past relationships

Baby baby, I feel crazy…

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Abuse.

Relationships.

You never think it could happen to you. It could never be you. YOU would never be that stupid; especially if you managed to escape on abusive relationship.

But that’s the thing — you don’t realize you’re in an abusive relationship until that much later and until you feel so stuck you don’t know what to do or where to go.

The healing process is such a sticky stretch of time.

I can say this and that. I can act this way and that way. But sometimes in the middle of the day I’ll be afraid. Afraid to say something, afraid to do something, afraid to suggest something in my current relationship because of how past relationships played out. It’s not that I’m comparing my current relationship to my past ones, it’s just a fear. A fear that was relevant during a long period of time in my life and though I know I’m with someone who cares and who wouldn’t hurt me and who hasn’t hurt me for almost a year now, sometimes I can’t help but still be scared. To still hold back certain things.

Do you remember who you were before people told you who to be?

Sometimes I think I figured my own mind out, but then something happens or something is brought up to remind me that NOPE. Hella nope. I didn’t figure out shit.

While looking for the photo I attached above, which is yes, me; I ran into a bunch of other old photos. Ones I forgot about and ones that made me both mad and sad. I’ve never felt compelled to really delete photos or posts or a time frame of my life no matter how bad it was because pain helps you grow. However for this frame of time, I would happily delete everything.

As the days turn into weeks and months, and the events of that span of time start to fade away the reality is they’re not really fading but being phased out by new memories. I don’t like talking about triggers because I feel like it’s bad juju (I grew up in a household where you should never reveal your weaknesses) and because it’s not anyone’s business but mine really. I never have much to say considering when I am triggered, I withdraw from communication and hide away to myself.

Which in my current relationship my boyfriend is trying to get me to stop doing that and instead talk about it, if there’s anything he can help me with he wants to be there to help. Or even to just listen to what’s going on in my mind. And it’s not to use it against me later but to help me understand that he thinks I’m completely amazing despite my past and what people have conditioned me to believe. And that too is a scary thing to overcome.

I don’t really remember where I was going or why I decided to write this entry especially considering how vague everything turned out to be… maybe I’m still not ready to fully talk about it the way I want to/need to in order to heal, but maybe some time soon.

At least this is one step towards that.

Word Vomit | Too Hopped Up on Drugs

So, 3 years ago I went through a pretty massive mental breakdown and despite the years of therapy I was in for my anxiety I made the choice I told myself I would never give in to — I got prescription drugs to help me cope with my sudden spike in anxiety because my marriage at the time was pretty much imploding on itself.

And you know, it wasn’t so bad. I mean adjusting sucked but besides that, it helped me achieve that sense of relief and calmness I needed to stop my mind (and my heart rate) to feel like it was trying to out dubstep each other each morning and night (which believe me, sucks up a lot more energy than you’d think on a daily basis). It helped me control my anger and my emotions and allowed me to get into meditation a little easier until I felt like I didn’t need the help of drugs as much anymore (though I still took Zoloft on a regular basis, I didn’t take Colozo as often anymore).

Fast forward to like a year or two ago; I started dating someone new who I *thought* at the time was a *decent* person. But turned out to be seriously awful as fuck. He forced me quit my meds cold turkey by force and that resulted in 3 months of withdrawal symptoms that he cared nothing about but watched me suffer and throw up constantly. So I’ve been without meds for almost 2 years now.

Fast forward to now — he took back my iPhone and my PS4 along with all the “stuff” he’s been so desperately been trying to get from my apartment that he left here (which turned out to be a snowboard, two speakers he never even wanted, a jar of rice, a throw pillow and 3 dvd’s). He’s been trying to find a reason to get INTO my apartment for MONTHS after I told him that he’s not allowed in my home EVER AGAIN. Yet he still kept trying to find reasons to come to my front door. I told him I’d leave his stuff at the front office so he wouldn’t have a reason to get through the gate but argued with me that I was being “irresponsible” for not giving him the stuff he left here back. Not to mention he didn’t even SAY anything about it until 3 months after he left and when he found out I was flying out to Texas to hang out with my new boyfriend. Clearly he didn’t care about his stuff THAT much if he NEVER SAID ANYTHING FOR THREE MONTHS. But yet, I’m the bad guy. As always. Okay. Makes sense. I guess.

But apparently now he’s telling my roommate that I did nothing around the apartment we lived in together (even though all he did was complain, trash the place and failed to do the only TWO chores I ever asked him — take out the trash and clean the cat liter), didn’t pay rent, didn’t pay bills, didn’t buy groceries, didn’t even pay for his own gas even though he was the one working (4 hours a day for 4 days a week but whatever) because I was too hopped up on drugs all the time.

