I’m Not Alone, But I Am

I know that I am not the only person in the world who has gone through a traumatic experience. I get that. I truly do. But, I am the only me who has gone through one. When people say that they are there for you, I believe them I know that they are, but it’s not the same.

I have tried reaching out to support groups or people who have gone through something similar, but that’s also not the same.

What people fail to realize or simply what they fail to tell you is that, no matter how often someone says they will be there for you, it’s not the same as you being capable of being there for yourself.

If that makes sense.

Until, I can wrap my head around the fact that some days will just suck and I have to move forward regardless, it’s going to be hard for me to fully accept support from others.

This past weekend was the closest I have come to in a while when it came to self harming. For the most part, I have been able to distract myself or just not have triggers for a while now. I have just been that busy, which is good. However, this past weekend I felt as if something was wholly off and I wasn’t able to feel like myself.

Long story short, I made it through the weekend without a slip up and I am really proud of myself mainly because as much as I reached out to strangers it was truly to strength from within that kept me safe.

I tend to think the most about my incident when I am in my room on the weekends because for the most part I stay in my hotel bed all day. I also tend to think about what happened when I am at the gym because there was a point in time where I kept running into him. I also tend to think about him whenever I meet someone new that even remotely resembles him. I tend to think about it whenever I hear the words sex, or rape, or backdoor, or virginity, etc. Or even whenever I am out for drinks with friends I tend to think about it. I also think about it at work whenever I am going to the bathroom because I feel as if I am going to be attacked in the stall. I think about him/it whenever I am walking down the staircase. I think about him/it when I am listening to my audio-books or when I am watching TV.

Moral of the story: I think about that night a lot. More than I would like to admit. More than I can admit, because it hurts too much.

What they fail to tell you is that there is never NOT going to be a time when I don’t think about it. And even now when I do I still get that pang in my stomach of just hurt and realization that this truly happened and I wasn’t able to stop it.

See here’s the thing. I know that my friends will always listen to me if I have an issue or a problem, especially when it comes to this, but the problem is they haven’t experienced it. I pray to God they never will.. But, because of that, they don’t get the leaps that my mind takes whenever I am triggered. And let’s be honest, it’s not big triggers, it could be small, but I don’t know how to let them in.

I don’t know how to tell them that even though I may seem fine and I am fine…. enough, that I can still feel not 100%.

I know that I am not alone, but it does feel that way a lot of the time.

Alex

Fear vs. Fantasy

I have a problem

It’s a pretty big one, considering the ramifications. I know I’ve probably said this before, but I think that for the longest time I have always wanted something bad to happen. Not really, but really. I think I just kept fantasizing it. A LOT. Perhaps, too much.

I kept thinking the worst possible thing. Always. And a part of me, albeit a small part wanted it to come true. Like an accident or a something. I don’t think I wanted the bad thing to necessarily happen. I think I just wanted to see how I would react to the bad thing itself, if that makes sense?

I wanted to get sick to see how strong I would be as a result.

I wanted to be put in bad situations to see if I could find my way out of them.

I wanted bad things to happen so I could be my own savior.

But now that some have come true and I wasn’t strong enough. I want a do over to prove that I still can rescue myself.

Changes

I feel like I am being changed by the people in my environment and I don’t know if I like it. I don’t know if it’s a positive change. I just know that it’s not me.

For example, I just recently bought a straight wig, one because I have always wanted it and two the opportunity presented itself when I was in the wig shop with my co-worker. Don’t get me wrong, the hair looks amazing, and I look amazing and I feel good wearing it (sometimes). But, the reactions that I received from it just made me feel like my natural hair and my natural self isn’t enough. I love my hair in an afro, and yeah at times I could style it a bit more but I love big, curly, and unruly hair. But now I feel like I should wear my hair differently because others like it better. Because it makes me better?

Example #2. We get car rentals for this project and usually I don’t care what car I get as long as it’s a car, right? However, my co-workers are bougie people and they feel that they need to have the best of the best wherever they go. So currently two of them are driving Range Rovers, mainly because they’ve been renting cars longer than me and they have the upgrade privileges, but also because they’re bougie. However one of my other coworkers is driving a regular car and I feel like I should have just listened to her when she said to get whatever car I wanted. When the time came for me to pick up my car yesterday they asked if I wanted a Nissan Maxima or if I wanted a Chrysler 300 (which was the first car I had, that my bougie coworkers swooned over) and I chose the Chrysler because I wanted to impress my co-workers. I’ve regretted that decision since I’ve driven off the lot, because I should have picked the other car, not only to try something new but because it’s still a nice car regardless of name. And it would have been my choice to get it. I know it sounds like a stupid thing to complain about or take issue with, but the problem is that I feel like I’m not doing things for me but for others. And I don’t like it.

I don’t want to be anyone other than who I am. And if I do change I want it to be because I am growing up, not because I am conforming or changing to who other people expect me to become.

I’ve always maintained that I didn’t care what other people thought of me (for the most part), but now I feel like I am constantly on display and being judged by everyone around me and I just need to do whatever I can to measure up to them.

I don’t like it, at all.

I Slipped

On Friday night. I was home. Alone. I watched Sharp objects.

I drank Deep Eddy’s Lemon vodka.

I broke a glass.

& then I used it to cut myself.

I had no reason to do it. It was honestly just the perfect storm, because I’ve been really wanting to break a glass and see what it would feel like to do so and to potentially use it. But, I didn’t feel anything. I saw the blood, but I didn’t feel the pain. It just felt like it was something to do.

