I used to think my standards were not high enough. That Disney movies and happily ever Afters were the only thing I’d settle for. My perception of men was that they needed to be Prince Charming or my knight in shining armor. My standard for them was perfection. Now I don’t know about you but I myself would never want to be held to that standard. No one’s perfect. I’m no princess, I’m no super model, I’m no saint. After my experience with men, throughout my teens and twenties, that ideal Prince Charming went down the toilet. There was no man capable of that I was convinced. All men were the same and I should just give up. No one was going to love me the way that I love them. Not a single man I knew was loyal, devoted, and hard working. None even came close to charming let alone being a prince. I gave up. I settled for my ex husband due to our vast history and having had a child together. But nothing great ever started within the comfort zone. I went from having high hopes to having no hope in the matter of years. I had obviously been asking for too much. Having my knight in shining armor rescue me seemed like a childish fairytale. Wanting what was best for me was something only imaginary. Imagination is great but it’s not reality. I became a bit of a pessimistic realist. I was also bitter, I despised this generation of men for all they put me through. I became what one of my high school teachers referred to me as: femi-nazi. Men had no respect for women anymore because that’s what is woman have given them: someone not worthy of respect. Women of my generation are so desperate for love due to an absent father home or daddy issues. They’re so desperate they’ll go against any traditional moral code to get what they desire. Men still don’t have the right to treat us like we are prized cattle. We are people not property. Somehow our society got so royally fucked up. These were me ideals and I had given up on a loving romantic relationship. Yet I continued to be married to a man who belittled, degraded, and poisoned my being. It became a loveless marriage. I tried hard, harder than I should’ve to rekindle things and blinded myself in the process. But deep down inside I believed all men were the same. Cowards, womanizers, controlling,manipulative, possessive, and jealous. The change from that mentality was a process. I didn’t initially trust my boyfriend. I was suspicious of him at first because of my history. But I’ve learned. Raising a son and being with a truly loving man has opened my eyes tremendously. The people I’d been with prior were not men, they were immature boys. They didn’t know how to take care of themselves or how to show compassion and empathy to a woman. It took finding a man tired of dating girls. It took a woman tired of dealing with boys. It’s like night and day for us. We both finally have our privacy and space. We both finally get the affection we deserve. We both finally have someone who is on the same page. We found each other and built a solid healthy relationship on the typical qualities: trust, love, affection, individuality, independence, respect, faith, honor, and integrity. We value one another in a way I never thought would be mutual. I didn’t think the male population was capable. He surprises me every day. I’ve never felt this amount of trust in someone else. I don’t even feel curious about what’s on his phone or where he goes or who he’s with. He’s open and honest but I don’t even feel the need to ask. He values loyalty just as much as I do. He values family just as much as I do. God sent me an Angel in my time of need. I couldn’t even fathom them making men like him anymore. I got better than the deceptive charming prince, I one-uped the knight in aluminum foil. I found a tall blue eyed king, with tattoos, a SnapBack, Dickie Shorts, and those old black AllStars. I couldn’t have asked for more: he’s too much to ask for.
Tag: hate
Shopping for another White Dress & Fearing the Future.
Today I’m doing something I’ve done many times in my life. Not just once for myself but once for my older sister and now for the youngest. We all had slight doubts about my eldest sisters wedding, we all had doubts about my groom, we have no doubts about my youngest sister or her groom. And today watching my sister try on the gown she chose brought me to tears. I couldn’t fathom how beautiful she’d look in her wedding dress. The love she shares with her fiancé will last a lifetime I have absolutely no doubt. Those two are meant for each other. My older sister and I got it wrong the first time but my youngest sister learned from us. Being a little under a year away she still has a lot of planning to do. But after finding the dress last night we decided to celebrate. We went to dinner and had some drinks. We lost track of time. Something inside me was aching. I showed up at home around nine o’clock at night, definitely not sober, to my boyfriend patiently waiting. I greeted him and he laughed and laughed. He asked, “rough day?” I said yes. He held my unstableness in his arms and said, ” let’s make it better.” Boy, oh boy does he always. We walked a few blocks to hang out with some of our friends. One is going through a nasty breakup and his girlfriend moved out. The other friend may be moving in. So last night I stood in a kitchen and listened/watched three grown men who tower over me, argue like an old married couple. I just laughed at them, chimed in occasionally and drank. Not only did I start my night with rum, but I involved whiskey, tequila, and a few beers. I never drink so it doesn’t take much for me to lose my faculties. My boyfriend ended up carrying me home. My worries were let go.
