so yesterday i typed out the whole thing. all at once. with moments to just breathe in between almost every paragraph.
i should've expected that as soon as i finished, that i would shut down like i did. my mind decided to turn off my emotion completely, while somewhere inside i wrestled with the hurt i felt. typing that out yesterday meant going through and remembering every feeling i felt at the time. not fun at all. but i gave myself some time after to just relax and turn my emotion back on when i was ready. and i am lucky because i have someone who cares about me dearly who i feel very comfortable talking to no matter what, and talking to him yesterday helped me a lot. i did not have shoulder to cry on, or anyone to hug, but i had love, somewhere out there in the world, and i have found that even in my darkest moments that love is all i really need to find my way out into the light again.
the fact is, after maybe a couple of hours spent dealing with my emotions, the internal struggle, all i did was talk to him and it wasn't long before i was smiling and giggling and feeling perfectly happy again.
love can be amazing like that. i feel incredibly blessed by what is happening in my life now. my boyfriend pointed out the fact that i have improved on certain things in the time that we have been together. that i am much better at making decisions and taking responsibilty and am not so uncertain and scared anymore. and told me he was proud of me for it.
it's nice when someone tells you they're proud of you. it just feels good to hear that. from anyone, but especially people i really care about.
i am almost done with school and i am working on the next steps in my life. getting out and finally living my own life. things like moving out and getting a job and getting my driving license and such. i know what i want to do. i will discuss these things further with the people it matters to later on, closer to when things will actually occur. but just know that i am taking responsibility for the choices i make and that if i fall on ym face for it, i will know that it's my own fault.
i know whatever happens, my life is about to change in many ways this year. but for the better, it certainly seems.
all my love,
Heather
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
memories that stand out-2
this is me trying to get things out.
this is me trying to tell stories about things that affected me.
everyone that ever experienced any kind of abuse knows all too well that it never really leaves you. ever. that the best thing you can do is accept what happened, understand that it wasn't your fault, understand that it wasn't right, and move on, and do the best you can, and learn to trust people again.
warning: this is one of the darkest memories i have. i have never fully told anyone the entire story. every time i bring it up i get terribly choked up about it. it's really hard for me to talk about because it's one of those things i always wished i could erase. wished it never happened.
here is the thing: looking back on this situation, i see that it was completely preventable. or at least, it would've been had i not been in the state of mind i was.
or if i had made some different choices. alas...i may never completely understand how i initially acted or what transpired or why i never told anyone much about it. i have my theories, which i will discuss here, but i can't know for sure.
july 2006(less than a week after my 17 birthday)-
it was one of those days. i was depressed. well, i was depressed pretty much all the time back then. this was before i was given any official diagnoses, before i really understand much at all about what was happening to me.
afternoon:
i was home alone. i don't remember where everyone else was, just that nobody was there. chances are they had all gone out somewhere and me being so depressed i had opted out of such things. i really don't know. i'm sure, perhaps, that someone else in my family might remember where they were that day.
i holed up in my room. typical for me, really, at that point in time. i was depressed. lonely. disintegrating, as usual, on the inside. wondering what the heck i was going to do. wondering what point there was to living. wondering why i kept feeling the way i did. wondering why it made me act the way i did. just wondering.
i only fell deeper and deeper into that dark hole i was in. deeper and deeper. at some point, the me i know lost control of this body. some other me took over.
i used to get really frustrated about this. i told myself that i wouldn't do certain things, but when things got so bad that i got lost in my feelings, some other me easily took over.
(i have learned a lot about this whole thing in the past year. i have read some books and had discussions with therapists about the things that often occur with DID. my eyes have been opened up a lot and this new knowledge has helped me to understand a lot about myself).
other me took over. and always did the same thing. the next thing i knew, i woke up. in my bed. it was later in the afternoon, and i had bloody toilet paper wrapped around my arm. my first thought is always the same: fuck.
i was always distraught every time i ever woke up to find cuts on my arm yet again. this time, it was pretty bad. my left forearm was cover in small cuts. i was distressed. frustrated. this only made things worse. i was freaking out. panicking.
needed fresh air. walks, bike rides-i knew these things often cleared my mind enough to rationalize and regroup and calm down just enough to manage.
i headed outside and hopped on my bike. it was summer, but i wore my bright orange sweatshirt to hide my wounded arm.
picked one of my usual routes, riding down past where a friend of mine lived, not much more than a mile away. rode on around the neighborhood, then headed back as the sun started to set.
i wasn't too far away from home when i noticed the group of people on the corner. and i recognized one of them.
his name is Kurt Bennett. Most of you will not recognize that name(though you could find him in one of the old yearbooks if you wanted to). he was not in the same class as me. he was younger. he was an idiot. i considered him in general as this stupid, short, puny guy who often made inappropriate remarks and was often just an annoyance. i am not hiding his name because:
he doesn't deserve it
it makes this whole thing more real, actually putting his name there
someone i recognized. someone who, at the time, i really did not hate, though i didn't exactly consider him to be a friend.
still, my theory is, i saw someone familiar and just wanted to connect, speak to somebody. anybody at all. because i was in total distress.
he called out to me.
really, i should have just kept riding. he wasn't worth my time, even if i felt some desperation for human connection to confirm that i was really alive myself, right in that moment.
but i stopped. walked with my bike over to the group of people.
kinda stood there and said a few things.
next thing i know, everyone else is leaving. but Kurt was still standing there. just me and him. i didn't think anything of it though. i was just about to head off myself, but then he made some comment about getting a hug.
(a hug, hey, that sounds nice right now-that's probably what i felt. need for human connection. need to stop hurting, start feeling. something).
and then he wanted to talk. and he was leading me over off a little ways into the one side street, stopping behind the fence on the side of a house. (random fact: a good friend of mine lived on this street, not that it would've made any difference, unless he had randomly appeared and stopped what was going on).
i don't really know how it started. we were standing there. he pulled me in closer. i think i stopped breathing for a moment at that gesture. and then he started touching me. not in a nice way either.
i'm pretty sure at this point i began to shut down. entirely. rather than fighting or saying no, i shut down. froze up. i don't know why. i was afraid, even of some puny idiot that i probably could have easily beaten up if i had thought of it at the time.
but i shut down. and he kept touching. it got worse and worse. that, and he started kissing me. ew. it was awful. like...just ew. it was like some dog just slobbering over my face. ew.
his dirty hands on me. disgusting. right on my skin. up under my shirt. down my shorts. ew.
and then his mouth. on me. i was starting to panic. we were outside. public place. how far would he really try to take this? i had no idea. and i was starting to freak out. did not want this. had to stop it somehow, but i couldn't find my will. couldn't find my voice. not until he started saying he wanted to finger me, and the thought of his dirty, disgusting hands inside of me, well, that sparked some kind of life into me because every time he brought it up i said no. refused. no way in hell was i going to let him go that far.
the sun was setting and it was starting to get dark, and somewhere inside i finally found just enough courage to tell him that i really needed to be going home, that my family expected me back, etc etc i had to leave. i'm pretty sure he got my phone number out of me though, but to my knowledge he never called except maybe one time. i'm not sure.
i did not find enough will to punch him or push him away or anything like that, but i found enough of a voice to tell him i had to leave, to keep him from going even further. i hopped on my bike and rode away, fast as i could towards home, checking often to make sure he wasn't following me.
i made it home, and still nobody else was home. i headed straight into my room, where i lied face down on my bed and cried and tried to process what the fuck had just occurred.
the next thing i can recall is the next day. the next day was the day i broke down and called my mother and told her i needed to go to the hospital. i packed a bag and we she came home and drove me there and finally i got admitted, where is stayed for a couple of weeks.
i think of this occurrence as the even that set me off to the point where i could not face things anymore. i had to do something, and fast. and being in a mental hospital seemed like a good idea. safe place. chance to get away. i needed something. i couldn't keep going on the way i was.
------------------------------
i never really told anyone that this happened. i went to the hospital so soon after it happened that i didn't really get a chance to even try to bring it up beforehand (i was still too shocked to know what to say, to find the words).
being in the hospital, a certain psychiatrist there (whom all the patients hated, basically) talked about molestation and rape as if there is a significant difference in how it affects people, as if being molested really isn't that bad in comparison to being raped. (who the fuck in their right mind speaks to patients in a mental hospital, victims of such things, like that? that and the fact that he just had to point out any possibility of phallic imagery in my art (though obscure and certainly unintended by me, the artist).
yeah.
so you can imagine, being talked to that way, that i only felt more ashamed of what had transpired. i only told one person, who and in general, what had occurred.
i really should've told more people. even if just to talk about it and deal with it the way i should've at the time. but i was ashamed. yes, i really did think i might just get laughed at because of who it was that did it to me. how pathetic was i that i couldn't even stand up to someone like that? even after KM (who i mentioned in a previous post) tried to help me get into the habit of standing up for myself?
i wanted to finally tell this story though. i have always had such a hard time with it. but i needed to account for it. i'm done being ashamed about it. i'm done letting it just sit there inside of me, refusing to admit that it happened and finally try to really get over it. going through the whole story, to the best of my memory, is helpful to understanding and moving on.
now i shall go medicate with sweet music and kind words and beautiful drawings and such.
all my love,
Heather
this is me trying to tell stories about things that affected me.
everyone that ever experienced any kind of abuse knows all too well that it never really leaves you. ever. that the best thing you can do is accept what happened, understand that it wasn't your fault, understand that it wasn't right, and move on, and do the best you can, and learn to trust people again.
warning: this is one of the darkest memories i have. i have never fully told anyone the entire story. every time i bring it up i get terribly choked up about it. it's really hard for me to talk about because it's one of those things i always wished i could erase. wished it never happened.
here is the thing: looking back on this situation, i see that it was completely preventable. or at least, it would've been had i not been in the state of mind i was.
or if i had made some different choices. alas...i may never completely understand how i initially acted or what transpired or why i never told anyone much about it. i have my theories, which i will discuss here, but i can't know for sure.
july 2006(less than a week after my 17 birthday)-
it was one of those days. i was depressed. well, i was depressed pretty much all the time back then. this was before i was given any official diagnoses, before i really understand much at all about what was happening to me.
afternoon:
i was home alone. i don't remember where everyone else was, just that nobody was there. chances are they had all gone out somewhere and me being so depressed i had opted out of such things. i really don't know. i'm sure, perhaps, that someone else in my family might remember where they were that day.
i holed up in my room. typical for me, really, at that point in time. i was depressed. lonely. disintegrating, as usual, on the inside. wondering what the heck i was going to do. wondering what point there was to living. wondering why i kept feeling the way i did. wondering why it made me act the way i did. just wondering.
i only fell deeper and deeper into that dark hole i was in. deeper and deeper. at some point, the me i know lost control of this body. some other me took over.
i used to get really frustrated about this. i told myself that i wouldn't do certain things, but when things got so bad that i got lost in my feelings, some other me easily took over.
