Stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone ought to be

Ah, how did I end up here?

I've made lots of friends--both guys and girls. I am so comfortable with them that I act like my weird self. & they have all responded well. It blows my minds.

I actually have allowed myself to develop romantic feelings towards one of these new friends, which leaves me feeling so damn vulnerable. But I guess this is how normal or healthy people feel? All I know is it is all foreign to me. Nice--but I feel like I am experiencing culture shock. Become a person who feels is a whole lot of work. There are so many more emotions that I knew I could experience.

I feel so odd. Complaining about boys. Am I really that healthy that I don't need to complain about covering bruises or long red gashes? I hope so. But even though these emotions are a bit overwhelming, they don't cause my reactions to run the gamete, because I know what low is. And I've come to know the other end too.

Well, this whole liking a boy gets even more complicated--he likes me back. I really can't understand it. I am so much better than I was before. I believe that I deserve friends, attention, and care. But I still can't understand why anyone would find me attractive. It just confuses me beyond belief. That's exactly it. I don't believe it. I'm not convinced.

So, here's what I'm going to do. I know the concept that I deserve to have someone care about me in this way, because I believe every other person deserves it. So I can't make myself an exception to this rule, just because I'm not my biggest fan. But I fully believe in the idea that no one can love you or find you beautiful, unless you believe it yourself. I also believe that you can convince yourself of anything. Hey, I managed to convince myself to believe that I deserved the abuse I endured for years. So making myself believe the "truth" can't be too hard, right?

This is my new goal. I will make myself believe that I am beautiful, wonderful, and a person who deserves all sorts of happiness. The way I'm going to go about this is in two ways:

1. I will not say anything negative about myself. No jokes. No put downs. Nothing. I am going to tell all of my friends that I am not allowed to do these things. Make them stop me. Maybe owe them a dollar every time I do it.

2. I will replace these with positive things. Every day, I will tell myself something good about myself. Maybe ask my friends with help with this too. But everyday. Maybe say one good thing about my personality or appearance every day.

So let's see how this goes.
I smell progress.

I am a Word that No One Ever Wants to Say.

ICMTMTB.
Wow. It is scary to write that down again. But it feels so great to let it out. To let someone know what it is.

ICMTMTB.
It is my creation. Yeah, it is just an acronym, but it became more to me. It became a living entity. Some living & breathing. Feeding off of me. A scary spark of an addiction.

ICMTMTB.
It became an obsession. My own little development that I nurtured & brought to life. It took over my life. Dark days.

ICMTMTB.
Repeated in my mind. Papers covered with this word. Etched into my skin. Like a number you become obsessed with, I began to see it everywhere.

ICMTMTB.
It began to sneak into my life & begin rooting itself in every part of my being. Trying to get someone to notice. Finding itself on random papers. My assignment notebook. Wanting to be seen. To spread.

ICMTMTB.
I began to chant it. When I was upset. Felt worthless. Felt unwanted. Sad. an association with the negative--all that I know.

ICMTMTB.
I have never spoken these words since 10th grade when things spiraled & I saw no end. These letters have not been written since then. I can feel my chest swell as my fingers easily find the keys.

ICMTMTB.
I have moved on, but have been carrying this weight for far too long.

ICMTMTB.
I'm shedding this part of my life. It will no longer control me.

ICMTMTB.
I cut myself to make things better.

Misery Won't Get the Best of Me

Positive post is needed I believe. I need to stop complaining about all that has happened. Need to stop dwelling in it, because it is obviously not getting me anywhere. So, instead, I am going to try to focus & list all the positive things. All the growth. All the good. Because I need to show myself they are there. They are finally in my life. Yeah, they are all new, but I need to take my focus on what I know, the crap, & instead shin the light on the good. The progress.

What sparked this? Well of course, no other than my Shelly. She pointed some things out to me in a conversation we had today. Ultimately this post is for me. Because it is something I need to realize & admit. But it is also for you, Shelly. Because I hope it brings a smile to your face.

Hmm, where to begin. Well let's start with the physicalness. I've been lying to myself for a long time. I always told myself that it was okay what I looked like, that other's didn't matter, because I need to please no one. That I can be happy with what I look like, & just be upset that other's aren't. I really want to believe that. I tell myself that is how I feel. But I still can't bare my reflection. It is a lie for me to not accept the truth that I am unattractive. Well, I've been digging at things, & somehow uprooted this philosophy, leaving me seeing my numerous flaws & also discovering a hate for myself & my appearance. But instead of dwelling on the things I hate, I need to focus on what I do like.
I am going t list the things I hate first. (this might seem counter productive, but I think that It will be good to look back & see that I was wrong, or see that I am being too picky. Or maybe it is a mistake. But I am going to make it anyways.) Here we go, from head to toe:
1. How my hair has this place where it will not curl
2. How many wrinkles I have on my face
3. How big my forehead is
4. How round my face is
5. How small my eyes are
6. My neck. Its size & the display of my disease.
7. My stretch marks on my shoulder. It just shows HOW fat I am.
8. My flabby upper arms
9. The stretch marks on my inner elbows.
10. My FAT fingers.
11. HOW FUCKING MUCH my skin is ruined on my torso.
12. My stomach. It is absolutely disgusting.
13. Mt fucking love handles.
14. My flabby inner thighs.

