off point for a screaming rage attack on you. It’s when, all day, every day, every sentence delivered to you by the person who has your heart is simply a reminder of how pathetic you are and what a failure you are.
It doesn’t sound like much. But it’s like drops of water on cement. Eventually, the cement will give way to the water. If, every time you do some little thing wrong, the person you love responds with “of course you screwed up,” you begin to believe that you are a screw up. When you are consistently on the receiving end of the rage he has been suppressing all day because Target was out of the soap he liked and you didn’t spend the ENTIRE day going from Target to Target to find it, you begin to believe that you are a screw up. When there isn’t enough money to pay the bills and he refuses to participate in any process that will lead to a solution and when he blames you because the bills aren’t being paid, you believe you’re a failure. And that means you don't love him anywhere near as much as he loves you because you are incapable of that.
Abuse is when you find those things that make you happy and fulfilled and complete and the person you love can only find fault with them. It’s when he violently throws your belongings across the room when he’s cleaning but gently picks up and places his belongings safely away. It’s the screaming and yelling and cursing at inanimate objects that are then hurled across the room – but only if they’re yours and not his. It’s when he threatens to take away from you the very things that provide you joy because they are not his. It’s when any moment of pleasure or joy or pride becomes about him and becomes negative and bad and empty because he cannot allow you to have joy/pleasure/pride.
Abuse is being told that your feelings and emotions mean nothing. If you’re angry, just don’t be angry. Oh, I’m sorry, if you’re angry at him and he doesn’t agree with you, then don’t be angry because your anger is wrong. He has done nothing wrong. He never does anything wrong. It’s you, all you, you’re too emotional, you’re too sensitive. You shouldn’t take his screaming in your face about someone’s car blocking the driveway as any sort of attack on you. That’s just you being sensitive. He never disappoints, it’s just you being over-reactive. Just don’t feel, just don’t feel, just don’t feel. Your emotions, your feelings mean absolutely nothing because they do not serve him.
Abuse is when you shut down because the person you love only loves you when you’re shut down. Abuse is when you can no longer feel because that’s the only way to get through the day. Abuse is when he’s happy only when you’re silent.
My ex will never see he was abusive. Many of our friends probably now won’t admit that he was. Because ABUSE is a huge word. To utter it is to admit that it was there. Better to not say it, better to not use it, in case you’re wrong, in case he wasn’t.
I still have trouble saying it. Because I could be wrong. Maybe I was too sensitive. Maybe I was too emotional. Maybe it was my own emotions that drove me into a depression so deep that I almost killed myself. To accuse him of being abusive is hard and harsh and terrible and wrong and painful and uncomfortable.
But he was. And until I can really acknowledge it and get a handle on it, I will still be his victim.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Broken but healing
(Okay, so I miss blogging. Don't expect this to be as regular as previously but I will probably be posting now and again.)
02/14/07
Broken but healing?
I am still broken, wounded, far from completion. The wounds are very deep and not yet scarred over. I am trying to heal based on some unknown timetable – when I “should” be healed. Whose timetable, I don’t know. But I feel the pressure to be fine, to be past the hurt, past the anger, past the tears. I see others around me moving on, finding someone for their life, not necessarily permanent but at least someone. And I stand by the side, thinking, that’s where I “should” be. I “should” have someone by now because others do. I don’t know why I “should”. To be complete? To be “normal”? To be a woman? Yet the reason I left him was to be my own person. Yet I feel compelled to find a man to be in my life to, in a way, define me. Because I don’t know what I am by myself. The dichotomy is feeling the need to be defined by the man in my life and yet fighting that very desire. Do I even know how to be with someone without being defined by them? Am I whole enough, healed enough, to be just who I am with someone else? Will I ever be?
I’m not sure how to go about healing. Is moving beyond anger where I need to be? How do I get there? I know I need to get past comparing every new situation to what it would have been with him there. I’m tackling that one right now. But will I ever heal enough to actually be able to let someone else in?
I understand why my heart lives where it does right now because, in some twisted way, maybe if I can reach him – the great unreachable one – then I can be reached myself. I think he reflects my own fear, my own wounds, back at me. And if I heal his wounds, I heal my own. But that’s where the trouble starts. Then it’s about him and his pain, not me and mine. It’s about making him whole first, then we’ll get around to me eventually. It’s about focusing on his needs rather than my own. I guess what I don’t know is whether or not we can heal each other together, not one sacrificing so that the other becomes whole. Can two wounded souls heal each other or is that just co-dependency in its finest form? Can I let him go, decide he’s not going to be that part of my life – whether by his choice, by my choice or by the universe’s choice – and move past him while I’m at it?
