Refugee Dance Hall

IMPORTANT

2012-01-26T12:17:00.000-08:00

Something I truly believe everyone at the age of puberty and older NEEDS to read.
Sincerely,
Phoenix Fly Right The Dream Catcher

Medicine Woman

2011-12-25T23:04:00.001-08:00

It occurred to me tonight, as I lay on the couch beside my husband, watching Avatar of all movies, that my personal tastes, emotions, and favorites are not as bizarre as I sometimes think of them.
My fascination with Reiki, my interest in yoga, my knowledge of and firmness in belief of natural supplements and treatments rather than this modern day dependence upon body-and-soul weakening psychotropic pills, is simply unusual in this day. The general public's resistance to nature, instinct and faith is not a fault within me. It is simply an obstacle for me to overcome.
I once, particularly as I began my military career, thought of myself as a medicine woman. Now, I realize why. I have the gifts, talents and insights to heal, even if it is in a rather non-traditional sense. I can't cure AIDS, cancer or the flu, but I trust my instincts and my body enough to know what the right thing to say is, and what someone else is looking for from me.
If only I chose to develop these instincts and not run from them, I may get the opportunity to do some real good in this world.
Maybe I will.

Promise

2011-12-01T22:01:00.000-08:00

Tonight, Mr Nice Guy took me up to a beautiful spot on the side of a mountain, overlooking an unusually foggy (but still lit up and beautiful) view of my hometown, and asked me to marry him.
If you hadn't guessed, I said yes.
It's still sinking in, I know, but I'm so in love with him.
Things are hard with this treatment stuff, and, today in particular, I've felt like I was going backwards instead of forwards. I felt anger, anxiety, fear, frustration and confusion all at once. I don't know what will happen to me. I don't know if I'll get a whole lot better than this. All I know is that, either way, there is someone in this world who has said he wants me to be his family, wife and the mother of his children. After having such an incredibly difficult time with my own (biological) family, the realization that someone CHOSE ME for their family, for their legitimate, legal, nobody-can-question-this FAMILY, is incredibly powerful.
I'm scared and worried, but I know that this man is the one I was supposed to find.
I love Danger.
I will ALWAYS love Danger.
I will always have some regrets where he is concerned- and, honestly, there is nothing else in the world I have true regrets over.
I have come to understand, though, over these past few days, that, as much as I have always loved Danger, as much as he was my absolute ideal, he was not the person I was supposed to wind up with. Danger was a very, very good man. I love the lessons he taught me. The place he was at, the ability he had to accept everything.... It was something that I couldn't handle. Things that he accepted were often things I could not. I see now that these were reasons I didn't open up to this man the way I've opened up to Mr Nice Guy. It just wasn't who Danger was to take things too seriously or stress about them. He wasn't hyper-sensitive and didn't over-think things like I do. That made me feel inadequate. HE never made me feel inadequate, he loved me. I didn't even understand that's what I was feeling at that point. I couldn't get myself to trust him because I honestly believed he was too good to be true, and that I couldn't be good enough or strong enough for someone like that. I felt TOO MUCH to belong to someone so tough.
I'm sure he would have disagreed, had I had the insight to be able to explain this all to him before his death. I didn't, though, and, no matter how much I love him, I don't know that him understanding that would have healed the wounds that caused those feelings to begin with. I will always love Danger, and I miss him madly, but he's happy that I'm happy. I know this in my heart. I truly believe he helped lead me to find this man, and I'm still more grateful to him for his presence in my life after the end of his own. I am lucky to have experienced a man like him. I am lucky to be able to look up to the sky and know someone like that loved me- and still does.
Rest In Peace, Babe. Your girl is safe. I love you.

The Regulars

2011-11-24T23:00:00.001-08:00

The last few weeks, aside from the drama, have been like a bad rerun of a poorly-written sitcom on loop. I get hungry less than usual, find myself appalled by food choices that used to be more than adequate for my usually-not-picky taste buds, and, when I finally do find food I can stomach, eating half my normal portion is nothing short of an accomplishment. Sleep is difficult to find at night, but my tired self drags through the following day at half-speed, assuming I managed to get sleep at all. Now, this ridiculous numbness is nagging at me- no true interest, pleasure or joy at anything. Sex drive is in the negative, and everyone is either irritating or merely peripheral- EVERYONE. And it's all at once, not little bits or types of people. Either I'm numb or irate, hungry or tired, but never seeming to be able to capture any level of satisfaction. Going to (hopefully) get hair & eyebrows done tomorrow, hoping that a reminder of gender might wake up anything even mildly happy inside me.

Family?

2011-11-17T16:19:00.000-08:00

I must be sounding like a broken record lately- a very self-depreciating, depressed, angry record.
What is with that?
I finally poured everything out to my father that I've been so upset about, particularly his guilt-tripping. His response was to ask me if it would help me if he moved away.... *sigh* I don't want to lose any more family, but, seriously, I'm not ready to be the mother of a 58 year old man. I just want him to stop feeling sorry for himself all the time and take some action.
Of all the madness and pain yesterday, one of the (positive) highlights was being able to talk to Mr Nice Guy a little more in depth about the idea of marriage... We've talked about it before, of course, but we both really are sure that marriage is what we want. I'm not going to pretend our relationship is perfect- there's no such thing- but the struggles we have are ones we can manage. We both are very goal-oriented and, unfortunately, neither of us feels right putting ourselves first. Work, family, errands, bills, everything- we've been putting everything before ourselves and our relationship lately. We get so caught up in completing the million and sixty three things we have on our to-do lists that we don't really spend any fun time together. We don't go out- and now, with my anxiety getting so bad, it seems unlikely we'll be doing a lot of that for a while- and we have only hung out with one other couple (once) here in town in the five months (as of Thanksgiving) that we've been together.
We both see this, and we are both actively trying to change those habits. He has asked a few questions about engagement rings and proposals, though refuses to discuss specifics with me. I'm sure it's a bit premature, but I've started looking at ideas and quasi-planning our wedding.... Silly, right? I couldn't be more grateful to have found this man, and am very proud of my relationship, and, well, it might be silly, but this makes me happy.

My Final Email

2011-11-16T21:15:00.000-08:00

The BS about the house is done- my boyfriend is taking a squad of guys over to put everything we own in garbage bags and into a storage facility until we can sort through it all. The roommate announced today he will be changing the locks Saturday, despite the fact we paid rent this month. He says that rent was for last month.... Don't even get me started on that.
My father informed me the other night that I hurt the feelings of the man that made me feel unsafe in my own "home"- the man who yelled and threatened me in a drunken rage hardly over a week ago. I spent three hours drowning in an anxiety attack that night.
....but I hurt his feelings?!
Apparently, my email in response to his "I'm sorry, but YOU..." "apology" was hurtful and unnecessary.
My father took the side of this man... and stood by watching all of this....
He tells me he's only being nice to keep himself in a place to live, but I gave him leads to other places more than six months ago, and originally found this place for him over a YEAR ago... He tells me he hates living there because of this guy, but sides with him against his daughter- the one who sent him $500 a month for the majority of my two year tour in Korea.....
How am I supposed to handle this?
I've already lost my mother, and I've tried to ignore and/or brush off the "I'm so broke" guilt trips from the man who clears at least what I do every month, and now this.... I really thought I'd been a good daughter. He said I had. If I didn't do anything wrong, though, if I was a good daughter, why am I constantly being guilted about money I can't afford to give him? And why would he take the side of this man against me? I can't do anything else to help him, especially now. I am going to outpatient therapy every weekday. I am so broken emotionally it's incredible... How am I expected to find this man yet another place to live, help him with his bills and his depression right now?
I am so grateful for Mr Nice Guy in all of this... He tries to get me to get past the guilt, but I still haven't been able to, not about anything that's happened. He's been my protector, lover and best friend through all of this. He is the man I've waited for my entire life, and I intend to marry him... I just don't know if I'll have any family left speaking to me by the time I do.

In any case, I said all that to post this, the horrific email (possible triggers/PTSD):
I'm not going to argue point by point so you can just argue some more. All I'm going to say is that I should NEVER EVER feel threatened or unsafe in my own house, and I REFUSE to pay rent to someone who made me feel that way. I spent three hours having an anxiety attack because you decided to come home drunk and angry and threaten to throw me, my boyfriend and my dog out of the house- AGAIN! I forgave you the last two times, Craig. I've forgiven you too much. I don't pretend to understand what you have against me or women or whoever the F you're so angry at, but I have survived two rapes, six years of abuse at the hands of my own mother and three abusive relationships. I am in outpatient therapy at the behavioral health clinic because of the PTSD I fight every single day because of loud, aggressive, abusive people and if there's anything I have learned from the abuse I've taken in the past, it's that I do not have to stay in a situation where I feel threatened. You can't make your actions go away with a half-assed apology that BLAMES ME for YOUR BEHAVIOR. I'm sure you don't want my advice by this point, but I highly recommend you get sober and seek therapy for whatever you've been through that makes you feel like you can treat other human beings- especially women- this way. I wish I'd understood what struck me so wrong about you when I refused your advances so many months ago, because I never would have moved in. Matt and I will be out before the end of the month, and Sugar will be away from you much sooner.

Buried Alive

2011-11-08T17:35:00.000-08:00

I've been writing more specifically about my PTSD and recovery over here at Phoenix Fly Right for those who are interested. I'm hoping that blog might be able to help other folks going through similar situations.
Today was my second full day in outpatient therapy... And it's scary and painful and uncomfortable and sometimes so horrible and frightening I want to leave. It's not like I pour my soul out in front of all these people- we all actually don't talk about our individual stuff as much as you might expect- but it's like every emotion is starting to slowly ooze out, but this time I am looking at that wound under a microscope, as I watch all this stuff that's supposed to be inside me come seeping out. I have to face every little detail of every last bit. It's so scary.
Today, we moved rooms several times, and it made me so uncomfortable and so anxious... This place doesn't feel like home or even like I'm any safer than usual, really. It just feels like exactly what it is: this place where I go every day, that's not quite as miserable or cold as work, but it's not quite a place where I want to pour out my soul to all these strangers around me, either. I haven't mentioned rape once in the three days- well, two and a half- that I've been there. I'm scared to tell these military boys that I've survived two rapes. Rape in the Army is a word women use to get someone in trouble. That's the prevailing attitude towards it. I don't know how to talk to these people about what I think about or feel. It's so hard for me to even give them basic parts of my day to day experience. I try so hard, though. I just want to get better. I want to not feel guilty anymore- not about the rapes, about my miscarriage, about Danger dying, about all of these things piled up inside me.
How do you just let that kind of stuff go?
I found out today that the tubal ligation (read: surgery to get my tubes tied) that I underwent at eighteen years old due to some heavy influencing on my mother's part could very likely be reversible, and without any far-reaching crazy experimental surgeries even. I talked to the nurse at the clinic today, and she was very upset when I told her how hard a time I'd gotten when I saw a military doctor about it. He'd wanted me to undergo all these extensive tests and, even if he liked the results of those, he wouldn't even do an exploratory surgery without the records of the surgery. The hospital told me they don't have the records anymore. I gave up. I didn't have the energy to try to get another referral to see another military doctor, especially believing that this was standard. The nurse told me today that he was very wrong for this, and that all they need is 8 mm of undamaged tube to reconnect it. When I mentioned this all to my dad, he said something I didn't know: he had seen pictures of it all post-op, and the surgeon left as much as possible intact for this very reason. He said there was far more than enough for them to reconnect it.
So, I am going to follow the nurse's advice and try to get a referral to a non-military OB-GYN and proceed to get the exploratory surgery and, with any luck, a full reversal of my ligation done. There is hope that the last shred of physical evidence of my mother's abuse might be healed, finally. I might be able to have a child without in vitro fertilization or other fertility treatments... I might be able to have my own baby, without a petri dish being involved in the process....
It really feels like a miracle.
Mr Nice Guy is thrilled at this prospect, and actually quite angry at the doctor who blew me off. We've talked about children- him more than you might assume- and it's very exciting to both of us to have this chance. I might have a real family, the way most people do... It might not be impossible...

Ella Phant

2011-11-02T08:35:00.000-07:00

I woke up with an elephant sized ball of anxiety in my chest.
I'm such a mess today, and it keeps getting worse.
It's not even ten yet and I've already cried twice.
This isn't who I want to be, or where I want to be.

I nearly ran someone over last night, when I went to pick Mr Nice Guy up from work. I was driving down a road that wasn't blocked off, but was full of runners. I slowed down to a crawl (10 mph in a 25 or 30 zone) and I had my driver's side window open, like I usually do. Some guy in Pt's ran up to my window, close enough his head was nearly in my window, and screamed at me to slow the H down... It startled and scared me so badly, the one hand I had on the wheel nearly jerked in his direction. I haven't completely come down from that since. Mr Nice Guy bought me Chinese food and spoiled me rotten last night, putting up with me watching my favorite show for several hours, and not complaining in the least. It felt good, but I didn't like that he keeps having to take care of me. This morning, I pushed him away when he tried to get too close- my anxiety just keeps going up, and I pushed him away because I'm so scared and so on edge today. I'm a wreck. It makes it so much worse that I really feel like I've hurt him, that I'm not taking care of him and that my entire relationship with him has been put on his shoulders. I'm falling apart at the seams today, and can't seem to get it together. I don't want this mess to be me. I look like I've aged a decade in the last six months.
I'll be twenty six in January. I already feel like I'm in my forties, I'm just so tired.

Bad Habits and Heartbreak

2011-10-31T11:25:00.000-07:00

It's become shockingly, vividly clear to me as of late that Mr Nice Guy is, in reality, the first person I've ever truly been in love with.
I have always looked at people like they were stupid when they asked me how I knew I loved someone I was dating. I did love them, all of them. It's the nature of my heart to love- but I never knew it could be like this.
How could I?
To trust someone completely is something I never knew I hadn't experienced. I always thought that the way my relationships were is the way all relationships were and would be- I gave up things to be with that person, and sometimes that meant not telling them everything I'd hoped I'd be able to tell someone I loved. Now, though, it's like dawn finally came after a particularly long winter night.
There is nothing I can't tell him.
I've told him things I didn't even want to think about- because I needed someone to share that knowledge before I could face it as fact.
I'm sure there's some people who may not like the idea that I wasn't really in love before this. Honestly, it doesn't change the way I look at my past or those people I loved. I still love them, and always will, and, in the end, it's really the same thing it would have been if I had been in love with them- they weren't the one I needed to find. There are certain people who I think may have been that person, given different circumstances, and a select few who I genuinely believe helped to put me on the path to finding Mr Nice Guy. One in particular because he was the single most painful relationship I've been in, and certain others who, simply made me realize that there were men out there that would love me and treat me like an equal and a lady, and it wouldn't mean giving up everything to have that. In some ways, there are people I wish had been "that person", and I suppose grieving is a natural part of moving forward. I have lost in order to come to this point. I had to give up some people and some habits that would have held me back from being the person I need to be right now. It would be nice if I never had to, but, really, I don't think life works that way.
I have been through hell and back, and my relationships weren't always the best part of my life, though sometimes they were. I can't honestly say, though, that there is a single step I regret taking, although there are still very, very many questions I wish I'd had answered- and honestly.
A lot of my confusion surrounds Danger. The Lord knows I love that man. The problem was, I never got close enough to see all of the man I loved. I can't say who's at fault for that, or if it was nothing more than circumstance. I believe with all my heart that he loved me on some level, and I believe that he wanted me to be happy. I'm not quite as positive about all his intentions or plans, but I believe that, whatever else may have happened, that he was a good man with a good heart.
I just wish I knew more.
I will always love Danger, among others. It's time for me to grieve the loss of those good people I have loved, though, and realize that it's only through truly grieving that I allow myself to move forward.
Mr Nice Guy and I have discussed marriage and babies. I refuse to find myself surrounded by a family, only to realize that there is bitterness or disappointment in my heart. This life isn't how I dreamt it would be, but it is mine, and it may be the only one I have. I can't spend every moment steeped in regret.

Moment Of Clarity

2011-10-26T13:56:00.001-07:00

I understand why I didn't meet Mr. Nice Guy before.
I can't explain where this came from, exactly, but I'll try. I wondered if he would still love me this way when I was more the person I want to become. I knew he'd laugh at me for even considering this, but I realized I really am not that terribly far away from who I truly feel I am in my heart.
It made perfect sense.
How could he love the rowdy girl who spent four plus nights a week at the country bar, and was determined to get attached to a special forces unit, but still be able to love me when I stopped needing to go out all the time, start doing yoga, trying to heal and planning for a life after the army? He may accept even the rowdiest side of me, but he fell in love with who I really am, not who I needed to be in that moment.
Of course he can love who I really am.
He already does.

Fore!

2011-10-24T07:31:00.000-07:00

Mr Nice Guy and I have been together four months today.
I continue to be more grateful for his presence in my life every single day.
He has more patience and understanding and compassion than anyone I have ever known.
Mother Theresa would have loved him.
I snap at him sometimes, but he doesn't push me away or let my frustration get to him. He is so good to me, and so sweet, and so loving, I just don't know how love can be this easy. He makes me laugh constantly (even and especially when I don't want to, the stubborn lil bugger) and hasn't yet made me feel alone or unloved, not even for a second. If I'm having a bad day and want to feel loved, I don't need to ask. All I have to do is reach out my hand, and his will take mine, and hold it for as long as I need him to.
I love him so much.

Work, well, is work. I'm simply putting up a shield because I need, badly, to believe that these people don't matter right now. I don't want this place to be my life anymore, so I am putting up walls. They can't change me, they can't hurt me. I just need to be an individual again. I am expendable to them, so they no longer matter to me. I am just going to focus on my writing and whatever happens in this place is simply periferal.

What I want to work on most right now is a written piece outlining who I am- just me, without all this Army crap involved. This is what I need to know, what I need tattooed on my mind on days I must trudge through all of this madness- who I am, who I want to be, who I will be. I need me.

Just Pray

2011-10-18T12:06:00.000-07:00

Mr Nice Guy is out playing Army this week, being a medic to all of the guys out in the field with him.
It's unusual for him to be somewhere he is allowed to have his cell phone but doesn't get reception, but this week, that is the case. He left early yesterday morning (Monday) and is expected back sometime at the end of the week.
He has, for all intensive purposes, moved in with me at this point. Now, please remember, that I don't claim to be perfect, let alone a perfect Baha'i, and, for the record, no, this is not something accepted by my Faith or the community of my faith. This has been a choice I made.
In any case, Sunday night, for the second time since we've been together, we prayed together. The first time, he asked me to pray with him, and I mostly just held his hand and felt pride, fear and love in listening to what he had to say to God. This time, I asked him to pray with me. I am nothing short of stunned how difficult it was for me to ask him this. I've never prayed with anyone before, not like this, and the level of vulnerability is stunning.
This time, neither of us kept silent. Despite our difference of religion- he is a Christian and I am a Baha'i- we fluidly moved from one voice to the other's, from the worries on one heart, to both or the others. He knows me so well, much of what was on my heart, he said, rather than I. To some degree, I think he was surprised at the things I both thanked and asked God for- I am much better at saying what is on my mind when I think about it first, and when I am truly in the moment, with no worry of repercussion or hope of particular response. I was surprised at how articulate I became in that moment, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
There are many types of intimacy, it seems, though so often that word now carries connotations of sexual action. Even within sexual intimacy, I think, there are many levels of intimacy. Sex is not a simple matter, made up of only one possibility or school of thought. Having this incredible level of emotional, mental and spiritual intimacy within my relationship is incredibly new, and incredibly comforting to me. I have always envied the marriages of highly spiritual or religious friends. I was always impressed with the fluidity they share with their spouse- they seem, more than other couples, to be one, rather than two people sharing the same space. I am beginning to understand the reason for that.
I have had people, friends, former boyfriends, my ex-husband, even the occasional family member who really opened up to me. There have been people in my life I truly felt like I knew. The vast majority of those people are no longer in my life, a good many of them because of choices they made that I couldn't have imagined them making. It dissolved my ability to trust people that I thought I knew. Mr Nice Guy, though, is not the same... From talking to him about personal things, to opening up about details of past hurts, to watching walls I never knew were there come crashing down with him... And, now, this is someone I can share things with that I've only been comfortable talking to God about before... I can talk to God as I always have, but with someone I really, really care about...
I just don't think it can possibly get too much more intimate than that.
I am very much in love with Mr Nice Guy. I am beyond thrilled to have such a wonderful man in my life. He is the type of person I always thought was simply too good for me. He's not the type I found myself angry at or jealous of because of the quality of who he is; that type of person was just simply that kind that I had no chance of being or being with, there were no questions or doubts about this to me. And yet here I am.
While I am struggling with the various and progressing symptoms of PTSD right now, and, though the violent, vivid and all too often new nightmares have become a regular thing, I no longer feel like I'm fighting this battle by myself or for myself. I have always had this India Arie-like image in my mind of the woman I want to be. More than ever, I want to become this person.
I don't want to become this person just for myself, though, I want to become this person because Mr Nice Guy deserves someone like that in his life. His children deserve someone like that to be their mother. Eventually, I expect, I will likely find myself believing that I deserve to be someone like that. I would be lying if I said I felt like I deserve anything of the sort, though. I still feel too much like a burden, too much like I can't help the people I want to or do the things I wish I could or feel I should.
I am trying to write more- though it doesn't always appear here- and trying to listen to more positive music. I am trying to absorb the attitudes I wish to adapt as my own. I am focusing on learning how to be this happy, healthy, intelligent person that, so much of the time, I simply don't feel like I am.
I am trying to take care of myself and improve myself.
That is so much more difficult than that one little sentence makes it out to be.