So that is all that I hate. Some not even hate, just dislike. Hopefully my idea about them will change. With time. With time. I guess...

Things I like. I can't say I love anything. But I will let myself like them. Because there is nothing good from stopping that. I always think it is wrong to like yourself, because it makes you full of yourself. But I'm sure that feels a hell of a lot better than this. So here we go again:
1. I like that my hair is curly. It gives me personality & I wouldn't change it for anything else.
2. I like the color of my eyes. I do think they are pretty, & I wouldn't change them. If I were to see them on someone else, I would compliment them. So I will have to compliment myself.
3. I do like my odd single dimple. Haha. I don't know where the other one went.
4. I like my high cheek bones. They make my smiles more... with my whole face? I don't know..
5. So I like my chin face forward, but I think I have one of the ugliest profiles EVER. But I do not mind my chin.
6. I don't mind my nose. I don't like it, but I don't care about it. I've grown to be content with it.
7. I guess I like my breasts? I don't know. That sounds so weird. I definitely wouldn't like attention to them, (which I have gotten like once in my life) I feel like absolutely NO ONE notices me, & would never notice them. For no guy has ever noticed me, sadly. But I like them. They are big, & fun to joke about.
8. I like my fingernails. I really do. They are thin, but Man, I have seen some pretty terrible fingernails.
9. I guess I like my muscular legs, but they make me feel butch. I always feel butch though.
10. I also like my toes. I don't know why, but there isn't any feet that I like more than mine. I think they are perfect (in my eyes.) Yeah they're wide & huge, but I don't really mind. Yeah, they are in terrible condition, but I could fix that if I cared at all.
11. Forgot my smile when I was at my face. I do like my smile. A lot actually.

So over all, there are more things I dislike, but that will change in time hopefully. I think that 10 things is a lot.

So let's move on, shell we? How about... what I like about myself that isn't physical. I am not going to make a list about what I don't like here since no one is perfect & I should believe I should be an exception to this rule. Yeah... let's kick it:
1. I think I am a caring person. I am very aware of others & care about them.
2. I try really hard to be nice to people.
3. I like to be me, but I do care what other's think. I won't compromise myself for anyone else, but I won't hurt or disrespect anyone in the process.
4. I am funny. Lol. That isn't funny.
5. I have a quirky personality.
6. I'm not an idiot.
7. I know a lot of random stuff.
8. Can't deny I like good music & movies.
9. I don't (really when it matters) judge people.
10. I'm empathetic.
11. I'm weird.
12. I'm unique.
13. I care about learning how to improve the lives of others.
14. I love animals.
15. People know who I am. Well, in a certain sense.
16. I have mistakes in my past, meaning I have lived.
17. I am willing to work fucking hard to improve myself.
18. I am done settling.

Hmm, that seems like a nicely compiled list, don't you think?

Anything else? I know, things I have. I like to always talk about what I don't have. What I've missed out on. What I've been denied. But I need to acknowledge what I do have. Even if it is new. I need to acknowledge them. I am not going to make comparisons, like I am not living in a war torn area & what not, because we all should be aware of how lucky we are to be where we are in life. But in the sense of our reality. Listy list:

1. I have an amazing best friend, who is always there for me no matter where I drag her. I know that I can depend on her.
2. Besides Shelly, there are other people who are my friends who are wonderful.
3. I'm loved & cared about.
4. I have an opportunity to learn (not in the college sense. but the life sense.)
5. I have people to love.
6. I know that there are people in my life now, that will always be a part of who I am & my life & future.

There are probably more, but I don't know what they are at the moment.

Last list of the night, or should I say morning, is one of all that I want. I know I will have to work to get them, but I am willing to do so. So here we go, one last time:

1. To keep my creepily close friendship/relationship (cause it sure the hell is more than a friendship) with Shelly.
2. I will no longer be a doormat of others.
3. I will no longer be hurt by someone & just brush it off.
4. I will learn to love myself.
5. I will become confident.
6. I will learn how to talk to people, especially the opposite sex.
7. I will stop being so afraid.
8. I will keep the essence of who I am in the process of these changes.

There you go. My life. Where I am. A snapshot of the moment. I think it looks pretty good. Still needs a lot of work. But it actually looks like a person now.

Farewell all. Sleep soundly.

If I Could I'd Sit this Out.

Yeah, another day down. I can't even keep track of the days lately. They all string together. Luckily, nothing is outstandingly horrible that makes each day a living hell. So that is an improvement. But there are only smart parts of each day that are actually enjoyable.

Last night I played the nostalgia card.& Luckily I didn't lose my hand with that move. I actually won, or played well at least. I decided to read a bit of a journal I kept last year. Unlike this blog, I didn't really keep up with it, so there isn't much in it. But it did reveal just how far I've come. How much progress I've made. & it truly is evident.