The morning after now:
My boyfriend calls to laugh at my rough condition. He tells me I surprised him last night. He didn’t know I had it in me. Tells me I’m a lot of fun to be around when I’m drunk, I’m not as fiesty as many of the women he’s known. I’m just not an angry drunk. Yesterday was hard. A lot of fun but I felt uneasy. My older sister and I both divorcees and my youngest sister finally marrying. I worry about what the future will bring. I felt the loss all over again. Ten years of being my best friend and I don’t even know that person anymore. My husband died almost a year ago, but I didn’t put him to rest. Someone’s in this town walking around in his body. If you would’ve told me a year ago, this is how it would be, I’d tell you that you were crazy. The only constant is change.
Abuse.
http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/7151678
The very title of this article speaks volumes. Just because he doesn’t hit you doesn’t mean you’re not being abused. And just because he doesn’t hit you now doesn’t mean he won’t. I’ve been a victim of both physical and verbal/emotional abuse. My very first serious boyfriend, besides my ex husband that is, would drag me from room to room by my hair, scream at me constantly, and force me into sexual situations. He would scrub the makeup off my face before his family get togethers or scream at me if I wore makeup. He alienated me from everyone I loved. My family thought he was a good guy other than my youngest sister who wasn’t a fool. One night, things got heated, he was about to punch me directly in my face until in a flurry of activity he was tackled to the ground. We were at one of our local parks at the time and I had snuck away with my best friend because he was being “crazy.” It took me a few moments to realize who tackled my boyfriend. Who in the hell rescued me?? Unbeknownced to me, it was my future husband, someone I’d be with for ten years. Someone I’d be so love struck with I’d be blind as hell for him. If he doesn’t hit me it’s not abuse, right? Wrong! Oh it was all rainbows and butterflies in the beginning. He courted me. He walked me home from school, kissed me on the cheek, vowed undying loyalty to me and would dream of our future with me. I didn’t expect it to be what it became. He was a really great actor. A fantastic liar. So good he believed himself. He was a dream. He tried hard to be a part of my life. But I didn’t cave in to his sexual advance for a long time. There was too much trauma from the guy before. Until one night he down right begged me to have sex with him. At the time it was romantic but in retrospect it was a tool. He was marking his territory and sealing the deal. That night I made love for the first time in my life. I fell even deeper in love with this young gentleman. I was his, without any doubt and without any faltering. I was trapped but happy about it. It was blissful. Young and dumb and full of bubblegum. Little things started to happen. I’d catch him in tiny lies but wouldn’t say anything at all. After all he was perfect right? Wrong again. It turned into a battlefield when I discovered the truth. His stupid little girlfriend that saw him as an immaculate perfect gentleman and boyfriend now saw him for what he really was. Ignorance is bliss and innocence. Well my bliss and innocence died in the most gruesome way. Not only was he having sex with his most recent ex girlfriend but also two of my “friends.” I didn’t do anything to deserve that. Months apart and we had found each other again. He swore it would never happen again. That he wouldn’t lie to me like the day he came to high school with hickies on his neck. I believed every word before that but once one of the ladies came clean my belief in his was shattered. I was skeptical from that moment on. After this we were good for a while. Then I heard about him getting naked in the back seat of a car with another girl and having sex with her after prom, two distinctly separate times. This time I did what no lady should do, I was out for blood and vengance. I gave him a taste of his own medicine. Ohhh but I was the only one in the wrong according to him. Abusers blame everyone else for their mistakes. I was so ashamed I accepted the blame. And there we were yet again in our dysfunctional circle of bliss and grief. This story is so complex and we both did some destroying. I always rationalized it with he did it first. I was wrong. I should’ve protected my own morality and I sunk to his level devastation after devastation. We were young and dumb. But then I started to grow. I started to see my own moral flaws. I got