Can I be whole, complete and healed without someone in my life is what it comes down to, I guess. There are days when I feel that power, that completeness, and I know and understand my world. Then there are the rest of the days, where I am lost, seeking, grasping, hoping something or someone will save me.
And on this day of hearts and flowers and love, I am torn. Appreciative and grateful for this life I have created because it is truly mine, with all its glories and its blemishes. Wistful for the best of my past life because there was good there once. Longing for someone to fill in the holes in my life and help me find the next step I must take. Yet glad that there isn’t that smothering, controlling, unyielding hand that threatened my very existence. Missing someone I don’t have and not even sure if I want him or just want the thought of him.
Leaving me where? Thinking, looking, seeking an answer that Cupid and his bow and arrow cannot supply.
Only I can.
02/14/07
Broken but healing?
I am still broken, wounded, far from completion. The wounds are very deep and not yet scarred over. I am trying to heal based on some unknown timetable – when I “should” be healed. Whose timetable, I don’t know. But I feel the pressure to be fine, to be past the hurt, past the anger, past the tears. I see others around me moving on, finding someone for their life, not necessarily permanent but at least someone. And I stand by the side, thinking, that’s where I “should” be. I “should” have someone by now because others do. I don’t know why I “should”. To be complete? To be “normal”? To be a woman? Yet the reason I left him was to be my own person. Yet I feel compelled to find a man to be in my life to, in a way, define me. Because I don’t know what I am by myself. The dichotomy is feeling the need to be defined by the man in my life and yet fighting that very desire. Do I even know how to be with someone without being defined by them? Am I whole enough, healed enough, to be just who I am with someone else? Will I ever be?
I’m not sure how to go about healing. Is moving beyond anger where I need to be? How do I get there? I know I need to get past comparing every new situation to what it would have been with him there. I’m tackling that one right now. But will I ever heal enough to actually be able to let someone else in?
I understand why my heart lives where it does right now because, in some twisted way, maybe if I can reach him – the great unreachable one – then I can be reached myself. I think he reflects my own fear, my own wounds, back at me. And if I heal his wounds, I heal my own. But that’s where the trouble starts. Then it’s about him and his pain, not me and mine. It’s about making him whole first, then we’ll get around to me eventually. It’s about focusing on his needs rather than my own. I guess what I don’t know is whether or not we can heal each other together, not one sacrificing so that the other becomes whole. Can two wounded souls heal each other or is that just co-dependency in its finest form? Can I let him go, decide he’s not going to be that part of my life – whether by his choice, by my choice or by the universe’s choice – and move past him while I’m at it?
Can I be whole, complete and healed without someone in my life is what it comes down to, I guess. There are days when I feel that power, that completeness, and I know and understand my world. Then there are the rest of the days, where I am lost, seeking, grasping, hoping something or someone will save me.
And on this day of hearts and flowers and love, I am torn. Appreciative and grateful for this life I have created because it is truly mine, with all its glories and its blemishes. Wistful for the best of my past life because there was good there once. Longing for someone to fill in the holes in my life and help me find the next step I must take. Yet glad that there isn’t that smothering, controlling, unyielding hand that threatened my very existence. Missing someone I don’t have and not even sure if I want him or just want the thought of him.
Leaving me where? Thinking, looking, seeking an answer that Cupid and his bow and arrow cannot supply.
Only I can.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Just passing through...
Lately, I seem to feel like I have to apologize to people for many things. For not finishing the film yet, for not launching my jewelry site again, for not being there for them personally (that one I WILL apologize for), for many, many things. However, I once again find myself under the influence of the feisty full moon and just want to say, for the record, I’m not sorry. There’s a terrific female duo out of Northern California called Antara and Delilah that have a great song called "I’m Not Sorry" and that’s running through my head right now. Here’s the list of things I am not sorry for:
1. I am not sorry that my emotions tend to get carried away and bury me. Yes, maybe I should have better control of them, but you spend almost your entire adult life and a third of your entire life being emotionally battered and then tell me you can recover in a year and a half. I’ve been beaten, I’ve been abused. I’m not going to get over it. Deal with it. It took him 15 years to almost kill me, it’s going to take me a little while to put it in perspective.
2. I am not sorry the film is not done. In the 10 months since we started shooting, I’ve moved twice, dealt with serious health issues with my father, am dealing with moving in with my parents and watching my father basically die, am dealing with the effects of my marriage (see point #1 above). You’re lucky it’s as done as it is. It will get done. Just let me do it in my time.