The System Is Broken

2011-10-11T11:41:00.001-07:00

I have been trying to get in to see a shrink for over three months. I finally got a phone call, and have one appointment at the end of this month, and another the end of next month. My leadership seems to think I'm just a waste of their time, resources and positions, and are treating me accordingly. Anger has become so prominent it seems always just below the surface my entire work day, and worse when I must deal with these "leaders". I am tired, I am angry, and I continue to feel more broken every day. I am scared of my temper, I am scared of facing this stress and all the stress with my family and roommate on top of it. I am scared that I will find myself losing control the next time I am told to do something that will have a negative impact on me or the next time I'm forced to listen to my boss take credit for something I did entirely on my own, when he and his counterpart were completely unreachable and/or unresponsive, and then listen to him talk about having gone home early the same day I was doing so much alone and without being able to reach him. I am tired. I am treated like I have done something wrong and must be cut from the group, and I am already struggling so much. Mr Nice Guy is the most stable part of my life and I could not be more grateful for the man who continues to hold my hand through it all, and be there for me every time I cry.
I try to focus on the positive- Mr Nice Guy and our dog, Sugar- but find myself overwhelmed and miserable as I struggle just to get my own business taken care of.

Love & Marriage

2011-09-29T09:58:00.000-07:00

Mr Nice Guy is, if you hadn't understood this from previous posts, the one.
It's been over three months now, and I continue to build faith, trust and love in and for our relationship every single day. There is not one single day that he doesn't surprise me in a positive way. He's strong, intelligent, handsome, and has the patience of a god.
That last bit, by the way, is how one of my close friends explained to me why he'd lasted so long.
My father has taken to calling him 'son', my roommate/big brother of sorts thinks this guy is the best thing since sliced bread, and, well, I think pretty highly of him, too.
I have, as much as I hate to say it, disconnected myself from the local Baha'i community as of late.
Mr Nice Guy and I are talking about attending a Unitarian Universalist service, as he is Christian, and I am Baha'i. I need a community of faith, but I haven't found my comfort with the local Baha'i community, and it is not a group that Mr Nice Guy is able to relax with, either.
I want a marriage that is built on faith- shared faith. We don't have to believe in all of the same things, but, since we can pray together, I would like to be able to make a community of faith something we can both be a part of, rather than something we do as individuals. I want my family to have a spiritual bond, and for our faith to be something we can discuss openly and freely, and not feel divided about as my family did.
Mr Nice Guy and I are very happy together still, though I get the feeling that his family still hasn't quite gotten used to me. I think they're all amazing people, but I am, to say the least, not likely to ever 'fit in' to this family. That doesn't mean I adore them any less, but it is hard to wonder how long it may take them to feel about me the way I do about them. Then again, their family is already formed, it's theirs to protect and defend, theirs to allow people to join or not to. That's not something I've ever experienced, though I wish I had. I want so badly to have that close-knit relationship with a family, but there's simply no way to heal myself, my sister, my dad and my mother and then try to heal the family unit as a whole. That's not something I'm capable of, sadly. Little Sister and I are only just learning to interact with one another without allowing the habits, attitudes and tempraments of our parents to play a dividing role between us. Dad loves us both, but, regardless of fault, this family has a large canyon running through it, and my sister and I are likely going to be the only ones who are ever going to be able to even try to approach it without drowning or dragging someone else down to drown. It hurts.
Mr Nice Guy has one older sister who isn't terribly different than my younger sister, except that she was raised to love her family. His parents have been divorced for a few years now, though I'm not positive Mr Nice Guy has ever completely adapted to that. He has a hard time understanding how his mother could leave once the kids were raised and she'd gotten her degree. I can understand his hurt, but negative emotions aren't the most easily shared in his family, it seems. Both he and his dad have the most quiet, loving personalities, and both of them, it's easy to see, have a hard time not getting walked on. They both also have incredibly strong work ethics. Matt is slowly coming out of his shell, and, I think, I may be helping him in that department. He seems less and less afraid to allow other people to see his funny side that was so rarely open for viewing before recently. More and more, though, he will joke around with my dad and our rooommate (big brother again), and the occasional server at a restaraunt and the like. I'm so proud of him, and so amazed that someone so wonderful could love me.
After abuse and rape, disrespect, being treated poorly and used, divorced, after all the things I've been through, this man still sees something left in me worth his love.
I don't understand it, but I don't want anyone else.
I still talk to Madman- well, we text- from time to time. He's about to deploy. It bugs me, sometimes, that I can still understand what it was I saw in him. That bugs me, but by the same token, I understand why he is the person who was, from where I stood "at my level". It says water seeks it's own level, and, well, he's what I thought that level was. I was comfortable with the pain, the disrespect, the lack of understanding... Of course I was, it's what I know.
That doesn't mean I have to stay at that level.
I'm glad I got away from him. I'm surprised, honestly, that I didn't go back to him. He's told me he's there if I ever want him back... So many ex boyfriends have told me that... But I don't want to go back to that. I didn't mind having to spell out for him what I needed, but going through that, and being told that what I needed 'wasn't him' and, essentially, tough luck... That's just not something I'm okay with. I don't want to hurt like that anymore.
Mr Nice Guy is almost too good to me. He's the sweetest, most loving man I've ever known. He holds me when I cry, he's there for me even if he has no idea what to do- but being there is all I ever needed, anyway. He's given me the security that no man of chaos ever could. I don't know if he'll stay in or get out, I don't know if I'll be an Army wife forever, or how any of this will play out... But, even if I'm poor and clipping coupons to pay for dinner, he's the person I know will make me laugh as he sits next to me, helping me clip coupons. He's the man I want my children to be like.
I've found the one.
I am so grateful.

Dark words

2011-09-08T21:29:00.001-07:00

I watched one of those scared straight tv shows tonight. After it was over, I thought to myself that it was too bad they didnt have a similar program for other bad choices people make when they are young, to present them with all the very real possibilities. I remember a doctor asking me when I was getting ready to get my tubes tied, cut and burnt what if I changed my mind later. I didn't want that option, I told her. I didn't want to pass on my problems to my children. Nobody suggested that these "problems" might go away, or might not be what they appeared. Everyone was satisfied with an eighteen year old little girl saying, despite wishing she had managed to give birth to and keep a daughter that was a product of rape, that she didn't want to be able to change her mind. This still blows me away, more with every year that passes.
I got thinking about what I would tell my mother if she ever really wanted the whole truth... It's not very nice. I would tell her that she came by her drinking problem rightfully- but at least her father admitted to having one, even if he never accepted help. She could benefit from taking his example. I would tell her my worst fear in life is becoming her, and I spend every day trying to avoid being anything like her, that I have spent every un-drugged moment of my adult life striving to be as little like her as possible. I don't want to cheat on men who treat me as good as they are humanly capable of. I don't want to drag my children through different mens homes, or separate them from a father who loves them. I don't want to fly into drunken rages, or need to find excuse after excuse because I'm not strong enough to face the reality that my own choices brought me to the place and situation at hand. I don't want to spend the rest of my life a bitter victim, rather than a happy survivor. I pray that nurture is stronger than nature, because my children will inherit some of her genetics. I don't want to see my children make themselves a victim, I want to see them become strong, independent and free thinking individuals who make every choice they are presented with knowing that they are also accepting all the unknowns and consequences that come with that choice. I am scared for my children. All I really want is for them to be better people than I have been.

Growing pains and hiccups

2011-09-05T21:43:00.001-07:00

To start with, the title for tonight's post was partially inspired by realizing how hard it is to type on my phone with, you guessed it, the hiccups.
Things with Mr Nice Guy are still wonderful, though the separation time we are facing due to the school he's in is about as frustrating as, well, a case of the hiccups that just won't go away. I am more grateful for him everyday.... Okay, more to follow, hiccups are too much right now.

Same

2011-09-02T23:20:00.000-07:00

It's very hard to realize that the man that's been so incredibly much better than all the others so far, is, well, still a dude.
Mr Nice Guy is in a class right now.
I know it runs late.
But, two nights in a row, getting blown off for other students in his class... the same people he sees all day long... especially when I wouldn't even really get to see him for but maybe an hour anyway, well, this hurts.
He didn't even remember to text me when he got out tonight. Well after midnight I finally got the 'oops I forgot' text message, and nothing, really but that he'll see me in the morning.
We've only been together two months.
And we're back to that point where I'm nostalgic for the days I couldn't keep him away if I'd wanted to.
And so it begins, through the eyes of me, the insanity that I am signing up for in loving this man.
I will be an Army widow long before Mr Nice Guy has gone... At this rate, possibly before he and I marry.

Rebel Rose

2011-09-01T19:23:00.000-07:00

It feels so fraudulent living this life.
At work, as much as I can manage, I have to play the tough girl. I have to be the hard-ass, the tough one, the chick who never gives up. God help me, I try. My unit got released at noon today, but I had volunteered to do medical coverage for the afternoon event that the senior leadership wanted to put on: a safety ride for those who rode motorcycles in the battalion.
I worked until 1800- 6pm. Fortunately, I was among good people, but, after a morning of text messages from Dad's roommate debating whether the arrangement we had already made on me moving in was a good idea after all (after I had found a bedroom set for the room, no less) and me falling apart over yet another plan to help me gone awry, well, I spent a good chunk of the time between the morning and afternoon parts of my day in tears, and trying my hardest to keep the rage inside and not letting it loose on the people who, while I'm not sure they hadn't earned it, wouldn't understand where it was coming from. Oh, yeah, and today was the first day I forgot to take my anti-depressants before I left for work.
It was a hard morning.
The afternoon was long and tedious- it's been quite some time since I worked that late- though I found the silver lining in the two male Soldiers I was riding in the truck behind the motorcycles with. I think I may have found two friends in them, although, as they're both male, I must remember to avoid latching on to them on a too-personal level.
Here comes the complicated part.
I have friends I can talk to- almost all of them, admittedly, male.
Mr Nice Guy got out of class at 2000 (8pm), which is actually about normal for the class he'll be in for a few weeks, but, instead of wanting to see me and tell me about his first day (we've seen each other daily every chance we've had, and I've been through the course and did what I could to help him prepare) he decided he would have dinner with some guys from his class- who he's been around all day. Oh, and he'll be in class until 2200 (10pm) tomorrow, so he won't have time to see me then, either.
Yes, my feelings are hurt.
No, I don't think he understands that.
Honestly, I don't want him to. I want to be able to handle this hurt on my own, and not expect him to always be there to patch up the day's boo-boos. I have gotten dependent on him, and that bothers me. It bothers me even more knowing he has decided he wants to stay in the Army, and knowing that, if this works, I will be, literally, in the Army's eyes, a dependent. I will be the second-class citizen waiting at home, while he's in whatever part of the world he gets sent to, out of contact for extended and unpredictable amounts of time. And I love him enough that, for him, and knowing what I do now, I would do it, without question.
So I need to learn this now, I need to learn to depend on me, because nobody else will be there all the time to patch up my boo-boos, and it's better to learn this now, rather than when I won't hear from him for maybe months on end...
I don't want to learn this.
But, even more, I don't want to lose him.

And, so, I must learn to pull that tough-girl out even when I'm alone.
I must learn that the soft side of me, the tears, the vulnerability, the painfully complete honesty, have no place out of my control. They are for him and only him to see- not for when it's just me, or I may go seeking comfort, and that could end badly. Not ever, unless he's by my side.
This is not going to be easy.

Letting Go

2011-08-31T11:26:00.000-07:00

I still miss Danger, but there are so many questions I have for him that he will never answer now, that I have no choice but to try to distance myself from this near-obsession I've had with him in the last year.
I took down most of the pictures I had up of us in my room, and replaced them with happier pictures...
I'm really trying to move on from this guilt and confusion, no matter how much pain it still causes me.
I feel trapped right now.
I don't know who I can trust at work anymore, and the symptoms of PTSD just keep getting worse.
How does it just keep getting worse?!
I hate medications.
I asked for anti-depressants when things got bad.
I went in to talk to the doctor and get a refill, and she took one look at me and asked if I was sleeping at all.
I had gotten 4 hours the night before, which has become about average.
She put me on meds for nightmares and sleep.
I got tired of the way my female-ness was screwing up what little control I had over the symptoms, so I asked for birth control, after doing my research on different kinds.
Even with all these medications, it just keeps getting worse.
The only symptom I haven't seen too regularly is the injuries I was waking up with.
It happened for a couple weeks, then dropped off.
I don't know what are good signs and bad signs any more, I just now that I'm struggling, and feel like I'm in a downward spiral. Mr Nice Guy is the most stable part of my life. Imagine that! A relationship, the most STABLE part of MY life!!!
It's been more than two months now, and, while that seems like a small feat to most, that's more than twice as long as anyone has lasted in a relationship with me in over a year. And he doesn't want to lose me. Go figure.
Work has become a major point of stress for me. I lay in bed at night, dreading going back the next day. I don't know who I can trust there, who I can let know how bad it really is. I'm terrified of this. I know I need to do something, I know someone besides my commander needs to know, but... I can't end up screwed over again. I can't go through that here. I had too many NCO's in Korea that decided I was bad for their career and they fed me to the wolves intentionally. They got rid of me the second I asked for help.
I filled out intake paperwork for the behavioral health clinic today, but I still need to call and make an appointment. That phone call is causing me so much anxiety and it doesn't make sense.
I'm on my lunch break, crying. I haven't eaten today, and just started the birth control yesterday, and I don't know whether these tears are just part of the usual deal now or triggered by something else. I'm tired of fighting this. I just want to be living, not living in the past.
It's like I'm trying to run away from my shadow.

From The Inside Out

2011-08-25T19:01:00.000-07:00

An average month:

I spend a week in dark clouds of anger and depression that, while it's happening, I never seem to be able to remember is hormonally induced. Before tapping out and getting myself an anti-depressant, some of these days included suicidal ideation and entire days spent in paralyzing fits of tears.

Then I'll have two, sometimes as many as four, pretty good days, where the clouds just seem to have lifted and I might just make it after all.

Then I wake up feeling like I gained twenty pounds in my sleep, and ran a marathon the day before. I'm sore, bloated, exhausted, cramping, and, well, might as well say it, bleeding. That lasts five days, none of them are generally morale-inspiring.

Then, just when I think things are about to settle down, the hormones chill long enough for me to see clearly the fits of rage, depression, fear, anxiety, nightmares, sleep avoidance because of the nightmares, lack of appetite, and, on bad days, flash backs. This lasts for the two weeks until the hormones kick up again.

I am guaranteed two good days a month.

The rest of the month, I am drowning in a person I don't want anything to do with, let alone be.

It's taken me so long to even begin to separate PTSD from PMDD, and, well, I suppose they're not completely separate issues, anyway. The nightmares and anxiety tend to get a lot worse during my week of anger.

I am tired of this black hole I seem to get sucked into. This person who just spent two hours crying, overwhelmed at the laundry, the dishes, the angry cramps and extra weight in my abdomen, combined with, well, life. If I didn't have to get up at 0430 tomorrow to accomplish any of what I wanted to get done before work, if I didn't have to spend a ridiculous amount of time in uniform with people I have some pretty mixed feelings on, if I hadn't promised to take out a very good friend of mine to dinner and our favorite bar tomorrow night for her birthday- and farewell, really- well, then, the laundry, dishes, errands and physical misery might just not be so overwhelming.

I have to make a very big change. I am trying my damndest to get treated for the PTSD, but, between many parts of the Army mental health system being of the policy 'if we didn't break it, we ain't fixing it' (only treating COMBAT RELATED PTSD, not that other, less important stuff like PTSD from being raped a time or two) and the fact that, well, let's face it, the Army is systematic. There's not a lot of things they accept as being therapeutic, no matter how much it helps me, or how little talk therapy does.

So, that, really, feels like a dead end. The PTSD seems to get worse by the day at times, all too often aggravated by a feeling of being trapped in these same situations with these same people who are triggering bad memories and thoughts.

So, the PMDD. I already got myself put on anti-depressants, which have definitely helped- the crying jags are much shorter, far more controllable, and there's none of that suicidal crap floating around in my head. However, I need to do more. I can't stand the thought of birth control, but, until I have kids, suppressing ovulation is simply not something I'm doing. I want babies, and I will have them, and then they can take my ovaries out and feed them to their dog for all the trouble the things have caused. I'll take estrogen for the rest of my life, a half dozen pills a day if I must, so long as I don't have to keep going through these two weeks of darkness- or at least not this badly.

So, for the first time since I got my tubes tied in 2004, I'm going to ask to be put on birth control.

Let the research phase begin.

Beautiful Spirit (A Million Words)

2011-08-24T21:54:00.000-07:00

It was a good day.
Work wasn't much more than the usual, though I seem to be back to being able to handle it without freaking out on anyone.
I got a great deal of cleaning done between last night and today, with the last bit of unpacking done. I have been slacking lately, so dishes must be done, and clean laundry put away- meanwhile, due to the unpacking, the dirty laundry filled right up and the trash must be taken out again. However, my small room feels rather less small after having gotten the two large boxes out of the way- though I still have one here, collecting clothing, shoes and books for my next trip to Goodwill.
Tonight, I had some pictures of Mr Nice Guy and I printed. Today, we have been together two months- more than twice what anyone else has really stuck through since Danger passed.
So, this evening, I rearranged pictures, pulled out half a dozen picture frames I wasn't using, and, well, I have 23 pictures up throughout my room now. Some of Mr Nice Guy and/or I, some of, well... everyone.
It amazed me to look through these pictures, and attempt to sort them between three photo albums, 23 picture frames and one box.
This is part of what I posted on my facebook page about this...

It doesn't surprise me much that there are so many people that I have met in these 25 insane years. What really took me by surprise was the incredible diversity of activities and places and types of people in those pictures.

There are probably too many pictures of me and my buddies living it up in bars, particularly in Korea.

There are pictures of motorcycle rallies, and various people under hoods.

There are pictures of me sitting back, quietly talking and relaxing with close friends at the hookah bar.

There are pictures of me with various people's kids, and a circus worth of animals- to include a python and a monkey.

There are pictures of natural wonders and new friends.

There are pictures of me in training, some with people I haven't heard from in years, others whom I still speak to frequently.

There are some pretty hysterical (and frequently questionable) pictures in various bowling alleys...

There are pictures of shadows saying more than any face could.

There are pictures of me in DJ booths- one in Korea, one in Atlanta.

There are pictures of trucks sliding down sand dunes, and guns being shot.

There are pictures of children smack in the middle of moments of the most intense joy.

There are pictures of friends on their knees in the middle of downtown Daegu begging forgiveness for some long-forgotten misdeed.

There are pictures of me surrounded by Baha'i friends of three or four different nationalities, sitting on the floor of a Korean home, sipping the most amazing tea.

There are pictures of sword fighting "knights" in shining armor- and of Templar Knights.

There are pictures of only me- and the memory of the person holding the camera.

There are pictures of house parties that, by some miracle, didn't end up with anyone dead or in prison.

There are pictures of candle lit dinners, and pictures of rock stars.

There are pictures of people who helped me push my car out of a ditch, and people who almost got me arrested, at least once.

There are pictures of people who were the only witness to a story that wouldn't be believed without one.

There are pictures, so many pictures, of people who I simply loved- and most of whom I still do.

I may not have the easiest time all the time, and I feel like I'm on a never-ending rollercoaster all to often, but I am truly blessed to have had the amount of experience and this kind of diversity in my life.