(i have learned a lot about this whole thing in the past year. i have read some books and had discussions with therapists about the things that often occur with DID. my eyes have been opened up a lot and this new knowledge has helped me to understand a lot about myself).
other me took over. and always did the same thing. the next thing i knew, i woke up. in my bed. it was later in the afternoon, and i had bloody toilet paper wrapped around my arm. my first thought is always the same: fuck.
i was always distraught every time i ever woke up to find cuts on my arm yet again. this time, it was pretty bad. my left forearm was cover in small cuts. i was distressed. frustrated. this only made things worse. i was freaking out. panicking.
needed fresh air. walks, bike rides-i knew these things often cleared my mind enough to rationalize and regroup and calm down just enough to manage.
i headed outside and hopped on my bike. it was summer, but i wore my bright orange sweatshirt to hide my wounded arm.
picked one of my usual routes, riding down past where a friend of mine lived, not much more than a mile away. rode on around the neighborhood, then headed back as the sun started to set.
i wasn't too far away from home when i noticed the group of people on the corner. and i recognized one of them.
his name is Kurt Bennett. Most of you will not recognize that name(though you could find him in one of the old yearbooks if you wanted to). he was not in the same class as me. he was younger. he was an idiot. i considered him in general as this stupid, short, puny guy who often made inappropriate remarks and was often just an annoyance. i am not hiding his name because:
he doesn't deserve it
it makes this whole thing more real, actually putting his name there
someone i recognized. someone who, at the time, i really did not hate, though i didn't exactly consider him to be a friend.
still, my theory is, i saw someone familiar and just wanted to connect, speak to somebody. anybody at all. because i was in total distress.
he called out to me.
really, i should have just kept riding. he wasn't worth my time, even if i felt some desperation for human connection to confirm that i was really alive myself, right in that moment.
but i stopped. walked with my bike over to the group of people.
kinda stood there and said a few things.
next thing i know, everyone else is leaving. but Kurt was still standing there. just me and him. i didn't think anything of it though. i was just about to head off myself, but then he made some comment about getting a hug.
(a hug, hey, that sounds nice right now-that's probably what i felt. need for human connection. need to stop hurting, start feeling. something).
and then he wanted to talk. and he was leading me over off a little ways into the one side street, stopping behind the fence on the side of a house. (random fact: a good friend of mine lived on this street, not that it would've made any difference, unless he had randomly appeared and stopped what was going on).
i don't really know how it started. we were standing there. he pulled me in closer. i think i stopped breathing for a moment at that gesture. and then he started touching me. not in a nice way either.
i'm pretty sure at this point i began to shut down. entirely. rather than fighting or saying no, i shut down. froze up. i don't know why. i was afraid, even of some puny idiot that i probably could have easily beaten up if i had thought of it at the time.
but i shut down. and he kept touching. it got worse and worse. that, and he started kissing me. ew. it was awful. like...just ew. it was like some dog just slobbering over my face. ew.
his dirty hands on me. disgusting. right on my skin. up under my shirt. down my shorts. ew.
and then his mouth. on me. i was starting to panic. we were outside. public place. how far would he really try to take this? i had no idea. and i was starting to freak out. did not want this. had to stop it somehow, but i couldn't find my will. couldn't find my voice. not until he started saying he wanted to finger me, and the thought of his dirty, disgusting hands inside of me, well, that sparked some kind of life into me because every time he brought it up i said no. refused. no way in hell was i going to let him go that far.
the sun was setting and it was starting to get dark, and somewhere inside i finally found just enough courage to tell him that i really needed to be going home, that my family expected me back, etc etc i had to leave. i'm pretty sure he got my phone number out of me though, but to my knowledge he never called except maybe one time. i'm not sure.
i did not find enough will to punch him or push him away or anything like that, but i found enough of a voice to tell him i had to leave, to keep him from going even further. i hopped on my bike and rode away, fast as i could towards home, checking often to make sure he wasn't following me.
i made it home, and still nobody else was home. i headed straight into my room, where i lied face down on my bed and cried and tried to process what the fuck had just occurred.
the next thing i can recall is the next day. the next day was the day i broke down and called my mother and told her i needed to go to the hospital. i packed a bag and we she came home and drove me there and finally i got admitted, where is stayed for a couple of weeks.
i think of this occurrence as the even that set me off to the point where i could not face things anymore. i had to do something, and fast. and being in a mental hospital seemed like a good idea. safe place. chance to get away. i needed something. i couldn't keep going on the way i was.
------------------------------
i never really told anyone that this happened. i went to the hospital so soon after it happened that i didn't really get a chance to even try to bring it up beforehand (i was still too shocked to know what to say, to find the words).
being in the hospital, a certain psychiatrist there (whom all the patients hated, basically) talked about molestation and rape as if there is a significant difference in how it affects people, as if being molested really isn't that bad in comparison to being raped. (who the fuck in their right mind speaks to patients in a mental hospital, victims of such things, like that? that and the fact that he just had to point out any possibility of phallic imagery in my art (though obscure and certainly unintended by me, the artist).
yeah.
so you can imagine, being talked to that way, that i only felt more ashamed of what had transpired. i only told one person, who and in general, what had occurred.
i really should've told more people. even if just to talk about it and deal with it the way i should've at the time. but i was ashamed. yes, i really did think i might just get laughed at because of who it was that did it to me. how pathetic was i that i couldn't even stand up to someone like that? even after KM (who i mentioned in a previous post) tried to help me get into the habit of standing up for myself?
i wanted to finally tell this story though. i have always had such a hard time with it. but i needed to account for it. i'm done being ashamed about it. i'm done letting it just sit there inside of me, refusing to admit that it happened and finally try to really get over it. going through the whole story, to the best of my memory, is helpful to understanding and moving on.
now i shall go medicate with sweet music and kind words and beautiful drawings and such.
all my love,
Heather
Friday, January 21, 2011
little things that mean the most-2
this a story that i have always had a mixture of shame, awe, confusion, and appreciation for.
This story actually takes place before the previous one, when I was still dating JCH.
It takes place back during my junior of high school.
Honors English Book Project.
I was in a group working on a project for Honors English. The project required time spent after school.
One day, I stayed after to do my part to help with things we were working on for the project. Hours kind of flew by that day. And as the time dwindled down, later and later, the next thing I knew, only two of us were left there: me, and my friend, who I will refer to as KM.
Now, i want to give a bit of background on this whole thing.
Firstly, KM is someone I met during my sophomore year, my first year at the school. He was very charismatic, outgoing, talented, intelligent, and easily one of the most well known and popular people at school. Everyone liked him, from what I could tell.
And me, the new, shy, quiet girl with no friends saw him and he caught my attention. Like some bright shooting star I couldn't help but watch him from afar, in awe of what i was seeing.
We never, in all our time there, spent much time together. I always wanted to. I will not say I was obsessed or anything, no. It wasn't like that. But I was very, very interested in him. And only became more so as time went on and I got to know him more.
Secondly, on the particular day that this took place, I was pretty sure I wanted to break up with my boyfriend JCH because I was an emotional wreck, to say the least, and it didn't seem like things were going so well.
Anyway,
there I was. For the first time ever, it was just me and KM.
I remember, at some point, I had to ask to use his cellphone to call my mother so she would come pick me up, but I can't remember for sure if that happened before or after what I'm about to get into.
I was upset. Distraught. Clearly. And in the midst of someone who I really admired, really liked, really felt some sort of something for, I broke down a bit. Showed myself a little more. Let myself open. Took off the mask I wore almost constantly.
And KM, I knew, he was very caring. i could tell, somewhere beneath the sunny exterior, was something more. Something darker. Some form of his own distress, despite the fact that he seemed to have so much going for him.
We talked. He wanted to cheer me up. he didn't want me to be sad like that. And for whatever reason, I felt like it would be okay if I opened up to him. So i did. I told him how upset and I was and how I was thinking I should break up with my boyfriend and all these things. Maybe putting this kind of trust in him, in turn, opened something up in him, too.
he started to tell me things. he tried to tell me how wonderful a person i really was. how special i was. and... the one of the biggest surprises in my entire life, that he had always liked me. i mean LIKE-LIKED me.
i immediately fell into a state of shock. i blinked. didn't know what to say. how? why? i could not comprehend just then how someone who i figured never really noticed my existence half the time could possibly ever have....ever have been interested in me at all. logically, i reasoned, surely he had all kinds of girls after him. girls that weren't quiet, pathetic loners like me. SURELY.
yet, he meant it. obviously.
I was sitting on the couch in that room. he was standing, leaning in towards me, facing me.
The next thing that happened completely threw me off, but also threw away all the doubt in my mind that he meant what he said. he had this smile on his face, sort of a smirk, sort of sweet, i really don't know. hard to describe.
maybe this next part is predictable, from what i've said.
yes.
he leaned in closer and kissed me. gentle, but not completely. just enough passion.
i could've reacted two ways in this situation. either pull away, or return the gesture. considering how i felt, the state i was in, the feelings i had for him, i did not pull away. i embraced it. i kissed him back. and after he pulled back, he told me he had always wanted to do that. i was completely baffled.
and okay, so we ended up sitting on the floor making out a little. i liked it. he was a good kisser. really good. and sweet. and loving in a way. and for a moment i was able to step away from pain and stress and just be. and feel. and live. this only lasted maybe 5 minutes or so. i really don't know. and then he stopped. and told me i shouldn't break up with my boyfriend.
as if i wasn't shocked enough. since when does a guy admit he has liked you for a long time, decide to kiss you (and you kiss him back, making it obvious that the feelings are mutual) and then tell you that you should stay with the person you are currently with depsite the fact that things are not going so well?
i think, probably, had he instead said he wanted to be with me and wanted me to break up with my boyfriend, i would've done that. my feelings for him were too strong, and my relationship with my boyfriend at the time was so stressful.
but no. he told me to keep trying. i'm sure he knew he could've had me for himself, if he just said he wanted that. he had to have known that, the way i was acting. he made me promise him i would keep trying though. and all i could do was make that promise, despite a huge part of me really wanting to forget who i was with and be with KM.
there is another part to this. i don't remember, we must've talked about things with my past and sexual abuse that i had gone through because he sat there after that trying to help me. trying to teach me to speak up. trying to teach me to fight for myself. not let people just do whatever they wanted.
i was so shocked though, it was tough for me to do anything. we sat there facing each other. he would move in to touch my chest, wanting me to react, to stop him. at first, he put his hand there on me, not in any inapprpriate way, but enough to try to make a point. but all i could do was stare back at him.
he kept shaking his head and telling me no. telling me i can't just let that happen. he did the same thing over and over again, and soon enough i did what he said and kept him from doing it. granted, he never used any force or anything, the way it has been in real situations, but i don't think he was capable of making it seem any more real. i think he wanted to be as careful as he could about it, but still help me somehow.
(years later, when something happened that really tested me on how much i had taken away from that day, i failed. crumbled. too overhwelmed and distressed at the time to fight back like i should have.)
