So I'm watching one of my favorite movies of all time; "Pretty Woman"
I love this movie, I always have, since long before I met Earl.
There is a part toward the end where the Lawyer get's violent with Julia Roberts, and now, since Earl, I can't really watch that. Brings back horrific memories, pain, the things I've lived through. Not just memories, flashbacks. Painful, horrific, flashbacks of my so called life with Earl.
Something like a growth and progress diary [Great just what a grrl needs, another diary to write in!] that will include flashbacks and pointers to other relevant materials. Something like a "Stream of consciousness" with a moving target. This is as much about my growth and recovery as it is about sharing parts of myself with other people who may have been through similar things. No matter what you've been through, or where, or when, know that you are NOT alone!
Showing posts with label Abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Abuse. Show all posts
Monday, February 04, 2008
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Communications, Mental Illness and growth . . .
I'm not even close to perfect. I'm just a girl dealing with a lifetime of stuff that has been, shall we say, less than favorable. A lifetime of abuse specifically, and of course my own internal issues have left me with problems, and plenty of them. My growth and changes have left the lions share of people around me lamenting the loss of the person I was. Not a week goes by that I don't find myself reminding folks I've known for years that I'm not HIM. That guy they knew, for better or worse, is gone.
Because these are people I care about, and the effect years of abuse have had on me, quite often I try too hard to please other people. I know this to be a problem and I'm working on it. I try to keep track of myself, how I relate to the world, and how I communicate. I am dealing with Mental Illness and this makes things more difficult for me, and the folks around me, but hey, I'm trying. I'm working hard on growth, healing and recovery where possible.
Some people, too many people, try to blindly PUSH through things to avoid change and growth. Some people seem to feel, subconsciously, that it is MY job, MY problem and that I should change to fit into their own bit of brokenness. I'm sorry, but I've long since outgrown, or burned out, on the obsessive NEED to be right and have all the answers. Even to the stupid s5it no one really thinks about or cares.
Case in point, the government is stupid and at many levels a very simply run organization. Cost matters, and in many places they nickel and dime things to death. The Food Stamp program is one such instance where this is seen to be true. Someone I know just started, as part if her own journey of healing and growth, on Food Stamps. Great, wonderful, awesome, she's getting some much needed help.
No one cares, or gives a flying pig when or why the FS program will prorate the amount available. Reality check here; You start in the middle of the month, they give you only as much as days remain in the month. NO ONE except maybe the person getting FS gives a flying fig that the portion of the month BEFORE FS started the person may not have had much to eat. The government doesn't CARE, you were NOT their problem then, so of course they are going to prorate it.
Me I had to sit through a lecture of why it is stupid and even somewhat insensitive. I had to sit, biting down on my tongue to keep from saying something, anything, because it would have served only to fuel this persons wrath and brand of brokenness and use me as the target. I don't really fracking CARE! Damn it girl, you are broken, need to be on disability so you can focus on healing and growth, not just beat into your own and everyone else's minds why you are so broken.
Communications is as much learned as innate, nature and nurture combine to form a matrix that gives us some direction and then life is the process of growth, change, learning and so forth. The definition of insanity for many is doing the same thing time and again expecting a different response. Men and women have two completely different styles of communication and at times it is, in my experience, like speaking two very different languages. Those of us "gifted" with Gender issues understand the torment of trying to be someone we are not.
Some people, for whatever reason, just refuse to heal and grow. This includes but is not limited to picking a damn gender. Just pick one, go there, and be done with it. Worse yet, find a way to communicate that WORKS and go with it, some people, know, down to a horrific level of detail EXACTLY how gender communications works for BOTH genders and can switch back and forth with an ease that makes those of us stuck with one or the other envious.
REFUSING to pick a language, a style of communications that people can relate to is what brings me to this level of frustration. Sitting right on the fence teasing BOTH sides with language and communications that works for neither is just cruel. BULLSHIT you don't think in one or the other, you've shown, time and again you can. Refusing to because its HARD? Come off it, grow up! Life isn't easy, isn't meant to be, and like anything, the rewards are there.
