How do you tame a mind that never sleeps?
How do you tame a mind that never sleeps?
It sickens me that my fucking rapist can still message me even though I have a Criminal Protective Order against him. And the police don’t do shit. I’m glad there’s a place like hell for sick bastards like him. I just wish he would die and get there faster.
In my abnormal psychology class we just finished learning about mood disorders. This has been a lot of food for thought for me. One thing that stood out to me were the physical symptoms of depression, many of which I was unaware of. Difficulty breathing. Dizziness. Weakness. General, unexplained physical pain. Migraines and tension headaches. Etc. I had all of the physical symptoms of depression. I kept trying to figure out what was causing all those symptoms but I couldn’t, and neither could my doctors. I’ve struggled with my health my whole life so when these symptoms started taking such a toll on me, I figured it was time to figure out the next health problem, as usual. But not this time. This time I understand why my doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with me. I’m not physically unhealthy. I have depression. I’ve had depression my whole life (but diagnosed at 16), yet all this is new to me. My depression has reached another level. At the same time it’s kind of relieving to know that as I get better, so will my health. The problem is figuring out how to get better. I’m in a rut.
I’ve known people that the world has thrown everything at to discourage them…to break their spirit. And yet something about them retains a dignity. They face life and don’t ask quarters.
You may remember me talking about Alex last year. I never used his name though. I had a hard time deciding on a pseudonym for him, or if I even wanted to use one. Alex was the first guy I dated after being raped. We were somewhat of an item from February to May. He was everything I had ever dreamed of, everything I always wanted, and I was completely enveloped by my feelings for him; I was in love with him. He was my escape from the harsh reality that contained me, from all the trauma, but eventually I felt guilty for not telling him what happened to me. I needed to put my trust for him to the test. But when I told him I was raped, his reaction was not what I was expecting. It was not sympathy. It was not understanding. In that moment, he realized he was too good for me and he eventually broke up with me. During the three months we spent together, we never fought. We were always happy, more than happy—ecstatic. We were always laughing or having a really deep conversation. He was romantic. He always brought me flowers or love notes or cuties (inside joke). He took me on so many dates that it completely made up for the fact that I had never had a boyfriend that took me on dates before. And we were inseparable. We had the exact same life plans and we were so much alike. We even had the same birthday, only he was 5 years older. It was too good to be true. I thought I finally met the one. The only problem was that he wasn’t willing to commit. He tried to keep our relationship a secret, even though everyone around us thought were were engaged because of how we acted, because of how he acted. Crazy how rumors spread.
Eventually I asked Alex to make a choice. I told him I would give some time to think about it but I was either his girlfriend or I wasn’t his girlfriend and it was time for him to decide. I needed to know. A few days later he told me that we’re just friends and those words stabbed me like a knife. I knew his painful words were coming but there is nothing that can take away from the shock of a heartbreak because love makes you believe it might still work out. And that was the end of Alex. He said we could still be friends and still go on dates all summer. I told him that we could be friends but we couldn’t date unless he changed his mind about committing to me. He never spoke to me again.
Horrible way to start the summer, right? Well it gets worse. My best friend only saw me a couple times in the next couple months, even though we promised to hang out everyday, but I ended up losing her too. All of my friends from school were a far drive away so we drifted apart. I was completely alone for two or three months. The solitude forced me to face the reality of what happened to me—it forced me to deal with my feelings about being sexually abused. To make matters even worse, one day I tried to open up to my dad about how alone and miserable I felt and he tried to kill me. Remember the door incident? My bedroom door at home is still broken. I tried to call my best friend for help but she told me I didn’t deserve it. So I officially stopped trying to be her friend, since she had stopped trying to be my friend a long time ago. I’m not kidding when I say I was alone all summer. I stayed in my room all day for at least two months. All I did was eat, sleep, take a couple summer classes online, and mess around on the computer. Until my current boyfriend, let’s call him Daniel, and I started dating. Daniel was all I had. He was the only person who was there for me. He was the only shoulder to cry on and the only person I could confide in. Daniel has seen me cry more than anyone else I’ve ever known. Daniel didn’t judge me for my past. He didn’t care that it was going to be really hard to be with someone like me. He didn’t care that I was at the lowest point in my life. He loved me anyway. He was everything Alex wasn’t. They are complete opposites. Daniel was everything I needed, even if he wasn’t everything I wanted.
I have only seen Alex a few times since we broke up. I ran into him on the first day of school last fall. I tried to avoid him seeing me but he saw me anyway. As he walked up to me, smiling, the sun’s rays were glowing from behind him. He looked like an angel. He gave me an awkward side hug and took a minute to say hi and ask me about my summer. I lied and said it was great, of course, and he said his summer was better than he deserved. Then, with a sad look in his eyes, he said he didn’t want to take up too much of my time and I walked back to my apartment.
The next few times I saw Alex, I don’t think he saw me. Maybe he did though. I didn’t recognize him at first. A few months had gone by. He looked like a mess. He was going for a run and ran right by Daniel and me as we sat down on the grass to have a picnic. I saw him again some time after that in the library. As I sat down and pulled out my books, he packed up and left without saying a word. I don’t think he saw me, or at least he didn’t want to. It’s been a few months since that time. But then I saw him again on New Year’s day. My boyfriend and I were at some big event and Alex was one of the bouncers. We walked past him multiple times that night but neither Daniel nor Alex noticed. My heart stopped for a second when I saw Alex again. He looked so different. I realized that I don’t even know him anymore. I spent months thinking about him everyday after we broke up and yet we’re complete strangers.
