So, having said all that (see previous posts), why would I even consider accepting the Facebook friend request? AB sent one several months ago, along with a message (I know, who sends a message, right?) that said "its been a long time, no hard feelings." Well, you know what? I have hard feelings!! And maybe that makes me childish and petty, but so what. I guess I'm just the person who can't be friends with an ex. Not that I have so many major ones to choose from, but there it is.
But then I thought...what if he really has grown up and I can be the bigger person here by accepting his friend request. I debated it. I discussed it with friends. I even mentioned it to college friends for the shock value. The answer was a collective 'no.' I made myself go down that path of memories (maybe not in the detail I have described here) and ultimately, I told myself...no, reminded myself that that was a really, really dark period in my life. He controlled me and scared me, and even if I haven't completely processed through all of that...I have moved on. I don't need to go back there. If I did accept the friend request, it would be out of sheer nosy-ness. I couldn't imagine having a Facebook 'conversation' with him. So what would the point be? I clicked 'ignore.'
And then, out of the blue, clear sky (Ha! That was "our song." How apropos.) he sends another friend request! Who does that? After you've been ignored once, let it go!! And why would I even ever consider accepting it???????
Right now, I'm settling for just glancing at his info every now and then to satisfy any curiousity.
Showing posts with label processing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label processing. Show all posts
Monday, July 19, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Turn the Page
So, I was miserable and pretending to be ecstatic. AB just plain frightened me at times. I had never ever seen myself being the victim in an abusive relationship, yet that is where I found myself. I withdrew from my friends, all but stopped going to class, and drank a LOT. A lot, a lot, a lot.
Second semester just got worse. We pretty much moved in together in a crappy one-bedroom apartment. As I force myself to type that, I feel like a weight is on my chest. It is ridiculous...I knew at the time that I wanted no part of that, but yet I allowed myself to be manipulated into doing it. Why? Spring semester, I went to class even less than the first, and dropped out of all but like 2 of my classes. And I failed one of those. It was awful. I don't really consider myself as ever having been truly suicidal, but I do recall fantasizing more than once about what it would be like to fall out of my seventh story dorm room. I remember packing up and leaving to go home for the summer. I cried as he held me. I was afraid that nothing would be the same the next year; he assured me that it would. I was probably unconsiously more afraid of owning up to my parents for the...well, for the lack of grades from that semester.
Somehow, I convinced my parents to let me go back to school in the fall. I am surprised they agreed to that with as little fanfare as they did. I had reconnected with some of my girl friends, and was looking forward to going back to school. At one point, toward the end of the summer, I had given AB back his ring, not to break the engagement, but because he couldn't afford it. I was making him return it. It was around that point that he had called me at work and we got in some meaningless fight on the phone. It may have had something to do with the ring. At any rate, he ended the phone call by calling me a "fucking bitch" and hanging up on me. I snapped. He called back; I didn't pick up. When I got home from work I went on a walk, wanting to avoid the enevitable phone call that would come there. Walking around my neighborhood, I saw what I dreaded most: his pick-up turning the corner and pulling into my parents' driveway. I panicked. I am so usually the one to avoid drama, so I was in a very uncomfortable position. I made a split decision to go to a very close neighbor's house rather than going home. From there I called my mom and told her that I was done with AB and that I didn't want to see him. She convinced me to come home to relay the news to him myself.
I don't remember exactly what I said, but with the knowledge that my Daddy was inside the house, I laid out the law on the sidewalk. I was over it, beyond it, through with it. Done. And I knew that I would not be returning to it this time, period. (like most melodramatic couples, we had had a couple of trial 'break ups' that never lasted long)
He sent flowers to work (I gave them to my mom), he came to work to give me a fraternity bid in jest (I didn't accept), he had HIS MOM call to try to talk to me (please)...on and on. I went back to school, and tried the friend route. We even had a near miss or two...hooking up, but after one of those nights, he went psycho. He yelled at me and practically chased me around his fraternity house. It was all I could do to get out of there. He called incessantly. I destroyed every single piece of photographic evidence of the relationship.
Fortunately, the freaky episodes got fewer and fewer. He tried a few times to reconnect, but I was determined in my resolve. I am lucky that he was never physically violent with me, but I know in my heart that it would have gone there had we stayed together. I also know how trapped it feels to be in an abusive relationship. It is like all of the air is squeezed from your body. As sick as it is, you somehow feel committed to the farce of it all, even though you know it is not healthy or right.
I didn't know where I stood when that relationship was over. My childhood ideal of only being in love once was crushed. I felt like I had been used and put back on the shelf. But I was free. And I knew that whatever else, I would absolutely not put myself in that position again. Ever.
Second semester just got worse. We pretty much moved in together in a crappy one-bedroom apartment. As I force myself to type that, I feel like a weight is on my chest. It is ridiculous...I knew at the time that I wanted no part of that, but yet I allowed myself to be manipulated into doing it. Why? Spring semester, I went to class even less than the first, and dropped out of all but like 2 of my classes. And I failed one of those. It was awful. I don't really consider myself as ever having been truly suicidal, but I do recall fantasizing more than once about what it would be like to fall out of my seventh story dorm room. I remember packing up and leaving to go home for the summer. I cried as he held me. I was afraid that nothing would be the same the next year; he assured me that it would. I was probably unconsiously more afraid of owning up to my parents for the...well, for the lack of grades from that semester.
