4 out of 5 Lions

Y’all might get real tired of me harping on the same subject. Id apologize, but nobody ever apologized to me so, not sorry.

I saw a post on Twitter today. It was a young woman telling her story about an assault she survived a few years ago. She was brave, she told her truth, and she explained the backlash she has suffered since coming forward. There were roughly 700 hundred comments, mostly expressing support and offering words of comfort, some sharing their own stories, some offering shoulders to lean on. But…there were others.

Others from men saying “not all men,” “I wouldn’t do this,” “Don’t lump me in,”…etc. One in particular stood out to me. He started his response by saying he wanted to help. It was quickly followed by him saying one out of every 300 assault victims were men at the hands of women. And he thought that her story was bullshit and hurt men as a whole. That it put men in a bad light. I don’t know what his personal story is, he did not disclose, which is his right absolutely. I would hate to think that he himself has been a victim, just as Id hate to think anyone had ever endured that level of trauma. However, his rhetoric, is detrimental to the cause.

After a couple hundred comments on his reply, all of them offering support but also trying in vain to point out to him that as a man, he need not worry as much as a woman walking by herself at night, getting drunk at a bar, going for a run during the day time, carrying keys in knuckles, much less a taser, he wasn’t getting it. He readily admitted he didn’t need to do any of those things because he was a big burly man, but seriously pushed that women shouldn’t do those things either because its offensive to the innocent man walking behind them.

He went on to say how offended he was that when he walks behind a woman for several blocks, she is visibly uncomfortable. That when she makes a call on her cell, or reaches into her purse for a taser, he takes it as a personal offense. Keep in mind, he initiated these exchanges by saying he wanted to be part of a solution, rather than the problem.

He wasn’t getting it. He didn’t want to get it. So I thought about it. I thought about it a lot. And I decided to present it this way:

You go on a safari. You’re given free reign. See that lion pride over there? There are five lions. Four of those lions will eat you on sight. One, will not. One will be friendly. It won’t protect you, but it won’t hurt you. So go ahead. Walk up to them. You have a 20 percent chance of walking away unscathed. Go ahead.

His response? “Well how would you know to pick me? The one that won’t hurt you?”

Sir…you just made my point for me. Thats the thing. I don’t know. No person does. I have been abused/assaulted 3 times in 33 years of life. For years by a family member, and twice by people I called friends.

“It” went to argue, “Don’t dress as meat then.”

Ok. So when I was a kid? When I was sober in jeans and a sweatshirt? What should I have done differently?

There was no response to that.

I am so sick of this rhetoric that “Not all men.” Obviously. Seriously. Obviously not all men. We would be living in a society that all men were locked up no matter what. Duh. But God damn I am so sick of this rhetoric of “Well what were you wearing? Were you drunk? Maybe he was confused.”

A lion is a predator. It sees prey. It sees food. Its not worried about anything other than its own needs. Hunger. Survival.

Be better than animals. For Gods sake. You are literally comparing assailants to animals as a viable defense. Multiple women posted similar diatribes that some men didn’t understand consent. Ya know? That actually hurt. Because when I really look back at past relationships, (Im not one for hookup culture, though not knocking you if you are) If I really look back, Ive had relationships where Ive had to clarify, “Please don’t wake me up that way.” In what world should I have to clarify that?

Ill tell you. Its a world where the lines of consent are blurred. In a world that rapists only get prosecuted 2% of the time ( IF detectives decide to pursue ). In a world where its so easy to victim blame.

If you want to help, then start by listening. Male or female. Listen. Your coworker, your friend, your cousins cousin, says something happened,….Try listening. He didn’t assault you? Congrats. You’re lucky. Not everyone else was.

One of the worst things Ive ever heard in my life, I was bartending at a strip club, I had a coworker I couldn’t stand. She always came in late. We didn’t pool tips ( meaning whatever we made was ours). She consistently stole my tips, going so far as taking my entire tip jar and telling me I needed to do better. She would always have to leave early because “She was sick”

Leaving me to clean the entire bar alone, while she essentially stole all of my money.

Fast forward 6 months after she no longer worked there. She called me hysterical. Her fiancé had punched her“` in the face and she had no where to go. Black eye and broken nose to prove it. immediately put her on my couch, no questions asked. Stay as long as you need.

She went through the entirety of 5 bottles of wine in my fridge and told me and I quote ( I hate this girl, I purposely got a friend to rape her).

She told her story. A dancer ( we bartended at a strip club) slept with her boyfriend. “So ya know what I did? I pretended to be her friend and drugged her drink and then dropped her in the bed of someone I knew would fuck her. Hows that for karma?”

To this day I regret letting her sleeping it off on my couch. As soon as she woke up, I had a cab waiting for her, her shit packed and on the sidewalk, and made it clear she was never to contact me again. Let me also add that she has been very outspoken against me and when Ive named my two attackers. Because those are “Her friends and they would never.” Some of y’all saw my facebook posts. She was the one that specifically asked who…She responded that I was a whore and I should go fuck myself.

That analogy I offered earlier, four of out five lions. Yeah. I mean that. And unfortunately those lions aren’t even the ones that attack you directly. They’re the lions that stand up for their “Pride.” They’re the lions that turn the other cheek. They’re the lions that pretend they didn’t see anything. The’yre the lions that don’t protect you. That have the claws, the jowls, the means to protect you. They choose not to though. Its the family that decides its easier to scowl, the acquaintance that says “Well I know him and he wouldn’t,”…

Four out of five. Four out of Five.

Lord its Exhausting

Let me breathe before I start writing this. Let me also take in to account that I haven’t slept well in weeks. So maybe …maybe…I might be feeling a little spicy.

I have talked extensively about anxiety since Ive been diagnosed, what my day to day looks like. I have talked about how draining it can be, how frustrating, how triggering it can be to just not have control anymore. I saw something today that resonated. ” People with anxiety are too aware of what it is to be alive.” Whether thats true or not, it hit a nerve.

