Archive for the ‘birthday’ Category

The last few days have been extremely difficult for me on an emotional level. I can handle a lot. But I start to lose it when those little things start snowballing. Cause then its like a whole mountain of crap has fallen on me and I can’t find my way out.

Part of it is cause of birthday celebrations. Which sounds so ridiculous. At least, until I remind myself that if someone else was telling me about being triggered by a birthday, I wouldn’t think anything unusual about it. If other peoples emotions and reactions are completely valid, why aren’t mine? Especially cause I’m actually sitting in the dark crying as I write.

Maybe cause by being triggered, I’ve allowed myself to remove myself from everyone else. Which looks snobbish and hermit-ish. And makes the problem worse. Mostly cause I made the problem worse just living with myself.

Cause yesterday the same pains and physical reaction my body had to being raped back in September (right before my birthday) ‘suddenly’ reappeared. Cue panic and anxiety. Then I start brooding. Then I lock myself away. Then I start freaking out about not being any better, and ending up back where I was… Anyways. You get the picture. It snowballs.

But it’s really about birthdays. And whatever unresolved issues I have there. Cause it’s awesome to be alive every day. That should be celebrated. I do celebrate it. I am thankful every morning I open my eyes. For every new day God has granted me life.

I just don’t want there to be birthdays.

I’m better about holidays. Cause its bigger then yourself. There’s a bigger picture. And it’s the same with birthdays, but that’s not the focus.

Dunno.

It’s not something I expect to get over tonight, in the dark, crying.

However,

I do expect me to get over myself. At least just a little bit.

So I’m sitting in a hotel room, having just been at my great-aunt’s surprise bday. Still in my dress. Thankfully shoeless (I started the night off in heels. Decided it was ridiculous to have sore, burning feet, and promptly switched to my baby blue Vibrams. Looked uber sexy with the little black dress 🙂

I think I fretted over seeing family for nothing. Yes, there was surprise that I was there. But I tend to forget just how awesome my family is, having isolated myself for so long. I end up wondering if I had just forced myself to remain in that bubble, would all the shit that’s happened to me still have happened? Probably yes.

So, from the hotel room comment, you can deduce I am in another city. While here, I’m planning on shopping. I was all pumped to buy new clothes this morning. Didn’t end up happening. I got pissed and returned to my room. It started with the grey sky and cool temperature, and ended with a saleslady giving me that haughty “what are you doing here?” look. And I realized that the effort I’d have to make of actually putting on clothes to try was way too much.

The night before I drove here, I was helping my mother pick clothes to bring. I tried giving her a pep talk. That beauty is a social construct that changes with the times at society’s whims. And fuck what other people think (referring to her exposing her arms).

I thought about that since. Beauty. And what it means. There is a post I did a while back where I commented about how my ability to see beauty in anyone is not a good thing. I fully take that back. Because I do see beauty in everyone. But I don’t want to fuck them. Which was what I was confused about before. Appreciation does not equal lust.

Anyways…

Beauty. I went to the party this evening with my arms and legs exposed. Gasp! Not only are my arms not toned, but they are scarred too. My arms obviously scarred. I wore my septum piercing too. This was not for a reaction. This was to be authentic to myself. Because I am comfortable as I am. And… well, fuck everyone else.

I ended up leaving early. Mostly because my feet were killing me in my gorgeous heels. I ended up sitting on the bed, wanting to go back again. I like being around others. It’s nice to realize I can carry a conversation and make small talk and smile and mean it. I don’t think I give myself enough credit at times (okay, all the time).

So as soon as I had tossed my heels, I get a call. My parents and aunts and uncles escaped the party also. And invited me to go grab a burger with them. The drive there and back was entertaining and enlightening and sad. The conversation was loud, outspoken, tactless, and truthful.

The burger was awesome. We snuck back into the party just in time for dessert. But by then the excitement had kinda died down.

It’s weird. I had to live a double life for a long time. And in a way, it’s like I am again. But I guess that applies to most people. You see the face the other person presents. Tonight, I tried to merge the various sides of myself. I did that with the exposure of my scars, my septum, my lack of makeup (mascara and lipstick don’t count when everyone else pancakes it on), showing my half-finished tattoo that’s on my leg (a coverup. It used to be a girl blowing her brains out. It’s now a water/lotus flower/rock scene). I survived. That’s what it shows. The fact I refused to wrap my body up just because I’m not acceptably thin. Looking in the mirror I could finally see that I have lost weight. And I felt awesome. And confident. And beautiful. And comfortable.

So. Theme song for this post: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZQDSDbfVde8

Cause this song makes me super happy whenever I hear it. And it’s safe to turn up the volume 🙂

I feel like I’ve been running on a treadmill the last week or so. You know, running no where fast?

I do realize I am still moving forward, slowly but surely, but sometimes the slow pace frustrates me. I want life’s changes to happen now. 

I love the saying “even if you fall flat on your face, you will still be moving forward” (forget who the quote is by).

Cause even though my sleep has suffered – as in I am getting almost none – I am still going to school. I am still writing my blog. I am still taking care of myself. Even though I have been triggered by two of my exes… I am still keeping up with therapy, and with my support groups, and I decided to trust a friend with what happened when the burden of silence became too much for me.

I passed my birthday in this limbo-like state. I went out to eat with my family. I normally lack the patience to eat out. I hate the insincerity of small talk. I find it depressing. I was the odd one out – my parents were there as a couple, so were my grandparents, so were my siblings with their gf and bf. I was the only single one, and for once that did not bother me.

Yet if I was so unbothered, and in a good mood, why did I break my two years -or so- sober streak? It was only one drink, but I am so unused to alcohol that it hit me by the second or third sip. And I finished the whole cocktail.