The first few entries were from a long time ago. Before I even began to open up to Shelly. When I was in complete denial. Entirely. I questioned why I was so upset. Thinking I had absolutely no reason for my depression. Wondering why I had been depressed all of my life. I actually wrote: "Some might say it is good to escape reality from time to time as I do. But I am not sure what I am trying to escape. I should be happy. Always. Everything & anything I want, I can most likely get. My future looks bright & filled with opportunity. Yet I don't even know if I want to have one. Honestly. I am not content. I am not happy. It's not that I'm only unhappy some of the time, but it seems like every moment. I have never been consumed by joy.. I've mastered the creation of a facade. Most, if not all, of those around me falsely believe that I am completely happy. But I feel broken. A shell of myself. Sometimes completely numb. I function, walk, speak, eat without feeling anything. I don't understand my despair. I couldn't tell you where it stems from. Why I'm unhappy. I think it comes from a dislike of myself. But nothing else is really wrong with me life."

Where the fuck was I? I remember the night I spoke with Shelly, at a real low, & opening up about the abuse. I honestly didn't realize that it was something wrong. That is was abnormal. Wasn't a part of everyday life behind every other closed door. It took a lot of "yeah, it's bad. It's abuse" from Shelly before the idea that it wasn't right even began to sink in. So much denial. I could feel how deeply upset I was. How depressed I was, well still am, but I honestly didn't know why.

But I know why now. I know who to blame. & I feel like a bit of blame can be scattered to everyone in my life. Obviously my parents carry a heavy load of responsibility, but everyone else gets there share too. ow about everyone who still hurts me. All the time, I find new bruises (not just the real ones) upon my heart. I don't know if it's a mistake that I have suddenly relocated it to my sleeve. How about a bit for every fucking person in my life who has no fucking idea. They can't go by without a bit of responsibility.

But I can't escape it either. I am a big factor as to why I'm so fucked up. Well I'm changing. I'm realizing what I do & don't deserve. But that doesn't mean anything, when you can only play the hand that's dealt.

Farewell all, another will be coming shortly.

Fall Through the Cracks. You Might Find that the True Beauty is Laying Underneath.

I've slipped through everyone's life. I fell by the wayside on their paths through time & have always been the one bumped off of their list of thing to think about. To worry about.

Since I've gone unnoticed for so long, I have a general lack of acknowledgment from all. I hate the idea of seeking attention. I truly do. & the placement of my scars do not support the idea of my actions as a cry out. However, I can't help but wish someone would see them. Only once did I run a blade across my skin in hopes of acknowledgment. Upon my arm a three inch scar lies & its purposes was to get my parents to fucking realize I'm not okay. I'm not o-fucking-kay. But of all the scars I wear, that one is the one I regret the most. That one is the one I hate the most. I don't know how much animosity I would harbor if I had achieved my goal, but I don't have the opportunity to know. Because my parents never said a word. They never had the decency to care.

My therapist has informed me that every person craves attention. Craves acknowledgment & it is only human of me to take drastic measures to receive it. To bad it didn't work. She said it was only normal & understandable that I cling to those who provide it. But I know I'll drive them away because of this. But I just don't know how to control it. Manna sure is a hell of a drug.

I know that when I was still hooked on the drug of pain, of blood, I would have denied any implication that I was practicing self-mutilation. That I was a cutter. Because anyone who has a secret knows that if they wanted to truly stop, then they will seek help. Denial is an easy thing, & it is always used if you're complacent with the way things are. But I just can't wrap my head around the fact that I meant so little to everyone that not a single person knew. Not a single person saw. Not a single person guessed. Not a single person inquired. Not a single fucking person cared. But I'm used to this by now. Some scars 6 fucking years in the making. Most scars almost 7 years old. Only few have faded, because it's difficult for the red to grow fainter with time if they continue to be reopened. To bleed again. No one has seen them. When someone finally does, I haven't truly settled on any actions, but I think I might tell the truth. Because if they notice, they must fucking care.

This lack of attention is like a gun and blows my mind against the ceiling, that has been waiting to meet me for years now. I mean yes, the majority of the scars lie on my legs, but not all of them. The cry-out to my parents lies on my right arm. It was deep & gritty, but has faded by now. Yet, no one noticed. No one asked. I hung out with my cousin the very next day. No inquiry. Although the ones on my legs are hidden by pants, & long shorts, I do own a pool. A fucking pool. Come on people! I've had pool parties! Nope. Gym shorts are a bit shorter than my taste. Nope. Changed in front of people in gym. Nope. Yes, I did change in the bathroom when things got too rough, but not always. I cut a few lines on my leg when I was on vacation. Yeah, I know my parents don't give a damn about me enough to notice, but I was with a friend. Red lines appear on my leg but she doesn't notice. Then again she spent most of the day either on her phone or in the internet room talking to her best friend.