Betrayal

2011-08-23T13:52:00.000-07:00

I don't know why these thoughts and memories are sticking with me so much right now.
I've had friends betray me, and, well, I thought I was over it.
I've heard people say there's no such thing as closure... but I just want to understand what would make people pretend to be your friends, all the while talking badly behind your back, putting you down, and never even telling you what they really think? What would make them suddenly decide to gang up on you- online, no less, the most cowardly form of attack out there- and attempt to tear you into pieces?
I thought I could trust these people, even though I didn't always care for their attitudes about some things.
Some of the pain, though, is because I lost one of my closest Baha'i friends in the process. Even though she and I are now friendly towards one another, and she swears she really wasn't a part of it... I just can't bring myself to trust her anymore.

Breaking Point

2011-08-17T18:22:00.000-07:00

I love my father.
I used to love the Army.
I still love my boyfriend.
I don't love the horrible mental images that show up, uninvited, and uncalled for. I don't love feeling like I'm letting people down because I'm feeling like such a wreck myself that I don't do what they expect me to, need me to or want me to. I don't love getting a look of irritation from people when I know I'm about to fall apart and have to ask to split from work for a while. I don't love sitting around the office for hours with nothing to do but fight off flashbacks and unpleasant thoughts or mental images. I don't love feeling useless and worn out. I don't love feeling like a number, rather than a person. I don't love getting up before dawn every day, only to be seen as a waste of space and time. I don't love being around people who pretend they didn't see that tear roll down my cheek, and that me losing my temper on two different occasions within two weeks is not unusual. I don't love being looked at as weak because I'm a female. I don't love being told that my wounds don't matter because they didn't come from a combat zone. I don't love being looked at as flawed because I have scars that no clothes or makeup can hide, and that no surgery can fix. I don't love being in the Army anymore, and I don't love feeling like I'm a horrible Soldier for the things I experienced- and thought I'd handled- years before volunteering to go to war for my country.
I'm overwhelmed.
I'm defeated.
I'm trying to keep it together long enough to not hurt anyone, physically or career, and not lose the few benefits that haven't been slashed or taken already.
Mostly, I just want out.
This life is not good for me anymore, and I'm not good for the Army anymore.
Short of getting injured, pregnant, or in a whole lot of trouble, though, I have no option but to suck it up and try to survive my next two years in this uniform.
I don't know how I'm going to manage this.

Responsible

2011-08-15T07:26:00.000-07:00

So, I am sponsoring the other female of my rank to go to a mock promotion board towards the end of this month, in the absence of the two (male) NCO's we have. One will be on duty, the other on the board itself.

This NCO thing is catching.

So, responsibility seems to be the flavor of the phase right now.

Mr Nice Guy and I have made it nearly two months now- the longest to stick around (officially, anyhow) since Danger.

I love this man in ways I can't explain.

I always thought I was wide open, that I really didn't have any walls left. He is showing me I was wrong. Slowly, I see myself let walls down with him, trusting him not to abandon me, trusting him to not take advantage of me showing my slightly-less-rebellious side. Everyone at work sees the hard-ass, the one who doesn't take anything to heart, and gives everyone a hard time at every opportunity- the Soldier who holds everyone accountable.

Mr Nice Guy is actually having a hard time adapting to that part of my personality.

With him, I am insecure, emotional, overly-sensitive, horribly scared of losing someone I care about so much. I talk about the miscarriages, and babies, about my mother and what I want in the future, and what's bothering me from work. Slowly, I am learning to trust him not to walk away from me, or give up on me. I thanked him last night, for letting me trust him. He thanked me for not running away when it seemed too good to be true. I love him so much. He has certainly seen my bad days- I am not proud of how harsh I have been to and with him when the hormones and fear start flowing- and he has persevered. He loves me, even though he knows I'm not always the nicest person, even though I've been rude to him far more than he deserves.

Yet I caught myself playing the Plan B game last week- the what-if game. If this doesn't work out, who would I date. I'm wrong for that. I don't want to even think this could fall apart. I love this man, he loves me, and I want this forever.

He's surely getting more comfortable with me, and with what I want from my future, too. The more insecure I am, the more I tend to talk about the things I want from the future (marriage, kids, etc.) and, usually, that does a pretty good job of making anyone who doesn't want those things run for the hills. I realized a few days ago, that, since Mr Nice Guy and I had the conversation about what we think is the right time frame to consider marriage (not as long as the year and a half or so he was in his last relationship for, as it turns out), I haven't really felt I needed to ask him or talk to him so much about it. I am more and more secure with him. I really feel like forever is becoming more of an inevitable outcome, rather than a hopeful thing for us. Well, I had realized I didn't feel the need to talk about it all the time and I was happy about that. And then, yesterday, as we were leaving Carlsbad Caverns, I handed him a key chain with the Kokopelli symbol on it- a symbol, to me, of my stepfather and protection, but also, to a much broader chunk of the population, a symbol of fertility. Mr Nice Guy smiled at it, then tapped me on the arm with it a couple times and says "There, you have been beaten with the symbol of fertility! Now have some babies, dammit!"

You want to talk about surprised....

It took me quite a while to really process that, above and beyond his goofy nature, he was comfortable enough to casually talk and joke about us having children. This did wonders for my nerves.

It seems like every single time we go somewhere public, I see a man, either with a wife or child, or sometimes just a drunk guy at the bar, and, as I bristle at that man's behavior, I inevitably realize that Mr Nice Guy would never behave the way so many of them do. He wouldn't dream of speaking down to me, or talking to a child like they're worthless or somehow inept because of their size/lack of adulthood. He would never get cut off at a bar, because he doesn't lose his cool just because there's alcohol in his system. He is a good man. And I am so proud of him.

Change

2011-08-13T08:48:00.000-07:00

Mr Nice Guy and I had managed to be that annoying, affectionate-in-public, so-in-love-it-makes-you-want-to-puke couple for a month and a half.... Now, in the matter of a week, it seems like it just went away all of a sudden.
I don't know how to handle this, and it hurts more than I'd expected it to.
I knew we'd settle into a groove eventually, but, well, I thought we'd always be more lovey-dovey than this, and I hate it.
I tried to talk to him about it earlier, but he really sucks at that stuff sometimes.
I miss him being happy just to be able to put his arm around me, and me making a big production of sitting in the middle seat of his truck just so I'd be next to him. I miss playing twenty questions when we drove, and getting so caught up in the conversation that we forget we're playing a game. I miss him pointing out the guys he catches looking at me, and glowing proudly because of it.
I know this will pass, I know the pain of change will cease... I just hope it is soon, and I hope I can learn to be secure in our lack-of-cling, rather than hating it passionately.

Up And Out

2011-08-04T07:27:00.000-07:00

I had a 1sg while I was in Korea- one that, at the time, I absolutely couldn't stand, mind you- who told me, when I was fed up with the clinical BS, competition and Soldier-on-Soldier hatred that went around there, "Soldier, the only way out, is up. I learned that the hard way when I was tired of the clinic, too."

Today, as I sat there, in the Aid Station, finding myself being continually undermined and disrespected by other females and males, junior Soldiers and NCO's alike, watching the males team up and treat the females like we weren't even there, much less capable of doing anything worthwhile, it hit me hard.

The only way out, is up.

These people will not stop me.

If they want to behave like this, okay.
I have more than two years left in the Army, and these people are not going to get the good fortune of having me around any longer. I have other options, and I am not staying here. I will do what I have to to be able to shut down my emotions at work, no matter who doesn't like it, and I will do my job, but I will work to get my education, get my stripes, and get out of this hell hole.
I won't deal with this crap any more.

Sanity Thy Name Is Not My Own

2011-08-03T09:42:00.000-07:00

PTSD.
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Shell Shock.
Combat Fatigue.
Post-Vietnam Syndrome.
Soldier's Heart.
War Malaise.
Battle Fatigue.
Effort Syndrome.

I don't care what you call it, it sucks, and I'm tired of it.
For those of you who aren't aware, PTSD is not just something that occurs in people who have been to war. Any traumatizing event can inflict this hell upon any one of us, against our will.
I survived two rapes. I have PTSD.
I have the nightmares, episodes of hyper-vigilance- and other episodes of hyper-anger. I have had more flashbacks than I can count, though, thankfully, by knowing the precursors and being very, very careful about the situations I choose to put myself in, I have lowered the occurrence rate of them for myself drastically. I have blacked out from anger.

If you have never lost control of your senses and your body, you have not known fear.

The nightmares have been increasing again, as of late, though, until today, I didn't think my stress level was quite at the point where they usually make an appearance. These new nightmares aren't limited to the same nasty film reel that's been such a big part of my sleep since I can remember. Some of my usual dreams are terribly graphic mental images and scenes that have been playing out in my head since before I can remember why they started in the first place. Some are revisiting the rapes, the guilt, the pregnancy and miscarriage that followed my first rape (and the loss of my virginity)... The new nightmares, though, are different. They are happening here, now. These are not memories I try to avoid contemplating in day light, these are battles that occur in this small, cramped barracks room, with people who's face/faces I do not see. There are some that involve my mother, with whom I have a long, painful history, but who I have wholly forgiven by this point in my life and after a long separation from her.

Today, I got bad news. I got bad news on top of that slightly off-kilter feeling that always drags me down a bit when I've had a rough night with memories, dreams, nightmares.... I tried to keep control, really I did. Fortunately, I didn't black out or become violent, but I sure did lose my temper- quickly- on someone who I should not have, and in a very inappropriate place, even if my sudden flash of anger had somehow been warranted.

I spoke to my supervisor, asked if we had anything going on that would preclude me from slipping a way until after lunchtime to detox my brain. With his okay, here I am, sitting in my room, wishing this battle for life, for control, for peace would just end already.

But this battle will never end.

It will never end, and I am not the only person who suffers from my PTSD.
My father suffers when I lose my temper at him when I simply cannot handle the stress.
My boyfriend suffers when I break down into tears and begin to shake uncontrollably, sometimes with no obvious trigger or reason.
My friends suffer when I am so ashamed of the way I have behaved, despite my best efforts, that, all too often, I simply do not want to face them any more.
My male friends suffer when I won't be alone in a vehicle with them, when I allow no male in my room, save a few very trusted individuals, without my door propped open.
I have knives hidden around my space, and often two or three on my person, because, somewhere in my heart, I tell myself, over and over, that if it happens again, this time I'll be ready, and this time one of us will not walk away. I will not go through this again.
I will not go to the emergency room, strip naked on a collection pad, in front of four or five people, only to be poked and prodded, wiped and rubbed, tested and medicated, questioned and judged, and I will never again be treated as a liar or a defendant.
Have you ever had a cop tell you to your face that you need to stop lying about what happened, accuse you of being racist, and demand to know why you're "putting that poor man through this"? I have. I was smart enough and strong enough to report my second rape, after regretting not having reported my first after I learned of more survivors he'd left in his destructive wake. After going through hell, after living in fear, after being humiliated even after the rape had been completed, I was called a liar and a racist.

I won't go through this again.
Except I know I will- every time I try to sleep, I will wonder if I'll have to go through it again tonight.
I'm living a battle that will never end.

Out

2011-08-03T07:40:00.000-07:00

Mr Nice Guy and I went to see Cowboys And Aliens the other night (great flick, by the way) and some things started rolling around in my head. I can't explain what the actual trigger was, only that I'm glad it happened.
At some point the 'who am I once I leave the Army' thought popped into my head.
I've decided recently that I want to get my degree in landscape architecture. Looking at it now, it is almost funny to me that it hadn't occurred to me before I heard the ad on the radio in T-town for an educational program of such a nature. I've always been fascinated by architecture in general, especially that which uses the structure's natural environment for materials and design influences, rather than fighting the environment around it. I remember being a child and looking at pictures of houses built in the 1960's that were this way, and thinking how revolutionary something like this would be- maybe not in those words, of course, but the emotions were dead-on.
So far as this Army gig goes, though, I am increasingly unhappy.
The Aid Station I have spent so much time and effort on has been, for all intensive purposes, taken from me. The two male nco's have excluded me on every level of operation and decision making possible, and I am completely left in the dark over and over. I was informed this morning that the big color guard trip I'd so been looking forward to is now restricted to nco's only- even though I've been to more practices than anyone, and have been more determined and dedicated than anyone else, even volunteering for the events that were after duty hours. I am promotable, but simply cannot make points and my promises of corporal have still been ignored.
I'm tired of this lifestyle, tired of being walked on every time I give myself to something, and tired of seeing my efforts demolished and forgotten. Getting pregnant is next to impossible for me and, short of a bad-conduct discharge, that would be my only foreseeable way out before early 2013. I'm tired of this, and I want out.
I want to leave the Army and work on my degree and not go through this any more.

One Of Three and The Exchanging Of Keys

2011-07-31T23:36:00.000-07:00

I've had nightmares the last two nights. It's really eating at me, especially because they were new nightmares. I have, more or less, had the same nightmares over and over throughout my memory. It honestly scares the daylights out of me that these are not the same familiar, haunting nightmares I've always known. Something I wrote earlier for Facebook:

Think of three women you know- any three.

No, really. Pick three women in your head- your mom, sister, nieces, daughters.... Whoever you want.

Okay, you have your three? One of them has or will be, in their lifetime, a victim of sexual or physical assault.

Think about that.

You know someone who's been beaten and/or raped. You do, it's impossible not to. Now remember this the next time you laugh at a joke about it, thinking the word "rape" doesn't effect you.

A joke is a way of making ourselves less sensitive to something.

If you want to make yourself less sensitive to something your friends and family are going through, go right ahead.

Personally, though, I'm going to remind people that it's something to be taken seriously.

Because a real man doesn't have to get your sister drunk to get her to sleep with him.

Because a real man doesn't have to threaten, coax, or push your niece.

Because a real man won't force your daughter to do what he wants her to.

Because a real man won't ever forget what it means when you tell him no.

I have had a lot going on in my head over these nightmares, as you can see.

Mr Nice Guy and I are past the month marker, and still moving smoothly forward.

I can honestly say that we are very much in love, and definitely learning to trust each other.

We both have jealous tendencies. It's interesting to be in a relationship where, instead of sneaking around looking for something to upset me, I pick up his phone right in front of him and tell him I'm being jealous today. He does the same thing, and it works for us. Neither of us feel like the other will cheat on us, really, but I think this is our way of setting boundaries and ensuring our rather open, honest, beautiful relationship isn't going to blow up in our faces. I can't help but think it's a good thing that we can be open with each other, even about something as personal and dangerous as jealousy.

Tonight, I asked him if I could trust him not to lose and not to misuse my spare truck key, should I entrust it to him. He assured me that I could, then asked me the same. I explained to him, as I tend to, in a great amount of detail, that such misbehavior is simply not my style, no matter how enraged I have become in the past. So, he has a spare key to my truck, and I to his.

It feels right.

He feels like the person who has my back, and will come running should I ever need to call.

He feels like the person who wouldn't leave me stranded.

I may never really understand all the complex workings of my subconscious, and I may never completely "recover" from my past, but, while I'm still learning, I'm mostly learning how to be happy.

And I'm enjoying it.

Stable

2011-07-29T06:19:00.000-07:00

Despite what many think, military folks don't make much- at least enlisted military folks.
It's always been a guaranteed paycheck on the first and the fifteenth, but it ain't much of one. I know waitresses who pulled more in tips in two weeks than I do in a steady paycheck.
I am, however, finally learning to do this whole 'financial responsibility' thing.
I got a little bit of extra cash this month (a once-yearly allowance of a couple hundred extra dollars for all the uniforms and gear that we wear out annually- and don't kid yourselves, it doesn't cover the amount I spend on uniforms and military stuff in a year) and, while I'm still waiting on the thousand-plus dollars the Army still owes me in back pay, I managed to pay off my credit card, and throw some extra toward my truck payment.
Have I told you how much I love my truck?
Have I told you how much I want a Harley?
I am working on fixing my truck up, a little at a time, but so far, she has taken more of my abuse than my love, with all the driving and moving I've done since I bought her.
My truck isn't new, she's a '99 Blazer, but I absolutely love her. She's sturdy, with four-wheel drive, and iPod playing capability. She has her quirks- like how I have to turn my high beams on and off 3 times before I know my left headlight will be on without high beams, and how she still needs her headlights adjusted so she's not all cock-eyed anymore. Despite the worn leather seats, the headlight issues, and, well, the fact that she's a used truck, I'd much rather put money into her now and know she'll stick around for a while than just beat her up and eventually trade her in for something newer.
Anyhow, money-wise, I paid off my credit card today. I know from experience that my bank will sit on the payment for 3-5 business days before it even reflects, but I know how much I have left after the payments I made today, despite the bank's lack of timeliness, and I will most likely save the back pay up for a motorcycle, or just pay off my truck in it's entirety and then start putting money away each month for the bike. I won't do payments on both a bike and my truck at the same time, because one of them is bound to wind up needing repairs, and I would be too confined financially to do all of those things. It sure wouldn't bother me to have a truck and a motorcycle paid off by the time I leave the Army in February of 2013.
Over all, things are going really well for me right now. I have a truck I'm not just keeping up with the payments on, but exceeding those payments every chance I get, I managed to upgrade my reliable old flip phone for a 4G-capable Android- and bought the new $435.00 phone for $170.00, mind you- and, well, my relationship is just as steady and wonderful as it was day one, over a month ago, and I really think, despite some stress, that I am happier than I have ever been.
I've made a lot of hard decisions lately, but I'm proud of each and every one. I'm really going to make it just fine, after all.

Rain

2011-07-26T21:59:00.000-07:00

So, it's raining here, well, on a decent scale, anyhow, for the first time in ages. I have been in a foul, tired mood all day, but between Mr Nice Guy and I spending time together, and the rain- both of us are bad-land-bred desert dogs- I'm in a much better mood, now, as I try to unwind and get some sleep for work tomorrow.

Mr Nice Guy calls himself a Desert Mutt, which suits him awful well, and I'm slowly becoming attached to the 'dog ideology'. There's a true attachment between his heart and all things dog, which I love. I find it very hard to trust someone who doesn't like animals. When I was in training, one of my companies was Bravo Bulldogs, and had a sign over the community area that read "Dog Pound". I was always amused by this, and would have loved to have found a way to incorporate it into my own life. When I think of a future with Mr Nice Guy, long-term, I see this sort of thing having quite the role in our lives.

Well, it's nearly eleven o'clock at night now- my favorite time, by the way- and that means I should have already been in bed asleep, sadly. So, as the rain pounds down on the windows and walls, I bid you good night.

Better With Age

2011-07-25T11:28:00.000-07:00

I am so glad I will never be a teenager again.
I thank God every day for helping me survive "the best years of my life" so that I could see the best years of my life.

Today, I am tired, cranky, hormonal and working.
Despite this, I would take today over being a teenager again, hands down, no questions asked.
I miss Danger, and am still processing the fact that he's been gone a year as of last Friday.

I have been through so much in twenty-five years.
I don't always understand how I survived life or myself at some points.
All I know is that I feel like I'm finally who I really am, and finally able to live, rather than constantly trying to be somebody I had pictured in my head.
This is where it gets good.

One Year

2011-07-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

I don't understand how Danger's been gone a year.
It seemed like, for months after his death, I would cry myself to sleep a few nights a week, begging him to take me with him or come back... I'd be lying if I said I'd completely accepted it or dealt with it in this last year. I understand it, I know it's real, but some days, it just doesn't seem like the world should still rotate on it's axis without him in it... He was such a fixture in my life, someone I absolutely adored from the moment I met him... While my ex-husband was in Iraq, when we were still married, Danger and I would spend nights at his tattoo shop, lying on that big red leather couch together, watching movies. Even when Veggie (ex hub) and I were doing very poorly, even when it would have been so much easier than holding back, Danger never let me slip, nor let himself slip, and nothing more than a hug and a very strong friendship passed between us.
It still blows my mind that a man like this could ever love me.
He was- is- will always be a rock star in my mind.
I still miss him so badly, I feel the tears when I allow myself to think about him much.
I love Mr Nice Guy, and I know Danger would approve.... but some days, I wonder if it was ever supposed to happen like this, or if this was the plan all along?
I miss you Danger, and I'll love you forever.

Halal, Living, and Moving Forward In My Faith

2011-07-20T11:24:00.000-07:00

So, I just tried one of the My Own Meal ready-made meals. These are not frozen meals, by the way, but meals kept inside a tin foil-like packaging within a box, generally used to replace MRE's (Meals Ready to Eat- the boxed up meals Soldiers eat when hot meals are not available) for Muslim Soldiers. These are Halal meals. What caught me off-guard about these was the back of the box- the President and Founder of the company is Ms. Mary Anne Jackson- a woman. This both impressed and surprised me- positively, of course, as much of the Muslim community tends to not put women in places of power. These meals are listed as both Kosher and Halal, so she may not be Muslim, but, either way, I liked seeing it, both as a woman and a Baha'i.

