I’m really only writing this for myself. Probably turn into a long boring read if you want to skip it lol. ………
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like I needed a good cry. There was a time I cried every single day for at least a year. I’m sure I was in depression. I know I needed help. I was at a point suicidal. There were days I was locked into myself and barely spoke. Had it not been for my kids, I don’t know if I would have made it. Admitting that I was not mentally well for a time is difficult. It makes me feel less than or like someone might think I’m still in that place or have the potential to be weak. And mentally weak is so far from any definition who I am now. In some ways we don’t change, we are the same voice inside that we were as a child. But in other ways, we aren’t the same at all. And that is me. The same, but oh so different. I’m thinking about a particular period of my past. I want to erase it. There wasn’t one good thing in it. But not only do I know it can’t be erased, I know it was important. It was something I needed to go through to get to the solid ground I stand on now. So I’m going to type it out and let myself read my abbreviated history.. not really for anyone but myself. Because there’s this huge vulnerability I’m feeling and I need to steel myself up. I need to look at the words and say, yes, that happened for a reason. And if anyone ever wanted to make it define who I am now, they will just lose the wonderful person I am now.
I’m thinking about a poem I once wrote where I talked about climbing on all of the cracks within myself to get to a new place. Cracks are good. Without them, our souls make no progress. And mistakes and cracks I have many.
I was 9 when my father died. I was sleeping and have a vague memory of him being taken from his bedroom by the paramedics. Of waking up and everyone being somber in the family room. But I know those aren’t real memories, because in my head I see it all happening from a bedroom I didn’t even have until after he died. The reality is, I kissed my father goodnight at the age of 9 and never saw him again. He was in the hospital for weeks (again, that is the memory of a child which may not even be real) having had a brain aneursym and surgery afterwards, from which he didn’t recover. My mother didn’t allow us to see him in the hospital. I was told later his head had swelled so grotesquely that she didn’t want us to see. (My sister’s did the same upon her death and was one of the most traumatic things in my life so… I guess she made the right decision for a small child) Anyway, after he died, I was pretty much left to raise myself. Yes, I had 4 older siblings and a mom. But yes, I basically raised myself after his death. Along comes high school and boys. My longest relationship was with an abuser. He didn’t hit me, but he might as well have. He would put me in a corner on the floor and yell at me for hours. The time he did try to hit me, I finally got out. High school was a great time. I was one of the cool popular kids. Lots of fun. But that abuse did leave a scar. On my 18th birthday, I moved in with my boyfriend. When my mom found out my intention, she threw a cup of coffee at me along with some shoes and threw me out of her house. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t a fleeting fit of rage. It was awhile before that was repaired. A year and 1/2 later, I was 19, almost 20, and married. He wasn’t the love of my life. He wasn’t even the type of man I am attracted to. I married him because I thought he loved ME. I thought he would take care of me and not leave. Yes, huge abandonment issues from my dad dying… I know it. 20 something years go by. I’m a wife and a stay at home mom. There’s no ‘me’. Only service to my family. My husband was neglectful and never home. Left early in the morning, came home late at night. Never home on weekends. An alcoholic. We had no money but there was always money for his nightly 18 pack after the bar. (when we divorced, we were 50,000 in debt with credit cards I didn’t know existed.) Luckily, a nice drunk, but a drunk all the same. Not one compliment ever, no matter how hard I would try to look beautiful, it wasn’t ever noticed. So, I didn’t know I was beautiful. Had no freaking clue I was attractive. Till he left me for another woman. The second I met her, I knew she was having an affair with my husband. And I was right. The last few years of married life I tried to hang on to him for the kids. But he was not only neglectful, he was outright mean. I couldn’t save it. Even though we continued to have sex every night, that was, just as through the entire 24 years of my marriage, the only attention I ever got. So when he left, after I went through being broken and fixing myself, I was left with not having any clue who the fuck I was. Like the person I was at 18 never really developed a self. Only a service to my family. I was only mom. And I was a really good one some how. So there I was, in my early 40’s, trying to meet men for the first time in my adult life. So what do you like? What do you do for fun? They would ask me. NO FREAKING CLUE! I didn’t have a clue what I liked. Movies? I watch what the kids watch. Hobbies? Driving my kids around? So I decided to find out who the hell I was. And I looked in all the wrong places. All the sudden, I was finding out I was attractive. And I have to say, I did have a fantastic body for a middle aged woman. I had worked out every day for 25 years. Rarely drank, didn’t smoke, didn’t go to parties. I was well preserved lol. I started to crave that attention. I suddenly realized I was a 40 something year old adult and had never in my life seen pornography. Heck I hadn’t even seen movies with naked people and sex. I got drawn in. I made horrible choices. I found out there wasn’t anything enjoyable about sex at all other than feeling desired. I just wanted so badly to be desired because I never had that… But I didn’t realize the desire was all empty and only driven by men’s aroused penises. Not actual, desire for me. Finally found my first relationship. He was 28 and gorgeous and fun. My thought process was, well, this will be good till it’s over. Lasted 5 months. He was a huge cheater. Next relationship. Joe was so sweet. But needy and never had a dime. Not that it mattered, it just got annoying. I had the same mindset, this will be good till it ends. 9 months in, I couldn’t take the needy one more day and broke it off. Next relationship. Paul was funny and light and gave my youngest daughter a father figure. I still had the mindset, this will be good till it is over but he was my best friend so it worked a little more than the others. I knew there was no way in hell I’d ever marry him, but it was better than anything else I had known so I went with it. He broke it off after 4 years. I was in the middle of a really nasty lawsuit with my X. It was a tough time. But I was eventually glad he broke up with me because stepping back, I could see how I really didn’t even like him. And although I was perfectly fine with always paying for my own everything, I was again, sick of being with someone always broke and complaining about having no money. It just gets old. We continued to be best friends for more years but if Im being honest, it was because I didn’t have any other friends around and my daughter needed him. As soon as she graduated, I picked myself up and moved. Just picked a random place between my mom and my kids and went. So happy to break the Paul chain and having spent the last few years scared for my life (eh, won’t get into that but my X wanted me dead)… it felt good to be gone. For the first time in my entire life, I lived alone. I spent 2 years healing all the crap. Didn’t have sex for 5 years. Had really no interest at all in it to be honest. I just peacefully healed all the wounds. Healed all the hurt from the past and from my stupid sexual promiscuity phase. I had pretty much decided I wanted to live alone for the rest of my life and had not one desire to have anything to do with men. Then one day I was really freaking sick. Like probably should have gone to the hospital. Passed out in the woods chasing my dog. It was horrible. The seeds of maybe I shouldn’t be alone for the rest of my life were implanted. As time passed, I started thinking, you know what? I’m pretty freaking awesome. I’ve done all the work, packed up all the baggage, maybe I should try again. Maybe this time I will find all the right things. Maybe this time I can have a real relationship. Maybe this time I can feel love for a man that I’ve never known. Worth a shot and if it doesn’t happen, I’m good alone so what do I have to lose? Only something to gain.
And on the second try, I found all of that. A real man. A man I have actually fallen in love with. A man for the first time I’m not saying, this will be good till it ends. He’s the best thing that has ever walked into my life. He taught me that sex wasn’t about the woman pleasing the man. It’s actually a 2 way street. Took me some time to get used to that to be honest. All of my mistakes and cracks and pain and life crap have made me a different person. It is the best version of me I’ve had yet. I’ve changed so much even from when I first met him. I hope my stupid past can be just that.. my stupid, building block, past. It isn’t at all who I am now. Taking things one day at a time… and I feel better and can shut up now. :p