Let me start this next paragraph by saying, when I feel alive, truly alive, its because Im angry, bitter, sad, resentful,…all emotions Im familiar with. Thats what I am used to. Those are emotions I built myself around. I had therapy today and we talked extensively about my anger and somewhat about developmental delays in my life. She said that I can’t compare myself to others around me and their growth because its not fair. Because I was dealing things that they will never understand. I am VERY hard on myself. Every day. All day. Nobody can say worse things about me than I can say about myself. That is a constant in my life.

As exhausting as all of that is every day…every single day….there are things that make it more exhausting.

When I have attacks…bad ones that put me on the floor, or mild ones that I just am not myself and can’t think clearly, either way…or anything in between, I get the same things from people. “Well what triggered it?,” “Well ya know if you just snap out of it,”…etc.

When you are that much in it, you can’t figure out what your fucking name is. Much less how to call someone, text someone, articulate what triggered it (if you even know), how someone can help, etc. This…this still is okay. For me. I won’t speak on anyone else. For me…this is okay. They mean well. They’re trying to help in the ways they know can.

Ya know what doesn’t help? That anxiety and depression and mental health have become fads among social media. Its became a fad among people trying to find their place so they automatically divert to depression or anxiety when in reality they don’t even have a clue what that really entails.

I can always tell a difference between actual anxiety disorders, depression, bipolarity, mental health issues in how its phrased and somebody seeking attention, right off the get go. I will not deny that needing attention that desperately that you would fake a disorder to get that validation, isn’t its own thing. But please realize that you are doing a disservice to not only yourself, but a disservice to people that actually struggle.

I am so fucking tired of seeing people post this bullshit rhetoric about “getting outside, do better for yourself, know your worth, etc,” ….Umm, if it was that easy do you not think me, and countless other people would have simply decided to get better?

When you preach this crap, ya know what happens? It demoralizes, devalues, and invalidates people that struggle. It hurts. It alienates us further, because you know, we haven’t dealt with enough of that as is. I can’t imagine what my life would be like right now if I had simply been able to wake up one day and go “I think Ill be happy now.”

Everyone is different. Sure. Some people can find peace and solace in being outside, meditating, changing their mind set. But do you have any idea what it takes to un learn everything you were taught growing up and change your mind set when it was drilled in to you every day? As a child? That you weren’t then and never will be worth anything?

Maybe Im not as angry as Ive been for the last 28 years, But maybe Im realizing I do STILL GET ANGRY and my counselor says thats ok, but honestly…if you had one experience with anxiety…one little moment and you think you know everything about it and feel the need to preach to others and “Help”….sincerely… from the bottom of my heart…FUCK YOU.

By all means, do what you need you to heal and move forward. I support you in every single way. I am rooting for you. But don’t you dare…dont you dare, come after other people so you can live on your high horse and feel like you over came something. This is what exhausts me. This is what makes it worse. When you make it seem so easy to let go of, how am I then supposed to struggle with it? Not to make it about me, but seriously? Its that easy? Well shit, what am I doing wrong? I am proud of you for building a life. I am proud of you for knowing YOURSELF, But do not …do not decide that you know anyone else.

Anxiety disorders are devastating, they affect every single fucking thing you do, every single day….I struggle some days to know my own name….You do not get to tell me or anyone else what to do, how to deal with it, how they should handle it, and then feel solid about yourself because you followed advice off Pinterest.

This is what is exhausting. This is what makes it worse. This is what hinders growth.

Christmas, The Joy of Family, Prayers, and strap ons…not in that order

I was lucky enough to travel home for Christmas this year, as well as Thanksgiving. After only being home for three weeks-ish, thanks to my parents, I was able to hop on yet another plane and make it safely back to Louisiana. I must say, as much as I am still adjusting and acclimating to life in Las Vegas, the familiarity of Louisiana and family and friends, has done me much good. A lot of you that read this blog, know that I have been struggling, even more so lately than usual.

This last trip was different for me. I took a bit of time for myself, saw a couple of friends, real, true friends, that I am beyond blessed to have (shoutout Sara and Jess) but also just to take my time, wander around, and enjoy some peace and quiet. I gained a bit of validation that I desperately needed, I received some answers about a couple of things and people that I didn’t even realize I needed, both good and bad. But I can’t even really say bad since the revelations were healthy ones. I wonder sometimes if that is part of the joy in moving. Going back to what is familiar, even for just a few days, I feel like I have a clearer head when seeing things that were otherwise hidden from me. Like looking for something you lost. It can be right in front of your face but when you see it every day, you pass it by, unseeing, until you take time away and go back to it.

Another positive, I had a lot of time to myself to curl up with a blanket and pillow in a comfy chair. Usually when I am falling asleep, or at least attempting to, I meditate and I pray. My schedule being so off from the rest of my family, it took me much longer than Im used to, to drop off to sleep, leaving me with an extended time frame to say those prayers. That might seem a bit off putting considering the title of this blog, but keep reading.

I won’t say Im a religious person, but here is where I invoke the old cliche. I am not religious but I am spiritual. Some of the things I have consistently prayed for, these last few months especially, are 1:growth, 2:healing, 3: to feel closer to my family. That also might sound odd considering I write a bit about my family and we are already close. But unfortunately years of anger and resentment and shutting down on my behalf, have at times left me feeling alienated. I am assured by multiple counselors that that is normal for someone that has my history of trauma. Even knowing that, it doesn’t get easier to achieve that particular goal, or any of those three things I previously listed. I am however, home now in Vegas, with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment of at least that one, if not a bit of all three.

Per our holiday tradition of “Cards Against Humanity,” we of course pulled out the game. (Perhaps a fitting choice of words there…giggle). My brother in law could not play this time around as he was committed, rightfully so, to digging out all of my niece’s new Christmas haul, and wanted to spend the day encouraging her already extensive and vibrant imagination. Since we, (Ginger, my dad, and I) couldn’t play with just three of us, we guilted my mother in to playing…for what I think was the first time ever. We decided to cultivate her imagination as well. To say my mother had an educational Christmas is quite the understatement.

