Bottoms Up. Lights Out

It was like I had suddenly woken up from a century long slumber. When I say suddenly, I mean suddenly. It was like a loud mental crack back into reality. My eyes took a while to open for they felt to me as if they were swollen shut and to be quite honest my body felt like a sack of cement. My eyes roamed around but nothing to me looked at all familiar. My surroundings seemed and felt odd. I simply felt completely out of place. I slowly tried to sit up but could only prop myself up onto my elbows, I was feeling extremely groggy. I looked around the room,  a pale blue color covered the walls surrounding me. I was in some sort of hotel room it felt like. The area of the room that I was in was covered in very tacky beach decor with shells and flamingos dancing all over the place. I was on a hard couch and directly in front of me stood a balcony with its doors completely open. The white sheer curtains danced in the breeze and if it wasn’t for the fact that fear was slowly gripping me around my throat, it all would have seemed almost peaceful. I was definitely in a hotel room but who’s? I could faintly hear the ocean roaring in the distance, seagulls adding to nature’s acoustics. The sudden voices coming from behind me made me jerk around to see who and where it was coming from. 

This was my initial reaction to waking up in an unknown place with absolutely no memory of how I got there. Although I had tried to forget about this, it all came rushing back when I was watching the news today.

A good looking couple from California have made headlines after being caught drugging and raping unsuspecting women. The pair would hit the streets in search of victims, charming them, drugging them, and then leading them back to their private office to have their way with them. Over 1,000 videos were found on both of the suspect’s phones allowing authorities to believe that there are many more victims than just the two that have come forward.  The two suspects deny any such allegations and are currently out on bail.

These two were not the couple that drugged and raped me, but they might as well be.

I will never forget the duo who charmed me into inviting them to hang out with my co-workers and I one evening after work. It was about 10 pm and I had just finished my night shift at the restaurant. I had decided to wait for my co-workers at a local bar right in between our place of employment and where I lived. I sat alone at a table for six. The bar was busy with tourists. By this time most seemed drunk and those that weren’t yet would be soon getting there. The live band playing had a crowd on the dance floor and I was soaking up the good vibes while I waited. It wasn’t long before I was approached by a pretty girl and her boyfriend. They were visiting from Ohio, a quick getaway for the couple who wanted a break from their hectic family life. They were both beautiful people. She had shoulder length  shiny, black hair and ice blue eyes. He reminded me of a golden boy, with a gorgeous sun kissed tan, light brown eyes, and short golden locks that framed his face. When she approached me initially she asked if I mined if the two  could sit down at the table with me until my friends arrived and of course, me not wanting to be rude, said yes.

From that point on the entire night was anything but normal. Looking back on it, I should have suspected that something was about to go terribly wrong because of the fact that things weren’t panning out as they normally would have. Back then though, a switch of scene and people added a much needed excitement to my life. I, however, was not prepared for, nor wanted, the kind of excitement that was getting ready to present itself.

As we waited for my friends to get out of work, this girl and I were chatting away. She asked me what it was like living in a touristy spot and about my tattoos. I asked her what sort of hectic life her and her boyfriend were trying to vacation away from. We chatted and it seemed natural. I was pleased to have found company while I waited. Her boyfriend offered to buy us a round of beers. I ordered a Miller Light but for some reason I was not in the mood for too much drinking, so I babysat that bottle until my co-worker’s arrival. Introductions were barely made when the couple asked if there was a strip club in the area. They were looking to spice up their last night out on the beach,

“What a more perfect way to end our vacation than with some ass and titties!” He shouted, overly excited. She seemed a bit embarrassed by his question but there was a slight flicker in her eyes that gave way to her also wanting in on this type of fun. One of my co-workers mentioned the low quality strip joint located right before the bridge before heading out on the island and offered to drive us all if the couple paid for his beers, and just like that, we all ended up piling into his SUV driving out to Fantasy’s.