So, I stumbled across a blog post about blogging while Baha'i which pointed out that blogging is a form of social discourse, one of the main goals for our Faith. I felt a little better about the activity and lack there of where my Faith has been concerned lately. The Baha'i Faith is something I believe whole-heartedly in, though I am a young Baha'i, and still very much finding my own way.

I was listening to the song Standing Outside The Fire earlier- a country song I really love- and I realized why it always made me feel so good to hear it. The song, in a roundabout way, talks about people who live 'outside the fire' and take caution with themselves, their hearts and their lives, versus those who tend to live life 'within the fire' who live life fully, but take the risks with their hearts that others wouldn't. "Life is not tried, it is merely survived, when you're standing outside the fire." This is my favorite line, because it reminds me that, all the times people have told me to slow down, to take my time, to not rush into things or take risks, it was a risk I chose to take, and, ultimately, helped me really live life, rather than waiting for life to happen. I could have a lot less scars- physically and emotionally- but I'm proud of my scars, and I came by them rightfully, and, at 25, I have experienced much more than so many people, and I love that. I miss people, there are things I wish I had done differently, but, ultimately, I truly believe I have done everything to the best of my ability, and, furthermore, truly lived my life these past 25 years. The last year or so, I've started asking myself if I'd have any regrets if I died in my sleep tonight, and, more and more often, the answer is no. People may wish they had lived more, on their death bed, but most people don't really wish they'd lived less. I'd rather die living a life I loved, than live a life just to get to death.

Process

2011-07-19T19:33:00.000-07:00

Mr Nice Guy made it to T-town safe, and even remembered to text me along the way. (Not while driving, though, he knows I'll yell at him for that!)
It's not nearly as hard to not have him here as I expected. I mean, I would rather have him with me, but, really, it just doesn't feel like anything's changed. I like that.
Friday, the 22nd of July will be one year that Danger has been gone. I asked for this day off. I have no idea how it will affect me, but I have no intentions of falling apart at work again for as long as I can help it.
It is also the day that Mr Nice Guy returns from T-town. I haven't entirely decided if it's a good idea or bad idea to see him that day, but I really think it might be a good thing... I hope.
Sunday, the 24th of July will be my one-month anniversary with Mr Nice Guy. (I had miscalculated the date in an earlier post when I said the 17th of June.)
Sunday, the 24th of July will also be what would have marked 2 years of being engaged to Danger.
Overwhelming.
I don't know how Mr Nice Guy feels about monthly anniversaries- some men don't count them, others think as much of them as the most sentimental of women- but it'll be a (mostly) happy day for me. It's so odd to me that that one-month marker has become such a big deal to me, but it's so rare to see someone stick around a month, while, if they do, it tends to last upwards of six. It's less than five days until our one month speed bump, and I am perfectly confident in this relationship to last through next week, and next year, if we so choose.
It's been a long day, cleaning up the mess Madman made at the apartment I'm house-sitting while he took care of the place so I could go out of town. We start running sick call and actually operating as medics tomorrow, for the first time in the year I've been here.

The Separation

2011-07-19T11:32:00.000-07:00

Mr Nice Guy is, as I write this, on his way back to T-town for the next four days.
He and I have been attached at the hip since the day we met, so this will be weird for me- but hopefully not too rough.
I am the happiest I've ever been since I've been with him, and I truly believe that no separation can change that. Things don't always go off without a hitch between us- we definitely are on two different planets sometimes- but we never have to put effort into getting along or making things better when they get a little wobbly. He understands me, and does his best to show it. I talk to him a lot, which is funny to me, because I think a lot of it is stuff he already knows.
He explained to me the other day, though, that he's the 'silent jealous type'. He's shown no signs of passive-aggression or any type of anger, so I was completely clueless he'd ever gotten jealous at all. I'm very outgoing, though, and it doesn't surprise me too much that, as much as I talk to people and as many people as I know, that, at some point, this has bothered him. We need to go more in depth with it, so I can avoid him having to feel like that again, but I'm glad he told me. I love him, and don't want to ever do anything to hurt him.
I'm glad we have these days apart, in truth, because I need to get some time to look at things. I have no doubts about how I feel, but, the more spirituality and faith become part of our relationship, the more intimate it gets. I need to step back and look at how much I am willing to give him of that part of myself. It's something that's very important to me, and I want him to understand and participate in that part of my life- I don't think faith is a completely private matter, honestly- but my dream of praying with someone I love is as scary as it is real. I want that. It's overwhelming, though, and I want it to feel right. I don't want to rush this, no matter how certain I am.
It's a scary path we're walking, this growing thing.

Love At Last

2011-07-17T21:32:00.000-07:00

I know it's still entirely possible that Mr Nice Guy and I aren't forever.
I mean, you never really know what life's going to do, no matter how much you try your best and all.
However, he and I spent some time talking today after, well, not a bad day, but it wasn't our best day, that's for sure.
The deep part of the conversation started when I asked him how he felt about the fact that he chose not to see a particular female friend of his anymore because of my expressions of serious discomfort with that very specific situation. We talked for a little while, and he finally really opened up to me about things with her, and let me know that he seemed to have many of the same questions about her that I did. I admitted that I made a bad choice in asking Madman about her once Mr Nice Guy had told me she knew him. He asked why, and I explained to him that I felt it was inappropriate of me to involve anyone else in that situation, not to mention making that choice when I was still rather emotional.
The conversation proceeded, though, and I opened up to him. Now, I've always thought I was a generally open person, and perhaps I still am, but the way I opened up to him... Scared me. I talked about a lot of things that, while not secrets exactly, were never things I really felt comfortable telling anyone else. It wasn't confession, it was a very honest, open expression of a lot of emotions I suppose I'd almost forgotten were there at times.
I'll spare you the mushy, personal details of it all, but I have never been so sure of anything.
It's not that I think it's impossible for me to lose him- I know better than that- but I know that I will do whatever it takes to keep him.
Our week in T-town was, in a word, perfect. I fell in love with this city-sized-small-town with amazing, diverse, local restaurants, a variety of wonderful health food and natural food stores, beautiful landscaping, incredible book stores, and just a wide, diverse range of people. Mr Nice Guys' friends are some of the best people I've ever known, and his family was very, very generous and kind. His father is very much the quiet type, but a really wonderful, intelligent guy. His sister has things she's dealing with, but I think she's a very sweet, kind person, and will be finding her own way soon enough. His mother and her boyfriend are far more outgoing than Mr Nice Guy's father, but still very kind, and both obviously very intelligent. I came away from the last week feeling that, while I think I was a bit of a shock to all of them- my tattoos, long hair, military occupation, outgoing nature and overall personality being a bit out of Mr Nice Guy's norm- they all seemed to like me, anyway. Whether it was in spite of themselves or not, I couldn't say, but I was glad they all seemed to be okay with me holding such a place in Mr Nice Guy's life.
I promised him tonight I wouldn't rush this, and we agreed that we needed to discuss time lines a bit, but I know in my heart that I will do whatever it takes to be with him for as long as that's what he wants. To feel a connection with someone on physical, emotional and spiritual levels like this... It just doesn't happen twice...

Happiness

2011-07-13T22:28:00.000-07:00

Maybe it isn't forever.
Maybe it is.
All I know, is that I feel like I've found a city I could call home, and someone who I'd really like to share that with. Mr Nice Guy has opened up a new world for me by bringing me to T-town, and, well, I've found myself happier and more open to new levels of trust in these last few days than I can remember being.
I've fallen in love many times.
I've been happy many times.
I consider myself to be very blessed in this regard, rather than looking at the ends of each of these times as a curse.
I feel as if I'm glowing when I'm with Mr Nice Guy. He's begun to open every door for me- to include car doors- and even pulled out my chair for me tonight when we went to dinner with his dad. He loves spoiling me, and showing me more and more of T-town. He's very patient with me when I'm a little off or down, and I'd be completely oblivious to the fact that he even sees these moods if he didn't check to make sure I was okay each time he recognized these things. Despite the fact that he's clearly stated that he 'despises' the L-word, he still tells me he loves me at every opportunity, especially when he sees my mood falter. He remembers everything he learns about me- from ring size to foods and colors I like, and the names of family and friends- and simply treats me like I was a princess or something. I've never had anyone want to take care of me like he does, and, honestly, I'm really enjoying learning how to let someone take care of me a bit.
We haven't talked too much about the Faith these last few days, except when I found out about the nearby institution and that there was a strong Baha'i community here. We are generally around quite a few other people, and I know too well how preachy and pushy discussion of one's beliefs can come across to others when brought up at seemingly inappropriate moments.
None the less, I've seen him pick up Baha'i books at the local used book store without even my general attention focused on them. He shows active interest, and has agreed to come to a Fireside my community is hosting after we return to Sun City this Saturday.
I feel really blessed to be with someone who is so attentive, caring and generous, and have every intention of holding on to this, and doing everything in my power to ensure that I never do anything to over-step or misuse this wonderful man.

Bird Of Pray

2011-07-12T13:11:00.000-07:00

So, Mr Nice Guy and I have been up in T-town for a few days now. I was scared out of my senses about how things would go once we got here, but I have been very pleasantly surprised so far.
Mr Nice Guy's dad is just like him, but sweeter and quieter.... I'm amazed. He's been cooking for us every chance he gets, and he's an amazing cook. He barely speaks, but he's just the nicest, most passive guy.
Mr Nice Guy's sister is also very nice, though she is far more outgoing than her father or brother. She's less conservative.

T-town has an amazing Greek restaurant, a bookstore I fell in love with the moment I walked through the door, and a good selection of large organic and health food stores. There also, from what I've seen, appears to be a strong Baha'i community here, and there's a Baha'i institute about an hour outside of town.

Mr Nice Guy and I are still doing very well, and I am happier with him each day. I am finally learning to relax rather than over think this all. He is very good to me, very sweet, and I am enjoying this more with each day. I'm so in love with him. The fact that he and I can talk about faith, and that he's interested in the Baha'i faith certainly helps.

I've never been happier.

Lesson

2011-07-08T23:41:00.000-07:00

So, I went to the local community Reflection Gathering today, Mr Nice Guy in tow- voluntarily.
Having never been to a Reflection Gathering, I wasn't aware just how administrative it is.
I learned tonight.
Mr Nice Guy sat patiently through an hour of discussion, despite being tired and probably more than a little impatient, but he hid it well.
After we took a break, we came back and sat down (I'd made sure by this point he was okay with staying through the second half) and, well, my community surprised even me.
By this point, it had been well established that Mr Nice Guy knew little to nothing of the Baha'i Faith. Several people had approached him with bits and pieces and offerings of info. One of our Persian Friends, though, took a special interest immediately, if rather indirectly. He pulled the organizer of tonight's meeting aside during the break to ask if we could do a small fireside.
Very quickly, it turned from a 'small fireside' into a very, very animated discussion as each of us went around the room, to include the Youth-age folks, and explained how they became Baha'i. Needless to say, hilarity ensued. We have some wonderfully funny and talented Persians in our community, one in particular who is a fantastic storyteller. Even the folks who were born into a Baha'i family generally had pretty interesting or funny stories passed down from parents and grandparents about how they had become Baha'i. One of our Youth ladies simply stated "I've been a Baha'i eighteen years. Anyone wanna guess how old I am?!" Naturally, the room erupted into laughter, after having only just heard quite the emotional discourse from one of our more weathered Friends.
Mr Nice Guy hasn't said much, and I plan to talk to him a bit over the coming week, but so far, I really can't gauge how he feels about it over all, though he still has only fairly vague information about it, I suppose.

I can't possibly explain how good it felt to be back with the community.

Sedated

2011-07-08T13:25:00.000-07:00

Well, it looks like the meds work.
I, of course, have mixed feelings about this.
Yesterday, I forgot to take my dose in the morning, and took what I was could for a late afternoon dose.
I calmed down.
It wasn't a ridiculous sedation or anything, and I didn't feel like I hit a brick wall that made all the bad stuff go away, it just made me more... logical, I guess. I calmed down.
By the time I heard from Mr Nice Guy, it'd been about 4 hours since I'd last heard from him and, of course, plenty had gone through my head by this point.
He called, saying he'd just dropped her off. The tone in my voice and the phrase "We'll talk about it when you get here" apparently tipped him off to just how wrong he was.
When he got here, the first words out of his mouth were "I'm an idiot. I didn't even think about it."
He was very apologetic and very sweet. We did, however discuss my feelings about that situation and her, and, as it turns out, she knows/knew Madman and some of his friends. I'll avoid explaining her incriminating comment and why I further lost respect for someone I have never met, but, yes, I care for her even less than I did before. She'll be leaving for basic training before Mr Nice Guy and I get back from T-City, and words can't express my happiness at this. I am not the judgmental type, as a rule, but basic courtesies are sort of a requirement in my book, and, when someone's hanging out with my boyfriend without me around, well, there's protocol.
Today is better. I'm hanging out, cleaning, doing laundry and packing, and taking my sweet time about it, which is nice to be able to do. Mr Nice Guy had a really rough day yesterday, but is doing better today. He stayed here later than usual last night so we could talk, and so we both felt better about everything that had happened. It was very much appreciated, too. He really is an awfully good man.

Hellfire

2011-07-07T18:06:00.000-07:00

As is prone to happen, the Bear snuck up on me.
The bear is the only way I can reference this horrible person that pops into my head at marked times of the month.
I was doing so well on the anti-depressants and, well, what a day to forget my morning meds.

Mr. Nice Guy is out to dinner with a female friend.
In general, I have no issues with this. I trust him.
Her, on the other hand...
I was pretty passive about the first dinner they had when Mr Nice Guy and I first started seeing each other. I'm not the type to judge or be jealous.
So, when he mentioned this dinner with the same girl, I told him I'd like to meet her. She agreed.
Then changed her mind.
I don't know if it was her comment that she "saw no point" in meeting me or if it was the comment about how easily she makes enemies that set me on edge, but my general respect for this friend of my boyfriend's quickly fizzled.

Now, I haven't heard from him in three hours and he hasn't responded to a single text.
If I hear from him, I'm sure it'll get blown off to him having left his phone somewhere, but my heart hurts, and, even though I know most of it's hormones, and even though I took the allowed medication for this time of evening, I feel miserable and angry and hurt and jealous and depressed... And I'm just expecting him to blow me off for good. It's what men do.

It hurts so badly to think about all of this, but this is how I get when the "bear" wakes up, and I hate it. I just want so badly to hear from him, but mostly, just to feel like everything's okay. I know I can handle anything, but this isn't something I expected to have to deal with. He's been so respectful and made such an effort at letting me know what was going on, this just shakes me to the bone....

OThou Whose tests are a healing medicine to such as are nigh unto Thee, Whose sword is the ardent desire of all them that love Thee, Whose dart is the dearest wish of those hearts that yearn after Thee, Whose decree is the sole hope of them that have recognized Thy truth! I implore Thee, by Thy divine sweetness and by the splendors of the glory of Thy face, to send down upon us from Thy retreats on high that which will enable us to draw nigh unto Thee. Set, then, our feet firm, O my God, in Thy Cause, and enlighten our hearts with the effulgence of Thy knowledge, and illumine our breasts with the brightness of Thy names.

Bahá’u’lláh

Attention & Intention

2011-07-07T12:16:00.000-07:00

I was sitting back, catching up on some of my favorite blogs, when I stumbled across this over at One Baha'i's Approach.
Meade talks about something that really hit home with me right about now: core activities outside the 'norm'.
As I've said here, I haven't been involved with my local community for a couple months now, though this may change shortly, with some recent improvements to communication. My local community is far more conservative than what my experience had been thus far, and, having been raised Catholic, there are some parts of conservatism that make me quite uncomfortable.
Not having children, I haven't been involved as much as I would like with children in general.
Devotionals, however, have been a rather different story.
I have been blessed to recently be able to start teaching Mr Nice Guy about the Faith, and he has been quite receptive. Being in the military, well, I talk about the Faith openly, but it is a heavily Christian sort of community, and, all too often, the most I can do is be open to questions and discussions. Perhaps this counts as a combination of devotionals and home visits? I'm not entirely sure.

My earlier reference to improved communication was not passing. I recently got a response to my email to my fellow Baha'i about his efforts and my feelings on them. He apologized, and, much to my surprise, agreed with me on several counts. He said he realized that our community needed to be more open-minded. This surprised me, but I was glad to hear it. We have a Reflections gathering tomorrow night that I think I may attend, though it's more than a little overwhelming to think about at this point.

Center

2011-07-07T10:44:00.000-07:00

I've been on leave since the 29th of June.
It's the first leave (vacation time) I've taken in a year, and it's much over due.
I'm enjoying sleeping in, relaxing and having time for myself, rather than trying to squeeze in everything I need to do or should do between 10-12 hours of work each day.
I feel like me again.
I feel the hormones fluctuating, and worry when Mr Nice Guy might be baptized by fire, and just how badly. I no longer worry about my reaction to the hell-fires, but Mr Nice Guy is someone I want in my life and who fits with me in a way I can't explain. I can't stand the idea of losing him. He's local, so I know I'll likely at least be able to see him when it all hits, which will either help or do infinite amounts of damage, and I know he's pretty touchy-feely, so I can only hope that he'll be the one to put his arms around me when I fall apart, rather than run like so many others have.
I knew in my heart I would have dealt with Madman's own particular breed of gruff love and attitude for as long as he'd have let me. I also knew, though, that he didn't treat me the way I wanted and being with him would likely mean giving up several things that were important to me- having shared faith, children, open and honest communication...
Mr Nice Guy is the one who doesn't make me give up anything. I'm not afraid to talk to him, he accepts me for just who I am, wants children, believes in God and wants to share that with me. I'm not scared to see how he will react to his own children, or how thoroughly he'll hold on to a grudge against his parents. He was very hurt when his parents divorced in his adulthood, but, impressively, he is still very close to both of his parents as well as his older sister. I think he tends to lean more towards his father now, while that wasn't the case before the divorce, but he frequently speaks to both of his parents and his sister. If I speak to my own sister twice in a month, it's unusual, sadly, and my mother, well, lack of her presence in my life is simply better for the entire family at this point.
I want the kind of family he has, and I would love to see it flow naturally into our future.

My dad was talking to me a couple weeks ago, and mentioned that one of his doctors suggested he go see a psychiatrist to help him manage his depression. I'm not sure what he said to her, but his response to this, in speaking to me, was to get rather upset and say that he knew that his depression stemmed from perceived emotional abuse by his father when he was a child, and that any doctor he saw would tell him the same thing. It's no surprise to me at this point that my father went through what he did, and it's nothing new for me to hear him voice it. The voice in the back of my head, though, that spoke up this time is something new. In my head I heard "I don't want to be that way."
My mother did what she did, and is who she is.
I was raped twice, as well as molested as a young child.
I lost a lot of people in my life, through death and other events.
I don't want to be fifty-eight years old, with two grown children, and still know that the problems I have then are the cause of something that occurred long before I ever thought of having children of my own.
It's occurred to me since then that a) I have come a long way already and b) each generation's goal is, mostly, to improve upon what their own parents were. I know I can do this without disrespecting or looking down on what my own parents are/were.

It's driven me crazy, in the past, that I didn't have the daughter I carried, however briefly.
Now, though, I see how much better my childrens' lives will be for waiting until later to have children.
Now, I look forward to what my children will have and be, because I know I am capable of loving them and truly enjoying their lives without my own past making me paranoid or otherwise less than present for my children.
Now, I'm ready to move forward.

So Much

2011-07-06T23:33:00.000-07:00

I met Mr. Nice Guy on June 17th.
Today is July 6th.
So much has happened.
Maybe two days prior to meeting Mr Nice Guy, I gave in and did something I had battled against, literally, for years. I asked for help.
I have PMDD- Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder.

Generally, two days a month- separate days- I fall apart in the most complete sense of the phrase.
There have been times I genuinely questioned whether I would survive the day without committing suicide. The complete, and total darkness I fall into, generally one day around ovulation and one shortly before menstruating, is a black abyss that I never get used to, and, in all honesty, I am truly surprised it hasn't killed me yet.

I saw a doctor one day, after my father's illness got worse, the end of my relationship with Madman, some fairly serious problems at work, money problems, and a major change in plans for the next year of my life all came at once. I asked for anti-depressants, and gave her a very detailed history, to include my mother's Munchausens' syndrome, alcoholism, etc and fathers various health issues, and history of chronic depression. I have been on the medication since mid June, and, well, I haven't had any "bad days" so far.
The string of events that occurred still seems incredible to me.

