Self harm

I am close to cutting.
I will not cut.
I refuse to cut.

But it's been ceeping into the corners of my mind.

Part of me wants to cut.
Part of me wants to have beautiful drawings on my skin.

All of me feels a lack of control.

Cutting is about control. It's about feeling things on my terms.

My feelings.... are broken. My feelings are muffled and dampened and hiding.

When I feel adrift I feel like I am letting my husband down. Like I am failing him.

I feel adrift.
But I feel safe.
My husband makes me feel safe.

Yet cutting is still creeping back into my mind.

It has no hold on me but it being there makes me nervous.

I want someone to hold me and say that everything will be alright.
But I don't want to admit that I feel this way.
To me, this is regression.
And I'm not okay with that.

I feel like my healing journey is spiraling out of control.
Cutting is not the answer.

I am physically and emotionally exhausted.
My heart is broken where I thought it had mended.

I am still just a little girl.
I am still vulnerable.
I am still hurt.

To my former lover...

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I'd like to sit and chat so we can catch up with each other. But I know that isn't likely to happen. We are probably the only two people in the world who want the two of us being anywhere near each other. Not that I can blame the rest of the world for that.

I have to admit, I've been remembering mostly good things and very little of the bad. So much to miss, so much to regret.

Part of me wants you to see me like this - I have gained quite a bit of weight - because you were so taken with my beauty. I doubt I would get even a second glance from you now. The vain part of me wants you to remember me as the skinny woman I was, and hope to someday be again.

I am planning to look for a job soon and I can't help but want your fashion advice should I get as far as an interview. Getting someone to hire me will be a hard sell, so looking my best is pretty much a necessity.

The confidence you tried so hard to instill in me is completely gone. My husband believes in me, he just isn't very good at verbalizing it. You and I both know that my confidence is extremely high maintenance.

I still mourn the loss of our relationship - less and less as time moves on. I still cry sometimes - less often and not as hard. I lost more than "just" a relationship. I lost the hope and dreams of a lifestyle I'll never experience. I lost my escape.

I have a new normal now. The kind of normal I always expected from life - not what I wanted but making the best of it. I am loved and I am happy. But that doesn't mean I am never sad.

I saw you and your wife at a public event not that long ago. I ducked, hid, and told my husband to keep walking. I spent the rest of my time at that event watching for the two of you - constantly distracted and scanning the crowds as often as possible - because I can't possibly face both of you.

On one hand, I regret our relationship for so many reasons.
On the other hand, I can't possibly regret the relationship that kept me alive and taught me to live instead of just surviving.

I am feeling completely helpless and I desperately want the hope and selfishness you once breathed into my life.
But I can't have it.
I can't look for it.
I can't accept it if it's offered.
I shouldn't even want it.

You haunt me.

Scared

I am scared.

I hate to admit that.
I am supposed to be strong and independent and self sufficient.
In truth, I am none of those things.

I am scared because my family faces uncertainty.
We will most likely be homeless soon.
We have used up all of our lifelines and now we just have to wait for the official word to be handed down.
We have faced this before and I have had peace about it.

I am just short of panic.

I do not like where we live. But I like having a place to call home.

I am afraid that I will not have the energy needed to deal with homelessness.
My energy levels are unpredictable but I never have as much energy as a normal person. I cannot function like a normal person.
The fatigue and pain are debilitating. I cannot do the things I want. I can't even do the things I need.

I am afraid of the pain.
I spend much of my life trying to avoid pain and pretending I can be comfortable. I am in constant pain.
I am afraid of the intense pain that plays tricks on my mind, that takes control of my movements, that sends my body into shock. I am afraid of pain that pain relievers can't touch. I am afraid of pain that makes me less of a person. The pain that steals my identity and scrubs any enjoyment from life.

I have an adventurous spirit.
My body cannot handle adventure.