At this point, I was only one beer in and not really wanting to head to the strip joint. I had been there a coupe times with friends before and it wasn’t anything to write home about. It was small and dingy. The girls are a reminder of sadness and instead of enticing a good time all they stir up in you in an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and pity. I wasn’t motivated but I also didn’t want to go home. I wanted a night out with friends and if that meant heading to Fantasy’s for  bit then I would suck it up and go.  It wasn’t more than 15 mins after arriving at the strip joint that things took a turn, which would then land me in this couple’s hotel room, naked, vulnerable, and with no sense of what had happened to me.

We arrived and immediately everyone headed towards the bar to get their first drink, everyone but me that is. I still wasn’t in the mood to have a drink, which for everyone who knows me that’s not in my normal character. I am not sure why I wasn’t in the mood to drink that night. I’d like to think that maybe my subconscious knew that there was something dangerous lurking right around the corner. No matter the reason, I didn’t heed the warning. My friends questioned why I wasn’t drinking and I remember telling them, “Not yet. In a bit I’ll order something..” I felt like I just wanted to be alert for a little longer. I really wish I would have stood my ground when the couple approached me with a shot.

“Cheers! To the three of us! Here’s is to unexpected new friends and a wild night!” That was his speech and although I found it a bit out there, I took my glass and clinked it with theirs.

“Bottoms up!” She said and from that point on, my night a blur, then ended with lights out.

The rest of the evening I can only recall in small bits and pieces. I do not remember leaving the strip club although I was told that we stayed there for about 45 mins. A co-worker informed me that I didn’t want to leave and had even given a wad of cash to one of the dancing girls after she told me a story about her and her kid “just trying to survive.” My memory only holds a picture of the club and then all of the sudden, we are back at the same bar we had all previously met up at. I vaguely remember feeling extremely tired and wanting to go home. I was told that at this point I had told the others that I was going to the bathroom and that I had gotten up to leave stumbling on my way out and never returning. For my friends, it was not unusual for me to disappear like that. I have always hated good-byes and so when I am ready to go home I make my way out using one excuse or another and simply disappearing. What was unusual for them was the fact that I seemed overly intoxicated even though I had only had a beer and a shot. That was not normal for me. I’ve always been known to handle my alcohol so that did raise  few eyebrows, but not enough for anyone to assume that something was wrong.

A couple minuets after me leaving for the “bathroom” the new couple said their good-byes and disappeared into the night.

I have no idea how things transpired from here on out. Considering I have no memory of even leaving my friends behind at the bar, I for sure have no clue how it was that I ran into this couple while on my journey home. My next snapshot of the night is of me in their hotel room standing out on the balcony but barely able to hold myself up. The next snapshot is of me sitting on the bed and the girl playing with my hair. After that? Nothing.

I woke up the next morning feeling like I had been hit by a semi-truck. It took me a few seconds to muster up the energy to sit up and look around and that’s when I discovered the severity of my situation. I was completely naked  barely wrapped up in only a thin bed sheet. I was laying on the couch and when I looked around the room that’s when I saw the couple, each laying on the bed sprawled out and also naked. At that very moment I was overwhelmed with many emotions, embarrassment, violated, bewilderment, sadness, guilt. But before being able to fully ingest all that I was feeling, all I wanted to do was to get out.  I quickly got up and quietly gathered my things. I grabbed my purse, my clothes, my phone and snuck into their bathroom to get dressed. It wasn’t until I put  my shoes on that I felt dread. My work shoes were severely scuffed, the soles of both shoes peeling away  the tops as if I had been dragged.

I left their bathroom and headed towards the door not once looking back. It was as if I just couldn’t bring myself to see the reality of my situation. I exited the room and soon realized I was only two blocks away from my home. I walked the two blocks in a fog. I felt bruised all over. My arms had bruises running from underneath my armpits all the way down to my wrists. My legs felt like lead. I felt soreness on both sides of my rib cage.