My relationship with Madman exploded in a way I honestly did not think would ever happen. I truly believed our back-and-forth frustration was something that we'd work through, that would surely get better in time, but honestly believed that we'd end up married and together for life, in spite of ourselves.

I don't know if my mood bottoming out or the break up came first, but the combination of one of my "bad days" (there just aren't words to describe days filled with such terror as some of those have brought me) together with the events of our break up forced me to a point of depression that I couldn't deny. I had to break that horrible cycle.

Within days of doing what I had to in order to get better, I met Mr Nice Guy.
Any fan of psychology 101 will look at this chain of events and say that my accepting help was an acceptance of myself in some ways, and, therefor, opened me up to relationship possibilities I may not have welcomed before. Makes sense.
I tend toward the spiritual or holistic ways of looking at it, as I seriously doubt bottoming out in the days prior to meeting someone wonderfully compatible with you is statistically likely.
However, the truth of the matter is, I really don't care why it happened.
I'm just happy it did.

We're still in the early weeks of a relationship, but, I am happy to find myself still enjoying and appreciating his company and attention. He went up to K-town to meet some very close friends of mine over the 4th of July weekend, and, despite his utterly, painfully shy nature, he impressed me greatly. He tolerated my love of people and my need to be surrounded by the people I care about, and seemed to, in a way, enjoy from the background my love of attention. He rode a mechanical bull for the first time- and this four-eyed, quiet, So You Think You Can Dance-watching, flip-flop and jeans-wearing nerd made folks who had ridden a hundred times look pathetic. I was beyond impressed. Then he proceeded to come out with me (voluntarily!!) on to the dance floor and verrry quickly pick up both The Cupid Shuffle and the line dance to Copperhead Road. I was impressed that he was willing to even try, the fact that he had both down within the first time seeing it done just blew me away. I pretended not to notice the gawkers as I held his hand while I showed him the steps. I know we look very different- and we are- and I know these ego-maniacal types who think because I'm "pretty" I should limit myself to dating "hot" men. What they just don't get is that, even though his personality is what absolutely means the most to me, I don't see a nerd when I look at him. I see past the glasses and shy demeanor and see the thick, toned biceps, broad shoulders and toned, muscular chest. I get that everyone else stops looking the second they throw him into one of their mental categories, but, if I had done that... Wow.
If I had turned my attention away the second I realized he wasn't "cool", I'd have missed out on someone who makes me laugh even when I don't want to, who says sweet things that I was convinced only were in sappy chick flicks, who holds my hand in public, who genuinely likes my company and the way I think, who gets a major kick out of catching other guys looking at his girlfriend, who has no problem with my blatant honesty, or other less-than-admirable qualities and who was excited when I told him my definition of intimacy was being able to pray with someone I'm in a relationship- something, by the way, that has yet to happen for me at all.

I have fallen in love with Mr Nice Guy. After dating men that I thought would take care of me and a family in the future, I found a man who loves me and appreciates who I am right now and has no intention of being anywhere but by my side in the future.

It has all happened very quickly. He has met my father, my friends and I have met some of his friends, and will travel with him to T-City for a week this Saturday to meet his family and childhood friends, all of whom are actively Christian.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified at all of this, but, well, I've never been happier, and it scares me.
I feel like we're starting off together, not ending up together, and that makes a world of difference. I don't feel like I have to find a place in his life, nor him in mine. It seems as though we're building a new life, together, from scratch. We're building a life of dancing, dedication, faith, love and family.

Without Fear

2011-06-26T22:38:00.000-07:00

Madman is happier alone, and I am happier not trying to teach him how to be half of a relationship. I suppose I will always love him, but what good is loving someone if you're both miserable together? We're better friends, and, after a week of being without one another, have finally come to that agreement.
Naturally, my heart took about two days of pain before it was hopeful again. It's a mixed blessing, recovering from heartbreak like I do. While I know myself ridiculously well, I know it looks to everyone else like I'm constantly rebounding.
Today, though, I stopped worrying about that.
I met someone, admittedly through the internet, who I really thought would be no more than a friend. With such a rough week, by Friday night, all I wanted was to be around people again. So, Mr. Nice Guy, with whom I share an MOS (military occupational specialty) and a great deal of mutual acquaintances, as it turned out, invited me to come over to watch a movie. Had we not known so many of the same people and been talking so much like old friends, I wouldn't have agreed. Over the span of a weekend, I realized how good it felt to be close to someone, to be accepted and held and talked to. Mr. Nice Guy is anything but "my type". He is so goofy and nerdy it astounds me, thick glasses and all, but I have never relaxed around someone so much so fast... There was no question of him disrespecting or putting me down. We clicked, immediately and completely, and I find myself laughing and smiling constantly with him... I can talk to him honestly and openly about things, even things that involve other men. I feel safe and cared for and absolutely wanted when I'm with him. He's every bit as affectionate and goofy and sweet as anybody I could have dreamed. He is, in some ways, my opposite, though, as he has a shy streak a mile wide and is far less verbal with his affection than I am. His compliments often come out awkwardly and frequently only once he's had the time to think through it all and phrase it just the way he wants. It all amuses impulsive, open, outgoing me, but it also takes me to a level of flattered that astounds me. He is what every mother dreams her daughter will bring home, and what every father wants his son to be. He understands mechanics, likes guns, is big and solid and muscular, incredibly smart, and has great manners. He's also startlingly observant, which is something that will, inevitably, throw me. He sees my reactions to every word and movement, and responds, without being asked, to all of them.
Madman has a way of making me feel broken and damaged, as, I suspect, he takes some amount of his identity from what pains he's experienced. I don't want to do that. I don't want to be the person who holds on to the past, though I think I have a bit too much up until now. I don't want to feel broken anymore, I've spent enough of my life trying to heal. It's time to start living again, and to stop trying to figure out what is wrong with me. I am human, I will never be perfect, and I'm okay with that.
I haven't attended any Baha'i community events in several months now. I sent a long, rather pointed email to a fellow Baha'i who consistently pushed me to do more with the community, and, several times, implicated that I hadn't done this/that/the other simply out of laziness or not wanting to. His idea of how we might best reach out to people and mine are clearly very different, but this is, frankly, a very conservative Baha'i community. I respect even the most strict tenets of my Faith, but I believe, even more strongly, in the message that has been forgotten and/or missed for so many centuries that is such a central focus to the Baha'i faith: LOVE ABOVE ALL ELSE. So long as I love my fellow man, and do my best to help and teach and guide others, I am doing right by God. I've known this in my heart all my life, and, while I have every intention of helping with community responsibilities, I don't believe that completing every Ruhi book known to man and being on every committee there is would be the best use of the talents and strengths God gave me. I have always preferred diversity and openness. I respect all faiths, races and walks of life, and will always do my absolute best to bring them together. I simply don't lean towards the school of thought that assemblies, committees and organizations are required to help people. Sometimes being an example to others does more than all the fundraisers one person could handle.
That's the way I see it.

The Devil In Her Eyes

2011-06-07T11:58:00.000-07:00

The first time I met my paternal grandmother, she said something that should go down in the history books as involving physic powers:
"Boy, you can just see the devil in her eyes."
I tend to believe this may have been about the time my parents began considering "selling me to the gypsies". They did threaten me with such a fate later in life, to which I responded, "Really? I could go live with the gypsies?! When?!"
From there on in, it was pretty much them making bets (or, if you ask my dad, battling over 'dibs') on how long, exactly, I might live.
I have been raped twice- both times in vehicles, both my friends-of-friends.
I have broken my leg in three places, by jumping into a swimming pool- with no water in it. On a dare. And played soccer, climbed monkey bars, and beat the crap out of some boys with a half-leg cast and crutches.
I have had stitches more times than I could count.
I have been an alcoholic.
I worked for/ran with the carnival my first summer as an adult.
I moved away from home my first chance.... you know, besides getting kicked out.
I joined the Army.
I have 53 hours worth of tattoos, and counting.
At one point, I drank, smoked and dipped tobacco.
I swear like a frigging sailor, and it borders on uncontrollable.
I like blowing things up.
I set a quarter of my back yard on fire in fourth grade.
I almost got suspended-in Kindergarten- for hitting one of the boys. (Back.)
I convinced my sister there was a talking mongoose living in the walls of our cinder block home.
I still beat up on the boys every chance I get.
I joined the Army to be a medic mostly because it meant I would get to put needles in people and taunt them if they didn't like it. Oh, and because I couldn't think of any job crazier that women were allowed to do.
I lived in a hotel for a few months- the same hotel the head housekeeper got stabbed to death by one of the tenants while I was out at the mall.

My grandmother knew too much. Her brother was a historian for Salem and it's witch trials, and I can't help but believe that there's something a little spooky about our family in general. I've survived hell and back, and I'm not the least bit scared of death. I'm not afraid of heights, I'm not afraid of snakes, spiders, driving too fast, flying, or any of the other phobias people generally seem to have at least one of. I like knives, I like guns, and I'm perfectly okay with the idea that I could die any day.
I am happy, and I will, in one sense or another, survive anything this world has to throw at me. I may be high-strung some days, but, mostly, I'm just along for the ride.
I mean, who's going to hurt the girl with the devil in her eyes?

This Moment For Life

2011-06-06T15:16:00.000-07:00

A lot seems to have changed- quickly.
Someone I've been very close to, as a friend, who has listened to me whine and/or flirt about/with other men for the last two to four months (I've lost track of how long I've known him now) and I have finally started calling what we have a relationship. He confessed to having feelings for me the first time in a highly drunken manner, after being at the bar with me, and seeing me flirting with a bartender. Things with the bartender blew over quick fast and in a hurry, yet my friend stayed by my side. He'd seen my "slowly blooming relationship" shut itself down and restart itself a few times, and, well, I finally let it go once and for all. Initially, I thought that his professed interest in me was a drunken lonely man talking. Lately, though, we've been inseperable. Even when I was talking to someone else, he has been the person I've spent all my free time with. He's the person I tell things to, and the person I go to for help when I'm frustrated or overwhelmed- which has been more frequently than I'd like to admit.
Madman. That's what we'll call him.
One of our mutual friends, and his co-worker, said Saturday night, speaking to him, "Of all the people I know who are mad at life, you are my favorite."
It suits him.
He grew up in the same town as me, and not with an all-too-different family history. He's six months younger than me, and here we are, twenty five, and meeting in our hometown, after both having traveled the world. Go figure. Dad and he get along great, though they initially met long before I'd had any intentions of dating him. I've had feelings for Madman from the jump, but, well, I was scared. I suppose there's no shame in admitting that.
I've spent lots of time with the guys he works with, and am, to date, the only fellow Soldier to have met his best friend, a beautiful, petite Mexican girl who I'm relatively sure some of the guys think he made up. So, after plenty of other people asking if we were together, and me continually dodging the question or pointedly saying "No.", yesterday, I spilled my guts to him. I told him I just wanted to be his. He asked what I meant. I told him I didn't want to have to wonder if we were just friends who liked each other or if we were together, and that, if he wasn't ready, he didn't need to rush, but I wanted to be with him if that was something at some point he wanted, too. His response (all of this through text messaging, mind you) was very simple: "We r together." One of his good friends pointed out that it probably had a bit of a 'duh' tacked on their in his mind, and Madman later confirmed this to me when I asked him.
Madman isn't someone who dates much. At all. His longest relationship was 3 months long distance. We've already spent 2 months, at least, primarily focused on one another, if not technically "together". He's already stuck around more than twice as long as most people I've seen lately.
Saturday night was interesting for me. We went to a bar with a lot of his friends, and, as usual, I was the designated driver- and the only girl. I had no problem with this, and dressed up, even. I was in a good mood- until we got to the bar. I was not comfortable.
I began to rage at Madman over his lack of claiming me, and a passing, joking comment he'd made to one of the guys. When we had a moment alone, Madman's response to my sudden anger was very, very simple and very, very honest: "Don't do this. You know I don't understand this, or how to handle this. Tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it."
His incredibly simple statement threw me. It made me realize that I was about to repeat the cycle of running the moment I knew someone might last. I excused myself to the bathroom. I thought I was going to cry, but I didn't.
The lesson hit me like a lightning bolt in the middle of a beach-themed bar, as I sat in the stall, in my black leather mini-skirt and high-heeled boots:
I felt out of control of the situation. The only part of the situation I could control was what I had with Madman, and I needed to be back in control to feel safe.
I was messing up what had survived two months and plenty of chaos because I hadn't had words for my fear and anxiety.
Madman's reaction to my anger was so simple and straight-forward, it forced me back into myself, and made me see that he really had no intentions of doing anything wrong- and that I knew that. There was no denying to him that I knew he meant no harm. This man has put up with me screaming and crying and telling him things that I have no doubt he would have rather not heard, when none of it had anything to do with him. He'd told me once that, anything I needed, just tell him, and it was mine. This man wouldn't hurt me, and he knew that, and he knew I knew that. And he told me so.
He doesn't understand that showing me pictures of his female friends on facebook and talking about them might make me jealous. He doesn't understand it because I haven't told him. I haven't told him because, eventually, it occurred to me that he doesn't want to hurt me, he just wants to share this part of his life with me. He doesn't understand why I like to touch him and be touched so much, but he's stopped putting up his walls when I do it, and starting responding to my touch with his own, not because he likes public displays of affection, but because I told him how much it bothers me that he didn't. I don't doubt for a second that he has no idea that I'd like to get roses or have him run me a bubble bath or any other typically romantic things. I know he'll never think of it on his own. I also know that all I'd have to do is ask, and he would.
We don't use the word love. I don't think he's ever used that word with a girl, though I haven't asked, either. I know that the sudden urge to tell him I love him was the reason I had to step back and look at what our then-friendship really meant to me, and what I wanted from it. I know that it's there, and, well, I know I love him. Someday he'll come out of the blue and tell me he loves me. I can wait for that, for a change, because the reason it's going to be so incredible when he's ready to say it is because I think I've known it all along.

There's people who will read this that will be, at once, hurt by it and happy for me. I haven't forgotten you. I didn't write this one for you, though, I wrote it for me. Not because I care about you any less. Because I care about you- I love you- and always will.
I just can't keep living a life of apologies and deferred dreams.
What is meant to be will find a way, and, right now, this is what's meant to be.
I hope I still have a place in your heart and life.

One Of Them

2011-05-27T20:35:00.000-07:00

I tell people, especially people I'm seeing or considering dating, that I'm emotional.
I had someone point out that saying that's a bit redundant, as 'all humans are emotional'.
Yet, if a tear rolls down my face at work- about anything- all hell will surely break loose and I don't have to question for one second that I lost somebody's respect for feeling something. I'm in the Army, I'm not supposed to have feelings when other people can see them. If I even bother to attempt to explain why something hurt/offended/pissed me off, I'm wrong for feeling that, and I'm no fun, and I'm too much of a girl, too sensitive, etc, etc, fucking etc.
I'm beyond tired of this. I'm trying so hard to distance myself, but how the hell am I supposed to ever be happy if I just keep having to distance myself from everyone and everything? I'm not allowed to feel anything, because, obviously, feelings are a "chick trait". I'm tired of living this way. I'm tired of trying my ass off to be a dude without losing who I am just to find some success- it's fucking futile.
Work? Gotta be like the guys, or nobody will respect me.
Dating? Gotta act more like a guy, or they'll never be able to put up with me.
Driving? Women drivers are terrible, can't drive like them.
"Date like a dude, or get played like a bitch."
"Act like a lady, think like a man." -Steve Harvey
"Do it like a dude." -Jessie J
"Like a boy." -Ciara
I DON'T WANT TO BE ONE OF THEM. I JUST WANT TO BE ME.

Expectations

2011-05-27T19:22:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to get this suspicion that women who truly are ready for marriage are the ones who've stopped having expectations of their partner being considerate.
Or maybe my expectations are too high.
Or maybe my fear of being abandoned again is just that much worse than I thought.
The half-blooming relationship is still at half-bloomed, and I'm more and more unsure that it will bloom further, though the commitment part of it seems to have fizzled a bit since the initial jump.We're still talking, but I see him quite rarely, and, well, now I'm having doubts. He's got a teenage daughter, and says he doesn't want more children. Can I give up having children of my own? The tears in my eyes at this thought make me realize I am far less sure than I once was. He is far more established with more to lose if we get serious and things don't work out. He's adamant that he will not get divorced again, on which point we agree, but.... I feel like I'm trying to fit into his life, rather than figuring out how to build one together, and I'm less than sure that I'm okay with that.
My barracks room, and, well, everything about being in the Army, is beginning to feel like my holding pen until I find a place in life that I can fit... I'm tired of feeling like I'm waiting.
I'd rather be a mom than a medic, and rather be a wife than a sergeant. This just isn't making me happy anymore. It's doing the total opposite. I'm finding myself depressed and/or angry more and more often lately, and seeing a level of complacency at work I never thought I'd feel.
I'm coasting, and I can't keep doing that.
If I was any other woman, with any other past, in this situation, I'd get knocked up by the first guy who treated me right, get married and get out of the Army. The tubal ligation my mother encouraged me to have "to keep from passing my problems on to my children" when I was just eighteen prevents this from happening. Having the section that connects your ovaries and womb tied cut and burnt to crap will keep you from getting pregnant, in case you were wondering. It works. The Army doctors will not do the surgery to reverse it without the records of the initial surgery, which the hospital no longer has. In Vitro fertilization can be done, but for reduced price rather than for free, as with other medical procedures in the Army.
Not that I have a guy around who would want to stick around that long in the first place.
I don't even understand half of what's happened lately.
The only person I could really see myself with for keeps at this point that wants anything to do with something serious with me is too many states away, and, well, I've screwed up that bridge enough. I couldn't ask him to move here, especially when I can't get a place of my own without getting married or growing two ranks overnight, and even marriage is, of course, a hard thing to think of when you have no idea when you'll see one another again, assuming I could be a part of a normal relationship without f'ing it to hell.
I feel alone, I feel empty, and I'm just not happy anymore.
I'm struggling. Again.

Burnt

2011-05-03T11:10:00.000-07:00

So, there's been lots of changes recently, but mostly, I'm worn out.
Things are going fairly well in my personal life, with a slowly blooming relationship in it's very early stages- one that makes me grateful for all I have gone through that I may see the value of this one. If it isn't forever, well, I'll still know I can lean on this man.
Work-wise, I'm just burnt out. I've been busting my rear for the last nine months, won't take leave until the end of next month, and I'm just plain old tired. There's been no acknowledgment of my efforts or work, and my new boss seems less than enthusiastic about working with me most days. I am left in the dust with everything I've worked so hard for, and I'm ready to give it up. I don't want to do this Army stuff any more right now. It's become almost easy for me until these last few weeks, I'd finally found my comfort zone, and now everything I've worked for has simply been taken from me. I've been disrespected and tossed to the side, and I need to find the correct way to brush myself off and get back up. I just can't seem to get there.
I'm still avoiding re-joining gatherings of the local Baha'i community, as they just wear me out, rather than make me feel refreshed. I feel guilty rather than hopeful and I would rather spend my time helping people than feeling I'm not doing enough.
I've been half-forced to cut meat from my diet these last two weeks, as, once again, my digestive system simply wasn't having it. I'm not heartbroken about the lack of meat, but it presents challenges that I seem to be adapting to alright. We'll see.
I'm hesitant to say anything is forever these days.

Love & Danger

2011-04-18T12:39:00.000-07:00

Kicker hasn't bothered to speak to me if it isn't avoidable in the line of duty.
I was hurt for a while, but it's been over a week now, and I'm tired of being mad, or hurt, or even acknowledging his existence and the damage he did.
I do not, however, have any regrets, and know I am doing better where relationships are concerned.
I dreamt of Danger last night, vividly. I refuse to recount the dream, because there's so little of him that's just mine at this point, and, well, I want to be greedy about this little part.
I miss him desperately, though last night was the best dream I've ever had, perhaps, and led me to believe that some things will be clarified for me in the next week. I am so in love with this man, even nearing a year after his death. I want to hold on to the feeling of faith, hope and love that dream gave me forever- even the slight twinge of pain that accompanied these feelings.
I don't know what answers I will have, but something will come.
I miss him and love him so much.
I've began keeping my distance from my local Baha'i community, though I hate to say so. I find myself feeling guilty and stretched thinner and thinner and weaker, rather than stronger, when I am around them too much. I do not feel uplifted, I feel drained and like less of a person, so I stay to myself and do what I can to learn what I should on my own.
I have planned to take some leave, though I'm still deciding what it is I'll do during this time.
I somehow feel hopeful today, though sad. I feel closer to Danger than I have in quite some time.

Game?