I am scared of failing.
Homelessness is already a form of failure. I am about to fail at failing.
There was a time when I could stay up late and get things done at the last minute. It seems that time is long gone. My body is failing me. I feel trapped. I think I wouldn't be scared if I knew I would be able to function. Instead, I'm pretty sure I won't function at all.

How am I supposed to explain to people that my body just doesn't work? No, I don't have any serious injuries. I don't have something as "accepted" as cancer (not that I wish I had cancer! Not at all!!). I have an invisible illness that won't go away. There are things that could help me in the short term, but in the long run I'm just going to get worse. That's how this thing works.

How do I explain to people that looking "fine" is completely draining? Yes, I can be fairly active for a day or two but I have to pay for it. Last week I was active for four days straight. And it just about killed me. I was living on Aleve (and still in pain) on the fourth day. My mind was slow and distant on the fourth day. On the fifth day, I could barely gather the strength to make myself ramen in the microwave. In fact, I almost didn't. I almost didn't eat on that fifth day because... it is like that drained, achey feeling that comes with the flu. I feel a version of that every day. It's usually somewhat mild - like when you've been sick and are getting better but still can't leave the house because getting dressed makes you need a nap - but that fifth day was like the height of the flu. I just wanted it to end. I wanted to feel better!

How do I explain to people that I always want fo feel better? I constantly feel sick and I constantly want to get better. The severity fluctuates but it's always there. I am never better. I very rarely feel up to going out and socializing. I am always squeaking by. The bare minimum, whatever it takes to get through the day.

Whatever it takes to survive.

Three years

My husband and I have been married for three years.

I read every "marriage strengthening" article I can get my hands on from credible sources. Just today I read some of those articles.

I try not to compare.
I really, really try not to compare because I know that comparison destroys contentment.

In the articles I read today, people were talking about how difficult the first few years of marriage were for them. I couldn't help but compare my marriage to what I was reading. My marriage definitely came out on the better side of those comparisons.

Our marriage is very far from perfect.
We both entered this relationship with plenty of baggage.
We had a child sooner than we should have.
We pretty much did everything wrong.

Yet, we seem to be doing pretty well.

Please try to understand the context of what I say... we are currently so broke that we have not done a full grocery shopping trip this whole month. There are important decisions not being discussed. Health is being neglected. Frustrations being ignored. Needs not being met. Love languages not being spoken/heard.

Some days are hard.
Some days are merely survived.
But most days are good.
Most days are joyful.
Some days are even really happy.

While I think we could benefit from couples counseling (as could most couples), our relationship is not in peril. Neither one of us has any desire to leave. We do talk about running away together to a private island but that's something else entirely.

I thought for sure we would have had some huge fight by now. I thought for sure I'd want to run away. This is the longest I have been in a serious relationship.

There was a time, in our first year of marriage, when I wanted to run. I wanted to run because a healthy, loving relationship was so foreign to me. I told my husband how I felt and I assured him I would not leave. The feelings passed and have never really returned. I try to stay prepared for their return - I don't want to be blindsided - but it has yet to be an issue again.

I didn't know I could be this happy, for this long, in less than ideal circumstances.
I am beyond blessed.

Vivid dreams

I don't like having vivid dreams, they are very disorienting.

Last night I had a vivid dream about my husband dying. I watched him die in a horrible accident. A year later I was living with my parents and was lucky to go half-an-hour without breaking down because I missed him so much.

As I was waking up this morning, I fully expected to wake up alone in my parent's house.
When I was awake enough to look over and see my husband, I teared up because I was so happy he was alive.

Part of me is grateful for a renewed attitude of gratitude.
Part of me thinks I can't handle these kinds of dreams.
Most of me just doesn't like them.

I am scared to sleep.
I am afraid of the fresh horrors waiting for me.

I can still tell you, in detail, how he died. I can still feel the overwhelming, all encompassing grief. I remember the emptiness I felt. I can tell you how people reacted to me.