Since I was the last person to “go #2” I had to go first. Those are the legitimate rules of the game. I don’t remember which black card I put down but I certainly remember my moms first white card she played against it. The very first card my mom played was “Etsy Steampunk strap on.”

Let that sink in for a moment.

My dad picked his own card up, letting me know now which was his, as well as my sisters. My mother gleefully picked up her strap-on…I mean…strap-on card, with a triumphant smile. The following convo ensued:

Me: “Wait!! You were the strap-on!?”

Mom: a look of confusion and pure innocence on her face…”Yeah”…sinking a bit back in to her chair

Me: “Do…do you know what a strap on is?”

Ginger and Daddy also staring intently, as intrigued and confused as fuck as I am

My dear, sweet, innocent mother: “Its a purse”

(Astonishment from around the table followed immediately by insane laughter)

Mom: “Its a purse right!? (now indignant)…No? Its not a purse?”

Which then of course warranted a quick google image search to show her what exactly she had just played.

Mom: “Oh my God!!! Oh!! OH NO!!!” She then turned around and slapped my red in the face father who had tears about to roll down his face…”How the hell do you know what it is?!”

Dad: ” I know everything!”

Mom: “You didn’t know what anal beads were!”

Ya’ll….I wish I could say that this was the extent of it. I am still unsure whether Ginger and I had thought this through well enough or not. Copious amounts of wine and a little bit of prescription strength weed later, we decided “Fuck it. Its too late now.”

So, here is the spark notes list of everything my mom learned on Christmas day at the family dinner table

1: Schmegma…to which she proudly proclaimed “Oh! That gunk has a name! That makes sense it should have a name! You know, I watch Dr. Poll on animal planet…”

2: Fleshlight… she had played the card herself thinking she had played “Flashlight.” When I kindly referred back to google image search, she stared at it for a few seconds before saying “I don’t get it.” When I referred to it as a “pocket pussy” I thought she was going to either fall out of her chair or claw her own eyes out. Luckily she did neither. Also, my dad stared at the picture for a few seconds before it dawned on him as well. That warranted another whack from my mom as well as shouting “See Gary! You don’t know everything!”

3: Syphilitic insanity…to which she refused to refer to as anything except “that sex disease card”

4: Deez nuts

I should also mention that she whispered the words orgasm, vagina, and penis the entire game. Also worth mentioning was her playing “Elderly Japanese Men” against my card that stated “In the new Disney Channel original movie, Hannah Montana, Miley Cyrus deals with….blank…for the first time.” My sister and dad played “Michael Jackson,” and “Boners of the Elderly,” respectfully. I spit my wine out lest it evacuate out of my nose on that one. Lets also mention that Ginger and I got a whole lot more insight in to our parents private thoughts and their own “adult” experiences.

And I can honestly say, I am not sure I have ever, as an adult, felt closer and more grateful for my family. Its hard, as an adult, to merge who you are as a grown up into any family dynamic. As I said earlier in this post, I have often felt alienated, making it, possibly, harder for me than some. I am 33 and its only been the last few years Ive been able to be honest and forthcoming with so many of my battles and demons. It certainly isn’t their fault. They are…obviously…pretty open and accepting (see above). But its hard when your own learned behavior is to shut down. And people say that “Cards Against Humanity” isn’t a family friendly game.

In an effort to keep this light hearted, even though my current therapist has suggested delving in to dark humor as a way of coping, here are other honorable mentions for the “Shit my family says” Christmas edition category.

Ginger and I were at the grocery store stocking up on wine. No surprise there.

Me, pulling a couple of bottles out of the basket to pay for them: Ginger subsequently whacking the shit out of me

Me: “What the fuck?”

Ginger: “Give it back! Im paying for it!”

Me: ” Why are you hitting me!? We do not hit in this family!”

Ginger: “We literally always hit in this family! Like…always!” (I mean, she has a point considering how many times my dad got smacked during cards)

(both of us staring into space contemplatively)

Me: “Why though? When did that start?”

Ginger: ” Huh…ya know thats a good question”

(concluded by us putting our heads on each others shoulders staring off in to more space in confusion)

NEXT

Christmas day my 7 year old niece: “Are y’all drunk?”

The family collectively looking around in confusion and at one “What? Why would she say that?” (Ginger and I might have added “Why would she say that this early?” but who really pays attention?

Brother in law in my ear : “I mean…not yet but whose gonna be?!”

Me to Ginger : “Is it too early for wine?”

Ginger: ” I have booze in this hot chocolate”

I guess the point of all of this is one and the same. We are all human. We just have to choose to be and to see it. We have to choose to let ourselves be. My mother chose to play with us. We begged her to join. We all chose to be ourselves. We were a table of our original four for the first time in a long time (David this does not give you an out for future games…we could’ve used you, and not just to explain the ones we didn’t want to. Your laugh is therapy for the soul in its own right) and we were adults, a family, a different dynamic and yet the same. And at least for me, it was a different kind of acceptance that I truly needed to feel.

There were a lot of things this Christmas that made me feel accepted and so so so far away from that girl that felt separate, apart, alienated. I don’t have the words for how grateful I am for where I am now compared to even a few months ago. I don’t want to recognize who I was then, I truly don’t. But I am so fucking grateful that my family, and the ones that matter to me, recognize me no matter what.

I decided to ring in this new year by myself, sitting at my counter with wine and doing what I love. Which is writing. Being me. Organizing my thoughts, and hopefully bringing some of you all some laugher, joy, insight, whatever you might take away from my words. I love you all. Tremendously.

As always, the best compliment anyone could give me is reading my words. Happy New Year.

I should add…my mom won the game

Turkey, stuffing, and anal beads

I’ve done a lot of soul searching lately, as has been evident per earlier posts. Somewhere along the line, what used to be a fairly light hearted blog ( or one that at least had comedic relief at times) has turned entirely too heavy.