2011-04-11T10:08:00.000-07:00

I reached the end of my rope yesterday.
After asking Kicker a handful of times to tell me if he even wanted me around, to no response, and constantly being left in his dust, after being told I shouldn't make him the center of my world (um, not an issue when I see someone so little), after begging him to show affection, to be there to do anything that made me think he gave a hoot, I walked away.
He was on a 5-hour run with his motorcycle club, and I packed my stuff n left before he got home, leaving a note and all the conversations, no matter how useless and one-sided, for him to, I had hoped, sort through n come to his senses n tell me he wanted me in his life.
I have yet to hear a word from him, and I'm never going to drop what little pride I have left after fighting for this for 3 weeks and doing it alone and contact him first- I just won't. If he doesn't care enough to reach out to me, then he never cared that much in the first place.
I hate that it came to this, but fighting to have someone care at all isn't the way a relationship is supposed to be.
Another one bites the dust in 3 weeks.

Patience

2011-04-09T10:35:00.000-07:00

Kicker and I are doing well- sort of.
Monday will be 3 weeks we've been together, and, yes, the man is irritating me, but not in the way I would have expected. I barely see him, as he's busy between playing with his truck n motorcycles and his motorcycle club. My patience is wearing thin, but I am trying to hang in there. He swears it'll slow down soon. Even when I am staying at his place, I barely see him lately. I spent a lot of money for his birthday, and, well, it was a rough night in the end. He really does work hard to take care of me and to try to fix things that I'm having trouble with/upset about. Effort is something I haven't seen a lot of from guys, and it means a lot to me that he's trying as hard as he is. None the less, I continue to struggle with my own feelings of frustration and disappointment when I don't see him or hear his voice for days at a time, and when he sleeps for 12 hours or more, only to get up and be on the run again as soon as his feet hit the ground.
I'm holding on, though it's getting harder and harder. I doubt there's much I wouldn't do for him, though I've found myself spending time with other people more than him, some being guys. I haven't cheated on him, and I doubt I ever could. I find myself sending male friends text messages of things I'd rather be saying to him, because I know I won't get a response from him. I find myself doing things with them I'd rather be doing with him, because I know he doesn't have the time/energy to do them with me.
I care about him more than words can express, and I'm holding on for dear life, trying to learn to take responsibility for my own emotions while attempting to find a balance between doing things to make myself feel better and trying to ensure I don't end up emotionally unfaithful.
This is a hard road, my friends, and this is only my relationship.
I suppose struggling with this, I should be more concerned by my newly discovered fascination with Mae West.
Work is getting more and more complicated and frustrating, with many changes being made. I finally have someone in charge besides myself, and, while I'd thought this would make life easier, mostly, it's changed the majority of what I was comfortable with. I'm still doing the vast majority of what I was already responsible for, so to say he's doing a lot may be questionable. I stayed at work late at least 4 out of 5 nights this past week, while he left at 2 one of those days, instructing the junior Soldiers that we shouldn't be leaving before 3:30. To say I disagree with his particular style of leadership may be an understatement- we are nearly complete opposites. I enjoy people and goofing off and having fun, and he thinks they won't respect my opinion as a medic because I joke around with them.
I will fight for my Soldiers every time, and he just doesn't seem to care about them.
Dad is going through a bankruptcy and I am barely staying afloat myself, so I have been unable to help. There's always something that requires more money than I expected, though that may be a bit of an understatement lately.
I'm struggling. I haven't given up, but, boy am I struggling.

Rolling Stone

2011-04-03T18:59:00.000-07:00

It's a new month, my dear friends, and, as these things tend to happen for me, I'm on to a new place in my life. Things with Cowboy spiraled downward quickly after my last post, half due to Doc and half due to Cowboy being completely ungrateful for what I'd been doing. I had some very, very dark days around that time, and fell apart. Only in retrospect could I see that dishes, parenting someone else's daughter, helping pay bills, cooking, cleaning and being the only one actually going to work in addition to everything else I was dealing with was half the cause. After a couple of very bad days only made worse by his refusal to be there for me in any way shape or form, he informed me that either I could make a decision or wait for him to make one as to whether or not he wanted to be with me.
I said goodbye.
I don't regret it in the least.
Since then, a passing friendship at work has blossomed into something I'm quite impressed with.
It's not perfect. It's not flawless or everything I'd ever expected, but we're working on it, and it makes me happy more often than not.
He's been divorced as long as I have, no children, and a backwoods country boy with a big, jacked up truck n a couple motorcycles. Oh, and his dog is awesome!
It's been 2 weeks tomorrow (I had to do the math, it feels like we've been together longer) since we really started seeing each other outside of work. I feel like I've grown up about 10 years in these last two weeks. The realization that I still try to make other people responsible for my emotions shot me like an arrow yesterday, and seems to be that missing link that I've needed for a long time. It hit me suddenly and completely, and made me take a lot more responsibility for my own crap. Kicker has been incredibly patient with me and he and I talked quite a bit today. It's beginning to occur to me that he's a lot like me in some ways- like trying to sit down and talk to him doesn't work. If we're driving down the street and I bring something up, he talks to me, even if I have to redirect his attention to the topic I need clarified a few times. He can dance, he's got big brown eyes that make me go weak and a sweet smile. He's made a huge effort to correct anything that I asked him to, and just been incredibly patient.
The amount of work-it-out we've shown in these last two weeks amazes and impresses me.
I don't know if this is forever, but it's worth every bit of effort and hope and patience I can muster.

Temper and Temperance

2011-03-10T17:18:00.000-08:00

I am losing my temper with Doc quickly.
I have been, for all intensive purposes, living with Cowboy these last couple weeks. While this is not the standard or accepted, much less ideal, Baha'i relationship, this relationship is far healthier than the vast majority of others I've been in, and, frankly, I'll take progress without complaining that it's not perfection.
In any case, Doc is Cowboy's roommate, and a medic, like myself. That, however, may be where the similarities end. Doc constantly borrows money from people- occasionally paying small sums back, but leaving a trail of large debts behind him. He currently owes Cowboy over $700.00 (and has for about a month) but payed me back $40.00 of the $50.00 he owed me a week ago. Since this, he's told Cowboy several times he intended to borrow money from me, though has, so far, followed Cowboy's advice (or warnings, if I know Cowboy) not to do so.
When it's not money, it's Cowboy's motorcycle. Doc will come out and ask for the keys, generally not asking permission and, more often than not, avoiding telling Cowboy where he intends to go on the bike. He complains and whines about not getting his way, and continually complains about anything he's done to help around the house, or even on the bike.
Cowboy knows how I feel about all this, and, frankly, I have no idea how he's letting him even live here right now, but that's between them. Doc is usually smart enough to try to leave me out of it, but has, at some points, brought me into it. Cowboy and I now have a pact that neither of us repeat what's discussed between us to Doc, for any reason.
Doc's fiance lives in Florida, and he has brought another girl to the house to spend the night with him on at least one occasion, though I only found out about that by accident, despite it being while I've been here, so who knows how many times it's happened.
Any respect I might have had for him when I met Cowboy has since dwindled to nothing.
He's worried I'll tell his fiance, and, honestly, I think I should, however, that's not something I want to be a part of, as I know it would certainly end his friendship with Cowboy, and that's going to be over the second Doc proves fully unwilling to pay his debt to Cowboy as I already know he is. Cowboy just keeps hoping for the best, saying he can't pay these bills by himself- but that's exactly what he's doing as it is.

Forward Momentum

2011-03-06T19:03:00.000-08:00

We picked up Cowboy's oldest (5 years old) daughter yesterday in Tuscon.
It was a long trip both ways- and I suck at letting other people drive, apparently- but it went pretty well, actually.
His little girl and I hit it off pretty much immediately. She's a sweetheart, and I've had no problems getting her to listen, or anything. She's been attached to my hip since we brought her back. She told me she loved me before we even got back to the house last night. Granted, her dad was a bit taken by surprise, but it meant the world to me.
Everything's been going incredibly well. He's dealt with my moods, and my tears, and my past. I love him, and I can't quite make this feel like anything less than exactly what I've been looking for. It's not at all what I expected, but it is the most wonderful, beautiful thing, and I couldn't be happier.

These Daze

2011-02-23T20:05:00.000-08:00

Work is picking up.
My second Soldier of 3 has arrived, though she is still in-processing.
My first Soldier is kind of stuck in gridlock around here, as there's a lot I must do, and very little she can do to help me.
I no longer have an NCOIC (immediate supervisor/boss of my area, for my civilian friends) and no credentialed officer to speak of. I am running the show, with some very able, if somewhat peripheral, leaders to help me when I need them to.
Tomorrow, I brief the battalion executive officer- second in command of several hundred people and a pretty important guy by comparison to me, to clarify- which is pretty serious stuff. Somehow, I have found the confidence to tell someone who outranks me, knows more than me, and would probably do a better job than me in this brief that I will handle it. I favored risking falling flat on my face in front of a very important person, and an officer who has been part of that peripheral leadership in order to learn and stand on my own two feet. I genuinely believe I'll pull this off and do so smoothly, though. Where this confidence comes from, I can't explain.
I am learning, quickly, that this whole Army thing is just something that comes naturally to me, once I let go of my habit of over-thinking things and panicking. In the words I used to explain why I made this decision to my Soldier earlier: "My success is ultimately nobody else's responsibility but my own. I'll either own it or I'll eat it." I was pretty impressed with this stroke of rational and deliberate thinking, as a year or two ago, it was not something I was exactly known for. I am, by nature, an emotional woman. It's taken me til age 25 to get a decent grasp on how much I show the world of what's going on in my mind and heart. To say I wear my heart on my sleeve is a bit of an under-representation. Perhaps, this is why I am sitting here trying to wrap my head around what has been going on in my life these last few days.
Saturday night, I get a phone call from Doc. Yes, the same Doc. He has a friend he wants me to meet. We haven't been on bad terms, but I'd be lying if I said I expected him to call me out of the blue, never mind expected him to try to hook me up with his friend. Well, at this point, I was pretty content with the thought of being single and trying to work my way through the grief of Danger's death- I had finally accepted I wasn't over it. Doc setting me up with someone, though- this I had to see. The picture he sent me of the guy didn't pique my interest- he looked like a skinny, balding redneck. Well, I went anyway, if only for a night out and to squash my curiosity. As it turns out, he is a skinny, balding redneck. He is also intelligent, likes to read, the father of two daughters, a gentleman and terribly sweet. He's tough, goofy, and has more in common with me than I am entirely sure I'm comfortable with, to include some of our mothers' issues.
We have known each other all of four days, and my emotions are open, raw and very visible. The odd thing is, they haven't turned as thick or overwhelming or negative as I expected to. I'm not entirely positive if it's that he's so much like me he reacts the way I want him to, if I've learned that much about how to handle myself, if it's the fact that I know in my heart Danger would approve of how he treats me or a combination, but I have been able to open up to him without fear. I don't flinch when he touches me, I don't pull away when he kisses me, and I don't "warn" him about my emotions. He's patient, sweet and incredibly loving. He's also incredibly loyal. He doesn't get frustrated when he has to tell me he's not going anywhere, and he seems to enjoy reminding me spontaneously.
Why am I not scared to believe I love this man after only four days?

Dumbness

2011-02-11T10:12:00.000-08:00

I'm tired of being single, and even more tired of having no clue why crap just doesn't work out with most of my friends, never mind relationships. I know some of the most 2-faced people and, apparently, some of the most unwilling to discuss things, too.
I'm miserable today. This probably won't be one of my more intellectual posts for that fact.
I had a dentist appointment at 7:30 this morning, which is a miserable way to start off a day. I feel beat down, sore, tired, cranky, etc. I just want to be at home in bed, cuddled up with someone who cares about me. The two people in this world (still living) that I genuinely believe care about me are too far away, and I'm as of yet unconvinced that I will ever again be happy in a relationship. It's just getting to the point where lonely is normal, where I've stopped hoping that cute guy staring at me across the restaraunt for three hours will come say hi, because they never do, and where laying in bed at night, crying, I've finally learned that nobody wants to be there with me while I'm going through this. It's a negative way to look at it, I know, but maybe my career is all I should focus on. That's all that I've got going for me right now, and I'm about ready to give up on anything else. Valentine's Day is, what, Monday? I know there will be no flowers or chocolates waiting for me, I know I'll be alone, and I guess that's just the way it'll always be. Someday, I may even be able to fully accept that, rather than having this little voice in the back of my head saying 'Maybe someday....'

Trouble, Thy Name Is Mine

2011-02-09T09:19:00.000-08:00

So, I can't count the number of times I have been told that my seeing the best in people is/does/will always get me in trouble.
Maybe the people who say that are even right- sometimes.
Maybe I just would rather ignore that fact, and continue being optimistic and refusing to believe that a lot of people are capable of and/or willing to hurt me.
It's not that I haven't been hurt, and it's not that I'm not wary of being hurt again. It's that I've been hurt often enough and badly enough that I refuse- I frikking REFUSE- to let my life revolve around that.
So, today I opened up a door to someone who most people would quickly consider "off-limits" a little wider than it already had been. He's not married, and not in the Army, and I'll just leave it at that.
We'll call him Trouble.
In any case, Trouble n I are looking at a long-distance thing for a while, so we'll see how it goes, but he's intelligent, tattooed, sweet and is doing all he can to be there for me. I haven't made him any promises, but I told him I'll try to come see him when I'm able to. I really do like him, but this is the type of situation that everybody else will tell me I've lost my marbles for. I don't care, though.
I just want to be happy, and I'm not one of those people who can do ANYTHING the normal way, so, hell with it, I'm going to do it my way, and I'm gonna have fun.

Quarter Century Chaos

2011-01-13T09:56:00.000-08:00

So, my 25th birthday is only a few days away, and Danger is in my head more than ever, it seems.
I miss him so much.
I'm trying so hard to live all the things he taught me, and I really am doing better at it, but I just miss him so much.
I have friends coming from all over town, and one friend, Cam, flying in for my birthday. I'm scared to be 25, as strange as that must sound, but it makes sense to me. Every day that goes by lately, it seems, I have a moment that dawns on me as being a "grown up" moment. It's like holy crap, this is what it's like to be an adult! At 25 years old, there's no more kid time, no more excuses for not getting it- there's not even anymore early 20's. It's mid-20's, in the most strict, literal sense of the word. Am I ready for that? Am I ready to be a grown up?
I've overcome ridiculous amounts of stuff, and busted my butt, and grown up SO MUCH, and joined the frikking Army, and I still am just not sure I'm ready to feel like a grown up. Maybe that's why I don't have my own car yet. I don't know. Every bill I have to pay is one more thing that makes me realize I'm an adult. I don't like that feeling. I want to be free, but... not.
This just doesn't make any sense.

Love Gone Wrong, Carry On

2011-01-12T11:55:00.000-08:00

It's been a ridiculous day.
Week.
Life.
2011 started 12 days ago, my 25th birthday is coming up in 4 days, and I'm already ready to wring this year's neck.
Yesterday, I had no clue how I'd juggle work, my first college class, basketball, and studying for my promotion board next month. Today, I get an email from a woman who decidedly does not care for her job if the way she performs it is any reflection, saying that, despite the fact that I attended class yesterday and have half my homework done, I have been dropped from the class because it is too full. I should explain that I had my World Religions book overnighted to me so I would be prepared for this class, and am already well into the planning stages on my term paper. I am beyond upset by this.
I was dating a guy I'd met through work, one I was elated to be dating and thought, very quickly, may work out for the long run. After a week, he freaked out on me, and, via text message, broke it off. He had been to the Baha'i center with me for Feast, had met my father and my friends- all willingly, and everything was going exceptionally well. It got ugly. We're back on friendly terms, though I still think his actions were an exemplary act of cowardice. He's back and forth between missing me and wanting me back and being too scared, so I have counted him off as someone I will consider dating at this point. I do not have the patience for that sort of fickleness, particularly not where a relationship is concerned.
I had a friend of mine from work recently ask me on a date, and we'll be going out tonight. I'm not sure that it's a true date just yet- this one's going to go as slow as I can manage- but I'm looking forward to spending time with him, and we have enough in common- and enough not in common- that I think this situation has potential. He's going through some things himself, so I don't want either of us to get overwhelmed by it all. If this is going to happen, I'd rather it be something we're both sure about, even if it means I have to learn more patience.
I'm trying, by God, I'm trying.....

On Heartbreak

2011-01-08T16:53:00.000-08:00

It seems like a regular thing these days for me to say I've taken all I can.
Molested twice, once by an adult, once by another kid who'd been through it, two rapes, both my friends-of-friends, losing Danger back in July, and now, this.
Just when I thought life was starting to really get good, I met someone fantastic. He wasn't at all the type I usually go for, but we just clicked.... A week of sheer bliss later and I'm sitting in a hotel room crying and confused.
We've barely been apart this last week.
Then, I drop him off so he can go shoot hoops with his buddies, and I get a text about time apart. Okay, fine, but then he goes into going back to 'dating'. Move backwards? I don't know how to do that.
So, I leave town to clear my head, hop on my laptop for some much over-do internet time and- wait a second, not only did he not confirm relationship status, he deleted me.
No response to my text message asking him about this.
I got dumped, quick and cold.
And the worst part is I have to see him at work on Monday, though, thankfully, I'm smart enough not to date anyone I directly work with. I have never felt so confused over a relationship ending in my entire life. I really, really liked this guy. I had no reason to think there was an issue.
And he's just gone.
I'm flat broke because I was helping him out, as his pay got jacked up this last paycheck. I've spent easily 300 dollars helping him out, and now I don't exist.
I think I may have just met the lowest form of life there is.
I am totally, and completely in shock.

Intimations Of Intimate Details

2010-12-29T17:54:00.000-08:00

How do you deal with someone spilling personal details about you that you expected to be kept between the two of you?

I asked someone I had been close with about a friend of his, and he proceeded to give me the guys number, as we had met before.

It turns out my friend had divulged some very personal info to this guy without my knowledge, who then regurgitated it back to me when I explained my feelings for him.

Embarrassed, hurt and angry just don't seem to cover the emotions pulsing through my body right now.

I'm sitting in the middle of Starbucks, using the net, and amazed that the tears piled up inside me aren't pouring down my face. My face is so hot with embarrassment, I feel like I'm standing inches from the business end of a blow torch.

I feel so used, and so exposed. I feel sick.

After a month of making such a huge point of being alone, and trying like the devil to do the right thing and be the woman, the lady I want to be, and working SO HARD at it all, I get thrown under the emotional bus.

I hate this.

I want to crawl into bed and never come out.

On The New

2010-12-29T08:17:00.000-08:00

So, here comes 2011- and my 25th birthday- headed straight for me.
What am I going to change?
Pretty much everything I haven't already.
Mostly, I'm hoping a relationship is in my near future.
I don't see a long-distance relationship being too sustainable for me, at least one that starts off as long distance. I have a couple really good men in my life who I care about a lot, and, I guess, I should be used to being alone at this point, but that doesn't mean I like it. I absolutely hate the feeling of falling asleep alone every night, knowing I'm not even really working toward anything in that department.
I've been alone in my own bed every night. I finally am getting used to it, and am cutting ties with past relationships and such that are not feasible as friends. This isn't much fun now, but I know it's for the best.
Better things to come.

Change Over

2010-12-22T09:55:00.000-08:00

So, I've spent 22 days away from guys in general.
Doesn't sound like much, huh?
Sad, but it is the fruit of telling myself "bet ya can't do it".
There are always nights I just don't want to be alone, and I had a system of keeping myself from having to be alone.
22 days, and today is 5 months after Danger's death.
It hasn't been as hard as I expected, but I'm happy it's a habit broken.
A friend of mine is trying to set me up with someone he works with. We'll see how/if it goes.
I've decided there are rules I'm putting in place for myself, some sound obvious, but haven't been to me thus far.
Like not being alone with a man who isn't my own.
It just leaves too much room for other people's questions, and for lonliness to take over. Too many risks. Those risks inevitably hurt afterwards. Going from lonely and alone to having someone to cover the gap without filling it and back to lonely and alone when they step outside the room is one of the most painful things I've been through.
I've also gotten very picky. I'm tired of feeling like I'm accepting someone into my life because they love me and not because I love them like I should and want to spend my life with them- or at least see if I can. I'm just tired of the same old thing. I'm tired of going in circles. There's got to be more than this.

Exhale

2010-12-08T12:17:00.000-08:00

I'm lacking internet access in my room, currently, which is seriously inhibiting my blogging time.
Inhibition of my blogging time actually inhibits my willingness to write, because I see little point in doing it simply for myself, not that I tend to think I have a great following, but at least I know somebody reads it.
Inhibiting my writing tends to lead to mental constipation, and, well, that's not pretty.

