On getting crossed

Hate looks really bad on me. So does resentment. My eyes become perma-bloodshot and my skin breaks out. I am constantly overheated and I don’t sleep soundly. You think I’m kidding (or out of my mind), I’m not. You have probably heard the saying that hating someone or something is like drinking your own poison. For me, it quite literally feels like that.

I was hurt. Then I was sad. Then I was angry. So effing (your welcome mom for not cussing) angry. I wanted to spit fire, yet I knew better not to. What would I get in return to react and hurt another? Why was I angry? Because someone did not like me and find me attractive? Because someone was straight up rude to me? Because I believe the things they said? Nope, I was angry because my ego was threatened. I was angry because I had treated them very kindly and put out my hand when I felt it was dangerous. I was angry because I felt I had received a wrath I did not deserve. I was angry because it’s easier to feel angry than to feel hurt.

And just like that the anger is recognized. However, my body has paid for it.

So how do I let go of anger? How do I let go of hurt? How do I act lovingly to myself when I have to see that person every day? How do I act lovingly to them when I just want to teach them they cannot treat others in that way? The answer is simple--stay grounded and keep my energy internal. For someone like me, that is a challenging practice that needs maintaining every day. What does that mean? It means for me to recognize my emotions, their flighty nature and to focus on my heart. I know that sounds corny, and maybe it is. For me, it works. I am a visual and kinesthetic person, so this makes sense to me. As I touch my sternum, I feel grounded. I feel warmth and I feel a knowing that I will be okay. I feel lucky to have this practice because it’s incredibly simple. No, I am not religious, though I may be a witch. And no, it likely won’t work for you because you are different than I. And I am different than you.

Letting go of what hurts us, in this case anger, is a choice.

Anger goes hand in hand with being a fiery person. That, I definitely am. Watery too. A bizarre mix. I am constantly looking for ways to balance the two. Be kind, yet hold boundaries. Be empathetic, yet feisty. Be deep, yet wild. I am reminded of my nature; that I am not perfect, and I am trying my damned best to be my best self. And that's what matters, right? To go to sleep each night knowing I touched others hearts and I lived my day with the intention of kindness.

With that, I realize, this too is just another experience to teach me to balance the two.

Remembering

Why am I so bent out of shape over the Brock Turner incident? I couldn’t figure out why. I thought it was maybe because I felt people were making a huge deal about it. This stuff happens ALL THE TIME. Then I thought maybe, just maybe, she had part in it too. How could I even think that?  She didn’t ask to be assaulted! Then my curiosity sparked. Why would I think these thoughts? Why did I feel so strongly about this incident? Yes, many people are posting about it on social media, and yes many people are upset about it, but this felt different. The hurt in my heart was deep. It was familiar.

I now know why. I was her. No, I was not sexually assaulted behind a dumpster. And no, I never found out for sure if I was assaulted. I just remember the feelings.

I was fifteen years old and school had just gotten out for summer. It had been a difficult year and I had made few friends at my new high school. One of them being a girl whom was a wild card, or as I now see it, really bad news. She had a history of sexual abuse and she was much more sexually evolved than myself. She had sex with guys and was sexually equivalent to a college graduate. I didn't think anything of it. I accepted her. I knew we all are different, and who was I judge? She was my best friend. She was sweet, kind and rebellious. Just like me.

I don’t remember the date. I don’t even remember what we drank. But I remember exactly what I was wearing. The red and black plaid shorts, the fitted black t-shirt, the pink St. Christopher necklace, the underwear, the bra. I remember the specifics. What I felt. What I saw.