Per my convo with my counselor earlier, I am trying to figure out who I want to be now, rather than constantly trying to reconcile the me before my breakdown with whoever has taken over my body these last few years. One thing I’d like to get back to, is sharing some of the comedic, often times ridiculous things that seem to pop out of the mouths of my family members.

In the past, I have dedicated an entire category to my beautiful, intelligent, hilarious sister, but this past Thanksgiving gave me pause to realize…well…keep reading.

We have a somewhat odd holiday tradition in my family of gathering around and playing “Cards Against Humanity.” Its not for everyone. My mom has consistently refused to play, content to be in the back ground, keeping my niece entertained, and pretending to ignore us heathens that pour wine and indulge in the oh so family friendly game. Thus a new category is born.

We had finished eating, leftovers put away, and the cards came out. It was a smaller group than usual this year as my nephew and his partner were elsewhere, but we made it work. There were several card combinations that warranted apologies before even putting them down, along with multiple sighs/giggles of “Oh I am so going to hell for this one.” But none of those moments topped the following, actual conversation.

It went as such:

My dad: ” I don’t know what this card means.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Dad: “I don’t know what this is”

Sister: ” Can you google it?”

Dad: “I’d rather not.”

Me: “Well show it to us and then you can pick a different card if you want to.”

Dad: reluctantly placing the card face up and asking in all seriousness, “What the fuck are anal beads?”

Now I can only imagine my own face looked similarly to my sister’s before the onslaught of giggles took over. Never in a million years would I think I would ever hear those words come out of my dad’s mouth. In any context. Once I could breathe again, I realized all of us had turned to my brother in law in hopes he would have a way to navigate this better than either me or Ginger were managing. I was not disappointed.

Brother in law: “Well, ya know mardi gras beads…?”

This inspired an entirely new wave of giggles. I felt like I was 13 again, talking with my friends about naughty things we knew nothing about. I’m sure the bottle and a half of wine consumed between Ginger and me was not helping. Or maybe it was extremely helpful, depending on how you look at it, but either way, hilarity ensued.

I would never have thought to explain that particular novelty in such a way, befitting Louisiana, and the craziness of our south Louisiana roots and family in general. Our holidays are rarely PG but this one had a life of its own. Thus, a new category is born.

Now, for those of you that don’t know what they are, Ive included a link….Just kidding. You can google it 🙂

We need to love ourselves correctly

Recently, I have become very unsettled. Physically as well as emotionally.

For months I have been searching for the right apartment and thought I had finally found it. After several delays, I have finally moved in, only to find out it is far from right. I have been in Las vegas as a resident for just over a year, with quite a bit of that year spent back in Louisiana for various reasons. I have been moved in to this new space for 2 weeks, but with 5 of those days, you guessed it, spent in Louisiana for Thanksgiving.

Coming back to las Vegas, I still have not fully unpacked, I do not even have all the furniture I need to do so. So physically, I think I have been unsettled since October of 2019 when I moved here. I am in what should be a familiar place after a year, but with everything being shut down amid a global pandemic, I feel a little behind in acclimating to life here. Now with this new, and very noisy place that has already had its share of conflict, I find myself sitting here somewhat at a loss.

Leaving Louisiana Sunday, I felt very much like I don’t belong anywhere right now. I love this city, I would like it to love me back. I love Louisiana and my family and friends that are back there, but the painful memories that haunt me there, chase me away, keep it from feeling safe anymore. So here I am, stuck somewhere in between.

Needless to say, it has sent me pretty deep in to some emotions that have been lingering very heavily and somewhat hidden. They stay hidden until I drink too much and then they all surface. Rising quickly and with a velocity that takes me by surprise. Im sure its taken loved ones by surprise as well as I am notorious for drunk texting and spewing all of these emotions that I can’t handle alone, on to those around me. I know what Im doing, even if I don’t realize it in the moment. I know Im seeking something. Help, closure, release…many things. My counselor today mentioned that I had experienced a lot of invalidation over the years. That word resonated with me. It was one I hadn’t previously attributed to the emotional upheaval I constantly feel. Anger, pain, hurt, injustice, but never that. So perhaps that is also what I am seeking. Validation.

Within these same last two weeks, Ive lost a friend. One that I chose to lose. One I chose to let go of. Its ironic that in hindsight this person used to tell me that I needed “to let things go. I had to move on and move forward and forget about some of those awful things that have happened.” They used to preach to me and harp on me about loving people for who they were and accepting the types of love others show me. That love should always be unconditional regardless of patterns of behavior.” Its taken me years to realize that perhaps this person was telling me to accept the toxic and manipulative, controlling type of love that they themselves were only capable of. I must also say, that in the years of friendship, this person has done more for me financially than just about anyone. I just didn’t realize that the price tag of that friendship was more than I had agreed to.

I have been told time and time again by this person that they “loved me more,” That “No one else would do for me what they did,” that “nobody else ever would.” Nothing I ever did seemed to be enough and those were conversations I tried to breach. Talk through. Tell them,” I don’t think I will ever be who you keep expecting me to be.” You keep telling me to accept people and yet, you have yet to accept me with my flaws.

I was told that the day they met me, I was special to them and I had saved their life by just being me. I think in the years between that initial meeting and the time it took us to become close, this person built an idea of me in their head. Latched on to it and created someone out of a smile, a brief encounter. And to be fair, perhaps I did as well. Perhaps I always chose to see that bright and vibrant person I had met all those years ago. But eventually, like with any relationship, especially friendships, the truth of the people we surround ourselves with comes to light.

I have been killing myself trying to be enough for this person. To hopefully pay back in friendship everything that person has done for me. But I could never make headway. Everyone has personal boundaries. For me, with my anxiety disorder, I hate when my phone constantly goes off. There is nobody other than my family that I want or need to talk to every day. In fact it becomes overbearing to me to be expected to communicate with any one person every single day. But I learned quickly with this person that that was not an option. Constant communication and validation was what this person needed to feel needed, to feel included. So I put my own anxiety, my own boundaries to the side, to make concessions for this person, this friendship. There were consequences if I did not.