It was also the first time I cut anywhere other than my wrist. But, I wanted the lines to be longer, so I cut the length of my thigh.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. And I’m afraid to tell me friend that I failed, because I don’t want to let them down.

Continue reading “I Slipped”

Childlike

I feel like a child.

I feel like the person who hasn’t grown up.

I feel like a failure.

I feel like a nothing.

I feel nothing.

I feel like I am not who I want to be.

I feel like I am not who I am supposed to be.

I feel like I am not who I want/ed to be.

I feel like…

I don’t know.

I just don’t feel like me.

Grow the fuck up Alex.

Be better than this.

Be better.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Is there anything even wrong with me?

Why can’t I get passed this?

Why am I like this?

Why can’t I be normal?

What is happening to me?

Why is this happening to me?

Fuck.

Birthdays & Reflections

Yesterday was my birthday. I am now officially 27 years of age.

Alright , enough with the formalities. This calendar past year has been without a doubt one of the greatest years I have had ever. My past birthday year started off with a rocky start since my family was in a car accident about a week before my birthday and my mom broke her back and my sister torn her Achilles tendon and developed a blood clot shortly after. But since then, my other sister got married. My brother has a fiance and a daughter. And I received my first training role. Oh and I’ve been to seven countries. And I have about $2300 left of personal credit card debt.

Like I said, this past year was amazing. It has been a whirlwind of emotions and a series of ups and down, mainly up and I am so lucky, well blessed to have been afforded all of the opportunities that I have over the past year.

With that being said, about a month ago after losing my last position, I slowly entered into a depression. I guess that’s what it’s called when the things that usually bring you joy, no longer do. I would say that I was in my funk for about three weeks with the last week being the most difficult. I finally truly snapped out of it on Saturday when I took a trip to visit my friend in Michigan.

But, before then I wasn’t happy and I honestly wasn’t see a way out of it. I was miserable and I didn’t know why. And then I got mad at myself for being so miserable because I have so many things that other people do not.

I figured that I was being ungrateful or that I was being selfish because things weren’t going my way. But, the truth is/was I was physically or mentally, whatever the case may be, unable to be “happy”. I wasn’t able to snap out of it like I usually did. Even my aunt noticed that there was something wrong with me. That was the first time EVER that I couldn’t mask how I was feeling enough to make it through even the simplest of interactions.

I started this post a week ago. My birthday was November 6th. In that past week, I started to feel significantly better. Things were/are starting to look up and I started to feel like myself again. Slowly, but surely. But then Wednesday hit and something stopped. I stopped getting better. I stopped seeing the good. I stopped being patient with myself, I stopped talking to my friends. I just stopped.

I think it’s all related to job stress. I am waiting to hear back from a position that I really want and the wait is what’s killing me, because I feel like I have to wait even longer because they are on the west coast and are up three hours after me. There also the stress that I was supposed to have worked two days this week with a family I babysit for but the dad canceled on me. That wouldn’t have been that big of an issue, but I turned down ANOTHER family because of this family and he cancels. Finally, I think it just all came crashing down on me because this week I had to borrow from my savings again. Not just my regular savings, but the savings that you hide away and forget is there savings. It’s been two months since my last paycheck and I am getting worried. Again.

I thought my life would be different by now. I thought that I would in a relationship, have a great career, own my own home. You know the normal things that people aspire to have in their late twenties. And don’t get me wrong on the outside looking in, I seem to have it all. I get to travel, for free, I only work half of the year, I have little to no debt, I’m healthy. What more could person ask for, right?

Genuine happiness on a daily basis for starters. 

Choices

I’ve recently come to the conclusion that the reason why it’s affected me so much wasn’t the act itself, but the fact that my choice was taken away.

I know you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Well of course, I could have told you that from the beginning.” but no. You couldn’t have. Because you weren’t there. And you didn’t know the whole story.

It took another physical, not sexual, encounter for me to realize that indeed I wasn’t hurt by him sexually (well I was, but I wasn’t). I was hurt by the fact that things progressed too far too fast and I wasn’t in control of anything. It was all about him and his needs and not once did he realize that I was terrified. Not once did he ask if I was okay. Not once.

Yes, I made the choice to go back to his room, but he made the choice to not listen to me when I spoke.

I was afraid to admit that before the incident I enjoyed our foreplay because maybe that would mean that I wanted it, I didn’t. Let me be very clear, I did not. He was a great kisser and he was hot, and we had fun, but everything that happened after, I did not want. I’ve come to terms with being okay with the first incident, maybe, not really.

But, the sex. No. I did not want. I wasn’t ready and he knew that. He took advantage of me and he took the choice away from me.

He raped me of my choice.

Questions That Need Answers

Please bear with me as I work through some thoughts and emotions that are weighing me down.

I think I have developed a fear for dating.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

I want to just rip the band-aid off and meet someone in person.

But I am afraid that they are going to hurt me.

In fact, for the most part. I am now afraid that any guy I meet is going to hurt me.

That feeling comes and goes, but when it’s intense it’s intense.

And I simply cannot stand it.

Currently, it’s intense.

I wonder what life would be like right now, if this didn’t happen to me.

I feel like I was robbed of so much.

I feel like I can’t enjoy my down moments fully because I am constantly thinking about what ifs.

Who would I be if this didn’t happen?

Would I still be the same me I am today?

Who’s to say that for sure?

I was doing so well and that was all taken away from me. He stole my joy, he stole my fitness, and he stole the biggest part of me.

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about what happened.

There also isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t ruminate over the different effects that that one night had on my life.

So many other days have been ruined as a result of that one night.

How do I tell my friends that I’m not always okay and I don’t know if I fully ever will be?

Alex.