The line that was crossed

I can feel it in my bones. This longing, wanting, a needing really. It’s like a heavy emptiness weighing upon my chest. I find myself longing for the night I wish I could forget. Despite the pain that existed in those fleeting moments and in between those few choice words, and the chaos that surrounded us, I know that I was loved. In your own cruel way, you loved me. Sure, it was demented and twisted, and you were as mean as anyone can every be, but still the truth remains, I was loved by you.

Now I am left wondering if I will ever find it again. True love, but without all the pain that went along with it. I know real love  is without all the pretenses. That it is without the fist that bruise skin, the bites that tear my body to shreds, and the kicks that break bones. If I am truly loved by someone, I shouldn’t have to always hide and tell lies about the bruises and scars that exist on my body. I know you loved me, but you never really loved me – at least not as a human being, I was nothing more than mere property you possessed, I belonged to you and there was nothing romantic about that sentiment.

Real, true love comes without all that mess that lies in between the words that aren’t being said. Yes, love is messy on its own accord, but it does not borderline on abuse. Love is simple. Love doesn’t cause you to find ways to allow you to become unattached from reality so you can simply cope with breathing, concentrating on the next lie you will tell, the next lie you allow yourself to believe.

I use to think that you damaged me, but it took years of recovery to realize I was already damaged when I found my way to you. The last little bit of hope I clung to broke when I met you. But in the years since, I have found my strength, I have once again become whole. I realize that I do not need you and I was nothing more than a bunching bag to you.

You are a hollow shell of a man and I sincerely hope you received the help you so desperately needed so that you never lay a hand on another women in a way that is nothing but loving, kind, and gentle. I hope you have learned since our time together what love really is, because all we ever had was what love really isn’t. I truly mean what I say, I pray you have changed and you have found healing from your own demons that haunted you from the abuse of your own childhood.

I know hurting people hurt people and it was a lethal combination when we united, two abused kids trying to reconcile something good out of the ashes of our past and our broken misconceptions of love. No wonder we self destructed in a matter of months. It was over long before it ever began. I never understood that saying until I met you, until I was destroyed by you.

I say all that I have said to say this, I forgive you. I free and release you from the destruction of our past that bound us. I have moved on, am still working towards moving on and I will one day meet and find someone who loves me for me and loves me the way I am meant to be loved. I sincerely hope the same for you.

Cheers to a life that has been lived, cheers to a life that has been survived, and cheers to a life that has hope on the other side.


Love Lost

I wrote this three years ago and never posted it! I have been afraid to post it, the fear of being known….
The fear of finally being honest with myself, finally seeing myself for who I really am and how I view myself and view the rest of the world through distorted hurt:

I have become somewhat of a hermit lately and I haven’t like it one bit. Its not who I am, I mean I like alone time, but I need to socialize. I spent some amazing time with a group of my friends last night and realized how much I need it and how much I miss it. I think I have been a little depressed lately, those who care about me have been pointing it out but I keep saying they are wrong that I am not. I realize today I have been in denial. I miss him, I miss what could have been, what might have been, mostly, I just miss being around him. It’s more than just the idea of him…

It’s embarrassing, but he has a self produced CD and it’s on iTunes, I bought it along time ago and sometimes I  listen to it over and over again on repeat. It caused me to realize how much I cared for him and the fact that there was a great possibility that I could have grown to love him and vice versa.

I understand that this sounds insane and I have no idea if I have ever written about this wonderful man that might have been. I hate to be seen as scared or weak – but that is what I am. He came close to being vulnerable with me and I ran away from him and the situation like a scared little girl – who does that? I was like 24 at the time I think, grown enough to know better. Grown enough to realize I was an idiot a moment too late…

Its not like I am so weird stalker girl that I know this post is probably making me sound like. We were friends once upon a time, not super close friends that hung out all the time and talked everyday. No, we were the causal friends that honestly met only because we ran in the same circle of friends. I could count the amount of times I spoke to him on one hand. Some were pretty basic conversations, I believe we have only one deep conversation the entire time. But there was this moment, this moment will more than likely haunt me for years to come. I know this to be true because it has haunted me for the last four years (it will be exactly four years in Feb).