On the rare occasions I really truly could not communicate, it was taken personally. I was told I “was predictable,” they could tell when I was about to crash and yet I didn’t reach out, like it was a personal affront to them.

None of this is healthy. At all. That takes anything that I might be dealing with and projecting it onto themselves. I also knew, that like clockwork, as soon as Id feel better, they would have some sort of episode that required much more than I was in a position to give. So that I could prove myself, yet again, to this person. I was constantly, without fail, being questioned and tested and made to prove myself. I ultimately failed, as I knew I would. As anyone would. And it never crossed their mind at all, that perhaps I had been tested to my limits.

It has been insinuated to me that the last time I was attacked was my own fault because I chose to go somewhere by myself, without this person. That my attack hurt this person as much as it hurt me because of how it affected me and the person they lost when I lost parts of myself…Yes. You read that correctly. It hurt them as much or more than it did me. And still, I continued to try with this person. Feeling like I could never repay the friendship, the finances, that shoulder, that was in hindsight, cloaked with so many expectations, that had been offered to me.

Gaslighting comes to mind. Constantly telling someone they aren’t enough or even just constantly saying that they’re better than you, they do more for you, that nothing is enough, its gas lighting and its abuse. The final match that struck was last week when they knew I was working, and they decided to try and start a fight. It was presented to me that “my behavior towards them was disappointing.” They wanted to “Go on record that I had treated them badly in the days before and they were disappointed in me.” My fault that day? I hadn’t text in 24 hours. I hadn’t text in 24 hours because I hadn’t slept and I was about to pull my hair out. I hadn’t been in contact because another friend of mine was suicidal and I stayed up with this person until 6 am to make sure they wouldn’t hurt themselves. I hadn’t slept because my upstairs neighbors and I seem to be at a ridiculous war over how often they can make as much noise as humanly (or inhumanly) possible. My world was a bit turned upside down. Not once did it cross their mind that perhaps something was amiss in my world. It was simply that I didn’t check on them first.

I could continue about the control, the manipulation, but there is no point. Because over all, I can say that this person was either or both, good and or bad for me. But the truth is, I allowed it. I allowed it for years. I let this person infiltrate every aspect of my life, every friendship, my family even. I allowed it. I gaslit myself. I abused myself. I manipulated myself into holding on to this person for way too long because I thought that I needed this person, this friendship. By letting my boundaries be walked over, by not standing up for myself until I was at a breaking point and would end up in angry tears for hours or even days at a time over fights they would pick.

I can also realize though, that this person, in their own way, does love me. In the ways they know how to. Just like they had subconsciously been warning me about for years. I don’t think they’re a bad person. I think they need to start loving themselves correctly. To be enough in their own eyes that they don’t need to test the ones around them. I think they need that same validation that I mentioned earlier.

I am not angry. I was. But I am not unforgiving either, at least not towards them. But I am angry, and I am a bit unforgiving of myself right now.

So yes. I am unsettled. This feeling is proving to be difficult. Its bringing up all of the pain, all of the memories over the last years and even ones from childhood that I can’t seem to let go of. I am, I am lacking validation at this point. There has never been any closure whatsoever when it comes to any of the 3 people responsible for assaulting me. Man that seems like a lot of people when I write it out. It makes me feel like Im crazy. Like I imagined it all. Like its all in my head, where it all lives, every day, waiting for opportunity to burst out in various displays of word vomit or even actual vomit depending on how much wine I drank that night.

So how do I love myself and those around me moving forward? So that I will never do to my loved ones what this friend has done to me? Im open to suggestions. I think acknowledging it is a good first step. I think counseling and getting back on my medication are good steps. But otherwise, its untangling it all. Its not allowing myself to put someone else’s mental instabilities ahead of my own on my priority list. Its walking away the first time someone in my life says Im not enough, or that they’re better than me and or anyone else in my life. Yes that was said multiple times too. Its not constantly feeling like I need to prove myself to anyone other than myself. Its not, putting someone else 100 percent above myself and my needs every day. Because it was. Every day.

I have so much work to do on myself. I know this. I always have. Its odd to sit here and think that maybe this all comes with a freedom I had not anticipated. I have been under someones thumb for most of my life. So thats where Ill start I suppose. Perhaps I just won my first thumb war, and I don’t intend on losing another one any time soon, or ever again.

Realizing just how hard it is

These last few weeks have been a roller coaster. I have been pushing myself so hard in so many ways. Ive been meditating more than ever and I am finally back in dance classes which has meant more to my soul than I could ever have anticipated.

So Im up to 2 or 3 classes a week. They range from heels classes to contemporary to hip hop. I always excelled at dance. But I haven’t taken classes since college. So this is almost brand new to me. Muscle memory will only get you so far. Today was difficult. Possibly the worst Ive ever done in a class ever in my life. I was not physically capable of what was required. But I didn’t give up. I tried, I gave it my all, I kept in mind that it had been years and at least I was pushing myself in healthy ways. I wanted to break. I wanted to cry. I wanted to admit defeat. But I didn’t. My teacher, Tom, is amazing and refused to let me accept defeat. He pushed me. And Im so grateful he did.

He took  my hands after class and told me how proud he was of me that I didn’t give up. That I fought, that I kept going.He gave me the boost that I needed. He and I take class together twice a week. He reminded me that he knew I could move, knew I could dance, knew I could do it.

You have no idea what that boost did for me. Im about to be 33. I moved here 10 months ago to push myself. TO be brave. Im at the end of my dance life. Im not shy of that. I know the limitations. But I had to do it. And he, along with other teachers, have helped me more than I have words for.