Uhm… what drugs?

I’ve never been prescribed Xanax. I never had Zoloft in that apartment and the only thing I had was a bottle of Colozopam that I couldn’t even find until after I moved out of that apartment. But apparently those two drugs make you into a zombie that makes it so that you lay around doing nothing, right? Yeah, that’s TOTALLY what those two drugs do. I don’t see where people get their info from considering it’s not from doctors and they don’t give a shit enough to Google things. They just make up some sort of excuse or reason for things and RUN WITH IT into a fuckin wall because it makes no damn sense.

To which my roommate countered saying that I finish her laundry for her and fold her pants for her when I put them in her laundry bin when they’re done and place them in her room, I clean the kitchen, I make sure the cats have food and water, I do the dishes when she works too much and try and make sure the place is as clean as my anxiety allows me to.

Thanks Harmony <3.

To which he had no response for.

He also dared to say he missed my cat Sophie and how much he loved her. Except he would grab his cat Jane by her neck (I wouldn’t call what he did scruffing because she was clearly yelping for help), throw her on the couch and scream at her when she did any little bad thing.

But I. FREAKIN. GUESS.

I know I shouldn’t let it bother me. People will always pick and choose things about you to say to other people to make you look bad and them look good. Doesn’t mean it’s true. And even if they do tell others, the people who KNOW YOU (and the people who should MATTER) know better and know the real story. So the fact he’s going around saying things like that shouldn’t matter. Everyone knows what I do and what I don’t do. I don’t need to justify or defend myself. Not to mention he’ll tell anyone who listens that his mom has a “severe mental illness” when in reality she has anxiety and she just keeps to herself.

You can tell a lot about a person by what they say about their mama.

My blogs and social media are a timeline of my every day life. Go ahead, tell people this and that. But that’s not what the time stamps on my social media say.

Fuckin idiot.

How do you do it, you got me losing every breath…

SPiNNiNG: Latch by Disclosure

On days or nights I get really bad anxiety or I just don’t feel like talking I tend to blast the hell out of this song — it reminds me a lot of when I first met Penny and how obsessed we were with each other. Of course, five months later it’s hardly like that anymore. That’s just the typical timeline of a relationship.

Last night was weird; the day was fine. Nothing triggered me, nothing really went on during the day. Everything was fine. I had a bit of a reality slap during my late lunch but it wasn’t anything epic or serious really. Just the realization that I don’t have a s/o’s company this holiday season is a thing that’s happening. And it made me realize I haven’t ever been alone alone since I was 17. Granted I was married for 11 years but still, the realization that you’ll be completely alone during the holidays after that long of not is something that can be hard to swallow sometimes. It definitely puts a little bit of a panic on my mind but I’ll be fine, I’m sure. It’ll just be… different. And a lot more empty. But people go through this all the time, right? It’s not fatal.

I got sent home from work early and did a little bit of shopping so I mean, that was pretty exciting and happy.

So I went home and I went to unpack the Christmas stuff and put away the Halloween stuff. I’m not happy with it just yet but I’m still trying to figure out what to do with the place too. I still need to tidy and all of that — I’m hoping to get most of that done within the next week. Mostly because I’m tired of the mess around the place. And the boxes. But I found my small white tree that typically goes in my room. My theme this year are reds/browns/steampunk even though my room has white lights and garland. It’s whatever. One of these years I’ll go full on theme-y.

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It wasn’t until later that night that I got anxious and depressed and I couldn’t really figure out why. The last thing I remember was looking through the Christmas stuff that Nick had packed away and remembering what last Christmas was like — before he started being mean and how fun it was going all out with someone who was just as excited as you were to decorate the place. Our apartment was a Christmas wonderland last year. I loved it. I loved it so much. I was actually really sad when we had to take everything down.

But that isn’t really something to be sad about. And it was way random. I was always about making my own traditions and I have a good handful of them. Why should this year be any different? It shouldn’t.

But yet last night was still really rough and annoying anxiety-wise.

I just started feeling worthless and hopeless and not worth anyone’s time. I was basically throwing myself a really intense pity party and it’s been a good while since I’ve done any of that crap so I wasn’t too happy with myself because I’m suppose to be stronger than that. I’m suppose to get those thoughts out of my mind before they take over. But I couldn’t and I didn’t.

I’m a little better now though and I suppose that’s all that really matters.