Besides the physical signs, there was a bit more obvious one. If you haven't caught on by now, I am a poetic person. Well, not only does my everyday writing portray this prominent aspect of myself, but I write actual poetry. I have since elementary school. Despite my love for stringing beautiful words together, the poetry isn't actually written well. Just look at this blog. But nonetheless, I shared it. I am a very private person, & I don't normally share things that show my flaws, but I did share my poetry. With many people actually. If you're a close friend of mine, & sometimes that's not even a requirement, then you've read my poetry. My best friend in middle school, & most of high school, has read almost every poem I've written. She wanted to be my "editor" when I published them. She sure let me know they were crap. But here is an example of that crap. An old piece of writing:

Lying to myself:

Wishing that the day will fade
I want to chase the pain away
Shooting pain
And little scars
Wishing on
Fallen stars
Bleeding out
All my shame
There is comfort
In this pain
The same routine
With every night
I somehow think
This wins my fights
I do not cry
Insted I bleed
My scars show how
I hate me
As time goes on
New scars appear
Sometimes I wish
I wasn't here.
But I wake
To a brand new day
And as time goes on
Like Scars, I fade

A few people have read this poem, & many others like it, yet no one has noticed that they aren't just words. I'm pretty sure this is blunt. I know poetry can be subtle, but I think this is fucking blatant. Why did no one worry? Or question? I turned a poem quiet like this into an english class in 6th grade & again in 7th grade for assignments. Nope. Not even they worried. Aren't they supposed to?! Isn't that their job?!

I have actually posted some of my work on line (http://paperbags7.deviantart.com/), & that same friend has an account there too. A poem of mine reads:
they are just little reminders
that I failed once more
my little kisses of disapointment
the stains of my affliction are washing away
you have made me perfect once more
& she commented: "My little kisses of disappointment"
GAHHH. I really like that line! The sexy poet is back! "
One, it is one of the only compliments she's ever given me, but it comes at a bitter price: that she didn't see what that line was even saying. But then again, no one has. Everyone has read them.

I can't change the fact that no one cares. I got by without anyone. Without anyone noticing I was suffering in silence. But in reality screaming out until my lungs collapse & my heart gave way. I need not be bitter that no one has even given a fuck about me, & instead realize, thatI am stronger than I think I am. That while others need these vast support systems to keep them afloat, I got through everything I have without help. Without a single person for support. That I stopped a six year addiction on my own, where people go into rehab for less intense ones. I stopped myself from taking those pills. That I can get through anything. & from here on I do have a copilot. A support system. It might not be very sturdy, but It's not going anywhere.

Farewell all. If you ever want help & don't seem to be getting it from anyone in your life, know that you can do it on your own. It's not ideal, & when you look back you might have wish you called it quits, but you never know. You could find true happiness in the end. Happily ever after is just for fairy tales, but that doesn't mean better than today lives in tomorrow isn't for reality, & you're reality at that.

"So, if you made it
Just be glad that you did and stay there
If you ever feel loved or needed
Remember that you're one of the lucky ones "

We Learn as We Age.

I know you'll never change
I won't be good enough for you
I know I'll make it through
You'll never be around to see.

It is true. I will never be good enough for it seems like everyone. & it seems like no matter who it is, I always let them down. My parents have these unattainable goals for me. THis idea of who they want me to be--perfect in a very literal sense. But I can't be perfect, in fact no one can. I might be farther from it than most people, but It will never be something I can achieve. & I can;t kill myself trying. & sadly, that can be taken in the literal sense.

Besides my parents, I have a high quota I ask myself to fill. But I don't always see it as negative. I can always be better, because I have so many flaws. I can always be thinner, smarter, better. & I'm the weak one in the way of achieving this.

But it's not just me & my parents. Others seem to lay out these ground rules & expectations from me, & I rarely measure up. I know it's not healthy for me to truly believe I am a failure, but what evidence do I have to counter attack this idea? Because I sure in the hell have enough to make a strong supporting case.

But I do know I'll make it through. I know that I will get through this hell like I always do. I might be beaten & battered, with a heart of stone, but I'm still standing. Barely, quivering, but on my feet nonetheless. So I know I'll get by, because I have to. I just don't know when--if ever--I'll see an end to this cycle.

That's right I'll see the end of this game, but I'm no longer playing it front of an audience. No more. I'm going to get away from these key players when I can. But I fear that I really won't be able to do this on my own. & I really have little to help me. Like a child I need constant care--but like my childhood, I lack it. & I can only see a continuance of this malsupplement of care in the future. What to do? Nothing. I have nothing.

So yeah, I'll be taking these steps. Rolling the dice this time, & no longer stalling. But I honestly fear that I while I make these moves in battle that I won't really see the worth.

I've been making some of these sort of changes lately. First, I sat away from my mother during a movie. Next I moved to not sit with my parents during our plane ride back from vacation. & finally, I went shopping with mother today & went my own way. However, I feel like I've accomplished nothing & my body now aches.

Do I venture from the safety of the ways I know & hope for the best? Or do I remain in this cycle & just except things as they are?

When You Push on Glass, It's Bound to Break.

I've walked so far on a lonely street
With no one there for me.

The mass majority of my life has spent in the dark. Dwelling in the shadows. Alone. Completely alone. & loneliness is a great pain & burden. I finally found someone. I'm no longer alone, but I still fear backtracking to the life I've always known.