Somehow, I convinced my parents to let me go back to school in the fall. I am surprised they agreed to that with as little fanfare as they did. I had reconnected with some of my girl friends, and was looking forward to going back to school. At one point, toward the end of the summer, I had given AB back his ring, not to break the engagement, but because he couldn't afford it. I was making him return it. It was around that point that he had called me at work and we got in some meaningless fight on the phone. It may have had something to do with the ring. At any rate, he ended the phone call by calling me a "fucking bitch" and hanging up on me. I snapped. He called back; I didn't pick up. When I got home from work I went on a walk, wanting to avoid the enevitable phone call that would come there. Walking around my neighborhood, I saw what I dreaded most: his pick-up turning the corner and pulling into my parents' driveway. I panicked. I am so usually the one to avoid drama, so I was in a very uncomfortable position. I made a split decision to go to a very close neighbor's house rather than going home. From there I called my mom and told her that I was done with AB and that I didn't want to see him. She convinced me to come home to relay the news to him myself.
I don't remember exactly what I said, but with the knowledge that my Daddy was inside the house, I laid out the law on the sidewalk. I was over it, beyond it, through with it. Done. And I knew that I would not be returning to it this time, period. (like most melodramatic couples, we had had a couple of trial 'break ups' that never lasted long)
He sent flowers to work (I gave them to my mom), he came to work to give me a fraternity bid in jest (I didn't accept), he had HIS MOM call to try to talk to me (please)...on and on. I went back to school, and tried the friend route. We even had a near miss or two...hooking up, but after one of those nights, he went psycho. He yelled at me and practically chased me around his fraternity house. It was all I could do to get out of there. He called incessantly. I destroyed every single piece of photographic evidence of the relationship.
Fortunately, the freaky episodes got fewer and fewer. He tried a few times to reconnect, but I was determined in my resolve. I am lucky that he was never physically violent with me, but I know in my heart that it would have gone there had we stayed together. I also know how trapped it feels to be in an abusive relationship. It is like all of the air is squeezed from your body. As sick as it is, you somehow feel committed to the farce of it all, even though you know it is not healthy or right.
I didn't know where I stood when that relationship was over. My childhood ideal of only being in love once was crushed. I felt like I had been used and put back on the shelf. But I was free. And I knew that whatever else, I would absolutely not put myself in that position again. Ever.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Lighting the Corners of My Mind
So, recently I received a friend request--a SECOND friend request--from someone who I like to think of as Asshole Boyfriend. Not even deserving of being referred to by his name.
He is someone that I don't like to think about often. I certainly do not talk about him. It was my freshman year of college, and I was too green to burn. I hadn't ever had a real boyfriend, and I was ripe for the picking. Young, virginal, reeling with newfound independence...I was an easy mark.
We met in a group of friends; I didn't think he noticed me at all the first night. He was cute enough--previously a football player in JuCo. So, when I heard through the grapevine that he wanted my number, I was surprised. And, although my friend told me that she had heard some not-so-good things about him, I decided to chance it.
Apparently, he had a little reputation of being a stalker. Calling too many times, showing up when he wasn't supposed to, etc. I brushed it off as girls being stupid and petty. My internal alarms were blaring STOP! THIS IS WRONG! But I squelched them and pressed ahead. I wanted to be wanted.
To be continued...
He is someone that I don't like to think about often. I certainly do not talk about him. It was my freshman year of college, and I was too green to burn. I hadn't ever had a real boyfriend, and I was ripe for the picking. Young, virginal, reeling with newfound independence...I was an easy mark.
We met in a group of friends; I didn't think he noticed me at all the first night. He was cute enough--previously a football player in JuCo. So, when I heard through the grapevine that he wanted my number, I was surprised. And, although my friend told me that she had heard some not-so-good things about him, I decided to chance it.
Apparently, he had a little reputation of being a stalker. Calling too many times, showing up when he wasn't supposed to, etc. I brushed it off as girls being stupid and petty. My internal alarms were blaring STOP! THIS IS WRONG! But I squelched them and pressed ahead. I wanted to be wanted.
To be continued...
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Ate way too much on vacation. That wouldn't have been so bad had I not continued to eat waayyy too much the week following vacation. It is gross. I can't even bring myself to get on the scale. But I am moving on. Walked yesterday morning and this morning. Endeavoring to walk each day this week. I digress...
I struggle with doing the things it takes to just be. I get bogged down in the details. I will have a burst of...something, and have an uber-productive day, and then it is like all my energy is spent for the longest time. It bugs me!! Establishing a pattern is the HARDEST thing for me to do, even though I know I love routine, and would thrive. Whine, whine, whine. I know the solution is to just buck up and do it! Whatever 'it' may be. Maybe if I stopped contemplating, and just started doing.