You're broken enough, without having to prove it constantly! Sitting halfway between worlds and taunting both is simply MEAN, NOT easy. Well, I sit corrected, yeah, it's easy to pick on the crippled kids. But when you are the one crippled and you come off all pompous, high and mighty and then manage through double talk to get everyone hooked on what you are saying and trying to keep up, we eventually tire of this. Get over it! Really! Male, female, pick one already! Don't sit between like you are some super being who knows better than everyone and hit us because we can't keep up or even follow you more than half the time.
Get over the dissection of everything into atoms leaving crap everywhere! Stop breaking it down to math and actually try to live for a change. Talk WITH people, NOT AT THEM and see where that can take you. When you are faced with someone who admits she's not perfect, doesn't know everything, and is WORKING hard on healing and growth, DON'T KICK the shit out of her every change you get.
I'm terrified of speaking, of saying ANYTHING because NOTHING I say is ever good enough, right enough, accurate or perfect enough. I live in the real world, I avoid the news, I KNOW WHAT I'VE seen, lived, am trying to survive. I really don't give a flying pig about libertarian dogma, and it is dogma. You have it burned so deep into you somehow you are incapable, or unwilling to see WHAT ACTUALLY IS, before you go ripping it to shreds. I'm sure . . .
I'm sure I meant to finish this, but it will have to wait I guess . . .
Because these are people I care about, and the effect years of abuse have had on me, quite often I try too hard to please other people. I know this to be a problem and I'm working on it. I try to keep track of myself, how I relate to the world, and how I communicate. I am dealing with Mental Illness and this makes things more difficult for me, and the folks around me, but hey, I'm trying. I'm working hard on growth, healing and recovery where possible.
Some people, too many people, try to blindly PUSH through things to avoid change and growth. Some people seem to feel, subconsciously, that it is MY job, MY problem and that I should change to fit into their own bit of brokenness. I'm sorry, but I've long since outgrown, or burned out, on the obsessive NEED to be right and have all the answers. Even to the stupid s5it no one really thinks about or cares.
Case in point, the government is stupid and at many levels a very simply run organization. Cost matters, and in many places they nickel and dime things to death. The Food Stamp program is one such instance where this is seen to be true. Someone I know just started, as part if her own journey of healing and growth, on Food Stamps. Great, wonderful, awesome, she's getting some much needed help.
No one cares, or gives a flying pig when or why the FS program will prorate the amount available. Reality check here; You start in the middle of the month, they give you only as much as days remain in the month. NO ONE except maybe the person getting FS gives a flying fig that the portion of the month BEFORE FS started the person may not have had much to eat. The government doesn't CARE, you were NOT their problem then, so of course they are going to prorate it.
Me I had to sit through a lecture of why it is stupid and even somewhat insensitive. I had to sit, biting down on my tongue to keep from saying something, anything, because it would have served only to fuel this persons wrath and brand of brokenness and use me as the target. I don't really fracking CARE! Damn it girl, you are broken, need to be on disability so you can focus on healing and growth, not just beat into your own and everyone else's minds why you are so broken.
Communications is as much learned as innate, nature and nurture combine to form a matrix that gives us some direction and then life is the process of growth, change, learning and so forth. The definition of insanity for many is doing the same thing time and again expecting a different response. Men and women have two completely different styles of communication and at times it is, in my experience, like speaking two very different languages. Those of us "gifted" with Gender issues understand the torment of trying to be someone we are not.
Some people, for whatever reason, just refuse to heal and grow. This includes but is not limited to picking a damn gender. Just pick one, go there, and be done with it. Worse yet, find a way to communicate that WORKS and go with it, some people, know, down to a horrific level of detail EXACTLY how gender communications works for BOTH genders and can switch back and forth with an ease that makes those of us stuck with one or the other envious.
REFUSING to pick a language, a style of communications that people can relate to is what brings me to this level of frustration. Sitting right on the fence teasing BOTH sides with language and communications that works for neither is just cruel. BULLSHIT you don't think in one or the other, you've shown, time and again you can. Refusing to because its HARD? Come off it, grow up! Life isn't easy, isn't meant to be, and like anything, the rewards are there.
