by anonymous | Mar 21, 2019 | A Letter To My Younger Self, Abuse, Family, Loss, Marriage and Partnership, Marriage Problems, Parenting, Relationships, Romantic Relationships |
Dear Little-Kid Me,
Please appreciate being a child.
Take the time to inhale your grandfather’s scent – he’s the last grandparent you have and you won’t have him much longer.
Embrace the Puppy Love at age eleven with that boy who you will still think you love.
Try to remember every second of dying Easter eggs with your Mum – when you dye them with your own kids, every year, you will question how she made them so beautiful.
Don’t take your big brothers for granted – they have taken care of you since you were born, and not all teenagers would’ve been so willing to let their baby sister tag along as much as you did.
Embrace your whole childhood – when you get older and watch your nieces suffer, you will realize how very lucky you were.
———-
Dear Pre-Teen Me,
Don’t “dump” your boyfriend five-hundred times. At twenty-eight, you will still regret being such a jerk. Also don’t take him for granted – he was a decent, patient, kind boyfriend for an eleven-year old kid. Take the time to look at each of your boyfriends in a different light; one day you will learn they could’ve been more, but you were too blind to realize it.
Realize that just saying you think you will have big boobs doesn’t mean it will happen.
At least not naturally :-).
————
Dear Teenager Me,
Don’t be such a bitch.
As you get older, you realize that having bitchiness ingrained in you makes it difficult to have friends. People aren’t as accommodating as your teenage friends were.
Don’t let that one man pressure you into something you’re not ready for – sixteen really is too young to make the commitment you made. You will always question that decision.
When you are nineteen and fully disgruntled with life, you will meet a man who will make you realize that life outside of this still exists. He will be there for you, no matter what, for the next ten years (and counting). You did good not pushing him away.
Also, physical abuse is never okay. It gets better – it stops, but you should’ve spoken up when it happened.
Life could’ve been so different for you.
———-
Dear Twenty-Something Me,
DON’T sleep with that man.
Even though neither of you wanted to regret the act, you both will. An affair is never okay – regardless of how “in love” you are, regardless of your reasoning.
It will ruin your friendship for awhile, it will ruin your marriage for awhile (although, not enough to make you strong enough to leave), and it will ruin your soul forever. Even when everyone else has forgiven you, you will not have forgiven yourself.
IT IS NOT WORTH IT.
Please realize that your husband will never change. He will change long enough to keep you around whenever he senses you may be gearing up to leave, but he will not change.
He can’t be someone he’s not, and you can’t either.
Stop trying – just being you is enough for someone, even if it’s not for him.
Your twenties aren’t all bad.
Your two children will be worth it – you will see so much of yourself in your daughter. Know that entire first year of constant crying, up five+ times a night, constant demands to be held does get better. She will not be the angelic infant your son was, but you will see her fighting spirit every second of the way.
Embrace their differences – this will be difficult sometimes, but overall, you are doing a decent job.
————
Dear Current Me,
GROW SOME BALLS AND LEAVE ALREADY.
That man you met at nineteen still feels like he’s The One.
He’s still your support, your encouragement, your confidante, everything that your husband isn’t – and never will be.
Every ounce of your being (his too) screams that you belong together.
Act on it – make it happen.
Don’t keep letting fear hold you back. Don’t waste another ten years without that love. Your excuses aren’t particularly valid, no matter how you package them.
And quite frankly, an innate desire or moral conviction to only get married one time isn’t worth the unhappiness you’re causing yourself.
Sincerely,
You / Me
by anonymous | Mar 20, 2019 | Emotional Abuse, Feelings, Health, Stroke |
My ex-husband’s wife had a stroke yesterday. She’s a year younger than I am. Mid-thirties is too young for a stroke.
I’m angry for her. I know what is happening to her right now. She’s in the hospital, she’s scared. Scared isn’t the word – she’s terrified.