3. I’m not sorry I fell in love with you. I’m sorry you can’t/won’t/don’t choose to see it or do anything about it. I’m sorry you feel the need to keep me close but on your terms. I’m sorry you’re jealous when someone else intrudes on your territory. I’m sorry that you can’t let me in. And I’m sorry that you’re going to turn around very soon and see that I am not there. But I won’t be sorry for walking away because I did love you, I gave you every chance and it was your choice to let me walk away. At least I learned I could love again. I am sorry that you won’t be the one to get that love. Sorry that you couldn’t do it.
4. I’m not sorry that I’m pissed off at you. You beat me within an inch of my life and left me to die. Fuck you. I will never get past it. And those of you who think I should get past it, fuck you, too. I won’t. I can forgive you, I can understand why you’re the bastard that you are. I can appreciate that you don’t see what you did. But fuck you anyway.
5. I am not sorry that I am complicated. I love that Anna said at breakfast yesterday that she and I are “too complex” for internet dating. Yes, we are. Let’s embrace our complexity and quit apologizing for it.
6. I am not sorry I chose to move in with my parents. This is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life and I’m not sure how I’ll get through it. But it was the right choice and it was the right thing.
7. I’m not sorry I stopped this blog. I needed to turn my eyes inward. It was so difficult, so painful, so overwhelming not to have this forum to spew forth all of my guts. But I needed to not spew for a while so I could deal with the things I didn’t want to face. And I’ve done that. And I think I’m ready to face the world again, clearer, smarter, not completely healed but at least bandaged.
8. I’m not sorry that I probably won’t post again here for a long time. I may return occasionally when I have something to share or to spew. I do miss you all and your supportive comments. I do continue to follow your lives, although it may be somewhat more silently than previously.
I think that’s it for now. Just felt that I needed to get that off my chest and share it with the universe.
There. I’m done. I’ll talk to you all again some time. Take care of each other.
1. I am not sorry that my emotions tend to get carried away and bury me. Yes, maybe I should have better control of them, but you spend almost your entire adult life and a third of your entire life being emotionally battered and then tell me you can recover in a year and a half. I’ve been beaten, I’ve been abused. I’m not going to get over it. Deal with it. It took him 15 years to almost kill me, it’s going to take me a little while to put it in perspective.
2. I am not sorry the film is not done. In the 10 months since we started shooting, I’ve moved twice, dealt with serious health issues with my father, am dealing with moving in with my parents and watching my father basically die, am dealing with the effects of my marriage (see point #1 above). You’re lucky it’s as done as it is. It will get done. Just let me do it in my time.
3. I’m not sorry I fell in love with you. I’m sorry you can’t/won’t/don’t choose to see it or do anything about it. I’m sorry you feel the need to keep me close but on your terms. I’m sorry you’re jealous when someone else intrudes on your territory. I’m sorry that you can’t let me in. And I’m sorry that you’re going to turn around very soon and see that I am not there. But I won’t be sorry for walking away because I did love you, I gave you every chance and it was your choice to let me walk away. At least I learned I could love again. I am sorry that you won’t be the one to get that love. Sorry that you couldn’t do it.
4. I’m not sorry that I’m pissed off at you. You beat me within an inch of my life and left me to die. Fuck you. I will never get past it. And those of you who think I should get past it, fuck you, too. I won’t. I can forgive you, I can understand why you’re the bastard that you are. I can appreciate that you don’t see what you did. But fuck you anyway.
5. I am not sorry that I am complicated. I love that Anna said at breakfast yesterday that she and I are “too complex” for internet dating. Yes, we are. Let’s embrace our complexity and quit apologizing for it.
6. I am not sorry I chose to move in with my parents. This is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life and I’m not sure how I’ll get through it. But it was the right choice and it was the right thing.
7. I’m not sorry I stopped this blog. I needed to turn my eyes inward. It was so difficult, so painful, so overwhelming not to have this forum to spew forth all of my guts. But I needed to not spew for a while so I could deal with the things I didn’t want to face. And I’ve done that. And I think I’m ready to face the world again, clearer, smarter, not completely healed but at least bandaged.
8. I’m not sorry that I probably won’t post again here for a long time. I may return occasionally when I have something to share or to spew. I do miss you all and your supportive comments. I do continue to follow your lives, although it may be somewhat more silently than previously.
I think that’s it for now. Just felt that I needed to get that off my chest and share it with the universe.
There. I’m done. I’ll talk to you all again some time. Take care of each other.
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