You're broken enough, without having to prove it constantly! Sitting halfway between worlds and taunting both is simply MEAN, NOT easy. Well, I sit corrected, yeah, it's easy to pick on the crippled kids. But when you are the one crippled and you come off all pompous, high and mighty and then manage through double talk to get everyone hooked on what you are saying and trying to keep up, we eventually tire of this. Get over it! Really! Male, female, pick one already! Don't sit between like you are some super being who knows better than everyone and hit us because we can't keep up or even follow you more than half the time.
Get over the dissection of everything into atoms leaving crap everywhere! Stop breaking it down to math and actually try to live for a change. Talk WITH people, NOT AT THEM and see where that can take you. When you are faced with someone who admits she's not perfect, doesn't know everything, and is WORKING hard on healing and growth, DON'T KICK the shit out of her every change you get.
I'm terrified of speaking, of saying ANYTHING because NOTHING I say is ever good enough, right enough, accurate or perfect enough. I live in the real world, I avoid the news, I KNOW WHAT I'VE seen, lived, am trying to survive. I really don't give a flying pig about libertarian dogma, and it is dogma. You have it burned so deep into you somehow you are incapable, or unwilling to see WHAT ACTUALLY IS, before you go ripping it to shreds. I'm sure . . .
I'm sure I meant to finish this, but it will have to wait I guess . . .
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Drivers Education?!
Wow, 42 years old and I'm just starting life all over again. Like signing up for Drivers Education to get the discount off my insurance, and be certain when I test for my new license I don't screw it up.
His old life, that old life, is rapidly falling by the wayside, and the last vestiages with him. Because of my history of being stalked and abused, because of the fear and lasting pain my Late Husband and his parents burned into my heart and soul, I've been forced to start completely fresh. This includes being 42 years old and a new driver. Woof!
For the nonce I need to wash my hair and get cleaned up as I'm going to take part in a study at Colorado University about transissues . . .
I'll let you all know how that goes! Oh yeah, one other thing, I may be moving my blog soon, just so that I can more easily integrate it with my server and the content I'm building there.
Caio!
His old life, that old life, is rapidly falling by the wayside, and the last vestiages with him. Because of my history of being stalked and abused, because of the fear and lasting pain my Late Husband and his parents burned into my heart and soul, I've been forced to start completely fresh. This includes being 42 years old and a new driver. Woof!
For the nonce I need to wash my hair and get cleaned up as I'm going to take part in a study at Colorado University about transissues . . .
I'll let you all know how that goes! Oh yeah, one other thing, I may be moving my blog soon, just so that I can more easily integrate it with my server and the content I'm building there.
Caio!
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Passing days, and memories. . .
Earl was a bastard, there is no nice way to say it, he was controlling, abusive, cruel and so much more. He was exactly the same man I married nine years ago today. On our wedding day he was more than just rude and an obnoxious jerk to my sister and a friend, he was violent and abusive.
He was also, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, my husband and I failed him and myself.
His illnesses took him from us, from me, long before his death April 10th of 2006. Gender Dysphoria, A co-dependant, abusive relationship with his parents, diabetes, kidney failure due to high blood pressure, which was due to the stress on his heart and soul of living so profound a lie.
I've "learned" to hate him over time, to "see" how this wasn't my fault, why I shouldn't feel ashamed and a waste of life. But you see this is the crux of the problem, feelings don't always make sense. I spent the better part of my adult life controlling, or trying to, my FEELINGS to the point that it nearly took my life too! I've "learned" that I did what I must to survive, to live, to "protect and serve" my own life. To for once, nurture my own heart, mind, body and soul, allowing myself to be first for a change.
It still isn't easy. I still LOVE that man who was so bad for me, to me, that I am damaged. Well past a "Christmas cake" I'm the old woman down the lane no-one knows and no-one misses. I hurt, so much, and so deep, that I worry I'll never be able to love again. I'm damaged so badly that sleep without tranquilizers and sleeping pills is just a rumor, something other people do, and the thought of allowing anyone too close to me makes my already cold blood freeze solid with terror.
The days pass, and endless stream of tomorrows to muddy with the pain of my heart and soul. The memories however seem to go on forever. All at once I hate this man who violated me, took my heart, mind, body and soul from me and made me unclean, and yet. If he were to walk through the door right now I'd probably go back to waiting on him hand and foot, taking his violence and abuse as if it were my penance for having sinned so badly in my last life.