KM never really talked me to ever again about what happened that day. and i never said anything either. i was too afraid to ruin whatever friendship i did have by bringing it up because i wasn't sure if he really wanted to ever bring it up.
but it has always stuck with me. and i have often wondered since about what could've been. the only other thing since then was a phone conversation two or three years ago where the same feeling sort of came into play. i haven't really said anything to him since. and the only other memory of some odd significance to me is related to rehearsal time for the winter play i mentioned in my previous post. a moment where he was up on stage playing piano, and i walked over, and just leaned over and laid my ear against the piano, and felt the vibrations and the music he played.
i think we always understood each other. but feelings get in the way of being able to really approach a person.
there is a side note to this whole thing because obviously you who read this must've paid enough attention to realize a certain fact.
I kissed one guy while i was dating another. yes, this is true. and i do not regret it.
yes, to me, that would be cheating, in a sense. i will not excuse myself due to my fragile state of mind or my lack of ability to properly reason at the time. because i know i do not regeret it. i did not really even regret it at the time.
also, i took the best action i could at the time. the same night, at home, i called my boyfriend and told him what happened. i have always believed that is important to be honest, especially with those who you really love and care about. i apologized. i knew it wasn't really fair for me to do that. and i told him that i wanted to stay with him and i wouldn't do it again. i know he must have been sad about it, but he accepted it. we stayed together. truthfully, despite the situation and my feeling for KM, i did not at all hope that my boyfriend would break up with me because of what happened. i was actually more determined to make things work.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
as it turns out, JCH, the aforementioned boyfriend, i am no longer with and have since realized never really treated me like he should have. whether he tried or not, he often times used my emotional instability against me while we were together. and still did on some occasions after we broke up. and much more recently, even convinced me that we should get together again, telling me how he had thought so much and realized we were so good together and he really wanted to be with me. and foolishly, i consented. i hesitated at first, but he eventually reeled me in. only a couple of weeks later, to disappear. here everything seemed to be going well with us again, and he vanished without so much as a word for why. completely stopped talking to me. i didn't know for sure what was h=even happening until he changed his freaking facebook status back to single. and i crumbled. and hurt. and knew it was kind of my fault for being naive, when really i should've known better.
i was not in a good place at the time. my "uncle" had recently passed away. i was alone. nobody i could really go to if i needed someone to spend time with. i was horribly depressed. i just wanted some sort of happiness with someone again.
that's why in my current relationship, i have been a lot more cautious. not so quick to trust. not so quick to agree. hesitant at the fact that for now it has to be long-distance. in fact, i wasn't really looking for anyone. a friend, maybe. someone to talk to, mostly.
without any expectations, ever, from either person, love began to bloom right under our noses and we caught on much later to the fact that it was happening and we didn't even realize it at first.
--------------------------------------------
i am happy. and fond of this story. there is a lot of learning and understanding i can draw from it. it is the one and only time i have truly been unfaithful in a relationship, despite what others may have heard, despite what others think they know.
my boyfriend now has already heard this story. has already been told everything i have mentioned here. we share these things with each other. i felt it was only right that he know i ever did anything of that sort, even that.
honesty is important in relationships. real honesty. brutal honesty. we have learned quickly that sometimes the truths we share hurt each other, but it doesn't take long for us to work through them and make each other feel really happy again. in the end, sharing things like that, things we have some sort of shame about, has helped us become closer and has helped us grow as a couple.
i will not lie. there have been times where both of us have raised our voice. never really to the point of yelling, but definitely enough to show hidden anger or hurt about something. but it doesn't really phase us. because we discuss the issues, work through them right away, and get stronger. every day.
<3
This story actually takes place before the previous one, when I was still dating JCH.
It takes place back during my junior of high school.
Honors English Book Project.
I was in a group working on a project for Honors English. The project required time spent after school.
One day, I stayed after to do my part to help with things we were working on for the project. Hours kind of flew by that day. And as the time dwindled down, later and later, the next thing I knew, only two of us were left there: me, and my friend, who I will refer to as KM.
Now, i want to give a bit of background on this whole thing.
Firstly, KM is someone I met during my sophomore year, my first year at the school. He was very charismatic, outgoing, talented, intelligent, and easily one of the most well known and popular people at school. Everyone liked him, from what I could tell.
And me, the new, shy, quiet girl with no friends saw him and he caught my attention. Like some bright shooting star I couldn't help but watch him from afar, in awe of what i was seeing.
We never, in all our time there, spent much time together. I always wanted to. I will not say I was obsessed or anything, no. It wasn't like that. But I was very, very interested in him. And only became more so as time went on and I got to know him more.
Secondly, on the particular day that this took place, I was pretty sure I wanted to break up with my boyfriend JCH because I was an emotional wreck, to say the least, and it didn't seem like things were going so well.
Anyway,
there I was. For the first time ever, it was just me and KM.
I remember, at some point, I had to ask to use his cellphone to call my mother so she would come pick me up, but I can't remember for sure if that happened before or after what I'm about to get into.
I was upset. Distraught. Clearly. And in the midst of someone who I really admired, really liked, really felt some sort of something for, I broke down a bit. Showed myself a little more. Let myself open. Took off the mask I wore almost constantly.
And KM, I knew, he was very caring. i could tell, somewhere beneath the sunny exterior, was something more. Something darker. Some form of his own distress, despite the fact that he seemed to have so much going for him.
We talked. He wanted to cheer me up. he didn't want me to be sad like that. And for whatever reason, I felt like it would be okay if I opened up to him. So i did. I told him how upset and I was and how I was thinking I should break up with my boyfriend and all these things. Maybe putting this kind of trust in him, in turn, opened something up in him, too.
he started to tell me things. he tried to tell me how wonderful a person i really was. how special i was. and... the one of the biggest surprises in my entire life, that he had always liked me. i mean LIKE-LIKED me.
i immediately fell into a state of shock. i blinked. didn't know what to say. how? why? i could not comprehend just then how someone who i figured never really noticed my existence half the time could possibly ever have....ever have been interested in me at all. logically, i reasoned, surely he had all kinds of girls after him. girls that weren't quiet, pathetic loners like me. SURELY.
yet, he meant it. obviously.
I was sitting on the couch in that room. he was standing, leaning in towards me, facing me.
The next thing that happened completely threw me off, but also threw away all the doubt in my mind that he meant what he said. he had this smile on his face, sort of a smirk, sort of sweet, i really don't know. hard to describe.
maybe this next part is predictable, from what i've said.
yes.
he leaned in closer and kissed me. gentle, but not completely. just enough passion.
i could've reacted two ways in this situation. either pull away, or return the gesture. considering how i felt, the state i was in, the feelings i had for him, i did not pull away. i embraced it. i kissed him back. and after he pulled back, he told me he had always wanted to do that. i was completely baffled.
and okay, so we ended up sitting on the floor making out a little. i liked it. he was a good kisser. really good. and sweet. and loving in a way. and for a moment i was able to step away from pain and stress and just be. and feel. and live. this only lasted maybe 5 minutes or so. i really don't know. and then he stopped. and told me i shouldn't break up with my boyfriend.
as if i wasn't shocked enough. since when does a guy admit he has liked you for a long time, decide to kiss you (and you kiss him back, making it obvious that the feelings are mutual) and then tell you that you should stay with the person you are currently with depsite the fact that things are not going so well?
i think, probably, had he instead said he wanted to be with me and wanted me to break up with my boyfriend, i would've done that. my feelings for him were too strong, and my relationship with my boyfriend at the time was so stressful.
but no. he told me to keep trying. i'm sure he knew he could've had me for himself, if he just said he wanted that. he had to have known that, the way i was acting. he made me promise him i would keep trying though. and all i could do was make that promise, despite a huge part of me really wanting to forget who i was with and be with KM.
there is another part to this. i don't remember, we must've talked about things with my past and sexual abuse that i had gone through because he sat there after that trying to help me. trying to teach me to speak up. trying to teach me to fight for myself. not let people just do whatever they wanted.
i was so shocked though, it was tough for me to do anything. we sat there facing each other. he would move in to touch my chest, wanting me to react, to stop him. at first, he put his hand there on me, not in any inapprpriate way, but enough to try to make a point. but all i could do was stare back at him.
he kept shaking his head and telling me no. telling me i can't just let that happen. he did the same thing over and over again, and soon enough i did what he said and kept him from doing it. granted, he never used any force or anything, the way it has been in real situations, but i don't think he was capable of making it seem any more real. i think he wanted to be as careful as he could about it, but still help me somehow.
(years later, when something happened that really tested me on how much i had taken away from that day, i failed. crumbled. too overhwelmed and distressed at the time to fight back like i should have.)
KM never really talked me to ever again about what happened that day. and i never said anything either. i was too afraid to ruin whatever friendship i did have by bringing it up because i wasn't sure if he really wanted to ever bring it up.
but it has always stuck with me. and i have often wondered since about what could've been. the only other thing since then was a phone conversation two or three years ago where the same feeling sort of came into play. i haven't really said anything to him since. and the only other memory of some odd significance to me is related to rehearsal time for the winter play i mentioned in my previous post. a moment where he was up on stage playing piano, and i walked over, and just leaned over and laid my ear against the piano, and felt the vibrations and the music he played.
i think we always understood each other. but feelings get in the way of being able to really approach a person.
there is a side note to this whole thing because obviously you who read this must've paid enough attention to realize a certain fact.
I kissed one guy while i was dating another. yes, this is true. and i do not regret it.
yes, to me, that would be cheating, in a sense. i will not excuse myself due to my fragile state of mind or my lack of ability to properly reason at the time. because i know i do not regeret it. i did not really even regret it at the time.
also, i took the best action i could at the time. the same night, at home, i called my boyfriend and told him what happened. i have always believed that is important to be honest, especially with those who you really love and care about. i apologized. i knew it wasn't really fair for me to do that. and i told him that i wanted to stay with him and i wouldn't do it again. i know he must have been sad about it, but he accepted it. we stayed together. truthfully, despite the situation and my feeling for KM, i did not at all hope that my boyfriend would break up with me because of what happened. i was actually more determined to make things work.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
as it turns out, JCH, the aforementioned boyfriend, i am no longer with and have since realized never really treated me like he should have. whether he tried or not, he often times used my emotional instability against me while we were together. and still did on some occasions after we broke up. and much more recently, even convinced me that we should get together again, telling me how he had thought so much and realized we were so good together and he really wanted to be with me. and foolishly, i consented. i hesitated at first, but he eventually reeled me in. only a couple of weeks later, to disappear. here everything seemed to be going well with us again, and he vanished without so much as a word for why. completely stopped talking to me. i didn't know for sure what was h=even happening until he changed his freaking facebook status back to single. and i crumbled. and hurt. and knew it was kind of my fault for being naive, when really i should've known better.
i was not in a good place at the time. my "uncle" had recently passed away. i was alone. nobody i could really go to if i needed someone to spend time with. i was horribly depressed. i just wanted some sort of happiness with someone again.
that's why in my current relationship, i have been a lot more cautious. not so quick to trust. not so quick to agree. hesitant at the fact that for now it has to be long-distance. in fact, i wasn't really looking for anyone. a friend, maybe. someone to talk to, mostly.
without any expectations, ever, from either person, love began to bloom right under our noses and we caught on much later to the fact that it was happening and we didn't even realize it at first.