The library incident happened another time Monday night. After that, a friend I was hanging out with informed me of a conversation he heard his coworkers having about the relationship Alex and I had. I couldn’t believe that everyone at school, even people I’ve never met, were still talking about it.
On Tuesday night, Alex finally saw me too. It was horrible. Daniel and I were at the convenient store across the street from our school when Alex walked in. He immediately noticed Daniel and I holding hands. I tried to smile at him to make it less awkward but I’ll never forget the look on his face. He looked so upset or angry, like he had a bad day or something or I completely ruined his night. Daniel and I dodged into the candy aisle to avoid confrontation. When we came out, Alex was gone. I can’t help but assume he was anguished to see Daniel and I holding hands. He had never seen Daniel in person before.
For some reason I felt so guilty and I couldn’t figure out why. I shouldn’t feel bad. Alex broke up with me. Alex didn’t want the commitment. Alex didn’t think I was good enough for him. He never even held my hand. Alex wasn’t there for me all summer when my life completely was falling apart. Alex didn’t even try to stay friends with me like he promised he would. Alex didn’t want me to be a part of his life. I spent the entire summer mourning over Alex and over everything else going on while Alex had a great summer without me. But Daniel was there for me. At the end of the summer, Daniel was the only person I had left. Daniel deserved me. Daniel worked for me. Daniel was everything I needed. Daniel did everything Alex could never do. Daniel never hesitated to commit to me—he asked me when we should say our anniversary is only two days after our first date. And I was okay with that because it felt so good to finally keep things simple and to be with someone where you both know exactly what the relationship is without ever saying it. And Daniel never judged me but all Alex did was judge me. Daniel loved me even though I was at my lowest point in life, and because of that, I know that Daniel will love me when I’m at my best. But if Daniel deserves me, why do I feel so guilty?
The worst part about having a bad day is when you find out you have no shoulder to cry on.
I’m sorry that most of my posts are horribly unorganized. I just rant on here. I let out all of what I’m feeling and I don’t even bother to proofread it.
Since this blog is a place where I vent my inner most, embarrassing, honest, and gruesome feelings, I don’t spend very much time talking about the positives in my life. You guys don’t really get to read much about the good things that happen to me, especially because it’s hard to have much to write about when things are going well. It’s been a lot harder for me lately to be positive though. I’ve been working through a few issues and insecurities with my boyfriend and I’m feeling ashamed that I’m only giving you guys insight into the hard parts of the relationship but I’m not telling you about any of the amazing things he does. I don’t tell you guys about the times he brings me flowers or chocolate or smothers me with compliments or the couple times he’s written me love letters. I don’t tell you how sweet and romantic and loving and accepting he is, in spite of all the crap I’m going through or how as introverted as he is, he comes out of his shell for me. He loves me even though what I’m going through also affects him, affects our relationship. He spends more time with me than he probably wants to because he knows how much I need it at this point and how much it means to me. I’ve also realized that only writing about the good in our relationship is not very inspiring. I don’t want my fellow victims thinking that they’ll never find anyone who loves and accepts them. I don’t want my fellow victims thinking that they’re doomed to bad relationships because I only write about the bad parts of mine. My boyfriend and I have had to work through some things recently because we are adjusting to the changes going on in our lives right now and the progress our relationship has made so naturally I’ve been more upset and written about it but I never told you how wonderful he was to me all this time. I think I’ve written about him a couple times early on but I never told you how good he is to me. I really don’t know where I would be without him. He loved me at a time where everyone in my life who pretended to love me all this time walked away. He stayed. He met me at my worst and still saw me as beautiful. Who does that? I used to think I had to put on this act for him that I was okay but when that got too hard and I opened up to him, he was nothing but loving and accepting. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that when I’m at my best, he’ll still be there because he stuck by me when I was at my worst. He didn’t even really know me. He wasn’t obligated to stay with me or help me through any of the things I was going through but he was there for me anyway. In a lot of ways he’s been a huge rock for me to hold onto when the tide was too strong for me to fight on my own. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for him. He came into my life when everything was falling apart as a glimmer of hope. He cherished me when I was at my ugliest. I don’t know how to begin to describe how amazing or meaningful it is that he has loved me. I can’t even believe how foolish I feel for letting my insecurities be so blinding that I forgot how much he’s already proven his love to me. Don’t get me wrong—there’s still A LOT that I’m insecure and confused about and it’s going to take a long for me to work through those things both as an individual and in the context of our relationship—but I need to stop letting the negatives outweigh the positives. I need to stop letting the bad be stronger than the good in my life. I’m going to change the way I write from now on. I need to start letting you guys know about the progress I’ve made, not just about the times I’m upset.
He finally came over and apologized. But I don’t know why my heart still hurts so much.
My hands are on fire because of how hard I’m hitting myself. My hands and legs are red. I’ve never done this to myself before. What’s become of me?
He still hasn’t spoken to me. Great, I screwed it all up. You can’t rely on anyone to be there for you. I need to learn how to be here for myself.