I woke up without pants on in a bed with a guy I had never seen in my life. I later found out he was 18. I remember waking up, still confused and disoriented, seeing my friend across the room with the guy she was seeing. Why were they in my parent’s house? And what the hell happened?  Was this a fucked up dream? Why couldn’t I remember anything?! WHERE ARE MY SHORTS? I panicked inside, feelings so disoriented it was difficult to walk. Embarrassment, shame, disgust and fear washed over me when I stood. I scanned the floor for my shorts. They were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t show panic. I didn’t show any emotion. I couldn’t. My young self was afraid to rock the boat; I didn’t want to make anyone feel bad. I had signed up for this the moment I took a sip of alcohol, hadn’t I?

I remember showering and feeling numb. I didn’t even begin to think what happened. My brain was in fragments. I just needed to know I was still breathing. I felt my chest. My legs. My knotted hair. Looked at my hands. My arms. My breasts. I was still there.

What happened next, I don’t really remember. I don’t remember them leaving. I don’t remember any conversation between my friend and me. I don’t remember her leaving. I do remember my mom questioning me furiously about the call she received about two guys hopping her fence. I denied it. My brain wasn’t working right. Hell, my body wasn’t even working right. I was uncontrollably cold when it was scorching hot outside. She questioned my brother, the likely offender. He denied. She wouldn’t give up. She questioned me again. I admitted. Stunned, furious and downright out of her mind, she talked to my friend’s mom. The questioning began. As she questioned me, I knew I couldn’t lie. However I knew no specifics, I didn’t know who they were, I didn’t know where we went, and I didn’t know what I drank. I didn’t cry, I didn’t get angry, I didn’t get defensive. I just tried to keep my mom calm. I made this mess. I needed to clean it up. Both my parents questioned me. I answered what they asked. I told them everything that I knew. And they had no idea that I may or may not had just lost my virginity.

I couldn’t remember anything about the night. I just felt different. Behind my parents back, I reached out to my friend and she filled in some of the blanks. Her boyfriend had carried me up my driveway because I was passed out. I had drunk Southern Comfort like it was water. We met them at the elementary school up the street. I seemed to like the guy I “hooked” up with. I seemed to “like” him? Wasn’t I passed out? I hooked up with him? What does that even mean? My naïve fifteen-year-old self couldn’t hear anymore. The more I heard, the dirtier I felt. I had let this guy stay at my house. Wasn’t it my fault?

That summer I fell into what I now know is depression. I went through the motions. I played soccer. I hung out with friends. I went on family vacation. I ran countless miles. I got my fastest mile time. And I didn’t feel like myself. I stopped looking in the mirror. I hid my sadness and shame behind a fit body and determination. I had hurt my parents so significantly and I could not burden them anymore than I already had with my well deserved shame. It had been my fault after all. I had chosen to drink. I had allowed those guys to come to my house. Unconsciously, I decided this was my mountain, and I was going to conquer it alone.

Summer was over and it was time to go back to school. No longer did I have a best friend. I had betrayed her by telling my parents what had happened. I deserved to be alone. I showed up to the first day of school, empty. I had lost a significant amount of weight due to stress, and older guys began showing interest. I was terrified. I know the writing was on the wall; I now see WHY I felt the way I did, and at the time I was confused. Shouldn’t I be interested in handsome older guys? Shouldn’t I enjoy the attention? Girls in my grade started befriending me. I was becoming “cool”. Something wasn’t right though, and I knew it. I stopped sleeping soundly. I stopped wearing makeup. I stopped eating. I started running more. I encountered another traumatic sexual interaction.

Cue anorexia.

I never in one million years would have associated my experience with anorexia with maybe being sexually assaulted at age 15. Now I can see it clearly. I felt out of control, so I controlled the only thing I could-- food.

I still to this day do not know what happened, or if it would even be classified as sexual assault. I don’t know if I was conscious. I don’t know if I drunkenly said yes. I don’t know if I was drugged. I have no clue, and that’s what’s scary. I don’t know. I don’t know if I lost my virginity to a eighteen year old dude I still to this day have never seen again. I dealt with my shame, guilt, fear and disgust as best as I could.