Once I arrived at my apartment, completely drained, I collapsed on my bed and slept for hours. It wasn’t until I woke up at almost 5 pm that I really was able to dissect the situation and try to understand what had happened to me. My body felt like a sack of bruised potatoes and that immediately brought tears to my eyes because with how I felt, how could I not remember what had happened to me? I immediately headed to my local walk-in clinic and after explaining what I had gone through got tested on any possible STD out there. The sorrow in the physician’s eyes should have been comforting but instead it made me feel ten times worse. It was at this point, when sitting on the medical table getting swabbed and blood work done, that I looked down and saw on my left wrist a beaded pink bracelet. It was the same bracelet that the girl had on the night before and here I was wearing it, undeniable proof as to what transpired the night before. I still have the bracelet to this day. I’m not sure why I kept it but it is put away in a jewelry box, a small reminder to always stay on alert.

Once I arrived back home from the clinic I messaged my sister and told her somewhat of what happened. I kept out the part of me waking up naked and seeing the couple sprawled out on the bed, also bare. My mother still doesn’t know. I’m sure that soon she will read this and her heart will be broken into a billion little pieces. I was also seriously dating someone at the time and although I did tell him what happened, I also left out the details of how I woke up and what I believed really happened. Do I think they would have negatively judged me? Not really, but I do believe that in their mind I maybe asked for it by putting myself in the situation when befriending the strange couple.

Now that this incident is over a year old, I am ready to talk honestly about the situation and what happened to me where as before I had no strength to do so. The level of guilt and embarrassment one feels when something like this happens to you is something no one is really prepared to talk about. It is almost as if one would rather sew up the lips than to ever utter a detail, and the feeling of reliving it all over again through speech is terrifying.

When I came across the news headline of the couple in California who were going around doing what was done to me to others, ice ran through my veins. All of the emotions I had bottled up and stored away came rushing back and my heart truly went out to the women affected by such trauma.

Sadly, our cases aren’t unique or seldom. What happened to us happens everyday to countless women and men alike. I feel as though one of the biggest mistakes we commit as a society is to cover up any situation that doesn’t seem ideal. We don’t really talk about the dangers that lurk around every corner and if we do, we speak of it as though it could never happen to us, making it that much more difficult to speak about when it does. One shouldn’t feel embarrassed or guilty after going through something like this and it is society that makes us feel this way. Being honest and speaking up over such monumental occurrences is what will allow for healing as well as encouraging awareness. We as a society need to become more aware. We need to start standing up for one another in being protective not only of ourselves but of those around you. Together we are a single unit. When will we start to realize that if one of us hurts, society as a whole hurts? It’s time we become more available to those who need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, without the judgment and give only support needed to overcome the unpleasantries that life sometimes has in store for us.

 

 

Alone Time

Today, enjoying you is what I really want to do. I crave the comforting silence that comes from being enveloped by you. It is like a fuzzy, warm blanket embracing me during a dark and cold winter’s night.

Some people run from you. They try desperately to avoid any moment they could have with you. They will force themselves into dissatisfying situations as to not share a second by your side. Not I. I, instead, yearn to find any stolen chance I can get to have you for even a moment’s time.

You are what recharges my battery. You help clear my mind and my emotions from the confusion and murkiness of what at times can be called life. The constant chaos that circles above my head clanging its pots and pans for attention can be muted by time spent within you.

Alone time, you are my friend, my much needed companion. In a world where we are always surrounded by some person or thing, pulling for our attention this way and that way, I find solace in you. You allow for me to become reasonable during times of distress and frustration. When I am too high or too low for my own good, you are there to level me once again.

Many don’t understand this relationship between you and I. They see it as hint of depression. They’ll think that it is a form of me crying out for help or that I am in need of attention. If only they understood the absolute joy you bring me and the joy you could bring them if they took the time to find that moment too. They will read this and make claims of how unhappy I must be if I need to have my alone time… Oh how that thinking tickles me.