So except this confession.
I'm done with this. I'm done being treated like worthless shit. Like nothing. Like an "it" & not a person. Those in my life might not change, but I can change those who are a part of my life. I want to break away from this life. It's scary. A change. A leap of faith. But what is there to catch me at the bottom? Myself like always? Well I have to brush away my fear & just do. Because things can't progress without change, I have to change them. Nothing in my life is going to change without changes in myself.

I'm not your possession.
I'm in no one's control. I belong to no one but myself. Because you do not own me, you have no right to treat me like I'm disposable. Because I'm not. & although I belong to no one, those who believe I'm just a tax deductible object can still lose me. But it is truly their loss, because I can obviously get by on my own. It isn't favorable, but it can be done.

My conscious is vicious.
It truly is. My mind is my worse enemy. The biggest obstacle in my way is myself. I am holding myself back. With any sort of time, I begin the process of torture. This is something I must change. But how?

I am not begging for forgiveness.
Not anymore. & you know what? I don;t fucking want a sorry from anyone anymore. I'm not sorry about anything I've done. I can't change it, so I shouldn't be living in it still. Yes, I've mutilated my body. But I don't anymore. Yes, I'm the one who let myself be a floor. But I'm stronger now. So I say I'm sorry, & I move on. To a better life. A better place.

I've been walking on pins & needles all my life. & I might be scared, but wounds do heal.

Farewell all.

There is an Idea of Me.

There is an idea of a me; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there.

I used to feel this way, exactly. Like a part of me was missing. Not hidden, not overshadowed, but not there at all. I feel like a person starts as a shell, everyone does. As this empty body. Yes, there is blood & organs within, but besides the biology, there is nothing there. & as one grows, they are filled. There are certain people & events that a person has that slowly fill up that void. & I missed some of this. No, not some. I missed a whole chunk of it. A deprivation of human needs that leads an empty shell to develop into a child & then into a functioning adult. But my void was left gaping.

I had settled for this. I believed that I deserved to feel this full emptiness. I didn't really live. Or feel. Or interact. Instead, I was barely there. No one really knew me. I walked through nineteen years being absolutely nothing to anyone. No one truly unconditionally cared about me. Let alone love me. I found myself living a life no one wanted, but that I had.

But no one knew that I was a void. Everyone believed I was a happy kid. Well, still am. Yeah, I have a few problems, but NOTHING serious. Just your everyday kid. They never knew me. They don't know me. The person they speak to, the one they embrace, is a well constructed contraption that has been in development for a lifetime.

Although I had settled with this way of life, I look at how I am today, & I don't feel empty. I honestly didn't think that space could, let alone would, be filled. That I would be a person. I know that I am still missing many pieces, but I now see that it's never to late to have them filled. There isn't a deadline. Or a person that must fill it.

I know I will never find that unconditional or true love. I can never have that true approval, or pride that I crave. But I don't have to believe it's because I'm not worthy.

I might know there are people in my life, but I still feel so lonely. I feel like that void within me feeds. It's always hungry. I can keep it at bay when I feel joy. But when alone, it absorbs itself in my thoughts. Leaving me dwelling in the bleak.
I need to change these things.

Alive With the Glory of Love.

Wow. Talk about big steps. Progress at its finest.
Shelly & I just made my break wonderful. I just threw out the main contents of my box with her. We held hands & threw out two razors in the rain. (Sorry, no skipping was involved.)
I think I'm kicking the SheBitch's ass!

Ah, I feel liberated & free. & So thankful for my Shelly. The world would be dim without her.

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait.

That's right all, a happy post. Didn't see this one coming on the same day as the previous post, but oh how things pan out. That's right, two posts in one day. I know, I spoil you. (I say you like there is anyone out there. Oh no, talkin' to myself again)

So things really seemed to pan out. There are still a few bumps, but I'm far from the line of unhappiness.

I am with Shelly. She is here until friday for a taste of my college. I'm excited to have a companion during my day, for I spend 99-100% of it in solitary. I can't wait until tomorrow starts. A good day. I can tell already. I guess they're right, there is always a joy once a storm breaks. However, this time I do not need to look at the wreckage laying at my feet. Because this storm seemed to be just a rain cloud passing through.

Although Shelly's here with me, I feel like something's wrong. Something's off. I have an uneasy feeling that it is due to this blog & my post regarding self mutilation. I just look at it as part of my past. I can't shed it, but I don't need to dwell in it either. For that was what I would do before. But I am trying to let things go & grow from them. I can't change the past, I must learn from it. It feels so relieving to tell of my past crimes. Because they no longer linger in my mind where they dwell in the darkness, growing so once they reveal themselves in the light, they're too strong & wild to tame.

But for Shelly, these aren't a part of the old, they're suddenly in the new, & I can see where they spark fear that could easily catch fire to everything we've worked for. But we can't pretend it isn't there anymore. I know things will be okay, but I always have worry. Things are too good, & I fear they won't last. I know I don't deserve an unhappiness I foretell, but it doesn't mean I won't be dealt it. Because trust me, I know, life is never fair. But Ill swim in this joy, and these new and wonderful feelings, for as long as I can.