I know what he’s doing. He’s sauntering around acting like things aren’t a big deal. He’s showing up and being caustic and sarcastic. He’s making comments about how much it’s going to cost him and how much of a fuss she’s causing. He’s acting like he doesn’t mean it, but she’s hurting because she’s JUST HAD A STROKE AND HE’S MAKING JOKES ABOUT IT!
He took a stranger up to her room today. She was crying because she didn’t know him and it scared her. He didn’t ask the guy to leave, he just let him hang around. Then he went to smoke with the guy for forty-five minutes.
Then while I’m having a nice rant about this, my mother told me that I shouldn’t tell my boyfriend things that would cause him to dislike my ex-husband.
She turned around and said, “I remember that time you cried all weekend because he took off and left you to go visit his old friends in his hometown right after y’all got married and wouldn’t wait for you to get off work.”
I really wanted to say, “Right, and then there was the time I was in the hospital because an ovarian cyst had ruptured, and he wouldn’t come see me because he said I WAS FAKING MY OVARY EXPLODING!
Then there were the times he forced me to have sex with him because I lived in ‘his house.’ Oh, and the time I said I was depressed and felt like dying, and he said I should go ahead and get that over with because he had things to do.”
All I really said was, “You know, he has to know what happened to me or he’s never going to understand why I’m COMPLETELY PSYCHO sometimes.”
Now I’m hanging out, not telling my boyfriend any of these things because, apparently, I can’t use my mouth to tell him things – I get a mental block with words because I’ll cry.
I’m so ashamed of myself for putting up with it, too. Plus, how do you tell the person you love that the person they accidentally introduced you to nearly fifteen years ago did all these things to you? Yep, my boyfriend introduced me to my ex-husband.
And there’s the part where someone I know just had a stroke, and I’m feeling sorry for myself. Oh, I’m feeling bad for her too; I have enough guilt and pity for the both of us!
I’m just going to lay here for a while and determine what feeling to feel next.
by photogmama | Mar 19, 2019 | Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Family, Feelings, Love, Loved and Lost, Marriage and Partnership, Self Esteem |
Recently someone came back into my life. This person was my whole entire world for about three years. They loved me. Completely. All my flaws.
This person made me feel whole. This person calmed every single negativity I had going in my life.
This person held me when I needed to cry. They listened when I needed to yell.
This person sat behind me and picked head lice out of my hair for eight hours when I cried because no one else in my life would help me.
This person was so beyond good for me. Then I started letting the negative creep back in, I let the people who were supposed to care talk me into believing them instead of this amazing person I had in my life. You see, I always knew I was a failure. I always knew I would never amount to anything. This person believed in me and my worth and well… I really don’t know. I have no excuses except I was young and dumb, and influenced easily by people who should have been supporting me, but weren’t. I longed for THEIR approval and love, and if I didn’t have that, why should I deserve anything else? I left this amazing person with a heavy heart but headed in a direction I was being basically shoved into for many years.
I married, had kids, was verbally and emotionally abused before I finally left. Even after I left I tried to make it work. After all, no one else would want me. During this time I searched out my person from before. They were far away in another land. They seemed happy and from what I could see across a computer screen, didn’t want me anymore. I did reach out, I called, I emailed, I basically stalked this person. But they had moved on. I was just a memory to them. And that was okay. After all, I didn’t deserve them.
Fast forward a few more years. I still watched my person from afar. I was friends with their family but still had not contact with my person. That was okay. I was happy knowing they were happy. I met someone, dated for a few years, got married again. And I am finally HAPPY! At least most of the time. My old thoughts are all still there but I try and push them away, and am mildly successful.
A couple weeks ago, my person showed up in my life again. Like a whirlwind. They have never been far from my thoughts. I still watched. But here they were in my inbox! We have been talking and it’s like the last 20 years disappeared. And I am right back where I was, where we were. My person and I. And I am so much in love. I always was.
