So why blog now? I honestly don't have an answer for that. I could say it's b/c 42 is creeping up quickly and I'm running out of time... But that's a lame-ass excuse. There's no better time than Now.
Carpe de Blog, eh?
I've often been told that when you are able to recount your story without crying then you are on your way to healing. And I believe that is Truth. I have my moments, but overall I have come a very long way over the past year.
Yeah, damn right. I AM proud of me.
I want to make it clear that I am by no means attempting to persuade or push my viewpoints on anyone. Those who know me will attest that I am truly open-hearted (to a fault, I would argue) and have a low tolerance for any negativity. Whatever your Faith, I truly believe we are all connected. We are one. And we are certainly barreling through the Universe on this Rock together. No man is an island.
There's nothing that makes my story any different from yours. We all have our trials. We all have tests -- many we don't get the opportunity to study for and some we do. For those exams we fail, we inevitably suffer the consequences. But we learn. And we move forward. There is no other option.
This blog is intended to be my vehicle for moving forward. And hopefully help others along the way.
I once owned some Disney Glasses -- you know, the Rose Tinted ones that look really groovy with any outfit. (Yeah, those. The ones with the John Lennon-inspired frames.) That is, until they were metaphorically snatched from my face by an infuriated fist and shattered to pieces with a single hard stomp and repeated blows meant to ensure they could never be pieced together again. But to the dismay of the perpetrator, I've patiently and gently gathered nearly all the pieces -- even the tiniest shimmering specks -- and I glued them back together. (I am STILL finding fragments here and there that I delicately glue back into place.) Now I own a pair with tilted frames that, like myself, are imperfect but try their damnedest to fulfill their intended purpose. And though they're full of cracks and divots they still allow me to see the World as I once did -- only with different perspectives depending on how I tilt my head lol.
Looking back, I thank him. But more importantly, I forgive him.
All the rage and energy methodically used to snatch away my innocence was meant to break me. But it didn't. It made me stronger -- but not without first hurling me to the deepest depths of a hell that even Lovecraft or Dante couldn't have fathomed.
It's just a shame I wasn't able to pack first. I mean, really. Had I known, I would have made sure my self-confidence and self-love were gently cradled in industrial strength bubble wrap and packaged so they could survive the savage beating they'd endure. (Of course, those should ideally be intact before packing... but that's another thread for another time.)
But I am NOT special. I am one of millions of men and women who are either in the depths of the abyss, clawing frantically to escape the storm, or have successfully escaped only to find they were stronger than they ever imagined. And for that we are SURVIVORS.
One's abyss may not be domestic violence. It may be addiction. It may be any number of unhealthy or toxic situations -- some circumstantial, some of one's own making. The key, that I've found, is to find the strength to take that all-important step back (and if you stumble, it's OK. Simply stand up and dust yourself off and try again -- sounds cliche, but it's true.) and see what's going on around you for what it is. It could very well be one of THE hardest things you ever do. And that is OK, too.
If you need help, ask for it. Seriously. There's no shame in saying, "I thought I had this. But I think I dropped it. Will you please help me?"
How do you think I was able to find all those teeny-tiny shards of rose-colored glass? The frames were easy to pick up... it was all the little parts that were a bitch.
I was stubborn. Damn near arrogant if you ask the right people. "I've got this." That was my mantra. Til it all fell apart and I damn near died in the process -- literally.
I straight dropped "This."
The infamous "This" was nothing more than an Illusion. An elaborate mirage of what I believed to be Love. Looking back, it was anything but... It was Control. It was Manipulation. It was Sadistic. It was Lies. And above all, it was Toxic -- to all that I was physically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. I lost myself trying to save another who didn't want to be saved.
Trying to resuscitate what I thought to be a relationship was like offering up minuscule pieces of my Being infinitesimally small piece by infinitesimally small piece. Until there was nearly nothing left.
If you've ever had the unfortunate experience of nearly drowning, that is what it felt like. With each gasp I inhaled more Toxic Shit. Only b/c I was unknowingly swimming in a wasteland while he watched from the shore. Laughing. Screwing. Lying. Taunting my distress. And laughing some more.
With as full of a breath as I could muster I finally screamed for help and accepted an outstretched hand that clutched a rope to pull me to safety. That outstretched hand belonged to just one person, but I was amazed at how many people had lined up behind her to help save me. Each and every one firmly grasping the rope and pulling in unison.
Over the course of many months as I made my way to a distant shore far from where he stood, I continued to hear the echoes of the filth he yelled about how they were going to kill me. How they were lying. How they would hurt me. How they weren't what they seemed. How they didn't give a damn about me.
Now I realize those insidious, slanderous comments were mere Projection. HIS projection.
There was nothing to be scared of -- but when I was suffocating in the depths of his world the Pope himself couldn't have convinced me otherwise.
That is the hardest thing to come to grips with -- even now. It was ALL illusion. There was no Love. You DO NOT destroy what you L-O-V-E.
You want to talk about feeling like a Fool? Ha! Hell, I STILL shudder at my own naivety and ignorant willingness to trust and believe the shit I was being force-fed was Caviar.
Please don't misinterpret my venting here as bitterness or anything even remotely resembling it. Believe you me, it's NOT. If anything, I hope it serves as an inspirational anecdote that prompts others in similar situations to call BULLSHIT now WITHOUT FEAR.
Abusers are Cowards. They are only as powerful as you allow them to be. Kind of like the Boogeyman who lives in our closets and under our beds when we are children. Once you flip the light on (or pull off its mask) an empty void is all that remains.
I don't care what your belief system is. Christian. Catholic. Jewish. Hindu. Atheist. Buddhist. Witness. Even if you align with the First Church of Carlin... I DON'T CARE. What I DO care about is that you see yourself for the Beautiful Being you ARE! As I said earlier, we are ALL in this together.
If this fly-by glimpse into my encounter with the anti-Disney is of any help to another then this post was not written in vain.
As I close this out, Demi Lovato's "Really Don't Care" is playing on the iHeartRadio station I've running in the background. Define Irony lol...
Yes, Universe. I'm listening.
In Love and Peace,