Farewell all. Know that things can be better. That if you're at a low (which I wasn't even at) then you can only go up, right?

Webster defines it, but how real can that be?

Dictionary.com defines abuse as:
-verb
1. to use wrongly or improperly; misuse
2. to treat in a harmful, injurious, or offensive way.
3. to speak insultingly, harshly, and unjustly to or about
4. to commit sexual assault upon.
5. Obsolete. to deceive or mislead.
–noun
6. wrong or improper use; misuse.
7. harshly or coarsely insulting language
8. bad or improper treatment; maltreatment.
9.a corrupt or improper practice or custom
10. rape or sexual assault.
11. Obsolete. deception.
-Idiom
12. to abuse oneself, to masturbate.

Well. That's how it's defined so that must be it, right? Well, then you've never been the subject of the verb or had the noun used against you. Maybe you've gotten number 12 down, but that's something we're not going to delve into today. (Or ever.)

To treat in a harmful way. Well, that doesn't quiet cut it. Harmful can be very misleading. Harmful is such a vague word. I feel that these two syllables can not accurately describe years of verbal & physical attacks. Harmful isn't the word I'd use to describe her actions. Does just harmful give rise to the thoughts of suicide? Does just harmful breed the self-hate I have so incredibly strong for myself? Can just harmful induce a feeling of absolutely no self-worth? I really don't think so. This one word just doesn't measure up to what has happened to me. My biggest problem with harmful is that it means a minimal damage that has only a few effects to be felt. That the thing harmed, has a chance of full recovery. That everything can be reversed.

Well I'm sorry, this "harmful" behavior that is a pillar in my life can't just vanish. No matter how much progress I make or how new a person I become, the scars of my past will always exist. In all honesty, I do want to get better, but more importantly I want to grow in the right direction. I don't want to become a person with out a hard past, I want to be someone who is better because of their past. So I can be in recovery. Be in remission. But I can never be a person who never experienced abuse.

So if harmful isn't the right word to use, what is? How about: crippling? Malicious? Damaging? Toxic? Unbearable? Painful? For as a victim, that's how I feel. I don't feel like I was harmed. I feel like the pain I have endured has crippled me. Left me unable to form relationships. Unable to trust. Unable to love without fear. I feel as though she was, & still is, malicious towards me with her words & had absolutely no intention but to hurt me. Toxic. I have had a poison in my life that has weakened or diminished whole aspects of me. Shut me down, like organs fighting a disease. Things become too difficult, too unbearable, & I become so withdrawn that for 19 years no one knew anything really about me.

I believe the harsh & coarse language is hitting the mark. But it's missing the effects. That after countless numbers of "fat" & "ugly" that a person can't look in the mirror. That I can't even face myself. I see pictures & I just think it is a different person whose face doesn't belong to me. It is frightening that I can look in a mirror & not know the person staring back at me. With hollowness & fear in her eyes. Harsh & coarse words like "failure", "annoying", "stupid" lead to problems with basic skills. Like interacting with people, connecting with someone, communicating, & trust.

Trust is one of my biggest issues & should be somewhere in that definition. Not having the ability to trust the basic people in your life: your parents, how can you trust anyone else? In the end you can't. It's amazing I can somewhat trust myself. & even if you put trust in someone, you still doubt that you won't let them down or they you. Shelly is the greatest thing (not even person) in my life. She will never be able to understand what she really means to me. & for that my trust falters a bit. I know she would never want to abandon me, but because she truly doesn't understand, she might without even knowing so. She will never understand she is all I have. That she means everything to me. She means everything to nothing. & I can't help but fear that the trust won't be broken. Oh my, don't think that I believe she will abandon me because of her. No no. I don't trust myself in this matter. I think that I will fuck everything up. & I will lose her. That's why I don't trust people. A part of me protects myself from being hurt even more than I have.

Because I've never had much, I always thought it was because I didn't deserve anything more. But now I'm starting to see that I do deserve a Shelly. But I have to work at it. Have to keep myself & my dependency in check.

I'm chronicling progress right? Well, this sure is progress. I truly dislike the "a" word. I haven't ever said it out loud (I don't think). I have to realize what I'm going through in order to change it. I have to admit to myself that I am being abused in order for me to move on. & therefore I am. I am taking a step forward.

I am, & have been all of my life, abused.
I don't deserve the treatment I've received.
I will grow from it.
I will not lose any more than I have from it, that's you Shelly.
My mother has taken away the better part of me, but she won't take away the best thing I've found on my own.

So with those statements I'll leave whoever's out there. Farewell.

"I never yet heard man or woman much abused that I was not inclined to think the better of them, and to transfer the suspicion or dislike to the one who found pleasure in pointing out the defects of another."~ Jane Porter

Baby steps are still steps, & they're pretty big for babies!

I knew that I would not have leaps of progress daily & would be 100% a-okay by the end of the month, so I will have to just tell you about the few baby steps I've been making.