--------------------------------------------
i am happy. and fond of this story. there is a lot of learning and understanding i can draw from it. it is the one and only time i have truly been unfaithful in a relationship, despite what others may have heard, despite what others think they know.
my boyfriend now has already heard this story. has already been told everything i have mentioned here. we share these things with each other. i felt it was only right that he know i ever did anything of that sort, even that.
honesty is important in relationships. real honesty. brutal honesty. we have learned quickly that sometimes the truths we share hurt each other, but it doesn't take long for us to work through them and make each other feel really happy again. in the end, sharing things like that, things we have some sort of shame about, has helped us become closer and has helped us grow as a couple.
i will not lie. there have been times where both of us have raised our voice. never really to the point of yelling, but definitely enough to show hidden anger or hurt about something. but it doesn't really phase us. because we discuss the issues, work through them right away, and get stronger. every day.
<3
Thursday, January 20, 2011
the smallest things that mean the most-1
there are quite a few of these, if i can sort them out in my head enough to share them.
tonight, i wanted to share my fondest memory of a guy i rarely talked to, a guy who got me and my sister confused once, but also a guy who i hugged almost every time i saw him.
in my purposes of not ever really naming names, for the most part, i am going to refer to this guy as JB. he was one of my friends, sort of, back in high school.
we never really hung out at all either. suffice it to say i thought he was entertaining, and funny, and cool, and even kinda cute. i do not recall ever having any classes with him, but somewhere, somehow, our paths crossed, most likely from us both being into theatre activities.
which brings me to my story.
it was opening night for the winter play in my senior year of high school. i was fairly calm initially upon arriving hours beforehand to get ready and go over any last minute preparations and/or practice.
bring in my most recent ex at the time, let's call him JCH (and hopefully you wont get too confused between the two people).
we had broken up only perhaps a little over a month prior to this night, mainly due to the fact that we never got to see each other(but mostly i didn't want to be with someone so manipulative and flaky).
he called me. after all, we still talked to each other. still on a speaking terms. i was not, as of yet, dating anyone new. i walked out back behind the dressing room area, outside into the dark night, to answer the phone, since i still had plenty of time.
for whatever reason, that of which i just can't remember even a little bit, he got mad at me and made me feel really bad about whatever it was.
here i was, trying to still be friends with him, and he was making me feel awful.
when i finally got off the phone with him, and then eventually stopped crying, i went back inside and just kinda sat there. on the edge of the sofa in there. feeling horribly, horribly depressed. knowing that not-too-long from that moment i would have to get out on that stage and perform, no matter what i felt at the time.
i wasn't crying anymore. but i must've been awfully quiet for quite a while.
in comes JB. he walks up to me. starts talking to me, with that sweet smile that always seemed to adorn him. at some point, we started talking about watching the stars. he asked me if i liked staying out and watching the stars. when i told him i did, at first i thought the conversation was over. it looked like he was going to walk away. i figured at the time he probably realized he had something better to do that to chat with me.
instead, he went across the room, grabbed a pillow, came back and grabbed my hand. he pulled me up off the sofa and led me out back. he proceeded to put the pillow down on the concrete and sat down, and told me to sit down with him. i did.
and well, eventually he laid back down, with his head on the pillow, so he could watch the stars.
i continued to sit there. i felt strange. i did not know, in this situation, what was appropriate or correct or whatever. he chuckled and told me to lie down and share the pillow with him. i did as i was told (i felt odd. the pillow was barely big enough for one person to use. our head were right against each other).
we lied there for what seemed like ages. just watching the stars together. no words needed.
and i felt.
i felt so peaceful.
it was so simple.
a simple moment with a friend.
but the wonders it worked on my emotional state that night. i do not know why, or how, but it really cheered me up. i felt so much better.
i went on and performed and everything was fine.
and i will never, ever forget that night.
<3
nothing changed between us after that. all i knew was that i had something special to appreciate about JB after that. something to make me smile.
tonight, i wanted to share my fondest memory of a guy i rarely talked to, a guy who got me and my sister confused once, but also a guy who i hugged almost every time i saw him.
in my purposes of not ever really naming names, for the most part, i am going to refer to this guy as JB. he was one of my friends, sort of, back in high school.
we never really hung out at all either. suffice it to say i thought he was entertaining, and funny, and cool, and even kinda cute. i do not recall ever having any classes with him, but somewhere, somehow, our paths crossed, most likely from us both being into theatre activities.
which brings me to my story.
it was opening night for the winter play in my senior year of high school. i was fairly calm initially upon arriving hours beforehand to get ready and go over any last minute preparations and/or practice.
bring in my most recent ex at the time, let's call him JCH (and hopefully you wont get too confused between the two people).
we had broken up only perhaps a little over a month prior to this night, mainly due to the fact that we never got to see each other(but mostly i didn't want to be with someone so manipulative and flaky).
he called me. after all, we still talked to each other. still on a speaking terms. i was not, as of yet, dating anyone new. i walked out back behind the dressing room area, outside into the dark night, to answer the phone, since i still had plenty of time.
for whatever reason, that of which i just can't remember even a little bit, he got mad at me and made me feel really bad about whatever it was.
here i was, trying to still be friends with him, and he was making me feel awful.
when i finally got off the phone with him, and then eventually stopped crying, i went back inside and just kinda sat there. on the edge of the sofa in there. feeling horribly, horribly depressed. knowing that not-too-long from that moment i would have to get out on that stage and perform, no matter what i felt at the time.
i wasn't crying anymore. but i must've been awfully quiet for quite a while.
in comes JB. he walks up to me. starts talking to me, with that sweet smile that always seemed to adorn him. at some point, we started talking about watching the stars. he asked me if i liked staying out and watching the stars. when i told him i did, at first i thought the conversation was over. it looked like he was going to walk away. i figured at the time he probably realized he had something better to do that to chat with me.
instead, he went across the room, grabbed a pillow, came back and grabbed my hand. he pulled me up off the sofa and led me out back. he proceeded to put the pillow down on the concrete and sat down, and told me to sit down with him. i did.
and well, eventually he laid back down, with his head on the pillow, so he could watch the stars.
i continued to sit there. i felt strange. i did not know, in this situation, what was appropriate or correct or whatever. he chuckled and told me to lie down and share the pillow with him. i did as i was told (i felt odd. the pillow was barely big enough for one person to use. our head were right against each other).
we lied there for what seemed like ages. just watching the stars together. no words needed.
and i felt.
i felt so peaceful.
it was so simple.
a simple moment with a friend.
but the wonders it worked on my emotional state that night. i do not know why, or how, but it really cheered me up. i felt so much better.
i went on and performed and everything was fine.
and i will never, ever forget that night.
<3
nothing changed between us after that. all i knew was that i had something special to appreciate about JB after that. something to make me smile.
existential
see the girl sitting alone on the park bench.
it is summer. humid, exhausting heat.
she is is sitting there, in long-sleeve turtleneck and skinny jeans, faded black converse and untidy black hair that surrounds her delciate face and only brings out further the shadows around her eyes.
she can't be older than seventeen.
she stares out, staright ahead, hollow eyes, blank expression. vacant stare.
no one is there.
you are tempted to go sit on the bench next to her. you want to say something. anything. tell her you're sorry that the world is so cruel. tell her how much you wish you could show her the beauty around her, the beauty within her. tell her you bet she has a pretty smile, and gorgeoues eyes when they aren't so hidden, and oh, how her hair flows so elegantly in the wind, how her fragile frame makes her lovely.
you are scared, though. afraid what you might find if you look into her eyes. afraid to see what ghosts look like. afraid to face your demons.
see, there is nobody here, but you and her.
and she, she is nothing but a figment, or
she is you.
and you are no one.
you never existed.
the earth fades beneath your feet and
you disappear.
it is summer. humid, exhausting heat.
she is is sitting there, in long-sleeve turtleneck and skinny jeans, faded black converse and untidy black hair that surrounds her delciate face and only brings out further the shadows around her eyes.
she can't be older than seventeen.
she stares out, staright ahead, hollow eyes, blank expression. vacant stare.
no one is there.
you are tempted to go sit on the bench next to her. you want to say something. anything. tell her you're sorry that the world is so cruel. tell her how much you wish you could show her the beauty around her, the beauty within her. tell her you bet she has a pretty smile, and gorgeoues eyes when they aren't so hidden, and oh, how her hair flows so elegantly in the wind, how her fragile frame makes her lovely.
you are scared, though. afraid what you might find if you look into her eyes. afraid to see what ghosts look like. afraid to face your demons.
see, there is nobody here, but you and her.
and she, she is nothing but a figment, or
she is you.
and you are no one.
you never existed.
the earth fades beneath your feet and
you disappear.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
the way we drag this around
i am waiting, early in the morning, restless, and longing to hear that sweetest of voices. here is the voice of the demon, the temptuous, treacherous sounds a bones grinding against each other, of steam from fires that hisses, of dark things.
somewhere in the dust, the dust that crowds the cobwebs below my bed, my soul has taken refuge, crying bitterly over the aching distance that separates her from her counterpart, weeping over lost dreams and broken hearts and too many things must be analyzed, and too many things must be changed, and too many things.
too many voices echo in reply. old, young, female or male, varied accents, different languages, complex or simples ways of speaking. it is too much to try and separate them from each other.
somewhere, a little girl is crying.
a man stands sternly against the wall, arms folding, muttering curses.
a woman whispers.
a teenager sings harmonies.
a child. a child that bleeds out and dies. alone. all alone.
back on the surface, i am contemplating the difference in texture between fictitious and living hearts. my eyes wander opaque darkness of ceiling and walls.
i do not want to stay here any longer.
somewhere in the dust, the dust that crowds the cobwebs below my bed, my soul has taken refuge, crying bitterly over the aching distance that separates her from her counterpart, weeping over lost dreams and broken hearts and too many things must be analyzed, and too many things must be changed, and too many things.
too many voices echo in reply. old, young, female or male, varied accents, different languages, complex or simples ways of speaking. it is too much to try and separate them from each other.
somewhere, a little girl is crying.
a man stands sternly against the wall, arms folding, muttering curses.
a woman whispers.
a teenager sings harmonies.
a child. a child that bleeds out and dies. alone. all alone.
back on the surface, i am contemplating the difference in texture between fictitious and living hearts. my eyes wander opaque darkness of ceiling and walls.
i do not want to stay here any longer.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
annual occurences
starting out with...yes, i'm pretty sure i have the flu right now. again. i have gotten it like...every january for the past 5 or 6 years. kind of like how i've been sick every christmas day for the past 5 or 6 years. oh fun.
it's fine though. i'm all jacked up on pseudophedrine HCl right now. gotta love drugs. plus i inted to use my neti pot at some point. i love that thing. once i got used to it, it actually is nice. i just need to make a habit of using it more often, like at least once a week.
yes, you may point out the fact that getting a flu shot would probably have been worthwhile to me, but hey. i don't know. my teacher said the same thing. but i mean, i do okay just dealing and taking my drugs and oh god i do not like vaccines. so yeah. and...ummm...i am mad about the latex allergy. it sucks. i am so thankful that most of the time i can find vinyl gloves.