Only those who truly know me can understand how ignorance has poisoned how those people think. You are my one forever lover. Our rendezvous, meditation time.

The Return

If you can’t learn to roll with Life’s punches than can you be happy?

No. Absolutely not.

In the last year alone I have gone through so many different type of life’s scenarios, most of which haven’t worked out for me, or have they? One stage of life or event has lead me to the next one, and that one, leading me to the next one. Experiences galore is what has been my life lately and although I could complain, why would I? I’m just rolling with the punches, if you can even call them that.

I have switched jobs more often in the last year than I have in the entire later part of my 20’s. 5 different jobs in the last 12 months to be exact. I’ve lived in 4 different apartments, seriously dated three different men, and have met and dropped “new friends” more often than I care to count. Yet, to be totally honest, I would not change a single fucking thing. Like I stated earlier, every person, place, or situation has taken me somewhere else and as a traveler and “experiencer” of life why would I want anything different? There is no pain that I would want to unfeel. There is no pleasure that I would want to avoid simply because it could have lead to a moment of displeasure later on.

I love to feel it all. It feeds my writing. Feeling is fuel for my soul…

Yet, in the last few weeks I have barely written down any of these moments of experiences than for tiny snippets in my journal. I have been so enthralled with life and it’s craziness that I haven’t had the energy to try to place all my experiences and thoughts about them down on paper.

“Life has been so crazy..” what an excuse for not finding the time to write. In reality even if life is crazy, does it truly stop us from doing what we love? Or is it just us? Are we the crazy ones for getting in our own way and as typical human being we decide to blame something else that is bigger than us for our own demise and pitfalls? I guess it depends on who you ask. I have had the time to write. It is not because Life is crazy… If you ask me, I believe we are the crazy ones. It is not life.

Life is simple and beautiful. There is a mysterious science to how it works day in and day out. We are the underlying variable that make this experience in life one way or another. We are the stormy winds that propel an experience in a either positive direction or a negative one. We are the placid waters that stay still and unaffected until we decide if one event or another causes us to be overtaken by ripples.

Am I crazy? I guess it depends on who you ask.

I am always looked at as crazy. If you ask my friends, I am crazy in a good way. I go for what I want no matter what that means. I am unpredictably fun, funny, spontaneous, with disappearing just enough here and there to keep them always wanting more.

If you ask strangers, all of which I just mentioned, makes me crazy in a bad way, but that is because they do not know me, which makes me in turn say: Who the fuck cares about your opinion anyway? Someone else may, not me.

I am Life. I am my life. I am this life.

No, I haven’t written much about it recently. Be prepared though, because Life has surely blessed me with enough material…

It’s only now that I actually have the energetic sanity to write about it.

Taking Responsibility

Today’s horoscope suggested that I take responsibility for some of the not so good parts of my life. It’s right. I mean how often do we actually sit down and take responsibility for the things we mistakenly bring into our lives? Not often. I know that I preach my advice for others to really take a deep look into themselves and acknowledge the wrongs they’ve done to really overcome whatever it is they may be going through. It’s time for me to take my own advice, no?

Today I take responsibility for something as small as signing up to a random website and then getting upset at receiving the junk mail that goes with it. I go through the hassle of signing up for things to then find myself unsubscribing. I mean, as soon as I plug in my email should’t I already know what I’m in for? Of course… Yet I still do it anyways.

I take responsibility for conditioning people to treat me the way they do. Not setting boundaries from the start allows people to get a different perception as to how to carry themselves within the friendship. The fact that I bend over backwards at all times for people allows them to believe that I will be okay with anything. How can I get mad at someone for treating me the way that I have put myself out there to be treated? From the beginning I should be outspoken and assertive in the things that matter most to me instead of trying to constantly people please. This alone has set me up for many failures in friendships as well as romantic relationships.

I take responsibility in not writing as much as I should for the kind of goals I would like to achieve. I procrastinate or worse, I allow for laziness to completely take over. I allow for others to talk me into wasting time with them (because typically that is all we do) instead of taking reigns of my own personal time and dedicating it to something that will benefit me and what it is I want for my future.