Work is going well, though I'm staying incredibly busy. I finally have an NCOIC, though I know the ins and outs so well, a lot of it still falls on my shoulders, which is just fine with me. I will be going to the promotion board in either January or February, depending on who you ask. My immediate leadership quotes the regulation, and says 60 days is the minimum, while 1sg says I was simply handling my business and it will be January for sure. My Soldier is squared away, and we're working on taking care of her weight issues, but I'm incredibly proud of the work she's been doing to fix that particular problem.

Personal life is near non-existent at this point, and it's maybe better that way. I've been talking to a friend of a friend off and on for a while now, and he wants to come see me. He's a sweet prior-Army Mexican guy with three little boys who are incredibly well-behaved and he doesn't yell at them at all. It will be nice to see him, even if nothing comes of it.

Bunny and I dated briefly, but I ended it, as much out of frustration as anything. He is such a wonderful person and I adore him, but I was frustrated with wondering what our life would be like if he couldn't even take care of his own. Maybe I gave up. I just know that, now that we're just friends, he's trying to get his act together, and I'm proud of him. He's too good to just let his life trample him.

I miss Bright Eyes and Angel Eyes, and I have mixed feelings about those feelings. I don't know what to think that I can miss someone else's child like that.

I've got a bit of a cold today, and I'm groggy from the medicine. I was supposed to take a PT test today, but it got moved back to tomorrow.

Streaker

2010-11-28T12:40:00.000-08:00

Among my reading, I stumbled across this entry by a blogger whom I've followed for quite some time now. The quote he uses is this one: “The human race is an unfair and stupid competition. A lot of the runners don’t even get decent sneakers or clean drinking water. Some people are born with a massive head start, every possible help along the way and still the referees seem to be on their side. It’s not surprising some people have given up competing altogether and gone to sit in the grandstand, eat junk food and shout abuse. What we need in this race is a lot more streakers.”

- Bansky, from Cut It Out Vol. 3.

This quote reinforced my adoration for his writing style and thought process.

Now, my life...

Things are changing, as they tend to do. I am in a relationship with Bunny, and he is good to me. I am already experiencing the fear and the aggravation of my flight response. Getting close to people is horribly scary for me, and it never seems to get any easier. So, I question, I push away, I get angry... I'm fighting giving up on this, and I don't know if the doubts I have are simply my own fear of trusting someone or if they're logical and based in reality. I'm trying, but thinking of what others would want for me, I am even less sure than I would be otherwise. I'm beyond frustrated. He's the first guy my father ever expressed anything positive about, well, during said guy's life, anyway. I miss Danger like crazy, and I try to figure out if this is the same mistake I made with him, or if this is really as wrong as I fear it is, and if I'm just pushing Bunny away out of fear.

It's so frustrating for someone like me to be the alpha in a relationship, to be the only one who has aspirations and know what they want to do, what they like... I don't know how to handle this.

Once payday comes, I am going to sign up for belly dancing classes. I have gotten good at keeping myself going to the gym during lunch, and doing physical training with my unit as well. I want to get myself on a schedule, one that includes hobbies (belly dance, hopefully writing will eventually fall into a schedule, as well), my physical exercise as well as my Faith. I have been poor, lately, at getting to Feast and events like I should. I also want to go back to being a vegetarian. I'm sure that will prove difficult, at best, but it's something I've been considering for a while.

In the process of preparing to cut meat out entirely, I stumbled across a number of free iPod touch applications, and a blog I hadn't heard of before. (You'd be amazed how unusual it is for me to find a popular blog I'm unaware of.) The Messy Vegetarian Cook is a blog I'll be interested to look more into.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, work is going well, mostly. I'm studying for the promotion board, I have a new NCO who's actually a medic like myself, and my Soldier's coming back from her time off on Monday. It's going to be busy for a while, but I'm looking forward to life in general. It's a nice change.

Another Try

2010-11-23T19:03:00.000-08:00

Bunny is back with a vengeance.
We're together.
I spent a lot of nights alone, and some not, and realized there have been three men, besides the wonderful men in my family, who have loved me unconditionally: my ex-husband, Danger, and Bunny.
It didn't take too many days of not hearing from him to miss having someone I could call day or night and know he'd do or say anything I might need him to.
That's love.
I'd known he loved me all along, and this isn't to say nobody else has, this was just... different.
Bright Eyes loved me, undoubtedly, but it felt all along as though he was settling for living in my life, and I suppose I never shook that feeling. I suppose I mostly continue to mention him because I know he still cares about me very much, and continues to read my ramblings, despite all that's happened.
So, I try again, in my own time, in my own way, despite my pride, and I hope I'm right this time.
It's time to move forward.

Time Travel

2010-11-07T12:28:00.000-08:00

My worst habit is rushing things.
I have an incredibly hard time trying to be present in the moment and not get distracted by what I want something to become or trying to make it fit into what I wanted to end up with, or worrying about it being better than what I had.
With everything I'm juggling right now- promotion issues, Soldier issues, family issues, social life, cleaning, moving personal belongings from one place to another- I am realizing quickly that the biggest lesson I want to learn from Danger is being present in the moment- something I swear he never struggled with. While I'm seeing, the more I clear my life of people who are hurting me or simply wasting my time, I'm realizing that the qualities I need in someone I date are pretty clear: I need someone who can stand up to me, someone who will treat me right, and someone who is intelligent. It's harder to find than one might think. None the less, even if I find someone who's perfectly within these parameters, if I can't learn to slow down and be in the moment, well, I'm just going to rush into it all and end up feeling like it's too much for me to handle.
This quote from Erykah Badu's song Window Seat caught my attention earlier: Don't wanna time-travel no more, just wanna be here.

It just fits, you know?
I'm falling back into my comfort zone with the soul music these last couple days- a lot of Joss Stone, Erykah Badu, Fugees, Alannah Myles... I forgot how peaceful that place is. Soul music is my haven, I crave it when my life starts to feel right again. I will always hope that it sticks, but, mostly, I'm just going to have to wait and see.

Mission Aborted

2010-10-27T15:18:00.000-07:00

Well, this one caught me off-guard.
I kind of stumbled blindly upon this site- Black Genocide Dot Org- and am surprised by how much it struck me.
I can't say with any certainty the statistics it claims are accurate, but it seems plausible enough.
I should explain, I suppose, that I'm pro-choice. I don't believe in killing babies, but I don't believe in killing children, either. The way I see it, a mother has to make the choice to be a mother. Adoptions are difficult and less than affordable for many families, so these women who find themselves between a rock and a hard belly may be damning their child to extinction either way. I don't agree with forcing anyone- be it a fetus/baby or a woman- into a corner. Giving women the right to choose is not forcing their hand either way. Condemning abortions is.
However, that said, I couldn't do it myself. I have been raped twice, the first resulting in pregnancy. There was a period of time I wouldn't leave the house with my mother because she wanted me to have an abortion so badly. I miscarried the baby anyway, she'd be turning ten in the spring, but it was a choice left to God, not one I took into my own hands. I don't know a woman who's chosen abortion who hasn't struggled with it violently afterwards, often for the rest of their lives.
So, seeing statistics and quotes that wrench my heart about abortions are rather shocking to me. I'm not a fan of the 'shock jock' method of anti-abortion/pro-life advertisments. I'm rather appalled by it. I know there's never been a doubt in my mind what the process does, but that sure doesn't mean I need to see pictures. Yet, here I am seeing quotes like "Therefore, choose life, that your children may live." -Deuteronomy 30:19 and statistics like "Between 1882 and 1968, 3,446 Blacks were lynched in the U.S. That number is surpassed in less than 3 days by abortion." throws me.

Patience And Pain

2010-10-26T10:47:00.000-07:00

I text Doc last night and asked him what he wanted out of this.
"I don't know, but I'm too tired to think about it"
That was a slap in the face, though I doubt he realized that.
Today, I find out he doesn't recall referring to me as his girlfriend the other night. (Cue Blame It On The Alcohol by Jamie Foxx.) Oh, and he's not ready to date.

Wait, what?!
Then what is this?!
Then I get a nasty text message from a mutual friend snapping at me for repeating a comment of his to Doc, one I was trying to clarify at the time.
So I went off on Doc. He didn't know what I was talking about, he said.
I'm still trying to figure out what exactly is going on.
I'm hurt, my ego bruised, my heart beaten once more.

I just want to be left alone for a while. I just want things to stay positive for more than a couple days without some monkey wrench putting me into tears.

Gypsy Grace

2010-10-25T19:09:00.000-07:00

I can't tell you how many times I've heard the phrase "strong female" translated into that one magic word:BITCH.

I don't care if you call me a bitch.
Go for "the c-word" too, if you'd like. You know, that special word for female genitalia that generally ends up in violence when directed at a woman.

The fact of the matter is, I am a strong female. I wasn't raised in a lesbian household, I wasn't told I could do anything I wanted, I didn't have a parent in the military. Hell, I didn't even have a positive female role model.

I have been raped, beaten, stolen from, stabbed, used, hit, abused in more ways than I really care to imagine.
The fact of the matter is, I refuse to let it happen again.

Every time the two rapes or molestations I went through start spinning their ugly reel in my head again, I go back and read this article over at Yes Means Yes. I've written about it before, but, being at the beginning of a potentially serious relationship with someone I genuinely respect on a number of levels, being willing to bare my soul in a way I hadn't expected to be able to, well, this article brings on a whole new meaning for me. I also have a Soldier coming in next week who happens to be male- and my first Soldier here at this post. Setting boundaries with a Soldier is not that much different from setting boundaries with a child or a friend. It's generally a combination of the two styles, varying, of course, by Soldier.

I continually go back to this article, though, because it reminds me that what I was raised to believe was wrong for a little girl to do is everything a woman needs to know how to do. I need to know how to be able to yell at the top of my lungs in a suddenly jacked-up and potentially dangerous situation, and do so without hesitation. Whether it's a male coming at me in a way that scares me, or my Soldier about to get hit by a truck he doesn't see, I need to be able to react immediately and loudly. I do not need to feel that I have to justify my decisions every time they are challenged. Yes, there will be situations when I must tell my seniors why I made the choice I did, but, frankly, there will be more situations when I have to tell my Soldiers they'll just have to trust me and to execute. I have to be able to shut down someone coming at me inappropriately. What kind of leader would I be if I allowed that Sergeant First Class to come at me sideways, flirting with me in front of my Soldiers, or allow someone senior to me to behave inappropriately in my clinic? I have to be able to tell them to stop what they're doing and get out of my clinic, like it or not, because they're wrong. I don't need to give in to someone who doesn't want me to follow through with what I'm pushing for. I need to be able to stick to my guns and not crack, no matter how many times they push me.

I have been called a bitch. Sometimes it was to my face, sometimes it was within earshot, sometimes I heard it through friends, and I'm sure there were plenty of times I never heard about it at all. I don't care.

I have seen hell.
When you've been to rock bottom, you can only go up.
No matter how exhausting, how frustrating, infuriating, overwhelming, or painful the climb- there's only room to move upwards.
My mother never saw that. She saw the one rock in front of her, and chose not to step over it. My mother is not my hero. My mother clung to excuses like they were her lifeline, while all the time they were her chains. They kept her right where she was, never allowing her to move in any direction, always holding her prisoner to her addictions and ignorances.
I am a Gypsy, though, and I refuse to be the weak White woman folks see when they look at my mother. Men saw someone to care for, someone to fix. Like an ocean, she's bound to, eventually, wear down even the most stubborn coast. I am stronger than that. I do not need alcohol, I do not need excuses, I do not need a man to support me. When I pledge my love to another man, it will be because he respects me as I do him, because he knows that I will not waiver or hurt him, that I will be the woman I've sworn to be. I will not back down, I will not turn back, and I will not be weak. I would rather be called crazy, I would rather be called a bitch, I would rather be the strong woman who knows what she wants than to ever, ever be called weak.

Onward!

2010-10-25T15:01:00.000-07:00

So, things are off to a good start with Doc.
Patient, affectionate, very sweet, intelligent, funny, and generally pretty cool. He catches hints way better than most men, and doesn't take my emotional ranting too much to heart. I hope this sticks.
It is, however, the way of the universe, to test what anyone says they believe in. Within a matter of days of starting to hang out with him, there were two people making less-than-positive comments about it, and, of course, now that I have no intention of dealing with anyone else, guys are coming out of the wood work.
That's okay, though, because I know what I want, and this is where I'll stay.
I'm doing my damndest to get it right this time. I'm just tired of being alone.
I catch myself missing my ex-husband on occasion, but I think sometimes it's more the knowing that someone will be there through anything that I miss, rather than him specifically. He's a wonderful man, but not someone I should be married to.
Meanwhile, back at the farm, it's Girl Time and I'm about dying. I have 30 minutes of work left and they seem to drag on forever. And ever. And ever... I don't know how I've made it through the day. I am beyond miserable.
No clue what dinner is going to consist of- half of a burrito is all I've managed to choke down today, as I'm simply feeling miserable- but I know laundry and cleaning are musts, no matter how miserable I feel.

Difference

2010-10-22T13:33:00.000-07:00

"But this one's different!"
How many times have I said that?
It's always been true. Every person I've dated really was different than the others.
We're individuals, it's kinda part of the deal, no?

Anyway, Bright Eyes attempted to set me straight in an email that followed my last blog.
He said I've gotten "absolutely giddy" about "at least 4 guys" in the last couple months- presumably, he was not including himself. I went back and, as best I could, between blog and memory, ensured I wasn't completely off-base for saying "WTF" when I read this sentence.
Four guys?
Um, no...
Bunny and I have been friends, and I really wish that there was something ultimately more than that, but, yes, I'll admit to getting "giddy" about him at one point and time. Bunny is, and likely always will be, amongst the best men I've ever known. He's wonderful, and, truth be told, I love him- just not that way. I've been truly grateful to have him in my life, and I don't really like the thought of not having him there. However, we were friends. He only very recently got his divorce finalized and, while he's been wonderful, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't walked on him at all. It wasn't intentional, but, yes, there were choices I made that could have been made better for his sake.
Flag, Scout and a few random, vague references to male friends are the only people, besides Bright Eyes, and, now, Doc that I have mentioned. Bright Eyes is a man I love very much, and I love his daughter very much. I walked on him once, though, so it seems unlikely that would change a whole lot during a second round. Flag and Scout are good guys but one date, once, with Flag, I seriously have trouble comprehending as "giddy". He's a great guy, but, really? One date and it's serious enough to pull out an email? Anyway, that frustration aside....

Doc is a friend of a friend. Yes, there are a lot of changes going on in my life, but to assume that they are because of one- or several, even- man/men is a bit, um, demeaning. I have had enough things change in recent months- Danger's death, moving back to the town I knew as a child, things with my father- that I'm a little surprised subsequent, smaller, and more positive and self-driven changes have even been worth note. I have finally chosen to let go of my bad habit of holding on to "other options" when I'm in a relationship, and really focus. I have realized that I need someone strong enough to stand up to me who also treats me well. I have found this in Doc. I am truly blessed and very proud of my growth.

Curve Ball!

2010-10-22T04:56:00.000-07:00

Wow.
Just... WOW.
I had met a guy at a friend's birthday Sunday night who I immediately hit it off with. We're gonna call this one Doc- he's the first fellow medic I've taken interest in for a very long time. He's not really what I'd label as my type- White, about my height, stocky with a little big of a gut at the moment. He has blue eyes. I've always had a weakness for brown.
I'm ready.
I'm not holding on to other options, and giving myself the escape route I've taken all too often in the past.
That's going to be a tough conversation to have with folks, but that lightbulb clicked on last night, like it hasn't with anyone else lately and said 'Yup, time to get it in gear.'
It may not work out.
It may end before or when he leaves for Japan in August.
Or it may work out.
Either way, I'm giving this my best shot.
He won't take my crap, but he'll treat me like a lady.
I won't be allowed to walk on him, but he's got a great sense of humor.
Here goes my heart...

Limits On Love

2010-10-21T08:59:00.000-07:00

I'm torturing myself.
I am fortunate enough to have several people- men- in my life right now that I can't see my life without, two in particular. Bright Eyes and Bunny have both been amazing to me, both loved me (whether or not the words were spoken) and been incredibly good to me.
But, because neither of them fit my "plan" and my idea of the way things should be, I've kept them at a distance, and I continue to look for "love" when I have two wonderful men in my life, though very different and very far apart.
Bright Eyes and Angel Eyes are in my heart a way I didn't think possible, and I love them both so much I can't comprehend it. I've never loved a child like they were my own, even when I was a nanny and truly thought of the girls as nearly my own because of the amount of time I spent with them.
Bunny has been that person that is there for me constantly- I know I can call him for anything and he'll be there and do what he has to to look out for me. In the middle of the night, right after he gets home from work, it hasn't mattered. He may not have always understood what I needed, but he always did whatever he could to make it better, anyway.
Last night I had a date with Flag- an honest-to-God date, which are few and far between these days. I really enjoyed my time with him, though I kept the barriers up, and I'm not sure if I should write that off as normal or assume I'm just trying to keep people out still. He'd fit into my plans. Yet, I doubt, and, despite him being good to me, my heart is so caught up hurting over my crappy choices and unfair treatment of both Bright Eyes and Bunny that I'm just absolutely miserable and actually upset that I enjoyed my date. I need to stop screwing around. I keep insisting that I want a relationship, that I'm ready for one, yet I push everyone who wants that with me away hard and fast and as completely as possible- all too often without letting them know this is going on.
I'm hurting them.
I am wrong for treating them this way.
I can't figure out if it's even okay for me to be trying to find someone who fits my plan, or if I'm completely wrong across the board.
I have to stop this.

Pain? What Pain?

2010-10-19T13:27:00.000-07:00

So, my Master Sergeant gave me a bit of a lecture at the end of the work day yesterday.
The interesting part is, simplified, it was "Your leaders are screwing up, don't be like them."

I can't tell you how glad I am that I'm not the only one seeing what I'm seeing.

Some of the madness I have had to deal with has had me frustrated, to say the least. To have a first-line supervisor that I try really hard not to complain about, because I feel it is disrespectful for one leader to talk badly about another, well, it's aggravating. My friends, none the less, know multiple stories about her that would surely make her drill sergeants blush. I try to keep it with folks outside of work, though, so that my frustrations don't run over into the workplace.

I am trying to be patient, and kind, and a whole lot of other stuff I feel that I'm failing at, but I'm still doing better than I did in Korea. I guess that's a starting place, right?

My Soldier will be signing in on Halloween, and will be coming here about a week later. I can't wait to actually meet this Soldier that I've talked to so much. MSG gave me the choice to send her elsewhere and get a Soldier in from somewhere here on post. I told him no, I was keeping her. I know she looks bad on paper, having no PT test recently, being young, recently married, and overweight, but I'm a firm believer in some Soldiers just wanting a chance to prove themselves. Korea is not a place where that happens. She's worked her butt off recently so that she can come here and get back on track, and I'll be damned if I take that chance away from her.

We had a Soldier in Basic Training. I don't remember his name anymore, but I remember that our platoon was mad as all get-out (myself included, I won't lie) when he got switched to our platoon because he was doing so badly in his other platoon. One day, lined up in the hallway, he was one or two people behind me. A Soldier from his last platoon started talking trash to him from across the hall. I looked that Soldier dead in the face and said "Maybe he wasn't any good in your platoon, but it must have been you guys, because he's doing great with us." I thought that 18 year old Soldier was going to cry when he heard me talk about him that way. It was a bold-faced lie, but I looked at him, after the offending Soldier stepped away, and said "I put my word out there for you, you know you gotta get right now, right?" He said yes, and was awarded the Most Improved Soldier Award at the end of our training.

Open

2010-10-15T13:47:00.000-07:00

I went out last night.
It was a Thursday night.
Lady La La took me to the local country bar, where I'd never been before.
I made 2 friends, both military, both male, one active duty hippie dying to leave the service, and the other a Reservist missing active duty desperately. One was a cook, the other a medic. Both were about my age, one is half Korean, half White, while the other is pure, unadulterated Mexican. They were even similar builds- just about my height, short and stocky-ish.
The half-Korean- Flag, we'll call him- hippie was terribly funny, and fun to pick on. He was flirtatious, outgoing, and reminded me of myself in some ways.
My Mexican friend ("Scout") had a more intelligent wit, was a little more reserved and very well-mannered, though far less mainstream in appearance, with his glasses and button-up shirt.
I was immediately attracted to Flag. It seems I have woken up enough to my own habits to realize that this is part of what makes him all wrong for me. He's fun to be around- but so am I. He's outgoing, loud, goofy, hippie, wild, and just ready for whatever. I need a partner, not a twin. While I genuinely like him, I think I may try to keep him on a partner-in-crime level, rather than a romantic one. It'd be nice to think that could work out- someone to travel with who's got the same wild streak I do- but, frankly, I think it'd be more intelligent of me to go with people who temper that wild streak over enhancing it. Sure, I want to get my living in while the living is good, but, well, I do that pretty effectively without help.
I don't like this growing up thing one bit. *sigh*
This isn't, of course, to say that I'm automatically assuming either one of these guys is a life partner, by any means... simply that, well, my head is starting to wrap around the things I need over those I want.
What a pain.
The first guy that hit on me, last night, though- the one I stepped away from as quickly as I was able to do politely- wound up getting thrown out of the bar for fighting.
I'm getting there.