And I am torn. How can I love two people this much? What do I do? I need this person in my life, it’s like a part of me has been missing for so long. Literally, it feels like I got my right hand back. I need them to know I love them. Because I do. But we can’t be together. I love where I am in my life. I love the person I have chosen to share my life with. I love my home and my job. There is a half a country between us, and 20 years and a life.
But I still need them in my life.
I find my mind wandering a lot lately. The what ifs. I find myself wanting to wake up in one of those stupid romcoms where everything is different, but it just seems right. I want to find a damn Delorean. I want to go back and not be a stupid kid.
by anonymous | Mar 18, 2019 | Dose of Happy, Family, Feelings, Happiness, Parenting |
Good morning!
Happy Monday, y’all!
Sometimes I look at my kid and he looks all grown up, and I can’t believe it. I think there’s no way that my 7 year old looks like he’s 10. He’s growing up right before my eyes and it hurts.
But then I realize his hair is really, really shaggy and I make an appointment for him to get his hair cut.
And just like that? Within a few minutes of cutting and thinning, he looks like my little 7 year old again. Young and innocent.
My baby. My happy.
**************************
What’s your Happy?
Don’t think you have one? Look harder. Something will make you smile today.
We want to know! Find a bit of happy in this Monday!
by anonymous | Mar 15, 2019 | Ask The Band, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Fear, Feelings, Mental Health, Parenting, Self Injury, Self-Destructive Behavior |
Between 2 and 3 million people in the US alone self-injure.
This is her experience.
I just want to start out by telling you about the gift God has so graciously provided me: I have an awesome, incredible, beautiful, rambunctious three-year old named Libby. She is my everything. Her smile, laugh, voice, everything about her makes me wake up in the morning with a smile on my face. She is my best friend, my ally, my stepping stone to true happiness.
We were sitting on the couch watching TV, and she was holding my arm with her hand.
She asked, “What happened, Mama?” when she saw my scars. I was in shock. I quickly changed the subject because she has the attention span of, well, a three-year old.
But I couldn’t get it off my mind. I know if you’re my friend or have ever been around me, you must have seen them. They are pretty noticeable. I’ve never tried to hide them; there’s no point.
I started cutting myself for the first time when I was 18 and a senior in high school. I was in a bad spell. This was before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder or borderline personality disorder.
I lost almost 20 pounds in three weeks, I cut all my hair off, I spent hours locked up in my room, and I felt so… numb. Lost. Hurting so badly inside. I felt stupid that I was so upset and depressed. I thought I was crying for no reason, that I was being a dramatic girl.
So, I tried self-injury one night. It felt like a world full of black and white suddenly went colorful. I finally felt the pain on the outside that I was so desperately feeling on the inside.
I continued cutting.
It felt good and I loved doing it to myself, as narcissistic as that sounds. I didn’t do it for attention, necessarily. Maybe sub-consciously I did; I can’t really be sure. I didn’t do it to try and kill myself, either. It gave me reason for hurting. It gave me actual scars instead of the ones on my brain and on my heart. Real battle wounds instead of the ones I could only speak of. I used to hide in my closet for hours and self-injure a little at a time.
The closet is my safe haven in my brain. Whenever I’m super upset about something – when it’s really bad – I hide in my closest, most of the time with no lights on, and I cry. I try not to, but the reason I go to the closet is that is where I used to hide when my father would beat the hell out of my mom. I would go in there, ears plugged, eyes closed, and cry.
I stopped cutting after I found out I was pregnant with Libby. I didn’t do it for over three years, until July of this year.
I’d called my then-boyfriend one night, freaking out. I was so lost, in such a dark place, so afraid of myself. I collapsed mentally. He had to carry me out of the closet because I was shaking so hard.
I don’t know how to answer the question to Libs when she asks me again. Honestly, I’m afraid: I’m not supposed to be weak. I’m supposed to be her mom. Her protector. I’m supposed to be her knight in shining armor. How do you explain that to a child? I don’t want to lie to her, but I don’t want her to look at me differently when she’s finally old enough to understand.
Are they battle wounds or are they just a crazy girl’s self-inflicted scars?