For starters, I am currently in my new room, loving the solitude, & procrastinating homework. I don't have to worry about my room mate or her friends, & only have to worry about myself. (Man, I know this makes me sound pretty self centered, but then again we thought the sun revolved around the world for centuries.) I have two midterms tomorrow, & I am going to try out a new approach that I tried with my midterm from today. I am going to not assume the worse. Murphy's law doesn't always apply itself to me, so why assume it will? I am going to study, & go in believing that I am prepared. That I won't fail, because I am not a failure.

Also, some small progresses I've been making lately is "positive affirmation". Ah, Shelly. This is her favorite tool of coping. I must admit it works wonders when you're in the dumps & you actually have the strength to shake it off. I guess I had to make some progress to even begin the positive affirming, for I had to have things to think positively about in order to reverse the negative thoughts. & believe me, you have to believe them or this whole process falls apart. I don't have a very long list of things to like about myself, let alone love, but a list is a list. I've had to admit to myself that I am a good person, who has shit thrown at her constantly. Instead of my former belief that I must be a horrible person who is getting what she deserves. Oh karma, if only it was real. I'm not saying I believe I walk on water, but I don't deserve the life I was dealt. All luck of the cards, I guess. But I'm trading mine in, & I'm hoping the next few I draw will give me the winning hand.

Although these few steps have been made, I have a long journey ahead of me. A big problem I face is very low self confidence. I dislike my appearance so very much that I can't even look in the mirror. It's a problem, I know. So now I need to take the steps to fix it, but as you all know thinking & acting are two completely different things.

well, farewell for now to anyone out there.

PS. So sorry for all of the mistakes that these posts are riddled with.

When you're at the bottom, you can only go up.

Well, in order to chronicle my progress, I guess I should tell about the small steps I've already made.

The first step I made--more like I picked myself up, brushed off my shoulders, & prepared to take a step--was to admit to myself the truth that I had been denying myself of all of my life. I had always believed my mother when she said I was a failure & that I would amount to nothing no matter how hard I try, because in the end I never do anything right. Well, I had to admit to myself that I wasn't failing at meeting my mother's expectations because they were unattainable. Although I had this hate for myself & a belief that I was good for absolutely nothing, it was harder to admit that I would never make my parents proud of me. I also decided that I would no longer live to try to please my parents, because I'm obviously unhappy & my parents still don't approve.

The second step I made was a decision. I decided to protect myself by not going on a vacation with my parents. I pretended to be sick, & have the flu. But my mother would have made those two weeks hell, & instead I enjoyed them.

The last step I made was actually just taken today. I had been living with a room mate who was disrespectful to me & was a main cause for my dislike of college life. So I decided to apply for a single room. To my surprise my wish was granted & today I moved to a new room. My roommate, who was a friend of mine from high school, has defriended me, & I feel bad that she is so upset, but I know that in the end, this step will help me down the path to happiness.

Well, that's the progress I've made. I know that it's really not much, but you have to start somewhere.
I owe all of this progress to Shelly. I couldn't have gotten through without her. I love her & "I owe [her] everyday I wake" ~Brand New.
Farewell.

Too Much Exposition.

Ah, no such thing. Well I guess in order for progress to fully be understood, the place I'm coming from needs to be put into context. So here is a what you need to know. The basics. A crash course. I'm sure details will weave themselves into my future posts, but here we okay:

So I'm 19. Yeah, young for such a bleak outlook on life, I know. But I was never really a kid, so I've had about 19 years of adulthood. I grew up as an only child in a semi run down neighborhood. My parents met in a bar (how romantic) & wed a year later. Never wanting to really settle down & have children, my abrupt addition to their life really screwed things up for them. Although their dreams were crushed, they never let them go. Instead they held on to them--but not as something to aspire to but rather something that could have been.

My dad and I are like neighbors. We know each other's names & are courteous to one another when we pass each other, but don't know what goes on behind closed doors. The sad part is, we live behind the same closed door, he just doesn't bother to venture very far into the home he's created. Home is a generous word. I defiantly live in a house that has never been a home. Sure, there are nick-knacks on shelves & furniture & personal rooms. But there isn't a family living in this house, so that "home" feeling just doesn't exist. Well, the family can't be a family if the father figure isn't present. Sure, he's there but he isn't a part of my life. He always worked long hours, so he was gone most of the day. Although when he came home, he'd proceed to watch television in the "family" room where I'm guessing family bonding is supposed to take place. Well, if that's so, I feel that the child should be allowed in when her father is in the room. As I've gotten older, my father has started working less hours, but he & I still rarely interact. I go weeks without saying a word to him. Now that I'm at college, he doesn't call. Well, because he doesn't care to know.