He stood there eagerly awaiting, waiting to grasp a hold of my attention to finish the conversation of all the words that had been left unsaid. I knew he was leaving soon, move miles and miles away to pursue a life and career that simply didn’t include me. I turned away from him in that moment, I ignored him and made it very clear no conversation would happen. Everything would be left as is, to dissolve away as if it didn’t even matter, as if I didn’t even matter, as if he didn’t even matter, as if the idea of us and what could have been didn’t even matter.

I’ll never forget the the glimpse of hurt I saw across his face as he turned away from me, I’ll never forget that once again I shut myself off and built my walls to keep the pain from coming in and penetrating my heart once again. I’ll never forget the lies I told myself as a source of comfort. Lies that echo to this day: we would have never worked, long distance complicates everything, he would realized he could do better, it would have hurt much more later rather than a clean cut… the lies go on and on.

And really, if I am honest with myself I can admit that I am so stupid when it comes to relationships and feelings because of fear. Mostly, I am afraid of my own feelings and allowing someone to get close to me. The very idea of opening myself up to the possibility of love and happiness brings about the horrors of opening up pain and ridicule just as well. Despite my years of healing and overcoming the reality of my disillusioned past, I still can’t quite shake the truth that love hurts sometimes, and most definitely people hurt people – it’s a fact – we all disappoint the ones we love most in our life. It’s a truth I never want to face or allow myself to experience, because I remember that I have had more than enough disappointment to last several life times. The pain of memory outweighs the ideas of longing and hope – every time. I cannot over my own self to be able to open my soul to another.

Its been three years and I still can’t let him go, still can’t help but see his face when I close my eyes. See the smile, hear the laugh, see the disappointment and hurt. Its like a nightmare mascaraing as a daydream over and over, like a horror film on repeat, wishing it would end – only to awake realizing it’s your own misery regret.

Truth: the idea of letting someone in deep enough to see all the parts of me, the good, the bad, the pretty, the ugly, and most scary the vulnerable. The real me.

I realized the reason I have never been in love, and always wanted to, is because I am afraid of getting hurt, and allowing someone to love you and loving them back is opening yourself up to not only be vulnerable but allowing them to hurt you.I grew up watching a destructive, volite relationship between my mother and father. Wondering how could you love someone and talk to them  that way, yell and raise your voice for no reason, swing your fist and throw items with force to cause enough pain and damage to go see a doctor. To have a love and marriage based on the foundation of abuse and lies.

Like the rest of my siblings I do live in the fear of becoming like my father everyday, but unlike my siblings I live in the greater fear of becoming like my mother if I one day decide to fall in love, even if that man is nothing like my father. My mother was the real monster in their relationship, she was the monster in my sisters and I nightmares.I fear to become like her more than my sisters, because personality and behavior wise, I am more like her than the rest.

I wish I could say that I am done being afraid and done living in the shadows of who I might become or what might have been. But it’s a waking fear, it haunts me when I am awake, and terrorizes me in my sleep. How am I suppose to overcome, I know the best form is to take the leap, try to fall in love. But how can I do such a thing when my walls and fears keep any man from trying to keep close?

My best friend said the right guy will push past my walls and barriers and love me anyways, in spite of myself. I think that is just wishful thinking. Because my greatest fear is I am too damage to recover and ever have a normal relationship with any man. Far too damage to ever comprehend what love actually is.

Time heals all wounds is a lie and how can I learn to love myself when my own parents couldn’t even love me – that question has haunted me for over 10 years and this blog is the closet I have come to saying it allowed. It’s like if I don’t say these thoughts or fears allowed it makes them less true. In reality it just makes me more damaged than I already am.

I need to step out and live life and see what happens – I need remember that I am not who my parents tried to shape and create me to be. I have choice in my life and I chose to no longer be damaged.