But today, failing so beautifully in a class that means the world to me, in a class that Im always emotional in, in a class where I feel free, I had to take a step back. I had to ask, “Why do I love this so much? Why do I feel like I just need the chance to tell a story with my body when I can’t put it in words? When I cant write it? When I cant tell it?” And today was the first time my body failed me.d

So I took a step back. I asked myself those really hard questions. “Why am I doing this? Why am I pushing this? Why does it mean so much?

I found my answers and I found them quickly. I had to go way back. Way back. If you’re familiar with my writing, you know what Ive been through. You know my pain.

I woke up today in that dance class. I know why. I realize why. I get it.

Growing up, going through abuse and neglect and nobody seeing my pleas for help, nobody seeing the signs, nobody wanting to see what was hard, I only had a couple of things that helped me survive. I didn’t choose dance. My wonderful parents put me in dance to socialize me. I latched on to it. It wasn’t that I was good at it at first, but I loved it. Because it gave me a break from the bad. It gave me a chance to get away and do something different, something for me. Same as books.

I don’t write because I think Im good at it. I write because I love stories. And stories saved my life. If my writing can help just ONE person feel human, feel seen, feel like they can get through the day, then thats why I write.

Dance class today, failing so entirely for the first time in my life, I was forced to answer those same questions. “Why do I do this? Put my body, my spirit, through this beating?”

Because it was all I had. It was everything. When I couldn’t speak out with words, I could do it through dance. I could be seen. For absolutely everything I was, without anyone ever even realizing. I gave it everything, because IT WAS everything. It was all I had. It was everything to me. And it still is.

I moved across country for a lot of reasons but one of the main ones was this studio, what I had hoped it could do for me. I have not been disappointed. I feel like myself again. I feel like Im learning, Im growing, not only physically but emotionally, spiritually. As high as my hopes were, this studio has far surpassed them.

Maybe it is hard to reconnect with that scared little girl that I was that latched so desperately to dance. But I owe it to her, to do it now. To try. To push myself in ways I didn’t realize I could ever do again.

Today, I am beautifully broken. Today, I am so grateful to a teacher who saw my struggle, saw what it meant, and pushed me. Today I am grateful

If you are reading this, know that it is never to late to push, to dream, to heal. And I am always, ALWAYS in your corner.

It aint mine

I don’t know if you follow me or not, but regardless, you’re here now. If you look back at my posts, you will learn a  lot about me in a very short amount of time depending on how quickly you read. If you’re like me, you find something  you latch on to and devour it. That would be the highest compliment you could give me. To read what Ive written, what Ive shared, what Ive done to destroy myself in some kind of effort to open up and HOPE within hope that I can help at least one person. Thats all I want when I think about what I write and when I do decide to.

To be clear, I never intentionally destroyed myself. But sometimes, you can’t help life, right? My life has been anything but roses, Or tulips if you pay attention. My favorite flowers are neither, ironically enough. However, I do believe in blooms. Myself included.

Let me start (or at least get to the point) by saying, I don’t know if I’m bloomed, but Ive certainly grown. And I have grown. A lot. In the last few years I have made choices I never thought I would have to, much less choices I could have ever considered being a possibility. At the end of the day, I have though. And I don’t regret a single one. Ya know why? Because all flowers, all plants, have to evolve. Have to bloom. Have to thrive.

Maybe Im not thriving. Maybe Im surviving. But its a damn sight better than I was doing.

In the last two/ three/ four years/ Ive at least done more surviving than I ever thought I was capable of before. But who wants to just survive? Ya know what I think of when I realize Im survivng?

That despite him, despite them, Im still here. How fair is that?

Ya know whats not fair? Realizing Im serving and hopefully setting goals despite them. They should have no bearing on my life and yet they always will. How is the fair? How did this happen? Im no sunflower. Im no peony. Im no tulip even.

What I am is a mess. What I am is somebody who has woken up and realized the toxicity in my life. “Friends” who have taken advantage. Friends who have taken it upon themselves to do anything and everything for when I have asked them not to and then they think they own me. I look at my last few years in service industry and how much men in particular have had control. Side affect of abuse as it turns out. I can ask all day and every day not to over step but when they do, Im powerless to say no.

I was raised not to. Abuse from a young age will teach you that. You don’t say no. You don’t have control over your own life.

I look over my last few years and realize how much control Ive lost and how much control Ive also had over people important to me. Neither is ok.

Boundaries are impossible. You set boundaries not to hurt anyone but to protect yourself. As a child of trauma, boundaries are impossible.

At the end to the day (or beginning depending) Im only writing this to say…I am happy with where Im at. I am happy with how much Ive learned. I am ok with where what Ive  learned and where Im headed. I have learned boundaries. I have learned healing. I am learning forgiveness.

Let me end this by saying, no matter where you are in life, no matter how you’re hurting: you are ok. You are strong. Its ok to get help. Its ok to evolve. Be the sunflower. Be the peony. Fuck tulips. Plant that shit. Plant your own shit. Evolve. Grow. I believe in you. I believe in me. Message me. Call me. Im always here.

I wish I knew where to even start

I titled this for a reason. I truly dont know where to start. Those of you who have followed my previous posts or know me personally know a good bit about what Ive been through. But Ive kept a good bit of that secret.

For so long I let what happened when I was a child dictate my entire life. My feelings, my relationships, certain friendships, and even my relationships with family. I have major trust issues. I have emotions that I can’t place. And an everlasting fear that will never go away.

I remember the first time I truly started to feel like an adult woman. I was making friends, I was in a healthy relationship with a man who understood me and wanted to grow together. I was in a place with my family that I finally allowed myself to be. I say this in the context that after my childhood, I had always shied away from letting myself really be a part of that family. It wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t mine. It was my abusers. He taught me that I would never fit in. They would never understand me. It was because of who I was that drew him towards the abuse he showed me. Every time, every little thing, reminded me of him and his words and that I would never be enough. So I taught myself that I didn’t need to be enough. I didn’t need to fit in. I didn’t need that family that tried so hard to be there for me.