I am changing slowly, though. I accept that I am me more than I did, say 6 months ago. I remember being 17-ish and really feeling like I did not know "who I was." (like, panicking about it. is that how you spell 'panicking?') What I want to go back in time and tell myself is "Self, learning yourself is a lifelong journey. Take your time. Get to know yourself well. Spend time with others, but also spend time alone. Feelings are not wrong."
I find myself longing for simplicity. Large, open spaces, time at home, cleanliness. I don't think this is a coincidence. I think that I need that and even more, that I value that. Weird? Crunchy? Maybe.
I do know that I want (and have always wanted) to be authentic. I don't like hypocracy, even though I am not above it sometimes. I avoid labels for myself, and for the longest time I have feared that meant that I didn't know myself, but now I am realizing that just means that I don't fit into a box. I really want to find the things that I value, that I desire, and implement them into my life. The trick for me is, going from that being a nice idea at 10:00 in the morning to being the peace that I live with at 6:00 p.m.
I struggle with doing the things it takes to just be. I get bogged down in the details. I will have a burst of...something, and have an uber-productive day, and then it is like all my energy is spent for the longest time. It bugs me!! Establishing a pattern is the HARDEST thing for me to do, even though I know I love routine, and would thrive. Whine, whine, whine. I know the solution is to just buck up and do it! Whatever 'it' may be. Maybe if I stopped contemplating, and just started doing.
I am changing slowly, though. I accept that I am me more than I did, say 6 months ago. I remember being 17-ish and really feeling like I did not know "who I was." (like, panicking about it. is that how you spell 'panicking?') What I want to go back in time and tell myself is "Self, learning yourself is a lifelong journey. Take your time. Get to know yourself well. Spend time with others, but also spend time alone. Feelings are not wrong."
I find myself longing for simplicity. Large, open spaces, time at home, cleanliness. I don't think this is a coincidence. I think that I need that and even more, that I value that. Weird? Crunchy? Maybe.
I do know that I want (and have always wanted) to be authentic. I don't like hypocracy, even though I am not above it sometimes. I avoid labels for myself, and for the longest time I have feared that meant that I didn't know myself, but now I am realizing that just means that I don't fit into a box. I really want to find the things that I value, that I desire, and implement them into my life. The trick for me is, going from that being a nice idea at 10:00 in the morning to being the peace that I live with at 6:00 p.m.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Clarity, Briefly
Had a good follow up with my Internist today. She is the best. Yes, I need a psychiatrist, but my Internist is my Confessor, the only one (well, her and her GI spouse) that know the tip of my secret iceberg.
I feel healthier having visited her, somehow more whole. I think that I would greatly benefit from having a counselor/therapist in the same way, but...baby steps. We are upping my dose of Prozac. Its funny, 4 months ago - although I KNEW I needed to be on something - I dreaded it. I felt as if I was admitting defeat. I should be able to manage my emotions, my behaviors, my self. Problem is...I can't. I can't do it without help. Anyway, today, even before the dose increase...I don't want to stop taking the meds. I feel as if I have been ironed out. I am able to think through things clearly and process things on what feels like a normal level. I can be outside of my head. Oh, how much do I love being outside of my head?!?!!!!
Recently, an acquaintance remarked on how they have seen me at the gym with no headphones. "I could never do that," she said. My response was that I have a lot of things to sort out up there. And it's true. I may never come to a conclusion, but I have always felt the need to focus my energy on just thinking sometimes. It may be an elaborate fantasy that I want to think through, just to escape. It may be mulling over my relationships, my shortcomings, my successes. Either way, sometimes I just have to wrap myself in silence and just exist alone with my thoughts. What I am learning is that for me, the flip side of that is just as important: I have to periodically 'check out' of my self and realize that I can...I am...functioning...and I am doing okay.
I feel healthier having visited her, somehow more whole. I think that I would greatly benefit from having a counselor/therapist in the same way, but...baby steps. We are upping my dose of Prozac. Its funny, 4 months ago - although I KNEW I needed to be on something - I dreaded it. I felt as if I was admitting defeat. I should be able to manage my emotions, my behaviors, my self. Problem is...I can't. I can't do it without help. Anyway, today, even before the dose increase...I don't want to stop taking the meds. I feel as if I have been ironed out. I am able to think through things clearly and process things on what feels like a normal level. I can be outside of my head. Oh, how much do I love being outside of my head?!?!!!!
Recently, an acquaintance remarked on how they have seen me at the gym with no headphones. "I could never do that," she said. My response was that I have a lot of things to sort out up there. And it's true. I may never come to a conclusion, but I have always felt the need to focus my energy on just thinking sometimes. It may be an elaborate fantasy that I want to think through, just to escape. It may be mulling over my relationships, my shortcomings, my successes. Either way, sometimes I just have to wrap myself in silence and just exist alone with my thoughts. What I am learning is that for me, the flip side of that is just as important: I have to periodically 'check out' of my self and realize that I can...I am...functioning...and I am doing okay.
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