yep. i have to avoid things made of latex, certain kinds of adhesive in things like bandaids and medical tape, and certain lubricants, and it can really suck sometimes but i find that i can manage everything alright.
i was just thinking about latex because some vaccine stuff part of the syringe might have latex in it, but i think i have to have direct contact for a significant period of time for it to be an issue. but i still don't like vaccines....last one i got was the freaking Gardasil that left whatever arm i got it in useless for the remainder of the day and hurt like a bitch.
anyways,
i am feeling relieved. i finally located my wallet yesterday. it found its way back behind the drawer in one of my dressers so i initially did not see it when i searched for it.
now i can commence my plans to go see an eye doctor and finally get new glasses (since everyone and their mom likes to point out to me the fact that my glasses are crooked--as if i had no idea they were).
i am happy, despite being sick. school is almost finished. getting a job shouldn't be too difficult. going to start studying for my permit test again. and though i am unhappy with the random crap my teacher keeps throwing at me with tests (further lowering ym grade in the class bleh) i am dealing with it.
it's whatever with me at this point. my main concern with that class is to get out of it what i need to pass the certification exam. so what if i end up with a B? lame, but not too big of a deal in the big scheme of things. i'll be fine.
though i shall try my hardest to do well on this next exam anyway. because i can.
i want to do well, even if i am constantly frustrated. my teacher decided to make the test twice as difficult as usual, without telling me it would be that way, because i'm the only one left in this class and i'm smart enough to handle the tougher questions. i am fine with it now, but a heads up would have been nice considering it changes what i study and just how much studying i need to cram in to do well.
otherwise, happiness.
things are going well on my end. also going well on my boyfriend's end.
life is good. i miss my family though. my cali family. i love them so much and it has been quite some time since i last saw any of them. plus, my sister and brother out in OK.
only because the closest decent family member i can really talk to around here is in MD. my uncle and his family are nice, but i have never been particularly close to any of them. can't really talk to them much, so yeah.
depending on how job stuff pans out, i may be staying in PA for quite a while. seeing as how, if i get that job at Walgreens, i want to keep it as long as possible, or at least until the job market gets way better than it is right now.
but happiness. stability, for the most part. without meds. i know that meds could be helpful, but at the same time, they always hold me back in certain ways and it is easier to not have to worry about how i will get them. i manage well enough on my own. it has taken a while to get to this point where i feel comfortable on my own, managing my emotions as they are, mental disorders/chemical imbalances, and what have you. i cope. i get by. i have my moments, but these days they haven't been as bad. or frequent.
having things to focus on, to dedicate myself to, really helps. having someone to pour ridiculous amounts of love onto helps even more.
especially because i have finally found someone who:
1. does not hold my issues against me
2. if completely willing to help me out as much as he can when i'm having trouble
3. handles himself and the situation very, very well when problems arise
4. is stable. (two unstable people does not a healthy relationship make).
we both have our faults, flaws, times of weakness, but are both so caring, understanding, respectful, responsible, etc. that it works out just fine.
and also: COMMUNICATION
finally.
finally i have found someone who is completely honest with me. i believe in brutal honesty. i do not want someone keeping how they really feel away from me just to spare my feelings. in the end, when people do that, i feel hurt because they did not trust me enough to tell me how they really feel about something.
every time an issue/argument/whatever comes up, we immediately discuss and resolve it. yes.
it is so refreshing to be with someone who is just as dedicated and keeping this relationship healthy and successful and full of love and understanding.
that's really all i ever wanted. all the cool things, like his awesome bass playing and poetry writing and nerdiness, are just bonuses i really appreciate and love, but in the end it comes down to the importance of communicating and respecting each other and being responsible about things and just plain loving each other no matter what.
that is how relationships and love should be. are supposed to be. this is how my current romantic relationship is. and i am thankful for that.
there are those of you who saw just how much bad, unhealthy, hurtful relationships affected me in the past. so i am hoping you see that this one is different. and i am much better off because of it. and very happy.
and i am glad that you ever cared in the past about my safety and happiness. i am glad people have watched out for me, even if i didn't always listen to them. i am glad you were there for me anyway. it means a lot.
all my love,
Heather
it's fine though. i'm all jacked up on pseudophedrine HCl right now. gotta love drugs. plus i inted to use my neti pot at some point. i love that thing. once i got used to it, it actually is nice. i just need to make a habit of using it more often, like at least once a week.
yes, you may point out the fact that getting a flu shot would probably have been worthwhile to me, but hey. i don't know. my teacher said the same thing. but i mean, i do okay just dealing and taking my drugs and oh god i do not like vaccines. so yeah. and...ummm...i am mad about the latex allergy. it sucks. i am so thankful that most of the time i can find vinyl gloves.
yep. i have to avoid things made of latex, certain kinds of adhesive in things like bandaids and medical tape, and certain lubricants, and it can really suck sometimes but i find that i can manage everything alright.
i was just thinking about latex because some vaccine stuff part of the syringe might have latex in it, but i think i have to have direct contact for a significant period of time for it to be an issue. but i still don't like vaccines....last one i got was the freaking Gardasil that left whatever arm i got it in useless for the remainder of the day and hurt like a bitch.
anyways,
i am feeling relieved. i finally located my wallet yesterday. it found its way back behind the drawer in one of my dressers so i initially did not see it when i searched for it.
now i can commence my plans to go see an eye doctor and finally get new glasses (since everyone and their mom likes to point out to me the fact that my glasses are crooked--as if i had no idea they were).
i am happy, despite being sick. school is almost finished. getting a job shouldn't be too difficult. going to start studying for my permit test again. and though i am unhappy with the random crap my teacher keeps throwing at me with tests (further lowering ym grade in the class bleh) i am dealing with it.
it's whatever with me at this point. my main concern with that class is to get out of it what i need to pass the certification exam. so what if i end up with a B? lame, but not too big of a deal in the big scheme of things. i'll be fine.
though i shall try my hardest to do well on this next exam anyway. because i can.
i want to do well, even if i am constantly frustrated. my teacher decided to make the test twice as difficult as usual, without telling me it would be that way, because i'm the only one left in this class and i'm smart enough to handle the tougher questions. i am fine with it now, but a heads up would have been nice considering it changes what i study and just how much studying i need to cram in to do well.
otherwise, happiness.
things are going well on my end. also going well on my boyfriend's end.
life is good. i miss my family though. my cali family. i love them so much and it has been quite some time since i last saw any of them. plus, my sister and brother out in OK.
only because the closest decent family member i can really talk to around here is in MD. my uncle and his family are nice, but i have never been particularly close to any of them. can't really talk to them much, so yeah.
depending on how job stuff pans out, i may be staying in PA for quite a while. seeing as how, if i get that job at Walgreens, i want to keep it as long as possible, or at least until the job market gets way better than it is right now.
but happiness. stability, for the most part. without meds. i know that meds could be helpful, but at the same time, they always hold me back in certain ways and it is easier to not have to worry about how i will get them. i manage well enough on my own. it has taken a while to get to this point where i feel comfortable on my own, managing my emotions as they are, mental disorders/chemical imbalances, and what have you. i cope. i get by. i have my moments, but these days they haven't been as bad. or frequent.
having things to focus on, to dedicate myself to, really helps. having someone to pour ridiculous amounts of love onto helps even more.
especially because i have finally found someone who:
1. does not hold my issues against me
2. if completely willing to help me out as much as he can when i'm having trouble
3. handles himself and the situation very, very well when problems arise
4. is stable. (two unstable people does not a healthy relationship make).
we both have our faults, flaws, times of weakness, but are both so caring, understanding, respectful, responsible, etc. that it works out just fine.
and also: COMMUNICATION
finally.
finally i have found someone who is completely honest with me. i believe in brutal honesty. i do not want someone keeping how they really feel away from me just to spare my feelings. in the end, when people do that, i feel hurt because they did not trust me enough to tell me how they really feel about something.
every time an issue/argument/whatever comes up, we immediately discuss and resolve it. yes.
it is so refreshing to be with someone who is just as dedicated and keeping this relationship healthy and successful and full of love and understanding.
that's really all i ever wanted. all the cool things, like his awesome bass playing and poetry writing and nerdiness, are just bonuses i really appreciate and love, but in the end it comes down to the importance of communicating and respecting each other and being responsible about things and just plain loving each other no matter what.
that is how relationships and love should be. are supposed to be. this is how my current romantic relationship is. and i am thankful for that.
there are those of you who saw just how much bad, unhealthy, hurtful relationships affected me in the past. so i am hoping you see that this one is different. and i am much better off because of it. and very happy.
and i am glad that you ever cared in the past about my safety and happiness. i am glad people have watched out for me, even if i didn't always listen to them. i am glad you were there for me anyway. it means a lot.
all my love,
Heather
Friday, January 14, 2011
stars inside us.
i found a fallen star
deep inside your heart
glowing desperately
against the growing dark
my fingers burned
as i reached into the flames
but i refused to cry out
as my skin felt the blaze
the colors were strange
and reflected in your eyes
so different from the stars
i've seen in the nightly skies
heat poured through my veins
and melted my frozen spirit
the time my heart screamed, it seemed
you were the only one to hear it
i soon became lost
in the beauty that i saw
took a chance on this star
though afraid i would fall
i swam into the fire
until i found the core
just a fraction as lovely
as it must've been before
i held it in my hands
blessed it with a gentle kiss
hoping in my wandering love to
take your pain and leave you in bliss
now your wounds are healing
and your star shines so bright
and my own star you've led
into a world of love and light
deep inside your heart
glowing desperately
against the growing dark
my fingers burned
as i reached into the flames
but i refused to cry out
as my skin felt the blaze
the colors were strange
and reflected in your eyes
so different from the stars
i've seen in the nightly skies
heat poured through my veins
and melted my frozen spirit
the time my heart screamed, it seemed
you were the only one to hear it
i soon became lost
in the beauty that i saw
took a chance on this star
though afraid i would fall
i swam into the fire
until i found the core
just a fraction as lovely
as it must've been before
i held it in my hands
blessed it with a gentle kiss
hoping in my wandering love to
take your pain and leave you in bliss
now your wounds are healing
and your star shines so bright
and my own star you've led
into a world of love and light
this is how it is
this post, it should've probably been made months ago.
i feel the need to point out that whatever i say is honest, as honest i can be.
but these are only my perceptions, my feelings, that i can describe. i cannot truly account for others here. this is me.
what i am telling you here is what i honestly believe to have occurred, how i saw it at the time, and how it made me feel.
it is a fact that facts can become skewed over time. Details change. I remember things as I remember them and chances are I may be off a little. Or at least, others may have a different side to the same story, with different facts.