Ugh. I know why I did it. I drank to get through the dinner without being disturbed by wondering if the sex I “participated” in the day before was really consentual (it was not. I clearly said no, stop, and even kicked him back).

Am I right to be beating myself up for being fooled into that type of situation again?

Maybe.

But before I beat myself up, I would rather beat him up for creating this turmoil with me.

And for my other ex, for his constant harassment of me through text messages – time to change my number yet again.

So how about something more positive in my life right now?

It might sound silly, but when I am stressed (which is often), I tend to recite things that are good for skin care (for example, what vitamin A or zinc are good for in relation to skin)… And as a gift for my birthday, I got to order a bunch of skin care items. I like to experiment and make my own creams and lotions and body butters…

I discovered skin care as a way of turning my self-destructive tendencies into something more positive. I’m now taking classes in esthetics, and its very weird to be touching other people in the esthetics lab. Triggering in a way, but soothing at the same time.

I have this crazy dream, once I’m done school, and have established myself somewhat in the field. I want to work with survivors to make them feel beautiful, and help them gain back their self-esteem. But even more then that, I would love to create my own skin care line, with proceeds going towards DV awareness.

❤ stay strong

I’ve been asking myself how one can stand to celebrate important live events when they have been made to feel subhuman.

Even having made a complete 180 from the person I was back then when I was abused and enslaved, I still struggle with feelings of self-worth on important days of the year – holidays, birthdays.

For the most part, I avoid holidays. I used to feel guilty about this… I would be the only family member who was glaringly absent. But the truth is, I do not fit in. And if I am even more honest – the reason I do not fit in is because my abusers made sure I would always feel like I stick out like a sore thumb.

I’m now unapologetic (mostly) when I avoid important events. I would rather look after my own health and well-being then risk a set back.

I had even become pretty good at avoiding my birthday. I would not answer the phone, or tell friends of the impending event. I would not announce it on any social media I took part in.

Come to think of it, I still don’t.

My goal in celebrating the day of my birth seems to be a bit different then my peers who are also in their 20s.

I am not looking to get drunk (I quit drinking), I’m not looking to smoke any illicit substances (ditto), I do not want to go clubbing (I love to dance, but have been assaulted in clubs before… Not my idea of a good time). I don’t want a huge celebration, or even a small one.

I’m not sure I want anyone other then myself to acknowledge the day by doing anything.

So how do I celebrate a day that once brought me more misery then usual?

I focus on good things.

I count my blessings. I reflect on how far I have come, and how far I still want to go, and review the steps I have to take to get there.

I do something to pamper myself. I made plans with myself to order some skin care items online. Self-care shows me I am worth taking care of. Who needs a man when I have myself?! 😉

I might ask a couple of my close friends out, maybe for coffee, maybe for lunch. I usually wait for friends to contact me, as I feel I would be bugging them if I *dared* asked them to do something with me, instead of wait for them to ask. This is the remains of the voice of my abusers. But I’ll attempt to overcome it.

I look forward to a peaceful birthday. I am thankful to be single. I am thankful to be free. I am thankful I am happy. I am thankful for my support system.

This month has been a roller-coaster of emotion. September is always a trying month for me, it has been for as long as I can remember.

That tends to get in the way of re-entering life. One year, going back to university, I ended up overdosing, having a psychotic break, and wound up in a psych ward.

Of course, I was also being severely abused at the time – but I did not make the connection until I was free. Then, I simply blamed myself for my own misery and simply wanted to end the hell I found myself is as I did not know how to cope, and was told I did not know how to cope, and that I would be better off dead.

Anyways, September is also the month of my birth. Which has also made it more trying for me the last ten or so years. I always dreaded my birthday: it would remind me I was still alive and still in the same place as the year before, or in an even worse situation.

Last year I tentatively celebrated my birthday, and was successful. I attended a couple college classes, with limited success, but the point is, that I managed to *go* to the class, without breaking down, or freaking out, or otherwise making an a** of myself. Yet I sabotaged myself nonetheless with my thinking that I must be perfect, as whatever I did in *this* class *now* would dictate my success for the rest of my life…

Needless to say, my thinking did not work out for me.

So this year, I have been working on changing things so I will not be in the same place as I was last year, and so that I will not be in the same place come next year.

To the untrained eye, it might not look like much has changed. But as anyone who has had any type of hurt or tragedy or difficulty in their lives know, healing is a long arduous process.

I am once again enrolled in school, but this time, my goal is to have fun in class. So far, it is going well. It required a lot of self-talk and pep-talks to myself to get myself to go, and convince myself that this will not impact my entire future. I have only myself to rely on to build myself up, and that is a role I have become comfortable in.

The difficult thing is that for me, September really sucks.

I had a blow out with a friend. He verbally assaulted me over a period of a few days, and thankfully, his knowledge of my life was limited, and so the attack on me was limited as well.

It was a good lesson on being cautious about letting people in. But it brought back a lot of past memories that I would rather remain dissociated from.

I am not normally someone who sheds tears. Even when I feel like crying, or need to cry, I simply cannot. There is a part of me that is a tad dissociated from myself.

But not the last two weeks.

I’ve been crying at inopportune times…

Not heaving sobs, or even a steady stream of tears… They just come and go in bursts I cannot control.

And I wonder to myself – is this some sort of delayed reaction? Am I somehow reconnecting to what happened to me?

So I have been hiding out at home for the last two weeks. Besides school and therapy, and occasional walks, I have been feeling very protective of myself.

I apologize for the somewhat disjointed post. But my thoughts are somewhat disorganized.

I don’t have the time for tears, nor do I want to suddenly reconnect with myself and my past.

To be continued…