I take responsibility for not speaking up when I should or shutting up when I shouldn’t say a word.  There is a time and a place for both and there are times I wish I knew when they were. I tend to blurt out my opinion, at times without thought, when all people may need is an ear to listen. So I admit, I should keep my advice to myself unless I am particularly asked.

I take full responsibility for not staying connected with those truly who love me, even though I really just don’t know how to. I allow for my introverted self to shine through most times instead of finding balance with the teenie bit of extrovertedness I do have. I could just chalk it up to my childhood and blaming the fact that I don’t know how to really bond with those closest to me, since detachment has always been a coping mechanism. But seriously, now that I have learned this aspect of myself, why not work on it instead of excusing it, right?

I responsibly admit to not knowing how to always handle difficult situations which in turn leads me to letting people down. I have quite the list going, although I will say that in the last two years I haven’t really had to add new people onto that list so maybe I am making improvements to this area of my life?

I admit to making mistakes, to having skeletons in my closet, and to not being perfect, even if my close friends poke fun at me being “little miss perfect”.

I take responsibility for not eating as healthy as I should and sometimes half-assing my workouts. I will be better, I promise!

I take responsibility for sometimes being way too hard on myself and for not only setting too high of standards for myself, but also holding the bar high for others. Why set these social bars? If I can’t be perfect, why should I expect for others to be? I mean, in all honesty, it is  good thing to set standards but one also has to look at each individual as a case by case scenario. The same standards I hold for person A may not be the best standards to hold person B or C to. So I take responsibility for not always taking into consideration a person’s individuality when it comes to this.

I take responsibility for not always eliminating negative influences out of my life as soon as I pick up on the fact that they’re in fact a negative influence. Whether it be people, places, or things, once I figure that their impact in my life isn’t a positive one, I should say “Adios!” and keep it moving without guilt or second guessing.

With that said, I will take responsibility for not listening to my intuition as often as I should. I could have already avoided a bad romantic relationship (or two), wasting time on counter productive friendships, food poisoning (I knew I shouldn’t have kept eating that), worthless jobs, ect…

Lastly, I take responsibility for not having more faith and confidence in myself.  I know me and I do know what I’m capable of. I know that I can achieve all of my dreams and those that I haven’t even thought of yet. I need to strive harder and I am more than willing to work on myself so that I can be the person I know I can be.

Acknowledging responsibility, it is one hell of much needed kick in the ass. Are you strong enough to acknowledge yours?

 

 

I Can Assure You This Much

In my 31 years of observing life , one of the many things I have noticed with human beings is that no matter how kind or good-hearted you may be, you will always have at least one hater among the friendly faces.

People will hate you for your honesty.

People will hate you for pursuing a better life for yourself.

People will hate you for going after your dreams and not settling for less.

People will hate you for your happiness, especially if it outweighs their own.

They will hate if you chose to walk the unbeaten path.

They will hate you for putting your feelings and goals above their own.

Maybe you weren’t there for them the one time out of the 80, and because you weren’t a help that ONE TIME, they now hate you for it; stating that you were never there for them when they needed you.

Maybe your priorities are set a little different, different from their own. Don’t worry. They will hate you for that too.

Have you been sharing your stories, lets say, for constructive purposes? Have you been sharing in order to help a greater good? Yep, they will hate you for that too.

Let us take a look at some of the greats: Buddha, Jesus Christ, Princess Diana, Bono, Mother Teresa, all of which are some of the greatest humanitarians that this planet has ever seen. Yet even they have people with a list a mile long stating the things they hate about them.

I am no Mother Teresa I can assure you that much, but I can relate as I am sure you all can (yea, I’ll have a hater for this statement too) . We all have a hater or two (or 20) hanging around reminding us why we are “terrible” people. For many of you out there the need to please everyone you come in contact with is great, but I can assure you that you will drive yourself crazy trying to satisfy the many personalities that roam this planet. No one entity can make every human being happy, not even God, so how could you?