However, this is me. I tell you, this is me. I am not you. i do not know what you saw. or heard. Or thought.
you can bring up stories of your own. we can discuss things. but for me, this is how it is.
the only promise i can make is that here i am as honest as i possibly can be. i am as accurate as i can be. i try to describe things as best i can, try to make sense as much as i can, without losing that sense of self and my own feelings.
this is how its.
i feel the need to point out that whatever i say is honest, as honest i can be.
but these are only my perceptions, my feelings, that i can describe. i cannot truly account for others here. this is me.
what i am telling you here is what i honestly believe to have occurred, how i saw it at the time, and how it made me feel.
it is a fact that facts can become skewed over time. Details change. I remember things as I remember them and chances are I may be off a little. Or at least, others may have a different side to the same story, with different facts.
However, this is me. I tell you, this is me. I am not you. i do not know what you saw. or heard. Or thought.
you can bring up stories of your own. we can discuss things. but for me, this is how it is.
the only promise i can make is that here i am as honest as i possibly can be. i am as accurate as i can be. i try to describe things as best i can, try to make sense as much as i can, without losing that sense of self and my own feelings.
this is how its.
bit and pieces-1
i do not know when most people would date the beginning of my path down the dark road of self-mutilation.
there are various points in the timeline.
the earliest instances i can account for date back to when i was only 8 years old. even before i started biting my nails.
i do not know who i have told and who i haven't. and who would think that a child at such an age would ever intentionally get into a routine of self-injury?
it is not the cutting. the cutting didn't start until my sophomore years of highschool, some 7 years later.
but i came to the realization, at least a few years ago, that what i used to do to myself at such an early age definitely falls into the category of self-injury.
Third grade:
We moved twice during that school year, bringing me to a total of 4 different homeroom teachers in one year(at the second school, they switched me to the advanced class after deciding i was too smart to be in the regular one).
It was not until the second time we moved that this started to occur.
I was both happy and unhappy. Unhappy because new school meant going to square one. I was the new kid. Had no friends. Too quiet. Easy target. Too smart. Too good. Little children do not like anyone who somehow might be better than them. oh, no they certainly do not.
Happy because I was finally free of him. Evil, evil man. Scary man. I used to hide from him when he was angry because if i didn't hide he might get me. Might hurt me. I never knew what he was capable of, how far he would go.
Finally we left him. Finally.
But I was scarred forever. How could my mother allow this person to be apart of our lives? Even for a moment? He was mean and scary and he hurt me. And my sister.
Suffuce it to say, I would never undo this time because.
Because of this time, there exists one of my favorite people in the entire world. I love her so much and would go through that again to have her in my life.
Back to the story, though.
I was scarred. I was alone. Friendless. Frightened. Quiet. Confused.
My teacher did not care that the other kids picked on me. In fact, there were at least two incidences where she only added to the hurt they created. She was a crazy old cat lady. 18 cats. Did not care that I was afraid or alone. No. yelled at kids for stomping on ants. did nothing when i got teased, publicly, right in front of her face.
Meanwhile, at home, even more pain. Physical hurt continued. Worse and more confusing and no way for me to hide and too afraid to say anything. At eight years old, how could I possibly understand what was occurring? What does it mean when the people who are supposed to love you, people you love, hurt you? I was eight. I had little understanding of what was wright and wrong in familial relationships. I had little understanding of boundaries.
So I started taking trips to the bathroom at school. And on these little trips, I found a way to mask the pain. By causing myself pain. How does this make sense? But something inside of me pushed me into it, and not even knowing what it meant, I obeyed.
This is what I did:
I would go to the sink in the bathroom. Turn on the water so hot that steam would rise. Thrust my hands under the stream of water. Hold them there, no matter how much it hurt, until my hands were swollen and bright pink.
I burned my hands. Repeatedly. In this way.
Nobody ever noticed. I do not remember if i ever tried to hide it. Maybe I did. Maybe i didn't. but nobody, as far as I could tell, ever saw this.
This went on for a long time. Continued on into middle school. Right up until the point where I started cutting actually.
or well, there are in-between stages. Things like sticking safety pins through my hands and tying ribbons so tightly around my wrists that i cut off the cicrculation to my hand for several minutes, let it lie there on my desk, all blue-grey and puffy looking.
these are things i know i did not hide. yet nobody ever mentioned them to me. for whatever reason.
my childhood is what it is. there are good things in there somewhere. but good things do not leave marks. and so, are much more easily forgotten.
to this day, i still bite my nails. nervous habit, at this point. feel like i always need to do something with my hands.
i may never really go into detail openly about what actually occurred between me and certain people. i may, in time, speak out about the fact of how very skewed by perception of love became because of it. but that is another story on its own. for another day, if i can ever find the words to describe how scrwed up that view was.
there are various points in the timeline.
the earliest instances i can account for date back to when i was only 8 years old. even before i started biting my nails.
i do not know who i have told and who i haven't. and who would think that a child at such an age would ever intentionally get into a routine of self-injury?
it is not the cutting. the cutting didn't start until my sophomore years of highschool, some 7 years later.
but i came to the realization, at least a few years ago, that what i used to do to myself at such an early age definitely falls into the category of self-injury.
Third grade:
We moved twice during that school year, bringing me to a total of 4 different homeroom teachers in one year(at the second school, they switched me to the advanced class after deciding i was too smart to be in the regular one).
It was not until the second time we moved that this started to occur.
I was both happy and unhappy. Unhappy because new school meant going to square one. I was the new kid. Had no friends. Too quiet. Easy target. Too smart. Too good. Little children do not like anyone who somehow might be better than them. oh, no they certainly do not.
Happy because I was finally free of him. Evil, evil man. Scary man. I used to hide from him when he was angry because if i didn't hide he might get me. Might hurt me. I never knew what he was capable of, how far he would go.
Finally we left him. Finally.
But I was scarred forever. How could my mother allow this person to be apart of our lives? Even for a moment? He was mean and scary and he hurt me. And my sister.
Suffuce it to say, I would never undo this time because.
Because of this time, there exists one of my favorite people in the entire world. I love her so much and would go through that again to have her in my life.
Back to the story, though.
I was scarred. I was alone. Friendless. Frightened. Quiet. Confused.
My teacher did not care that the other kids picked on me. In fact, there were at least two incidences where she only added to the hurt they created. She was a crazy old cat lady. 18 cats. Did not care that I was afraid or alone. No. yelled at kids for stomping on ants. did nothing when i got teased, publicly, right in front of her face.
Meanwhile, at home, even more pain. Physical hurt continued. Worse and more confusing and no way for me to hide and too afraid to say anything. At eight years old, how could I possibly understand what was occurring? What does it mean when the people who are supposed to love you, people you love, hurt you? I was eight. I had little understanding of what was wright and wrong in familial relationships. I had little understanding of boundaries.
So I started taking trips to the bathroom at school. And on these little trips, I found a way to mask the pain. By causing myself pain. How does this make sense? But something inside of me pushed me into it, and not even knowing what it meant, I obeyed.
This is what I did:
I would go to the sink in the bathroom. Turn on the water so hot that steam would rise. Thrust my hands under the stream of water. Hold them there, no matter how much it hurt, until my hands were swollen and bright pink.
I burned my hands. Repeatedly. In this way.
Nobody ever noticed. I do not remember if i ever tried to hide it. Maybe I did. Maybe i didn't. but nobody, as far as I could tell, ever saw this.
This went on for a long time. Continued on into middle school. Right up until the point where I started cutting actually.
or well, there are in-between stages. Things like sticking safety pins through my hands and tying ribbons so tightly around my wrists that i cut off the cicrculation to my hand for several minutes, let it lie there on my desk, all blue-grey and puffy looking.
these are things i know i did not hide. yet nobody ever mentioned them to me. for whatever reason.
my childhood is what it is. there are good things in there somewhere. but good things do not leave marks. and so, are much more easily forgotten.
to this day, i still bite my nails. nervous habit, at this point. feel like i always need to do something with my hands.
i may never really go into detail openly about what actually occurred between me and certain people. i may, in time, speak out about the fact of how very skewed by perception of love became because of it. but that is another story on its own. for another day, if i can ever find the words to describe how scrwed up that view was.
sometimes things just work out
sometimes you just have to be patient.
went to my appointment for OVR yesterday. no issues, for once.
straight to the point, i'm getting the money to go towards my school loans.
so yay!
less money i have to pay back.
i also can get help with other stuff apparently. it's exciting. i feel a lot better about some things now.
i have opportunites for help getting a job and also help to pay for driving lessons once i get my permit. awesomeness.
i think things should work out okay. i can't wait to get out of my father's house.
all my love,
Heather
went to my appointment for OVR yesterday. no issues, for once.
straight to the point, i'm getting the money to go towards my school loans.
so yay!
less money i have to pay back.
i also can get help with other stuff apparently. it's exciting. i feel a lot better about some things now.
i have opportunites for help getting a job and also help to pay for driving lessons once i get my permit. awesomeness.
i think things should work out okay. i can't wait to get out of my father's house.
all my love,
Heather
Thursday, January 13, 2011
o love, o sweetest love of mine
O, how my heart
doth leap for my love
O, how the sun
doth shine above
forgive my follies
forsake me not
retreat from sorrows
for joy you sought
O, how the stars
doth shine for us
O, how thy love
feel e'er wondrous
dream in whispers
feel the dawn
know the promise
of joy once gone
O, how today
doth gleam in my eyes
O, how my love
doth bring the sunrise
---------------------------
so...
life. i don't know. my love never ceases to amaze me, never ceases to bring even more to all of this. so much more. it only gets better. every day. i am amazed. this is so...amazing. words cannot truly describe how i feel. i never felt like this before. not like this.
this is so much greater. i do not know how to tell other people how i feel about him. i do not know how to explain what i feel, deep down. what i feel about all of this.
i am thinking.
i am thinking there is something greater out there than you and me. something greaters than the earth, the oceans, the sky, the stars.
i am thinking the most amazing things can happen when you least expect them to.
i am thinking the greatest things can appear in the places you least expect them to.
the most extraordinary people can be found in the most ordinary places.
i am glad i am an artist. glad i am a poet. glad that i am me. i am who i am. for otherwise, this certainly would not be.
and i am so thankful. forever and ever.
and i am so happy. and sometimes not as happy, but still quite happy.
and every time i am sad and alone and feel like sliding all i do is think of him and somehow am filled with so much strength that avoiding bad things seems so easy.
happy birthday love. you are so sweet.
i am going to go swim in the stars now and dream of the eyes that capture my heart every time. that is what i will do now.
all my love,
Heather
doth leap for my love
O, how the sun
doth shine above
forgive my follies
forsake me not
retreat from sorrows
for joy you sought
O, how the stars
doth shine for us
O, how thy love
feel e'er wondrous
dream in whispers
feel the dawn
know the promise
of joy once gone
O, how today
doth gleam in my eyes
O, how my love
doth bring the sunrise
---------------------------
so...
life. i don't know. my love never ceases to amaze me, never ceases to bring even more to all of this. so much more. it only gets better. every day. i am amazed. this is so...amazing. words cannot truly describe how i feel. i never felt like this before. not like this.
this is so much greater. i do not know how to tell other people how i feel about him. i do not know how to explain what i feel, deep down. what i feel about all of this.
i am thinking.
i am thinking there is something greater out there than you and me. something greaters than the earth, the oceans, the sky, the stars.
i am thinking the most amazing things can happen when you least expect them to.