Writing this was weird. I know it will break my mom's heart. I know it will make my dad cry. I know it will leave my brothers fuming with anger as a shield for their sadness. I know my guy friends will tense up. And I know many of my girl friends will be surprised to read this. I am an open book. However, this experience was hidden from even myself.

I haven’t consciously thought about it since it happened. I know that sounds insane. I know my parents remember it. But how could I not have thought about it?! Don’t experiences like this haunt people for the rest of their lives? From what I have heard, yes. However, at the time, I was determined to move forward. It hurt too much to process and I didn't have the tools to do it. So my brilliant brain did what it could to protect me, and suppressed it. Though it was suppressed, it definitely came out to play in my dreams, during times of sexual intimacy and when I drank too much. 

I have done a lot of work on myself in the past five years. By a lot, I mean a lot. I went to wilderness therapy. I went through a depression so dark, I thought it might consume me. I faced countless fears. I moved multiple times, alone.  I had quite a few different romantic relationships. And no matter what I was doing, where I was living, who I was dating, I kept coming up with the same irrational beliefs. I do not deserve to be loved. I hurt people by being who I am. I do not deserve sexual pleasure. I need to be fat or ugly so people will not take advantage of me and will actually like me for who I am. If I become the best physical version of myself, I will become a whore. I deserve all bad things that happen to me.

Reading all of those beliefs, you are either laughing at the absurdness, surprised I have those beliefs, or your heart hurts because you too have some effed up beliefs. I experienced all those reactions. WHERE DID THESE BELIEFS COME FROM? I couldn’t figure it out. I meditated on them. I asked for guidance from my dreams. I saw spiritual healers. I even talked out loud to God to help a sista out. All of this to no avail. And then BAM! Now I am understanding. 

Maybe it wasn’t just this incident that messed with me. I don’t know. I don’t feel like a victim. For all I know, he never touched me. I don’t know if he was blacked out or not. I don't even know if that matters. I don’t know. I don’t feel sad about it either. I feel the sadness has passed. I felt it for four long years, and now I am in a place of untangling. I now understand the root of my beliefs. I now understand why I never feel fully sexually satisfied. I now understand why it has been such a difficult experience to stay in my body. I now understand why I hate being pursued by guys and why I feel more comfortable approaching them. I get it.

A veil has been lifted. It is too soon to say how this will affect me, and I can already feels it’s lightness. 

As for the young woman Brock Turner assaulted, I feel for her. I hurt for her. I wish I could hug her and hold space for her to breathe. I wish I could tell her she will be okay and that she can do it. I know her future feels bleak right now, and she will be okay. She is incredibly brave and she is helping multiple people by sharing her story. She is in her twenties, a time where everything is up in the air, and she is bold for coming out and saying what happened to her is not okay. I pray that she has support, understanding and forgiveness. Forgiveness of herself, the perpetrator and the situation.

As for myself, I will be over here untangling.

I feel a lot of compassion for my fifteen-year-old self. I know she did her best, and damn, she was tough. 

Gray

The Gray.

Oh the gray.
Gray skies, gray moods
Gray walls, gray sheets

Everything is gray
my mood
my single strand of hair
my eyes
my outlook

I have forever feared the gray
the place where no thing looks different
everything the same monotonous color
the same pace
the same feeling

I have avoided it for years
maybe even for lifetimes

I don't belong in the gray

It feels heavy
a burden that I didn't sign up to carry
a person that no longer connects with me
a habit that no longer serves me
extra weight that is slowing me down

The gray and I have not been friends

But today, well today, I may just befriend it

decision changing

“You feel what you feel, and whatever you feel is valid; it doesn’t have to make sense. Feelings happen. Only when you believe your feelings are truth and feel an urgency to act on them do irrational feelings become bad decisions.” - Susan Lachmann

I wish someone had told me this before. Hell, maybe they have and I just wasn’t listening. I have a question for you. Where do you make decisions from? Is it from logic? Do things map out A, B, C? Do you hijack your feelings and listen to your brain? Do you make your decisions from feeling? Do you listen to your heart in the very moment you need to make the decision? Does it speak to you clearly? Or do you make your decision off of gut instinct? Do you feel throughout your entire being that this is the decision you need to make -- it’s black or white?