With a life she never wanted, a child that constantly fails, & a distant husband, my mother has a lot of aggression. I understand, she has a life she didn't ask for & had no control over. She was happy until shit just rained down. It has poured for over 19 years, & Noah's not coming for her with an ark. She hates her past, despises her future, & fears the consistency of life in the future. Like a wild animal suddenly caged without warning, she has a lot of aggression. She hates her life & guess where it turned towards hell? That's right, when she had a baby suddenly dropped in her lap. A baby she didn't want. Yeah, I know I know, she could have had an abortion if she really didn't want to have you. Nope, she had a freak pregnancy where she didn't find out she was pregnant until she was 6 months into the pregnancy & that was too late to terminate. So if this mistake ruined her life, it was to blame. When she got angry--it was where she released her emotions. She had very high standards in place for me all of my life. So high in fact, that I can't even tell you really what she was looking for. & of course I was never good enough, smart enough, thin enough, pretty enough, nice enough, I was never enough. & you must punish what fails. I was always pointed out the mistakes I made. All of them. & there have been many. & when she was having a bad day. A bad week. A bad year. I'd know. & I'd have the wounds to prove it.

They say you are what your parents made you. They hate me. I've heard. So I hate myself. If I can't even please the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally, how am I to love myself? I can't. I don't. I see myself for all of my countless flaws. I disgust myself so much I can't even face my reflection. I sometimes wonder how anyone can stand to look at me. & then I think "they look past it to see my inside" but then I know that doesn't work because my inside isn't pleasant either. I understand why I have few close friends, & it amazes me that I have them, because I don't even enjoy my own company. My mother always takes her anger out on me, & I do the same. For five long years of my life I practiced self mutilation. I've stopped now. It was hard, but I haven't relapsed since I told myself no. I can't say I wouldn't have been able to stay "clean" if it weren't for Shelly, but I still haven't hurt myself in 9 months. & I'm proud.

Besides my close relationship with self harm, I almost attempted suicide when I was 14. Yeah, those years were rough. But I was tired of life. With a note written, & the plan laid out, I was ready to take my life. However, I had never been happy. Never. & I wanted to know what that felt like. I couldn't die not knowing happy. Because I'm sure happy is something to live for. & believe me, it is. I've spent 19 years searching for that feeling. True happiness. & I found it less than a week ago. I couldn't believe that I could feel that way. No care in the word. Nothing in my mind, my heart, my body but joy & love. Real love. If you haven't felt that before, stick it out until you do. Because I don't think I lived until that day. & although I'm terrified that I will never feel that again, I won't give up trying.

Man, that's a lot of bad. Why not some good? Well, last entry I said that I had been at the bottom until a few months ago when I finally began my journey to the life I wanted. The life I deserved. I can't take credit for my change, because I couldn't have done it without my best friend, Shelly. She was with me every step of the way, even though she was getting lost with me. But we found the light. I truly love her. I don't think I love my parents. I do, because they raised me & gave me the necessities & are kind a lot of the time. But I don't think I love them. I always thought I did, until I realized I loved Shelly, then I realized what real love is. & what it feels like to be loved in return. The only reason being happy trumps loving is because Shelly was a part of my happiness.

So I'm on the long road of change, but I believe I'm headed in the right direction. & at least I have a co-passenger beside me all the way. & to be honest, I don't know if I would want to make the long journey without her to share it with when I get there.

So I said this was a crash course, well I might have lied a bit. But farewell for now, if anyone is even listening.

My favorite quote: "You are calm & reposed. Let Your Beauty Unfold."

For Starters.

So hello out there. I doubt anyone will read this, but who knows right? Basically, I'm writing this blog to chronicle the changes I think I might go through in the upcoming months, years, decades, or maybe not at all.

I have been stuck in a rut--that's being kind--for all of my life. No, not these last couple of years, my whole entire life. I was abused all of my life by my other, ignored by my father, & have taken it. When I left my home, I faced bullying & taunting by children who definitely missed the lesson on right and wrong. Paired with outside hate, I have hate for myself. Strong hate, that runs deep into my veins & has stained my heart. However, I'm calling it quits. I can't go on like this. I know I will lose the greatness I have found if I continue & I know I'm the one who has to change.

I want to write here about the ways I go about doing this, to help those out there. Yeah, I know you always hear "you're not alone" but you're not a cliche either. You can leave this darkness, & I hope my walk toward the bright might show someone that it can be done. My life isn't a movie, & I'm not some fictional idea of a hard life. I don't have a hard life compared to anyone else, but it is my life & I'm not going to settle with it. So I know anyone can at least pick themselves up because I was at the bottom & not even looking up about a month ago. But with the help of my friend (we'll call her Shelly here because she will be brought up, believe me) & the knowledge that I can do it, & I am the one standing in my way I decided to look up from the bottom & am now on that up hill climb. I know the evil Lifewasoncebrilliant is still here with me, tugging at my heals with ever inch I make, but I hope that once I'm at the top I can pull a Bruce Campbell on that Shebitch's ass! Because you better believe it, Good, bad, I'll be the one holding the gun.

So sorry I know I have made the first few steps without you, but in the next few posts I'll provide some detailed exposition. But for now, farewell,

I will leave you with a quote: (Yes, I am a cheesy person who loves the cheesy things. Hope you do too,) "The fact is, that to do anything in the world worth doing, we must not stand back shivering and thinking of the cold and danger, but jump in and scramble through as well as we can." ~Robert Cushing