i am thinking the greatest things can appear in the places you least expect them to.
the most extraordinary people can be found in the most ordinary places.
i am glad i am an artist. glad i am a poet. glad that i am me. i am who i am. for otherwise, this certainly would not be.
and i am so thankful. forever and ever.
and i am so happy. and sometimes not as happy, but still quite happy.
and every time i am sad and alone and feel like sliding all i do is think of him and somehow am filled with so much strength that avoiding bad things seems so easy.
happy birthday love. you are so sweet.
i am going to go swim in the stars now and dream of the eyes that capture my heart every time. that is what i will do now.
all my love,
Heather
who am i? and what is real?
i am me.
i think too much.
dreams and reality often melt together (i attribute this to my ever-failing vision).
when dreams and reality both look blurry, when both feel real, how do i really know the difference?
like, have you ever wondered if you're really awake when you're dreaming, and when you're dreaming is when you're really awake? how do we know for sure?
someone may point out that it can't make sense that way because of how much dreams vary? but i have often felt too much in my dreams to disregard them as simply "things my mind makes up."
if i asked someone in my dream to pinch me, i would feel it. this only adds to the confusion.
as of late i am confronted with at least a few particular spirits, spirits of negative energy, seemingly drawn to my fragile, innocent being. they torment. they watch me. they pick at me. they try to make me hurt.
last night was frightening. he was right over me, ugly teeth pressed uncomfortably close to my ear, whispering in some malicious and strange language, suffocating me.
but i took that light i now have in my heart, my love, and i used all the strength i could muster to break free of that darkness that choked me. what came out was not words at all, just sound, but it broke through the darkness and pushed that spirit away.
i was bombarded by nightmares last night in the aftermath, each time increasingly worse, more frightening.
they use fear to scare you. to hurt you. to make you feel bad things.
but i am fighting.
i am fighting because there is love in my heart and a light, a fire that cannot burn out so easily, the fire of a star inside of me.
i have love. i can beat them. i will not let them hurt me.
all my love,
Heather
i think too much.
dreams and reality often melt together (i attribute this to my ever-failing vision).
when dreams and reality both look blurry, when both feel real, how do i really know the difference?
like, have you ever wondered if you're really awake when you're dreaming, and when you're dreaming is when you're really awake? how do we know for sure?
someone may point out that it can't make sense that way because of how much dreams vary? but i have often felt too much in my dreams to disregard them as simply "things my mind makes up."
if i asked someone in my dream to pinch me, i would feel it. this only adds to the confusion.
as of late i am confronted with at least a few particular spirits, spirits of negative energy, seemingly drawn to my fragile, innocent being. they torment. they watch me. they pick at me. they try to make me hurt.
last night was frightening. he was right over me, ugly teeth pressed uncomfortably close to my ear, whispering in some malicious and strange language, suffocating me.
but i took that light i now have in my heart, my love, and i used all the strength i could muster to break free of that darkness that choked me. what came out was not words at all, just sound, but it broke through the darkness and pushed that spirit away.
i was bombarded by nightmares last night in the aftermath, each time increasingly worse, more frightening.
they use fear to scare you. to hurt you. to make you feel bad things.
but i am fighting.
i am fighting because there is love in my heart and a light, a fire that cannot burn out so easily, the fire of a star inside of me.
i have love. i can beat them. i will not let them hurt me.
all my love,
Heather
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
this rant is long overdue
I am tired of most times only having week-old bread to eat, cold showers that make my back hurt, and trying to sleep at night in a freezing room where my only source of heat is an old electric blanket (if and when it actually works at all).
I am irritated that my father is willing to spend a couple thousand(or more) on kitchen cabinets, yet complains about having to pay for things like bulk pre-packaged turkey and cans of spinach. Between the lack of decent food, sleep, and the growing mold problem, no wonder I feel sick all of the time. FML. I can't wait to get out of here.
I think I may be getting anemic again. I'm back to having orthostatic hypotension. I have very little energy. I more frequently am having bouts where I collapse and can't get up. My back spasms are worse. My stomach obviously hates me now. And there's nothing I can do about it.
I would try telling my father that i'm having trouble and ask him to help more, but every time I ask him for anything at all he holds it over my head.
I am really hoping that I get this job. I need to get out of this place as soon as i can, if nothing else than for my physical well-being.
I have come to severely dislike my father. He lies, he's hypocritical, he always thinks he's right, all he does is argue with me whenever my point of view differs (which is most of the time), he makes me feel guilty about anything he buys for me ( and complains if i use it up "too fast").
my father is one of those fake people. you know, the ones who tells different groups of people different things so that he appears as a good, seemingly respectable person to everyone out there.
it is unfortunate that as much as he complains that he never got to raise his children, and as much as he claims that he loves that i live with him now, that he consistently has failed to properly care for us.
i feel very fortunate to have a real father back in Cali, who I love so much, who actually genuinely cares about how i am doing, and at least tries to understand where I'm coming from, and tries to help me out where he can, without overstepping his boundaries and without making me feel shitty.
Yet, my father wonders why none of his children really like him anymore, if he even realizes that we really don't like him.
If I get this job, I will probably stay in PA, but I intend to cut myself off from him as much as possible.
I tried to tell myself, despite all the crap, that my father is my father and it wouldn't be fair to not invite him to my wedding, but...by this point, screw it all because he doesn't freaking deserve even that. Especially considering I can't trust him to try and make everything about him, like he always does.
I am looking forward to the day i get out of that house, the day I never have to look back. I'm done with all the bullshit that goes on there.
I promise I'll attempt to post something more positive tomorrow.
all my love,
Heather
I am irritated that my father is willing to spend a couple thousand(or more) on kitchen cabinets, yet complains about having to pay for things like bulk pre-packaged turkey and cans of spinach. Between the lack of decent food, sleep, and the growing mold problem, no wonder I feel sick all of the time. FML. I can't wait to get out of here.
I think I may be getting anemic again. I'm back to having orthostatic hypotension. I have very little energy. I more frequently am having bouts where I collapse and can't get up. My back spasms are worse. My stomach obviously hates me now. And there's nothing I can do about it.
I would try telling my father that i'm having trouble and ask him to help more, but every time I ask him for anything at all he holds it over my head.
I am really hoping that I get this job. I need to get out of this place as soon as i can, if nothing else than for my physical well-being.
I have come to severely dislike my father. He lies, he's hypocritical, he always thinks he's right, all he does is argue with me whenever my point of view differs (which is most of the time), he makes me feel guilty about anything he buys for me ( and complains if i use it up "too fast").
my father is one of those fake people. you know, the ones who tells different groups of people different things so that he appears as a good, seemingly respectable person to everyone out there.
it is unfortunate that as much as he complains that he never got to raise his children, and as much as he claims that he loves that i live with him now, that he consistently has failed to properly care for us.
i feel very fortunate to have a real father back in Cali, who I love so much, who actually genuinely cares about how i am doing, and at least tries to understand where I'm coming from, and tries to help me out where he can, without overstepping his boundaries and without making me feel shitty.
Yet, my father wonders why none of his children really like him anymore, if he even realizes that we really don't like him.
If I get this job, I will probably stay in PA, but I intend to cut myself off from him as much as possible.
I tried to tell myself, despite all the crap, that my father is my father and it wouldn't be fair to not invite him to my wedding, but...by this point, screw it all because he doesn't freaking deserve even that. Especially considering I can't trust him to try and make everything about him, like he always does.
I am looking forward to the day i get out of that house, the day I never have to look back. I'm done with all the bullshit that goes on there.
I promise I'll attempt to post something more positive tomorrow.
all my love,
Heather
Sunday, January 9, 2011
how my life surprised me (how i changed my mind)
taken from my deviantart journal-
three months and 2 days ago dates my last suicide attempt
two months and two days ago dates the day i intended to be my last day ever
that is, until a note from a stranger changed my mind
i was lower than i've ever been before. i had finally broken down, to the point where i was determined to no longer stick around. i had a plan on that day, november 7, 2010. i went to school as usual. i came home. i had decided that night would be my last. the next day i wouldn't wake up.
but when i got home from school, i figured i would take one last look at facebook, gaia, and this place: deviantart.
i came to the site. went to my messages. to my surprise, someone had sent me a note. it was a random note from a random stranger who randomly happened to come across my art while doing a search for something (so far he can't remember what he was searching for that day).
and the note read:
"You've got some great artwork and poetry! Hope you don't mind I added you on yahoo messenger! Was hoping to get to know you a little better! Anyways hope to speak with you soon, and keep up the awesome work! :)"
and something inside of me came to life, where nothing else remained. a spark, a sudden flame that ignited and filled me.
someone wanted to talk me. and something inside of me told me i should give this a chance. because somehow it seemed like maybe something big was about to happen. i wasn't sure what. maybe it would be as simple as someone who could somehow change my mind. had i found a new friend? had i found a new hope?
i grabbed hold of this small light and didn't let it go. i changed my mind, at least for that night. i figured a few more days couldn't really hurt.
it was not until the next day that we first held a conversation with each other, via yahoo instant messenger.
it started out as typical conversation, with typical questions, about where we were from and what we liked and etc.
but then it kept going.
and suddenly, i added someone new on facebook.
and we kept going. kept talking.
and the next thing i knew, i gave him my phone number. on any given day, this was a stupid decision. even though he gave me his first. why should i trust this person who i only ever heard of the day before?
finally, the conversation ended when i decided i needed to go for a walk. i needed a chance to think. i needed to fit this whole thing into the scheme of my life and process what it meant.
i wasn't really sure. on the surface, all i knew was, i found someone i felt like i could talk to, for whatever reason. someone, who in a way, seemingly understood me. without even knowing me all that well.
something clicked that day. something came to life. something began, without our knowledge. it was not until later on that our conscious minds/hearts finally caught on.
the next part is fairly ordinary. it goes like this:
we talked. yahoo messenger. texting. back and forth. every day. every day i got home from school, got online, and hoped he would be there.
finally one night, he asked if he could call me. i consented.
i do not really remember the contents of that conversation. i really only remember that he went somewhere to go get tea. and that i really enjoyed talking to him.
here was this guy, who i never met before, who kept making me smile and laugh every day. it was certainly something i wasn't used to. and i liked it. i craved it. it was simple and sweet.
later on came:
admitted feelings. first him. than me. yet inside, i still denied the whole truth. logic spoke. he lived too far away, hundreds of miles away, and i thought long distance things could never work, since they never did work for me in the past.
then came:
love. we stepped around the word for quite a while before finally owning up to it. before i finally admitted to myself that i was in love. since when did i get a new heart? without really noticing it? how could this be?
it hit me. it came out of nowhere. i realized that from day 1 the feelings were there. secretly. waiting for us to accept them.
now, on a side note, i don't really believe in fate. at least, i never really did before.
going back to the story, though, we finally said the "L" word. yes. it was a night i remember because, well, it was one of the last times i cut myself. there was one more time after that, later on, that threatened to ruin this whole entire thing. that is story for later, though, perhaps. some other time.
i was sick. i was lonely. i was breaking. i was in love.
and here was boy found a way to tell me but sticking it at the end of a poem he wrote.
my life turned around that day.