Right now I can hear my husband snoring but just remembering that dream - which I wouldn't even classify as a nightmare - makes me cry.

I want to yell "why is my brain doing this to me?!?"
But I'm afraid I already know the answer - I am too damaged to be happy. My brain, my heart, can only process pain and lonliness, disappointment and heartbreak.

I am at a strange place in life. I am happier than I have ever been, yet the stress is high and very real. A helpless little person depends on me for everything... how can that not be stressful? And there are plenty of other stressors. But I'm still so much happier!

I sometimes joke to myself about our "fairytale romance" because even though I am so much happier I still get mad at my husband far too often. I let him down, he lets me down, we both have said hurtful things, we fight about dumb stuff... but we enjoy making up, and being silly, and holding hands, and we love each other enough to fight for our relationship.

Love.
Hm.
The thing that used to terrify me and still scares me a little. Maybe my bad dreams are part of the healing - like when a wound itches like crazy because it's healing. Maybe this is just my brains, and hearts, version of itching.

I still don't like it.

FOO

I still haven't spoken to my abuser. My abuser is still in jail awaiting conviction and sentencing.

Most people who know the situation understand my not speaking to him. Most people who know the situation wonder why I was speaking to him before he was arrested.

It is complicated to say the least.

My family of origin doesn't seem to understand any of that. My family of origin (FOO) acts as if nothing has ever happened between myself and my abuser. My FOO talks to me about my abuser as if this has nothing to do with me.

This has everything to do with me.

The master of passive-aggressiveness in my FOO is starting to work on me, laying the ground work for pressuring me into communicating with my abuser. I can see it coming like a train in a tunnel.

My husband supports me.
My husband was somewhat uneasy with me being friends with my abuser. But he still supported me in that decision.
When I mention to my husband that I have no reason to communicate with my abuser, he agrees with me in a way that... as if it is the most obvious thing in the world for me to not speak to my abuser.

Some in my FOO expect me to act like nothing has happened. I think most in my FOO don't even realize that this situation could be difficult for me.

I will eventually contact my abuser. I know myself well enough to know that.

But, for once in my life, I have some control. I can spend time with my FOO and then go home! I'm not trapped having to hear about my abuser everyday. I have a home where I feel safe. At some point I may have to put my foot down and tell my FOO "no, this is my decision to make" and the world won't end. My FOO cannot make me miserable like they once did.

I am safe and supported.

I used to self-harm. I stopped while still living with my FOO but I would still think about harming myself. There were plenty of times I wanted to self-harm and had to do something else to distract me.

I do not self-harm. I didn't even think about self-harming until I thought back to when I was living with my FOO. How broken I was.

I still bear the emotional scars of all that has happened to me. This mess with my abuser has a way of rubbing hard against those scars.

I refuse to bleed again.

Dear son,

I sit here watching you play in the rocks and I think to myself, "this is how it's supposed to be." Unhurried, unworried... just peaceful and quiet.
The evening is pleasantly warm after a hot day. The sun is slipping closer to the horizon, painting the sky with such beautiful colors.
Yet I can't stop watching you.
You are my only concern at the moment.
You are facing me and seem to be unaware of me. I know you are aware of me because if I wasn't right here, you would be upset. You are sitting on the ground, piling rocks in the space between your legs and piling dirt and rocks on top of your legs.
You are absorbed in your work. I do not know what you are thinking but I know that you are learning a little bit about how the world works. To some people it looks like mindless play. Those people have too much on their minds and too little patience.
You are experiencing. Maybe you are realizing the reality of gravity. Maybe you are noticing that rocks make a bigger landing impact than grains of dirt. Maybe you are processing the sensations in your hands and legs.
The world is big - you have much to learn - and even in this seemingly mindless task I can see your mind working.

The peace and joy I feel in this moment are almost overwhelming.
I love you more than I ever thought possible.
I wish I could bottle up this peace and happiness for you because there will be plenty of times you'll need it.
But right now...
Right now is perfect.