This life is your only life to live so live it to your truth without concern and without regret. You can still be a good person and selfishly live your life. Our time here is limited so the worst thing you could do is worry about what others around you make think of you. Most times they are lost as to what they should be doing with themselves, with their lives. Live your truth. Go after your own happiness. Do not resent those who hate you for what you are doing. Instead show them that they too can achieve the things they want out of life if they decide to one day tune out negativity. Be that example and show the world that no matter what, no matter how tainted and imperfect you are, you are still able to dance among the stars.

 

 

Love That Bad Situation

I don’t hate you. How could I ever? You taught me exactly about what I would never want out of life.

Please do not get me wrong though. If I see you coming, I’ll dodge you like the murdering bullet that you are, for all you do is kill a good situation. All that you touch you tarnish even if the intention isn’t so.  Your caked on prints are all that is left behind everywhere you go; an icky reminder of a painful and intolerable “what once was..” and now thankfully isn’t so.

Happiness courted me almost immediately. Walking away had been easy. Accepting this new found bliss and joy? That was even easier. Never looking back, I keep one foot in front of the other. There is no bewilderment as to why things happened the way they did. My intuition had always expected it. I never ask they question “why?” or “where are you now?” I know that in the darkest parts of a shadow cast is where you sadly linger. Keeping myself surrounded by the whitest of lights keeps every bit and part of you at bay.

I do not hate you. Why would I? You taught me all about life and how foolish we all can be. You taught me not to believe in the illusion of that  which easy comes. You taught me the importance of what it means to stay true to that which is me.

Just Like You.

I am fucked up. I am just as fucked up as you.

I tell lies; big, bold faced lies. I lie to myself everyday, right to my face. I don’t understand why since with the others I blab out the truth. An open book I am with them; strangers, friends, and even foes. Yet here I stand before this woman in the mirror, and lie.

I pretend that the horrors of my past don’t matter. That I have overcome it all. I am an actress embracing the role of a lifetime, the role of it all being ok. The truth is I am just as fucked up as you.

I get angry; not just over anything. When I do it’s a build up of sorts. When I do? Run for the fucking hills because the volcano will spew, consuming all in its wake.

A girl so “happy” and “positive” all the time surly has her days. When the day is here and the moment is now, it is a terrible day for all who are involved.

I am stubborn; a mule in human form when my way is all I see. When I feel right, I’m right, and there’s nothing else anyone can do about it.

I am a loser; compare me to all those that “know”. They know what to wear, what to say. They know when to have kids. They know who and when to get married. They know what car to buy. They always know how to act. They know what career they want and how to get there.

I talk shit on those people because let’s be fucking real, what do they fucking know??

I am unaccepting; leaving nothing out of range. I don’t accept social norms. The norms set by the heartless, the ones that view the world as their very own experimental tank.

I don’t accept the rules of this world. I only follow the laws of life. I rebel against the flow that the other fish may follow. I swim against the current even when I’m drowning; it’s what I do.

I vocalize my flaws and accept them for what they are; battles within myself that will never fully fall away. Just as I am beautiful, I can be ugly. Just as I am clever, I can be stupid. I am all of these, as well as so much more.

A bitch. A lover. A murderer. A daughter.  I am the realism that dances within your dreams. I am the deceit that helps blanket the illusion of life.

I am fucked up just like you.

 

Still I Wonder

He had saved his little sister’s life and he visibly wore his achievement on his skin.

His third degree burns weren’t 100% healed. You could tell in the pinkness of his black skin. They were everywhere. Patches that covered his hands and arms, his legs, even throughout most of his face with only his left side left untouched. It was obviously the first thing we all noticed as he stood in front of the class as our teacher introduced him.