---------------------------------------
he is a boy from north carolina, slightest hint of a southern accent, carrying plenty of his own emotional baggage, just about as sensitive as i am, who was feeling pretty much the same i was before(that whole heartless feeling, minus wanted to actually commit suicide). yes, he is older than me (5.5 years). yes, i live up here in pennsylvania where mapquest claims the distance between us to be 330.87 miles. yes, we both live with our parents (or in my case, parent).
but he is one of the sweetest, kindest, most caring, most loving people you could ever hope to meet.
i am an artist who also dabbles in writing and loves to make up songs to sing. i fell in love with a poet who plays bass and actually makes me feel like i'm worth something. the whole thing feels like a fairytale and has this whole magical thing about it and simply works. it's weird because here i thought i would have to end up settling for less than everything i ever wanted and then one day its like he was a star who just fell from the sky and landed in my arms.
there are so many things that i wanted in an "ideal" love of my life. somehow, i got them all. and i'm not about to let him go.
this is right where i am supposed to be, is what it is.
i am very, very happy, and probably will be for a very, very long time.
all my love,
Heather
three months and 2 days ago dates my last suicide attempt
two months and two days ago dates the day i intended to be my last day ever
that is, until a note from a stranger changed my mind
i was lower than i've ever been before. i had finally broken down, to the point where i was determined to no longer stick around. i had a plan on that day, november 7, 2010. i went to school as usual. i came home. i had decided that night would be my last. the next day i wouldn't wake up.
but when i got home from school, i figured i would take one last look at facebook, gaia, and this place: deviantart.
i came to the site. went to my messages. to my surprise, someone had sent me a note. it was a random note from a random stranger who randomly happened to come across my art while doing a search for something (so far he can't remember what he was searching for that day).
and the note read:
"You've got some great artwork and poetry! Hope you don't mind I added you on yahoo messenger! Was hoping to get to know you a little better! Anyways hope to speak with you soon, and keep up the awesome work! :)"
and something inside of me came to life, where nothing else remained. a spark, a sudden flame that ignited and filled me.
someone wanted to talk me. and something inside of me told me i should give this a chance. because somehow it seemed like maybe something big was about to happen. i wasn't sure what. maybe it would be as simple as someone who could somehow change my mind. had i found a new friend? had i found a new hope?
i grabbed hold of this small light and didn't let it go. i changed my mind, at least for that night. i figured a few more days couldn't really hurt.
it was not until the next day that we first held a conversation with each other, via yahoo instant messenger.
it started out as typical conversation, with typical questions, about where we were from and what we liked and etc.
but then it kept going.
and suddenly, i added someone new on facebook.
and we kept going. kept talking.
and the next thing i knew, i gave him my phone number. on any given day, this was a stupid decision. even though he gave me his first. why should i trust this person who i only ever heard of the day before?
finally, the conversation ended when i decided i needed to go for a walk. i needed a chance to think. i needed to fit this whole thing into the scheme of my life and process what it meant.
i wasn't really sure. on the surface, all i knew was, i found someone i felt like i could talk to, for whatever reason. someone, who in a way, seemingly understood me. without even knowing me all that well.
something clicked that day. something came to life. something began, without our knowledge. it was not until later on that our conscious minds/hearts finally caught on.
the next part is fairly ordinary. it goes like this:
we talked. yahoo messenger. texting. back and forth. every day. every day i got home from school, got online, and hoped he would be there.
finally one night, he asked if he could call me. i consented.
i do not really remember the contents of that conversation. i really only remember that he went somewhere to go get tea. and that i really enjoyed talking to him.
here was this guy, who i never met before, who kept making me smile and laugh every day. it was certainly something i wasn't used to. and i liked it. i craved it. it was simple and sweet.
later on came:
admitted feelings. first him. than me. yet inside, i still denied the whole truth. logic spoke. he lived too far away, hundreds of miles away, and i thought long distance things could never work, since they never did work for me in the past.
then came:
love. we stepped around the word for quite a while before finally owning up to it. before i finally admitted to myself that i was in love. since when did i get a new heart? without really noticing it? how could this be?
it hit me. it came out of nowhere. i realized that from day 1 the feelings were there. secretly. waiting for us to accept them.
now, on a side note, i don't really believe in fate. at least, i never really did before.
going back to the story, though, we finally said the "L" word. yes. it was a night i remember because, well, it was one of the last times i cut myself. there was one more time after that, later on, that threatened to ruin this whole entire thing. that is story for later, though, perhaps. some other time.
i was sick. i was lonely. i was breaking. i was in love.
and here was boy found a way to tell me but sticking it at the end of a poem he wrote.
my life turned around that day.
---------------------------------------
he is a boy from north carolina, slightest hint of a southern accent, carrying plenty of his own emotional baggage, just about as sensitive as i am, who was feeling pretty much the same i was before(that whole heartless feeling, minus wanted to actually commit suicide). yes, he is older than me (5.5 years). yes, i live up here in pennsylvania where mapquest claims the distance between us to be 330.87 miles. yes, we both live with our parents (or in my case, parent).
but he is one of the sweetest, kindest, most caring, most loving people you could ever hope to meet.
i am an artist who also dabbles in writing and loves to make up songs to sing. i fell in love with a poet who plays bass and actually makes me feel like i'm worth something. the whole thing feels like a fairytale and has this whole magical thing about it and simply works. it's weird because here i thought i would have to end up settling for less than everything i ever wanted and then one day its like he was a star who just fell from the sky and landed in my arms.
there are so many things that i wanted in an "ideal" love of my life. somehow, i got them all. and i'm not about to let him go.
this is right where i am supposed to be, is what it is.
i am very, very happy, and probably will be for a very, very long time.
all my love,
Heather
Saturday, January 8, 2011
six words that burn into my soul
"You don't know how I feel."
because I do. and sometimes, I wish i didn't. because it means that I got really hurt. and it also means that you weren't really thinking about me, when you said that.
ow.
it stings.
like that time i tried to get the pizza out of the toaster oven and my finger touched the edge of the glass door and my finger burned and it stung so bad.
and i didn't care because you were there. and you made it all better. just like you always do.
love,
because I do. and sometimes, I wish i didn't. because it means that I got really hurt. and it also means that you weren't really thinking about me, when you said that.
ow.
it stings.
like that time i tried to get the pizza out of the toaster oven and my finger touched the edge of the glass door and my finger burned and it stung so bad.
and i didn't care because you were there. and you made it all better. just like you always do.
love,
the thing is
things get in the way.
things always get in the way.
sitting there, with the pharmacology teacher talking about vasodilators and all i can think about is: what am i going to do if things aren't taken care of? what if this is just, sigh, just like last time?
here is the thing:
life is a sequence of choices. bad choices. good choices. stupid mistakes. intelligent moments. making a plan. making a plan b. wondering if plan a could be attempted again. realizing that's stupid. thinking maybe it isn't so stupid. no, wait, it is.
moving on. plan d? because plan c was nothing but, well, nothing. i needed time to think.
when two people come together, it means choice, events, and all the emotional baggage of each person kind of being thrown into a pile, and we try to sort through it together.
the thing is:
we always immediately notice what needs to be fixed. things that seem out of place. things we wish we could just through a way because there are so many pieces....where do you even begin?
the thing is:
people lie. people make promises they can't keep. won't keep. people try, but trying isn't always good enough.
the thing is:
nothing can ever be perfect. not even close. shit happens, as they say. whoever they are. and it sucks. it always sucks.
i try to focus on the good things. which i am actually getting much better at.
i have my moments, though, just like anyone else.
the thing is:
i have no idea what i will feel like/what i will do, if my heart gets broken one more time.
the thing is:
i can't really say more.
i can say that in time, the issue should be resolved. key word being 'should.' just because something should happen, doesn't mean it actually will. we all know that.
the thing is:
yes, i am in love.
yes, i know people are going to judge me for it. judge me for how i met the person i love. how old he is. how far he lives from me. how long i've been with him (because of how i feel already).
yes, it will irk me, at least a little, if anyone, at all, doesn't approve,
but.
but i will not really let anyone sway me
but myself
but i will listen and consider
but that doesn't mean it will change anything.
the thing is:
i am me.
i feel what i feel.
you don't know what i really feel.
i try to show people in the best way i know how.
i know i will not always really succeed at making my feelings out in some way that anyone can comprehend.
know that i try my best. that i care. that i am holding onto logic. reason. common sense.
when it comes to this.
because in the past, i know i haven't exactly done that. it always led to me getting carried away with emotions. to the point where i came out very wounded, more hurt than i should've been. times when i should've said no. times when i shouldv'e said goodbye.
i am listening to myself.
my heart. my mind. my body.
my needs. my desires. my goals in life.
myself.
all my love,
Heather
things always get in the way.
sitting there, with the pharmacology teacher talking about vasodilators and all i can think about is: what am i going to do if things aren't taken care of? what if this is just, sigh, just like last time?
here is the thing:
life is a sequence of choices. bad choices. good choices. stupid mistakes. intelligent moments. making a plan. making a plan b. wondering if plan a could be attempted again. realizing that's stupid. thinking maybe it isn't so stupid. no, wait, it is.
moving on. plan d? because plan c was nothing but, well, nothing. i needed time to think.
when two people come together, it means choice, events, and all the emotional baggage of each person kind of being thrown into a pile, and we try to sort through it together.
the thing is:
we always immediately notice what needs to be fixed. things that seem out of place. things we wish we could just through a way because there are so many pieces....where do you even begin?
the thing is:
people lie. people make promises they can't keep. won't keep. people try, but trying isn't always good enough.
the thing is:
nothing can ever be perfect. not even close. shit happens, as they say. whoever they are. and it sucks. it always sucks.
i try to focus on the good things. which i am actually getting much better at.
i have my moments, though, just like anyone else.
the thing is:
i have no idea what i will feel like/what i will do, if my heart gets broken one more time.
the thing is:
i can't really say more.
i can say that in time, the issue should be resolved. key word being 'should.' just because something should happen, doesn't mean it actually will. we all know that.
the thing is:
yes, i am in love.
yes, i know people are going to judge me for it. judge me for how i met the person i love. how old he is. how far he lives from me. how long i've been with him (because of how i feel already).
yes, it will irk me, at least a little, if anyone, at all, doesn't approve,
but.
but i will not really let anyone sway me
but myself
but i will listen and consider
but that doesn't mean it will change anything.
the thing is:
i am me.
i feel what i feel.
you don't know what i really feel.
i try to show people in the best way i know how.
i know i will not always really succeed at making my feelings out in some way that anyone can comprehend.
know that i try my best. that i care. that i am holding onto logic. reason. common sense.
when it comes to this.
because in the past, i know i haven't exactly done that. it always led to me getting carried away with emotions. to the point where i came out very wounded, more hurt than i should've been. times when i should've said no. times when i shouldv'e said goodbye.
i am listening to myself.
my heart. my mind. my body.
my needs. my desires. my goals in life.
myself.
all my love,
Heather
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