better. I learned to trust him. Yet he continued. Thirteen different girls on multiple occassions. They call that serial cheating. I let him back, love blinds the mind and awakens the heart. Forgive, forgive, forgive. My mind became bitter and resentful. He called me every name in the book. He manipulated me time and time again. It was always my fault he was jealous. He used my past against me and I was never allowed to bring his up because that was my fault too. I walked on eggshells for him. Everyday afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing because he’d leave me. He once told me I’d never be anything more than a cockholster. He belittled my fashion sense and my music. He degraded me and my dreams. He manipulated our friends into thinking I was a bad person. He alienated me from my friends and family. I was a prisoner in my own home. Never allowed to go out without him and if he went out I was to stay home and tell him everything I was doing and anywhere I went and I had to send him pictures to prove it. He was jealous and would create paranoid delusions about me cheating when he was away or I was at school or work. He would have full access to my phone while I was never allowed to see his. I wasn’t even allowed to wear makeup or its piss him off and he’d ask who I was getting pretty for. I wasn’t allowed to talk to men outside of my family members and wasn’t allowed to add any on facebook. There was a time I wasn’t allowed to have facebook. He was my warden, my capture and I was his hostage. I was always too afraid to admit this. I was afraid of him. He always rationalized his tendencies by saying he was afraid of losing me. He said I was the best thing he’d ever had and the best he would ever get. Even after he had cheated on me and I witnessed it, the very thing that ended us, he would get drunk and beg to have me back. He would tell me he doesn’t love her and he only used her. I got strong, I didn’t fall for it that time. I left. He was afraid of losing me. It’s funny how our fears manifest themselves. Control and manipulation. The blame game, jealousy and threats. Name calling and striking fear in another’s heart. Lying and cheating. That’s abuse. Recognize it before you fall victim too. It’s hell, ten years of absolute fucking magma hot hell. I couldn’t be happier to be apart of something healthy and functional for once in my lifetime. My ex is self destructive and toxic to other people. He will have you blinded until it’s too late. Open your eyes, recognize the warning signs and save yourself. You’re the hero/heroine of your own story. He would have you thinking I’m the crazy one, that I’m toxic. Read up on verbal and emotional abuse. You’ll see the truth and him for what he really is.
Myth Busted.
I hear rumors about myself daily. Some things very far fetched and others a little closer to the truth. Does it bother me? No, not really. Does it entertain me? Yes. One particular rumor is that I do not let my son see his father. My ex sees his son occasionally. But I’ve given up on begging him to be in his sons life so he doesn’t see him at all. I’d never stop him if he asked or let me know when he wanted to see him. He doesn’t care enough to be a father. But the people in this town idolize my ex so I’m the bad guy. That’s cool. Batman took the fall and let people think he was a villain too. Everyone in this town seems to “hate” me except those I let into my life. I genuinely love people and that’s typically mutual. But if you don’t matter to me or are a negative presence get bent. I waste no time. I love my life. I learned a long time ago that I am not what is said about me. I am how I feel about me. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. And I would never sign a consent form for that.
We’re not starting from the beginning.
I decided to start blogging again because I feel I have a lot to say. I have a lot of things to get off my chest. I am such a busy bored person right now. My life has fallen into place during catastrophe after catastrophe. Everyone fights a different battle and has scars and a story to tell. Well I’m going to be telling mine. For the privacy of all people involved I’m not using names, only their relationship to me. I won’t even use my own name. A lot of people may believe they know my story, well they may know one side but I’ve never told mine. Just to sum this story up in a few words: a troublesome past, death, suicide, a child, a decade long love affair, marriage, military, college, nursing, witnessed infidelity, divorce, and a love sprung from the ashes. This is my story. Stay tuned.
The Mad Mind of Coraline 