For so much. I use to beg for strength. Strength to wake up in the morning, and strength to keep going. I begged for strength to find an understanding. I begged. Bawled my eyes out and let go.
When I think about it. About Steve, my throat tightens. My stomache churns and my entire body wants to pull itself into the smallest ball I can create. Completely aware of every part of my body because it’s close to me. Part of me wants to scream and the other part wants to cry. Part of me pushes it away and the other part can’t let go. I wish he was just a fleeting thought, but sometimes it sticks and the rest of my body follows and stays and suddenly I’m three years ago on a new yellow couch and a bright pink polo losing pieces of myself.
I know you he or she who is upstairs. I get that you are in control. I get that as much as I think I’m in control of my own life I’m really not, but things were going pretty good. And I know I complained because I’m not use to the good, but please let this be a really scarey scare and not another big challenge. But if it is well you know how every week I run through my list of everyone I’m worried about and then I ask you for strength. Well. Can you double that order of strength.
Chin up Chest out. You’ll be fine.
More news to come.
It’s tough waking up in the arms of someone who loves you. Someone who kisses each part of you that has been hurt and used, and shows you the most love it could shake your system. Then hours later you’re surrounded by old haunts that make your stomache roll, and your head pound. He’s not my run away, but he lets me give up my strength and hold me together when I don’t want to anymore, and he loves me despite all of it.
To do list:
Refind inner strength- Learn how to be strong about the things that happened to you, and not just cold about them.
Take Care of You- You are someone worth keeping and keeping alive, it’s time to be better to yourself.
Remind love of self- You are a good person, really. For real. You didn’t do anything bad. You aren’t a bad person. A lot of people would be delighted to have you in their lives, and actually a lot of people are delighted to have you there.
Create- It always makes you feel better when you make something, from nothing.
Keep on Keepin on- Take names while your at it, because it’s your life. Let’s go back to making it something worth telling the grandkids.
Do you know that feeling? Where your heart jumps into your throat and you can feel each pump? Do you know the thud of your heart, the rhythem of each ba-dump-ba? Do you know the feeling of everything tingling through out your entire body. It’s the feeling where you understand something. Where something just finally clicks. For me this feeling brought about happiness which just exposed millions of more endorphins. Mmm. Sweet endorphins.
I realized today. I am a good person. It finally sunk in. I may not be skinny, but if I was skinny I would look like my roommate who I constantly worry what she eats. I am already a size four (if I want tight jeans) I have hazel eyes, they change colors with every shirt I change into. I am special. I am unique. I am caring. I am trying to change the world.
I have given massages to every boy I’ve ever dated. When they say “this hurts” I make it feel better, what ever it is. I am notorious for making breakfasts, lunches, or dinners when ever someone hasn’t ate. I will give you the shirt off my back if I wasn’t so uncomfortable in my bra. I would shave my head if you were worried you would look lame with your hair. I would rock the bad hair do with you. I would make soup for who ever is sick. I would hug you every time you were sad. I’m a damn good girlfriend. I’m a rare find. I’m the kind guys don’t want to let go of.
If you’ll take me for granted I know he wont. Enjoy.
I have to keep reminding myself…
I am beautiful. I am strong. I am surrounded by people that love me. I am worth something. I am confident. I am unique. I am amazing. I am doing great things in the world. I am making a difference. I am a part of something.
They don’t make this shit easy. I mean they take away your confidence, seperate you from your friends, make you question everything you once thought true. It’s difficult. Again. I’m still too tired to think about all this.
I saw Margie last night. Well actually we sat at a resturant till three in the morning, and she said something that stuck out to me. “You’ve always been something about it you know? You’ve always been angry, frustrated, sad or “working on it” but I don’t know how you’re not just exhausted” and I had to tell her the truth.
I’m so sick of being strong. I’m at that point where I should be leaning to the most important people in my life. My mother. My coach. My brother. Margie. Sean. But I can’t. Because we are all in different points of our life that no one has the time to take care of me for a while. I just want to give up for a short while. I want to hide from the sun for days. I want to hide from humanity for weeks. I want to give up.
I know it’ll all work out, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel blah blah. But right now? I’m M.F. tired. Exhausted is a really good word. I’m too tired to want to move. I want someone to take me in their arms and just hold me. Because I’m at that point where I dont have the strength to hold myself together anymore. It’s so tiring. Day. After day. Fighting the good fight and sticking up, finding myself, fighting the stereotypes.
I can’t help but if on the inside I gave up for a little bit. Needing a vacation from all this serious things. It might be best described if I was five, because I’d just simply say, “Mommy I can’t do it anymore. I’m too sad, too sick to my stomache.”
My good friend from high school talked to me today and we talked a little bit, and I made a joke about my conservative ideas about myself and how I don’t party like normal freshman. His exact words “It’s college what did you expect” Then he went on to call me a “clam” because I never open up to anyone. Of which I said sure I do. Then I listed off Sean, and Margie. And then my list stopped. He’s right I don’t open up.
If I could I’d tell you my entire story. From start to finish everyday. I’d say something like.
I was assaulted in high school. I stayed up for nights on end with insomnia, but it wasn’t even that; it was my fear of dreams so I’d fight sleep with every ounce of my body. I’d shake at the sight of my ex boyfriend. I mean shake. I’d go days without eating because if I ate, I’d puke. So then, I went days puking on end. It was really sad when my dentist noticed the decay on my teeth. I told her I had the flu. I hid from everyone, because it seemed so obvious, and yet no one knew. I longed for someone to take me away from every hurt, every fear, and him specifically and then Sean came around and he did do that. Then. He left me. Worse or better off I still haven’t decided.
Or maybe I’d say something like a text book.
I was molested in high school. My boyfriend didn’t understand the word no, and I was severely depressed because of a loss in the family. He would touch me and my body used every defense mechanism it could think of except that vocal chord that knows how to yell. He took away most of my life and I’ve been fighting to get it back soon. He was a “good guy” according to my friends and that part hurt the most. Then because being “single is a curse” my friends hooked us back together. My sentence continued. They blame themselves, or him. Me? I just blame myself.
Or sometimes when I’m really sad I just want to say things like.
I’m broken. Totally broken. Don‘t love me! Don’t touch me– You’ll get this. It’s contagious this hurt everywhere. It’s an ache in your heart and a burn on your skin. It’s a disease everyone talks about and you’ll laugh too, but inside your heart clenches and you have to count the beats. Save yourself and quarantine me because what i’ve got you don’t want to catch.
Then when that gets too much I switch.
Love me. Please for the love of all that is holy someone show me the things I missed. Pull my hair back. Kiss my forehead. Stroke my arm. Hold me tight when I’m scared. Hate the S.O.B because clearly I can’t. Give me strength because today I don’t have it. Today I’m going to hide under the covers and you’re going to let me stay and bring me a note with a poptart for lunch that says “Please eat beautiful you have me worried” and I’ll eat knowing I’ll have to force myself not to puke– just because it will make you feel better. I’ll cry. I’ll cry so hard, please hold me. Hug me. Prove to me that I’m not contagious. Oh love me.