His name was Alex and it was his first day of 2nd grade even though it was almost halfway through the first semester. He was nervous, I could tell by the way he shook his knee back and fourth, but he stood tall with his chin held high, holding a spider man book bag in his right hand.

He took a seat two rows ahead of me. I stared at him wondering to myself what could have happened. It wasn’t until days later that him and I were sitting together at recesses that one of the boys came up to him on a dare to ask him what had happened to him.

Fucking jerks. Kids can be a bunch of turds..

Yet, I stayed quiet. I wanted to know too so I too became a quiet little turd. He hadn’t even hesitated to answer and spoke slowly, perfectly:

His mother had been in the kitchen cooking. By her legs, there played Alex with his little sister. She had just gotten a new doll for her birthday and so he was entertaining her while mom finished with dinner, spaghetti. All of the sudden, all he hears is his mother scream and without thinking he grabbed to hug his sister. Without even thinking he had shielded her from what was to come. He felt the pain before hearing the pot hit the ground. His mother had accidentally knocked over the pot she had been boiling the water in, sending its contents spilling onto the boy. His sister hadn’t been at all touched by the scorching hot water.

I was mesmerized as he told his story. I could tell that the kid who had asked him didn’t know what to say. After Alex had finished, the boy simply rubbed his hair uncomfortably and walked away. We sat there on the curb quietly for a moment. It was a beautiful day. Clear blue skies with only a slight cold breeze, dead autumn leaves dancing in its movement.

“You’re like a hero.” I had broken the silence. He slightly shook his head.

“Heroes don’t really look like me.” He picked up a pebble and threw it. It skipped a few times across the parking lot before landing on a patch of dirt.

“What do heroes look like?” I turned to look at him. He seemed sad. He thought about his answer for a few seconds.

“Like my dad. He’s a police officer. He goes to people’s houses everyday to save people.” I pictured his dad, probably a handsome man in a crisply ironed uniform. Police officers were heroes to me back then and so I remember agreeing with him with a silent nod. But Alex was still a hero to me.

“Your dad is your dad. If you think he’s a hero than you are one too because he is your dad. He saves lives and you saved one too.”  I simply said. I then picked up a pebble and threw it.

It wasn’t long before Alex made his group of friends and life as kids went on as normal. The following year I left private school and got thrown into the turbulent world of public schooling. I lost contact of all of my old classmates. This was a time before kids had cell phones let alone a social media page, and so I never saw Alex again. He wasn’t even in our class photo. He had arrived so late into the school year that he had ended up missing picture day.

Even though much time has passed, and all he really is now is a distant faded memory, I will think of this hero child from time to time. I wonder what the future had held for him, where he was, and what he was doing with himself. Had karmatic justice been served in his case? I most certainly hope so.

 

 

 

Love. It Doesn’t Force.

I had to kick a boyfriend in the nuts once. It was the second time I had ever done that to someone. I mean, I hadn’t kicked him hard. Now looking back, maybe I should have.

Before you go on feeling bad for him and end up taking his side, I’d like to just mention that the asshole wasn’t taking “No” for an answer and had forced himself upon me. The way his hands pinned me down by my shoulders while making sure to spread my legs with his knees sent me back to a time in my life that I never wanted to revisit again. He was full of laughter of course. To him, I wasn’t seriously saying no, was I? How could his girlfriend, or any woman for that matter resist and say ‘no” to him?

It happened in what felt like a blink of an eye. I was 13 again and being pinned up against the wall by my abuser. I was too weak at the time to get away from this ex-marine’s grip and so there I hurt until I remembered to do what I had been taught to do in a situation such as this. Kick and Run.

No matter how fast I ran then, or how fast I had continued running even after all those years, the damage had been done because trauma has a funny way of keeping up with you no matter how fast you run. Here I was with my guy, and within seconds he is now my new abuser. After struggling against him, panic rising up within my chest, after not being able to take his heavy breaths and laughter landing upon my face, I brought my feet up towards his chest and propelled him off of me. He was a big guy so I hadn’t thrown him far. He quickly regained his balance and was again on top of me before I  was able to wiggle away.