And then I grew. And I learned. I learned that he was manipulative and narcissistic and wrong and abusive. And that as a young girl I was manipulated and that none of what I had known my entire life was real. I had to start over. Do you know how impossible that is? When most of your life is spent knowing without a doubt one thing and then having to relearn an entirely different thing? That people do care? That people do love you? And that maybe its your own head, your own heart, your own mislearned habits that have kept you from the family you always needed that was in actuality always there for you?

Fast forward. I was finally learning. I was finally growing. I was 25. The healthy relationship I was in ended mutually because as it turns out, no matter what age you are, you still need to learn. There I was, at a bar. I was with friends. I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. I ordered a cheeseburger and a coke. Something felt off. I didn’t feel right. I stumbled. I realized I had been drugged. I asked somebody I thought was a friend for a ride home. I woke up to my apartment destroyed from my attempts to fight him off, to him on top of me, laughing the entire time. He went so far as to clean up the glass I had broken as I had stumbled through my living room into my bedroom in an attempt to lock him out. I will always remember his laugh. I will also always remember his message the next day laughing at what he had done. Laughing as he invited me to a barbecue because  he felt he should since we had “hooked up” the night before.

I will also remember when I talked to detectives and they laughed in my face. They informed me they had had 8 other women within the year report him. They told me it was my word against his and told me I was wasting my time.

I will also never forget this past August. This past August when I went to a pool party at my apartment complex with a bunch of people I thought I knew. I will never forget that I left early because I felt uncomfortable. I will never forget that at no point did I mention anything along the lines of “knock on the door if you need anything.” Or “Im home all day, let yourself in.”

I will also never forget waking up to a foreign body on top of me and having to physically fight my way towards my lamp just to find out who exactly it was that had broken into my apartment.

My best friend who is a rock star left a gig that she was singing at to come and sit with me as I talked to detectives. As I had to relive every awful detail…again… for so many times in my life. I knew his name. I knew his face. I knew what he had just ruined with the guy that I had recently been seeing because I knew immediately that I wasn’t and wouldn’t be ok for a long long time.

The detectives sat there and took evidence. The clothes he left behind. My bedding. They said and I quote “Well we can prove he was here and the lock was fiddled with so at most we can get him on breaking and entering but probably nothing else,” because I had taken sleeping pill. Sleeping pills I was already taking because of the previous trauma I had been through. Apparently the state of Louisiana cares more about my property than they ever will my person. That became abundantly clear. Did I mention they also have text messages from him laughing about and admitting what he did? Did I mention that my best guy friend beat the hell out of him while he was on video blatantly saying “I know I raped her.”

You know what else I won’t ever forget? Facebook. Social media. I see him living his best life while I suffer in (until now) silence. I won’t forget the people I see now laughing and cutting up and making rape jokes.

Jefferey Epstein was found dead a couple of days ago. If you believe he killed himself you’re delusional. But I see so many people saying one side of politics or the other are responsible. Who the fuck cares? Do you know what I see? As a victim? That you would rather stand up for your preferred political party and place blame than acknowledging that sooooo many people in power are responsible. How many young girls suffered? Suffered in silence like I have? Why aren’t you blasting any and every body that was implicated? Why even choose sides at all? That says to me that you are small and you care only about yourself and your own needs.

You know what else I see? Women of all ages blasting feminism. You must not know what feminism means these days. And for your info, we need a lot more of it. Feminism to me and by definition is equality between men and women. It means that I dont belong to anybody but myself. It means that I have a right to vote and speak out as Im doing now. As Ive been too afraid to do until now.

Feminism to me means not having to listen to a female hollywood producer (one I know personally) blast the “Me too” movement because her friends had been implicated. You need better friends sweetheart.

I see social media posts that generation z criticizes my own generation because we want want want. Let me tell you why want and what we want. We want freedom. We want a voice. We want equality. We want healthcare. We want to be able to support ourselves and possibly a family working one full time job. We want an end to capitalism. We want to fix what previous generations have broken. We want to support a government that did not steal a trillion dollars from social security. We want a government that doesn’t support for profit wars that make our taxes sky rocket. We want CEOs held accountable for jacking up the prices of life saving medications. We want to not be victims anymore but damn it if we are, I dont want to be told, like I was the last time I was attacked, that if I wanted to go to the hospital Id be looking at at least a $2500 bill that I can’t hold my attacker accountable for.

Im tired. In fact Im exhausted. In my current home state (moving at the end of September) less than 2% of assailants are convicted. Even with undeniable proof. Sexual assault of any kind is one of the only crimes that the perpetrator can “justify” it. She was asking for it. Her clothes, her level of intoxication, she was pretty, she was a DEFENSELESS CHILD, all hold up in court.

I got a DUI in October. I was so fucked up from my latest attack that all I did was drink. I hadn’t had a drink in 6 hours before I drove. The same state trooper that arrested me three years ago for the legal limit arrested me again on the three year anniversary and laughed in my face even after I passed the field sobriety test. All I could do as I sat in jail was think about that all 3 of my assailants had walked free of any and all consequence and yet I was the one in jail.

My life has never been my own. I am about to be 32. My life Has never..never been my own. My counselor says Ive been robbed and theres no way to get that time back. All Im left with is fighting and moving forward. And I intend to. I will fight until my last breath to tell my truth and fight until I can’t anymore in hopes this never happens to any one ever again. Maybe Im fighting a losing battle. But God damn it. Fight with me. Dont make me fight alone.

 

Vegas

I love Vegas. I didn’t realize just how much until this trip. After my last post I decided to stay active and be proactive and do some things Id always wanted to do.

First and foremost, I took the time to look at a couple of apartments. Big step for me. I don’t consider moving lightly. I might talk about it a lot but deep down there are fears that stay constant that keep feelings about moving superficial and on the surface. If I really sit down and consider, I get scared.