Life is full of decisions. We all know this. Every single moment we are called to make a decision. We decide how we sit at our desk. We decide what we want to think. We decide what task to do first. What we want for lunch. How we feel about what our friend just said.  How we will present ourselves each morning. Basically our every second is made up of decisions. We may not consciously be aware of the constant decisions, but we make them anyway. So what about the “big” decisions? You know, the ones that drastically change your life. The ones that sever a bond. That place you in a new environment from now until whenever. The ones that can flip you upside down. What about those? How do you make those?

Well, I will tell you how I make mine. I make mine solely off of feeling. I need to edit how I make them though. That may sound funny, and in a sick way, it kind of is. It has taken me this (24 years) long to find out that emotions do not make the best decision. WHAT?! Amanda just said that emotions are not the way?! Well, not entirely…

I have always made important decisions off of feelings. “But what will you do for work if you move to Uganda, Mandi?” My parents would ask. “I’ll figure it out,” I would respond.  I have never listened to logic. Ever. Maybe it’s that pesky rebel that loves to push my boundaries or maybe it’s just who I have been. If I felt like something was the right thing for me to do, I would do it. Key word, would. I do not think that making decisions off of sole feeling is serving me anymore. Nor do I think it is wise. Nope, I do not.

In the past few years I have learned the hard way. I have made split decisions based solely off of emotion and feeling multiple, multiple times. I have given up a kickass job, I have moved across the ocean, I have ended relationships and I have landed flat on my ass (multiple times). Did I think it was all necessary, well yes, otherwise it wouldn’t have taught me and I wouldn’t be here. Would I take back some of my actions if I could? Actually, yes. So this has got me thinking.

How can I edit my decision making? I have been watching others lately, and have noticed multiple different approaches; all of them being a combination of logic and gut feeling. I know it may sound silly, that as a full grown adult, I have to learn how to make decisions all over again. And I am proud that I am trying; that I am able to admit that what I had been doing was no longer working.  I have been taking mental notes on people that I admire and that have kickass emotion regulation and decision-making skills.  I don’t have any conclusions yet, but I look forward to the day that I do.

Until then, baby steps.

Being the heart breaker

I just wanted to text you this morning to tell you to have a good day.

I just wanted you to know that I am thinking about you and that I care so much about you.

I went searching for articles, writings, SOMETHING to help soothe my hurting heart.

Turns out, there isn’t much sympathy for the one who initiates the break up. Maybe they think that the decision for us was easy, otherwise we wouldn’t have done it. Maybe they think we made up our mind and we dug the grave and now we need to lay in it (okay, that was a little dramatic). Whatever the reason, no one is talking about being the one who calls it quits from a loving relationship. 

Maybe others just don’t know what it feels like. Well I will tell you what it feels like. It feels like you are sparing the other person a boatload of future pain and heartbreak by parting ways now. It feels like a cutting mistake in your heart, but the right decision in your mind because you know you cannot provide what they want and need. It’s going to sleep alone and thinking about them until your mind is too exhausted to continue. It’s distracting yourself with people, art, writing, exercise and still having that nagging want to connect with them; no matter your actions you think of them. Are they okay? Are they smiling right now? How can I be the most helpful in this situation? Is it not to contact them at all? Is it to lend them a hand if they are suffering? It’s confusing. There is no how-to book for these situations, when I wish there were. 

No, I am not saying it is more painful to be the one who breaks up with the other (even though in my experience, it is). I will not invalidate the pain of having your heart broken by another. It fucking hurts. But breaking your own heart, knowing you can selfishly choose to stay, that fucking hurts. It’s stretching who you are in this current moment to meet who you want to be. It’s taking the most honest action for this given moment. It’s loving the other person enough to share them with another who will give them what they want and need. 