Today would have been nine years . . . Nine years of violence and pain I am trying so hard to escape. Nine years of betrayal and death of dreams, nine years since I gave this man my heart, mind, body, soul and innocence. I hate him, I love him, and I feel every bit like a drug or alcohol addict must.
She was born with her mother’s habit,
You could say it’s in her blood,
She hates that she’s got to have it,
As she fills her glass up,
She’d love to kill that bottle,
But all she can think about,
Is a better life, a second chance,
And everyone she’s letting down,
She throws that bottle down,
One day, I hope, I pray, I will be that woman. I will throw down the bottle of pain and memory that poisons me.
Don’t give up hope,
Some people change,
Against all odds,
Against the grain,
Love finds a way,
Some people change.
Thank God for those who make it,
Let them be the light,
I pray one day I will be one of these people, that I'll have changed enough to allow Love back into my heart and life, that I'll be able to let someone close to me, to touch me, to hold me, to love me without recoiling in fear and terror.
The days continue to march on, and I'm still here. Slowly growing, changing, healing, and praying for more miracles in my life. The memories however remain, haunt me, taunt me, threatening to tear down what is left of me.
I just cannot give up hope, it is all that sustains me some times . . . Now however I need some Chocolate and some sleep . . .
Today would have been, was nine years . . . I miss him, I miss us, I morn for what might have been, and children thankfully un-born. I morn life . . .
He was also, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, my husband and I failed him and myself.
His illnesses took him from us, from me, long before his death April 10th of 2006. Gender Dysphoria, A co-dependant, abusive relationship with his parents, diabetes, kidney failure due to high blood pressure, which was due to the stress on his heart and soul of living so profound a lie.
I've "learned" to hate him over time, to "see" how this wasn't my fault, why I shouldn't feel ashamed and a waste of life. But you see this is the crux of the problem, feelings don't always make sense. I spent the better part of my adult life controlling, or trying to, my FEELINGS to the point that it nearly took my life too! I've "learned" that I did what I must to survive, to live, to "protect and serve" my own life. To for once, nurture my own heart, mind, body and soul, allowing myself to be first for a change.
It still isn't easy. I still LOVE that man who was so bad for me, to me, that I am damaged. Well past a "Christmas cake" I'm the old woman down the lane no-one knows and no-one misses. I hurt, so much, and so deep, that I worry I'll never be able to love again. I'm damaged so badly that sleep without tranquilizers and sleeping pills is just a rumor, something other people do, and the thought of allowing anyone too close to me makes my already cold blood freeze solid with terror.
The days pass, and endless stream of tomorrows to muddy with the pain of my heart and soul. The memories however seem to go on forever. All at once I hate this man who violated me, took my heart, mind, body and soul from me and made me unclean, and yet. If he were to walk through the door right now I'd probably go back to waiting on him hand and foot, taking his violence and abuse as if it were my penance for having sinned so badly in my last life.
Today would have been nine years . . . Nine years of violence and pain I am trying so hard to escape. Nine years of betrayal and death of dreams, nine years since I gave this man my heart, mind, body, soul and innocence. I hate him, I love him, and I feel every bit like a drug or alcohol addict must.
She was born with her mother’s habit,
You could say it’s in her blood,
She hates that she’s got to have it,
As she fills her glass up,
She’d love to kill that bottle,
But all she can think about,
Is a better life, a second chance,
And everyone she’s letting down,
She throws that bottle down,
One day, I hope, I pray, I will be that woman. I will throw down the bottle of pain and memory that poisons me.
Don’t give up hope,
Some people change,
Against all odds,
Against the grain,
Love finds a way,
Some people change.
Thank God for those who make it,
Let them be the light,
I pray one day I will be one of these people, that I'll have changed enough to allow Love back into my heart and life, that I'll be able to let someone close to me, to touch me, to hold me, to love me without recoiling in fear and terror.
The days continue to march on, and I'm still here. Slowly growing, changing, healing, and praying for more miracles in my life. The memories however remain, haunt me, taunt me, threatening to tear down what is left of me.
I just cannot give up hope, it is all that sustains me some times . . . Now however I need some Chocolate and some sleep . . .
Today would have been, was nine years . . . I miss him, I miss us, I morn for what might have been, and children thankfully un-born. I morn life . . .
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