“Why are you fighting me..you know you want..” and as he goes to unbuckle his belt, I swung my foot back and landed a strike on his most prized possession.  He quickly went down, “What the fuck, Nat!!..” and as he caught his breath I roll off the bed and told him to get the fuck out. I hadn’t cared if he was in pain. I wanted him out of my sight.. and to be honest I wanted him out of my life.

How is it possible that someone be so selfish? Most of you are probably thinking, “How was he supposed to know that he would trigger such a feeling?” Well simple, because we had talked about what had happened to me. Although within our relationship it was I that would mainly listen to him rant on about his problems, his demons, his life…I had once been given the split second chance to share this moment of my life with him. Not in full detail, his attention span was like that of a chimpanzee, but in enough detail that he knew what I had gone through and the pain that it had caused in my life.

SHOULD IT EVEN MATTER??

Does one ever really need a “good” reason to say no to someone’s sexual advances? Should it be one’s job or duty in a relationship to continuously feed a person’s insatiable sexual appetite with disregard of one’s own feelings?

There is more to the story. Steroid use and drug abuse definitely played a big role in this person’s actions, and once reminded of why I instinctively reacted the way I did, his anger had subsided. Mine had not, yet still I stayed.

Sadly, this incident hadn’t been the only time, just the first. The later times had never ended with a swift kick to the balls. I had just given up fighting but with every incident the anger within me ferociously grew until a fire began to burn and slowly incinerated any love for him I had to give.

We ended badly as I’m sure you all have now assumed. He was discarded in to the pile of ex’s long ago. I take with me from this experience that no matter the role someone can play in your life, if selfishly they behave, you must selfishly leave.  The red flags had always been there. I chose to push them off to the side in hopes that what I was experiencing and feeling maybe wasn’t true. A figment of my traumatized imagination but, no, it wasn’t.

When it comes to people like me who have dealt with certain tragedies of life, handle with care. Selflessly listen and try to understand. No person should ever have to be placed in a situation in which they are taken back to the darkened corners of their minds. Do not try to force something into existence that just isn’t meant to be because to force it will instead repel and always remember,

“That who loves will in turn be loved.”

 

Great Independence

The wrist grips have been released and these arms have turned to wings. The feeling of liberation dings loudly, an anthem of sorts. Let freedom fucking ring!!

Far and few in between are the moments that I think of us and when  I do, I am left with a sour taste in my mouth. I won’t be totally insulting though. I learned much from being bound to you. For instance, the belief that there is much more to life than occupying the days with mindless routine and merely filling a home with tangibles, opinions of life that I had heard and read before, are now cemented within my core. The knowledge the lesson has taught me, is indeed a fact of life and not just an opinion. It is the anchor that keeps me put instead of floating along with just anyone who slyly slithers by, baiting me with materialistic goods. I learned to distinguish they type through the perfectly made example set by you.

I have learned that I cannot save someone, nor can I change them.

You taught me that I cannot erase the demons that haunt a person, nor can I make them fade away if the person is not yet truly ready.

I now understand that if my intuition is whispering , I should not dismiss it as doubt, but head its warning.

You educated me on how easily manipulation can be embedded in the courting process and on how easier it is to be immersed in someone’s trap without noticing the existence of the trap at all.

A beautifully destructive lesson constructed by need is what we were, and although brief, we did obtain what we needed from each other. Could we have made better choices? Most definitely, and because we didn’t we instead got front desk seats at the school of Hard Knocks. I’m not sad of the journey we took. I am grateful. Years from now we will look back on this time of our lives and laugh our asses off. In reality it wasn’t all bad. We shared a few good moments sprinkled throughout our tumultuous relationship. I won’t deny that, but I will just add that I am happy it is over.

We have written our story and have now slammed shut that chapter of our lives.

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Photo Credit: Natal Galvan