I get scared of family time I’ll be missing out on. I get scared of change in general. Im complacent where I’m at. But I’m not happy. I feel like I have so much more to see and experience and give to the world than Im currently doing and I want those things. I feel caught between two worlds. Old me and new me. Sad me, break down me, and new and improved happier, go getter me. But I am scared that sadness will creep back in if I move away from everything and everyone that I know and love. The people that care for me and saw me through so much hurt. I feel like Id be betraying them. But am I betraying myself by not pushing myself further?

I have a lot to think about.

Also this trip in Vegas I played total tourist. I went shopping, saw the sign, explored different hotels and different restaurants. I went to Fremont st like I said I would and people watched. I drove around a little too much of Las Vegas due to operator error on my map, and even met up with some friends of mine from home that were there for a convention.

In all my many times out there, I have come to find several things that Id like to share from a tourists perspective.

1. The sign is worth it. Go see it.
2. Any of the Cirque shows are worth it. They are incredible. If you’re really open minded, “Zumanity” is my personal favorite.
3. Sushi is good anywhere in Las Vegas. The Sushi place in China town is just as good as Mizumi at Wynn or Sushi Samba at The Palazzo. The only difference is atmosphere and price. If  you can swing it, do the expensive ones because the service and cocktail menus are better, but if not, China town works just fine. How they manage fresh sushi in a desert is beyond me but whatever. Brings me to my next point.
4. All of the food in Vegas is good. It has to be. There is so much competition, it all has to be good.  (Except Heart Attack Grill.  Avoid it. Its cash only, its disgusting, and they make you wear hospital gowns.)
5. New York New York is the most kid friendly hotel on the strip. They have a huge arcade and a roller coaster and kid friendly dining options. Luxor is great if you want educational, but New York New York is a little livelier and more convenient to everything else.
6. People watching on the Strip is one of the best things there is. Find a restaurant/ bar that overlooks it and enjoy.
7. Everything is themed, down to the service. At 9 Fine Irishmen at New York New York, the entire staff has Irish accents. Real or fake its cool either way. I noticed at most of the themed restaurants the staff tend to accomplish a myriad of accents suiting whatever country they are representing. Its fun.
8. Lavo is my favorite restaurant on the strip. Its at Palazzo and the food and service are top notch and not priced outrageously. You can even sit outside and people watch like aforementioned.
9. The Eiffel Tower restaurant has the best view for dinner.
10. Priceline your hotels. Be careful which ones you choose but don’t be afraid of downtown. Fremont St. has some great properties.
11. The pool parties are worth it if you want a day time party but the pools in general are great. Its the desert. Cool off and enjoy a cocktail. At ANY of the hotels.
12. Don’t be like me and over pack EVERY SINGLE TIME. Chances are you’ll do some shopping and have nowhere to put it. I do it EVERY SINGLE TIME. And the shopping is fantastic! There is great shopping on the strip at Planet Hollywood, Caesars, Bellagio, Cosmopolitan…the list goes on. But the best outlet mall in the country (rumored) is just North of the strip. Its called North Premium Outlets and it is amazing. Armani, Coach, Michael Kors, Ugg, Cole Haan, Nordstrom…all have outlets there. And it is affordable.
13. You can meet nice people anywhere in Vegas. Especially the tourists. They’re just as lost as you. Help each other out.

 

Now I have so much to figure out for myself. I have a lot to consider. I know that moving might do me some good. I know I want to travel more and see more of the country and being relocated would help me do that. I know I’m grateful I can put these thoughts into my blog again and start to process it all. A lot has changed for me these last couple of years. Maybe a little more wouldn’t hurt.

 

Follow my instagram for more pictures but here are a few in the mean time.

One of these days things are going to go as planned

Welp…First of all (not to start this out negatively) it does feel good to write again and simply to be able to. The last year and a half has not been so kind to me. My last posts were some indication of the breakdown I had which has spurned me to be more adventurous as of late. Now that Im able to be. Writing and traveling were somewhat difficult and in those regards things have taken an upswing. Now if I could get everything else to follow suit that’d be great.

So Im in Las Vegas for the week. I arrived last night. I was hoping to come relax and be productive and use this trip to incorporate perhaps a new element to my blog and focus on travel, since thats what Im hoping 2019 brings for me. According to my zodiac chart (I had a reading back in September) this year is supposed to bring me travel and prosperity and everything Ive ever wanted. Its not off to such a great start.

So like I said, I arrived yesterday. Already have hit some major snags. Due to a lack of identification problem, and the government shut down probably preventing me from fixing it, my plans out here have been somewhat derailed. There are other snags as well but that seems to be the main one. I am feeling particularly discouraged at the moment. Or at least I was. The snags don’t matter for the purpose of this post but… they’re there.

So I get back to the condo Im staying in this week and contemplated how I can turn this around. What brought me here in the first place? What always brings me to Vegas? Why am I drawn here? I have thought about moving here for ten years and have never made the leap and yet I find myself visiting as often as  time and finances have allowed over the last several years. Im here now. I can fix this.

So what to do?

I have two options. I can continue to be discouraged (like I usually let things affect me) or I can make different plans. Ones that I can actually achieve. Small ones but still plans and achievements. I can go see the Vegas sign for the first time in almost ten years. I can write about my favorite shows and restaurants that are here. I can write about Fremont st and be a broke tourist for the week and hopefully write about those possibilities. There are lots of things to do here. I just have to find the right things now. I thought I had that all lined up and now I need to reevaluate. Ive been doing a lot of reevaluating this last year. In all aspects of my life. This doesn’t have to be any different.

Today was just another reminder of how lucky I am that I can adapt again. That I have come so far from a year and a half ago. That I can write. I can explore. I can actually research things to do and be able to make any plans at all. (Refer back to earlier posts)

So I fixed myself a drink and sat on the balcony and enjoyed my view in the freezing cold weather. It was peaceful. It gave me a moment of clarity. Now I need to make a list for the rest of my week. Vegas sign and Fremont St are give ins. Lets see what else I can get into. Ill be sure to share whatever that may be with ya’ll. In the meantime Ill continue to enjoy my view.