I don’t have a relationship rulebook. I don’t have guidelines to go by. Quite honestly, I have found no two relationships are alike. Sure, there are similarities, but the people.. They have their own maps. 

So what does one do in a situation like this? As my friend told me yesterday, “close your eyes and take ten deep breaths”. That’s all I can do. Take it moment by moment. 

Not knowing.

I used to think I had it all figured out. I knew that when I believed in something whole-heartedly, I could make it happen. And I did. I believed only great things happened to me. And they did. I believed that the way to get over hardship was to have a little bit more compassion, to listen more intently, to love more fearlessly. I believed everything was simple, and it was.

To an outsider, I know how these beliefs look. If you are logical, you are rolling your eyes at my fairy tale thinking. If you are a ‘realist’ you are writing me off. If you are a person that has experienced hardship after hardship, you’re likely thinking, “just you wait sister, you will get your cup of tea”. And if you know me well, you are smiling, thinking, “that sounds about right”.

Whatever your reaction, it was how I felt. And I still feel like that, to an extent. I’m realizing with each day, that I don’t really know much. Sure, I know how I feel, I know how I might react, I know facts about random things. But I don’t know answers. I can’t predict the near future (I’m talkin’ like a week from now). I can’t tell you what you should do. I can’t tell you about love and relationships. And I surely can’t tell you what is “right” from “wrong”.

Those are all things we, as individuals, need to figure out for ourselves. Knowing that, doesn’t make it any easier. I wish I could just depend on what my mom says and take her word as my truth. And many people actually do that. I’m too curious.

I have compassionate, insightful friends that help me sort out my confusion, but even then, I have to filter their insights.

Does that feel right in my core? Does it give me goose bumps? In the scheme of things, does that make sense to me? Has that made sense to me before?

I am 24 years old and I feel like I am 18. 

I am 24 years old and I feel like I am 40.

I am 24 years old and I don’t understand age.

I am walking the fine line of what people expect of me and what is really me. I would argue many of us are. For those lucky ones, you don’t have a line to walk. Or maybe you do, you have just not realized it yet, or you are content with where you are and you haven’t thought much about it otherwise.

I’ve walked this line many times before. Actually, it’s where I live my life. Maybe that sounds depressing, and it’s anything but that. It’s actually quite fun!

Maybe you live your life on the line too. Maybe it’s the same line. Maybe the line doesn’t exist at all.

I don’t know.

And here I am again. Not knowing.

I’m beginning to believe that year twenty-four is the year of questions.

It's a good thing I love questions.

glass

I’m so sorry, I say

whispering

searching his eyes for familiarity

He doesn’t look up

He won’t look at me

His amber eyes stay glued to the dark blue duvet

I sit quietly

Mind a hazy horizon

What way is up?

What is down?

My heart has cracked

It’s physically aching

I look around the room

His scent surrounds me

I feel comforted

I reach for his hand

He doesn’t reciprocate

I look back to his sweet face

He is looking at me

I can see the fear in his eyes

I hear the vulnerability in his voice

He is so beautiful

I knew this before, and I know this now

The way he loves is unlike that I have seen

The way his eyes sharpen when he is concentrating

The way he asserts himself in all confidence that he will succeed

The way his voice softens when he tells me how much he cares about me

He is so beautiful.

And I am here

Wondering, what is the right thing to do?

I care about him, deeply, entirely

I would do anything for him

And the gentle voice is telling me to back up

Take a breather, she says

Slow down

Ground yourself

Who are you right now?

Why are you acting in ways that are no longer you?

Take a step back

I look at him

I tell him I am sorry

Hot tears stain my skin

I am listening to her.

I need to balance on my own for right now, I say

He has grounded me

And I need to ground me