Wasted Days

2010-10-12T13:54:00.000-07:00

"I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them." -Ian Fleming

This is a quote I stumbled across a few days ago that goes quite well with Mead's recent post titled Recent Days.

Taking reasonable precautions is admirable, but, as I heard someone else recently sum this topic up, 'What good is it for me to live to be 100 if I haven't done anything in 100 years?'

This is a thought I try to keep in my mind, as things have gotten especially frustrating lately. I have finally made it past the most painful part of the healing process, healing the wounds of Danger's passing away, as well as some risidual rape-related hurt, but this new stage of the healing process brings with it new challenges.

Craving intimacy- not sex, nor romance, nor even love, but true, deep, personal, frightening, overwhelming, risky, interpersonal intimacy.... This is new. This is scary. Maybe this is what most people feel when they begin dating someone new that they really like. Me, though, I'm feeling it just contemplating opening up to anyone enough to trust them not to abandon me.

I've dated, I've been married (and divorced), lived in a lot of places, met a lot of people, and there's still plenty I want to do... but intimacy? That... just seems to detract from all those things I want to do. Not because I can't imagine having someone there with me as I do these things, but because it takes a lot of trust to believe that someone will stand by me through trips to India, through possibly changing careers or going through college or deciding I don't ever want children of my own or- scarier yet- deciding that I do. That's a huge amount of trust! How have I not seen this before?

Last night, I laid awake, late into the night, wanting to be held, wanting someone to be there, to listen, to want to be there while I cried. There was nobody, though, that I'd opened up to enough to feel as though I could trust them enough to ask them to do that. There was nobody I could think of that I could call that I would want and trust to hold me and be there for me. That's not to say nobody would have, just that the people who I'd allowed to get close enough to me to feel that way weren't people I wanted there for that.

This all feels even more complicated than it did before I got to this level... I thought this was supposed to be the easy part?

Intimacy And Growth

2010-10-12T00:11:00.000-07:00

Here's the change that happened in me earlier- powerful unto itself:

The moment you realize you no longer want sex, romance, friendship, a date, whatever, and realize you want intimacy... knocks you completely on your behind, to put it nicely.
This is one of the most overwhelming moments of my entire life, and I don't have the first clue what it is I'm supposed to do.

Vlogging

2010-10-10T23:53:00.000-07:00

I've been preferring vlogging over blogging these last few days. Here's the latest:

A Woman Is Her Body

2010-10-05T13:11:00.000-07:00

I've written about this concept before, but I caught myself expressing, albeit inwardly, sentiments that I have mentioned that I dislike in society.
Venus Williams was heavily criticized for her choice of one particular outfit during the U.S. Open. She had to continually adjust her tennis dress, according to reports. As I looked through pictures, I thought to myself that I hated how masculine this very attractive, very athletic, very motivated and determined woman looked while playing.
Then it struck me: her appearance is not, by a long shot, the important part.
This woman is among the best tennis players in the world, and I- and many others- are judging her choice of outfit? Seriously? How in the world is that my place?
On her worst days, she plays far better than most folks I know could ever dream of. Yet, we continue to expect women to appear feminine, classy, and well-dressed while doing some of the most physically, and I'd be willing to bet emotionally, demanding tasks and competitions.
What are we thinking?!

Seeing ☆☆☆ Stars

2010-10-04T11:36:00.000-07:00

"You are a child of the universe

no less than the trees and the stars;

you have a right to be here." -Max Ehrman

I love this line. Something is processing in my head, since I've gotten the universal boot in the arse to forgive myself, to let Danger go, and to try- really try- to move on. I'm hurting and sad today, and I haven't been able to shake it. Doing some writing, trying to get a clearer understanding of these feelings during lunch, (although I suspect some of it is PMS) I had a bit of a breakthrough....

I have to stop assuming anyone who appears to have good intentions is weak, or hiding something. I have to stop comparing everyone who loves me to my mother, and assuming they have a hidden agenda. I have to learn to accept the feelings I have, put a name to them, and let them be, without insisting on trying to change them or change my life to accomodate/assuage them. I'm allowed to feel things, and they don't have to change my life.

And, if that isn't enough for one lunch break....

I have consistently looked at myself as somehow being less than others, somehow inferior or incapable of meeting the same personal criteria as the rest of the world... This has especially applied in my relationships. This wouldn't be a huge thing, if seeing oneself as inferior didn't automatically give one permission, or even all-out "reason" to look at oneself as consistently being the victim. If you are inferior, weaker, less capable, less intelligent/strong/worthy of love/beautiful/whatever, you are automatically the only one who can be taken advantage of. You are automatically too low on the totem pole to be able to bring the other person down. You are automatically the victim.

I have said a million times that I'm not a victim, I am a survivor. Yet, my view of myself and my corresponding actions have not reflected this. I have treated myself as a victim and, therefore, I am a victim.

I have not truly given myself permission to exist as I want to.While I can freely admit that I find men of all races attractive, I have lied to myself and others and insisted I am 'equal opportunity' when it comes to dating. The fact of the matter is, I like non-White men, especially Black men. I can reason this to death, or I can simply accept that this is the group of people I am most comfortable with. It does not make me a less diverse person for knowing what I want, or who I like. I still like many types of music, am interested in many cultures, and am an intelligent person who sees a lot of things differently than the majority. I am simply a woman who knows what she likes.

I am no longer a victim. I am equal to the stars, and have no less right or reason in this world than them. This may be another long road, but this is a breakthrough I need to follow through on.

Beautiful

2010-10-03T13:32:00.000-07:00

Some part of me doesn't want to let go of him.
I know I should say my goodbyes and try to move on, but some part of me clings to his memory, clings to his love, clings to the thought of redemption.
That part of me knows that if I let him go, though, I have no excuse any more, I can't give up on a relationship after this. If I make the choice to let someone in again, that I won't have the ability to excuse myself for letting them go, not after this.
Having someone's love, questioning their love, and losing them- once to your own stupidity and once to death- is incredibly painful. Some part of me just wants to hold on to his life, and his love and never let anyone in to avoid any more pain like this.... I just want him back, and I can't seem to let it go.
I have some really great guy friends in my life that, normally, I'd be all about dating because they're just such wonderful men... Instead, though, I'm keeping them at a distance and pushing them away because I don't want to let anyone in....
Something's got to give.

Home?

2010-09-30T21:24:00.000-07:00

Yes, I suppose it is good to be home.
I'm back in a place where I know the customs, the language, what to expect of someone if I bump into them, or if they overhear me talking to myself.

I was wandering around Barnes & Noble bookstore, looking for books on India, and other things that might interest me, and a thought popped into my head that took me by surprise. Wouldn't it be nice, I thought, if we lived in a world where we could just up and move to any country we liked because it suited us best?

Then it struck me.

We do live in that world.

I have craved India my entire life. I was desperate, as a pre-teen to find something in the Hindu faith that I could relate to. I can't honestly say what it is that ever attracted me to this far-away land in the first place. I don't recall ever having neighbors or even friends, until the last couple years, that had any tie to this place. I don't recall ever seeing any particular show or movie that struck me with an idea that I might like this place. I can't place where or why or when this attraction began. All I know, is that I can't remember a time when this particular place didn't fascinate me.
The picture I've included is of my wedding day. In 2005, I was 19 years old, and I married the gentleman you can see in the background. While we've been divorced three years now, we are still friends. That dress that I'm wearing is a red silk sari, a traditional Indian dress, one I bought from the Hindu temple outside Salt Lake City, Utah. I also wore a bindi, which is the little decoration you can see on my forehead. They, as well as bangle-style bracelets, traditionally symbolized that a woman was married.
I bought three books on India itself tonight, as well as the Bhagavad Gita, a Hindu text. I am craving this place, and whatever experiences it may bring, like it is in my blood. I can't explain it. How can a place you've never visited feel like home? How can a place you know to be full of homeless people, crowded, poor, and so busy seem like it will be the one place you belong? It doesn't make any sense, but I know no other word to explain how I feel about this place than to say I absolutely crave it.

Mad VS Motivated

2010-09-29T14:24:00.000-07:00

I stumbled across this article on Yes Means Yes via my lovely Google Reader account.
For those of you who are survivors of rape, particularly women, please understand that this article may trigger some memories or hard-to-handle emotions.

Within this article, the author quotes a message board's contents, and all incredibly deroggatory of the female gender. Okay, I can handle people who don't care for women. I deal with some of them on a daily basis. Bold-faced ignorance is easy to ignore because it has no basis.

Despite the ignorant attitudes depicted in this article, though, these are not ignorant people. They are educated, aware, experienced men who don't like society's current direction. I'm beyond irritated by the overall attitudes, but, well, what really pisses me off is that some of what's said has some sad basis in reality.

Society in general has absorbed the sex-sells mentality. Alone, this would have it's problems. Combined with the fact that many women are still wrapped up in their bodies being the majority of their value, well, that's a huge problem. Is it any wonder that it takes an attractive woman to sell anything these days? Think I'm exaggerating? Look at the nearest billboard or magazine ad, and tell me I'm wrong.

Here's another article that references some of what I'm going into here, also on Yes Means Yes.

Women are raised submissive, afraid to say no, much less yell it. We- and there are exceptions- are raised differently than men. We have made advancements, but we are by no means on a totally level playing field yet. Exerpt:

Women are raised being told by parents, teachers, media, peers, and all surrounding social strata that:

it is not okay to set solid and distinct boundaries and reinforce them immediately and dramatically when crossed (“mean bitch”)
it is not okay to appear distraught or emotional (“crazy bitch”)
it is not okay to make personal decisions that the adults or other peers in your life do not agree with, and it is not okay to refuse to explain those decisions to others (“stuck-up bitch”)
it is not okay to refuse to agree with somebody, over and over and over again (“angry bitch”)
it is not okay to have (or express) conflicted, fluid, or experimental feelings about yourself, your body, your sexuality, your desires, and your needs (“bitch got daddy issues”)
it is not okay to use your physical strength (if you have it) to set physical boundaries (“dyke bitch”)
it is not okay to raise your voice (“shrill bitch”)
it is not okay to completely and utterly shut down somebody who obviously likes you (“mean dyke/frigid bitch”)
If we teach women that there are only certain ways they may acceptably behave, we should not be surprised when they behave in those ways.

It's wrong for us to expect something from women that we tell them not to do. That's right, WE. Every adult is responsible for the next generation. If I come in contact with a younger woman, and fail to do what I can to give her an example of a strong woman, or help her become one herself if I can, I have failed her.

While I really expected that first article, where men- I apologize, people- are saying things like this:

Basically a walking talking lubricated hole. Congratulations girls, that is how you are viewed, and only you can change it.
--------------------------
And this is the one that really got me:

This is something I’ve thought about a lot, and it explains a great deal about the character of girls by and large today. If they have nothing to offer but sex, they’ll become obsessed with the value of that sex and impressing it on you. (This is also why ladies of late so frequently resort to “You can’t get laid”/”You’re just not ‘getting any’” as the go-to insult in any argument.) Few women offer an engaging friendship; fewer still a spiritually satisfying companionship (in fact I can think of none, at least in my few years on Earth.) Charges that game is dehumanizing just totally crack me up: I mean, what else am I supposed to judge these women on? They don’t give a crap about anything besides what’s between their legs, so why should I?

It seems that I have more motivation each day to avoid relationships. This, undoubtedly, has become fuel. While I have never been overtly sexual, and while I am more intelligent than quite a few people I know, this changing landscape in my mind is becoming more and more anti-traditional. I'm less and less interested in a relationship, and more and more focused on my goals and dreams, none of which require a man by my side.

Going to India.
Becoming a nurse practitioner.
Visiting Memphis.
Getting promoted.
Taking care of my clinic and my Soldiers.
Giving more attention to my Faith, and less to people who take away from it.
Buying that Dodge Challenger that I'm dreaming of, and learning to drive a stick shift more effectively before then....

Not in that order, of course, but, these are things that I want to do, and see and be.... And a relationship just detracts from all of that, gets in the way of everything I want to do, or, at the very least, makes these things more difficult to attain.

Loss & Distance

2010-09-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

I suppose it's no secret that I'm in a dark place right now.
Since Danger's death, I've been struggling to pull myself out of this ugly, dark, rollercoaster ride. I miss him more than daily, and I cry almost as often. After seeing four grandparents, a stepparent, a stepgrandparent, a great grandparent, a baby, and too many pets pass away, I never thought death could phase me any harder than it had. Danger's passing has proved that wrong.
While I spend so much of my time with Bunny, we are progressively more friend than anything more, and that's what I want. I don't feel comfortable with a relationship. It drives me crazy, because, while I know I shouldn't, I catch myself looking at men, and thinking about relationships and what-if's... Yet, my reality is, I feel I would be betraying Danger to get that close to someone again. Logic says one thing, but my heart has it's own direction. I miss him dreadfully, and want nothing more than to have him back.
I can see how my life could be full without a relationship, yet part of me cries out for one, anyway. It's a smaller part of me than it used to be, and I honestly hope that part eventually fades away entirely. I don't want anyone to take his place.
I feel like a sinner living the life I am, though the Baha'i concept of sin is far different than the Christian one. There is no confession, no Hail Mary's to be said. We don't confess our sins to another person, but account for them to God at the end of each day. Yet, I feel disant from Him. My heart seems to be elsewhere, and I don't know how to fix that. I am scared and hurting, and with few, if any, Baha'i folks here I am close to. It's so hard to truly open up to people....

Backwards

2010-09-28T10:29:00.000-07:00

I suppose it's jinxing this to say I hope it sticks, but I don't feel the need to be around a man today.
Yes, that's unusual for me.
I continually sabotage relationships, but I can't stand the thought of being alone.
Today, though, I just feel, well, done.
Bunny has been incredibly supportive, even once I told him I would not be making promises to him, in any form, for the forseeable future. He was there for me last night, and I am grateful. I had a small-ish meltdown, but he was there for me until I told him to leave, and, even then, I knew I could call him any time I needed.
He's a good man, but he has more issues than I can fit into my life right now as anything more than a friend, and I want to keep it that way. I can't deal with divorce, custody battles, warrants for speeding tickets, being in too long to be at the rank he is, and failing PT tests. He's a wonderful guy, with too much baggage for someone with this much baggage.
The gate guard I had befriended and I are apparently not on great terms, which is weird, but not out of the norm for unusual friendships with uncertain boundaries. Complicated, but mostly just ridiculous in the end.
Dad, Tumbleweed, whatever... things are getting better, at least in the sense that I think he's starting to understand why this just isn't working at all at this point... Starting to. How long that process could take, I don't know.
I just wish I trusted myself enough to say I'll be alone for a while. Truthfully, I don't see the point in relationships anymore. Nobody sticks around long enough to really understand me, and those that do are either family or strictly in the friends-only zone for one reason or another. I'm just not sure it's what I want, and, after losing Danger, I'm not sure I want to open my heart to that kind of pain again. It's a daily struggle. He's my inspiration, but he's also a source of pain and guilt, and it's all so confusing and tomultuous, and... I just don't want to experience this twice. I can do what I want to do in life without a partner. I can get my MS in Nursing, I can travel to India, I can visit Memphis, I can do anything I want alone as easily, and sometimes more easily, than I could with a partner in tow. I just wish I could convince my heart not to see the best in people and want to be a part of it every single frikking time!
I want to focus more on my faith, though that seems to be a struggle, too, lately, and I'm not entirely sure why. I want it, but it hurts, too. This community is awesome, but they are so far removed from what I know and who I am that sometimes, it just feels like I'm the ignorant little sister, and I'm really tired of playing that role in life.

Maybe it's starting to clear up, or maybe it'll always be this way. I don't know.

Bottom

2010-09-27T20:54:00.000-07:00

I want it all to go away.
I don't want my Dad to be leaning on me, I don't want Danger to be gone, I don't want to be living under someone else's roof, I don't want to wake up feeling like the world is depending on me, I don't want to fall asleep feeling like guilt and pain are all that are keeping me tied to this world... but this is what happens, every single day.
I try to pray, and once or twice a day, it comes... Mostly, my heart feels broken and every move I make feels wrong. I'm tired and sad all the time now, and the stress is wearing me out physically. Headaches, nausea, fatigue... Maybe some of it's dehydration on occasion, but I really can't tell the difference anymore.
I've been spending too much time with Bunny. Way too much time. He's such a great guy, but much sloppier than I'd like. Not that he's a messy person, just that his life is, well, sloppy. He seems to be okay, or at the very least, stuck, where he's at. I don't know how to be okay where I am. Maybe this is why the overwhelming sense of guilt comes every time I realize I should have been doing push ups on the hour, or studying for the board more, or doing a thousand effing things to improve my or someone else's situation. Dad wants us to talk. I'm beyond tired of talking. The emails we send back and forth are about as labor intensive as I can handle. We have had the same conversation at least 6 times now, and yet he always comes back with the same things; there must be a way, what if, when will we decide... There's nothing left to talk about, and hasn't been for a long time. He doesn't seem to understand this is hard on me, too, though, sometimes, I suspect it's harder on me than him. Maybe that is selfish to think that, but it's there, none the less.
I dread every morning now. I dread seeing my own father, even in passing. I feel angry and hurt and overwhelmed and guilty for feeling those things. We live in the same house, it's beyond wrong for me to feel this, but I can't seem to accept the feelings and move on with things as I'd like. It just HURTS.
Bunny is a distraction, and a friend. I feel as though I'm using him, but I do genuinely care about him. He knows where I stand with everything, but that doesn't make me feel any less- again- guilty.
How could it not be obvious that I'm out straight? I just want to give up on all of this. If I didn't have a lot to do at work, or I had some money saved up, I'd take leave, just to go away somewhere. I don't know where I'd even go, just away from here.
I feel guilty for not fixing things for dad.
I feel guilty for not being able to give myself time to heal from Danger.
I feel guilty for not doing push ups and studying like I should be.
I feel guilty for spending too much time with Bunny as a distraction.
I feel guilty for missing Feast last night, and for not going to devotionals.
I feel guilty for hurting Bright Eyes.
I feel guilty for not saving more money.
I feel guilty for not making it back down to Georgia to get my tattoo finished yet.
I feel guilty for being mad at my NCO for being lazy about her job and not wanting to help me when I need her.
I feel guilty for not praying more.
I feel guilty for not giving money to the Baha'i center.
I feel guilty for taking my ACU top off at work, even after someone told me it was against post policy.

I just feel guilty and I want it all to go away.

Life As I Know It

2010-09-26T20:22:00.000-07:00

....is insane.
Dad has decided he doesn't want me to get a court order to make him my dependent. This was the last option. Yet, he doesn't want to find a place to live. And he decided he wants to see a lawyer about this, but seems to expect me to make the appointment for this. I'm overwhelmed, frustrated, and, well, done. I'm at the end of my rope, and I have no other options to take care of him.
So, I will go ask for a barracks room tomorrow, and begin moving in. It's not because I want to live on post, but with no chance at having the money to live off post in sight, well, it's my only option.
Work is busy, to say the least. My MSG asked me Friday if I was considering suicide. As blunt and, frankly, weird as it was to have this conversation with this man, it was nice to know that there were people who understood just how much I had on my plate, and what kind of toll that sort of thing takes.
Bunny has been really good to me, but I'm at the point that I always get to of pushing him away. At least I've been honest with him about it. I'm just done. I needed time alone again, so I'm keeping him at a distance. I don't know if being away from him for a while will make me miss him or if I'll just keep pushing him farther away, but, well, I'm not all that focused on anyone else right now. Selfish, I suppose, but I'm tired of hurting, and if you don't let anyone in, they can't hurt you.
Everything's coming apart at the seams lately, and I'm trying to hold it together. At work, I've been doing very well hiding it all. I'm quite proud of myself for faking the smile and motivation I totally and utterly lack lately. I just want things to go away, but they don't. So I keep going, I keep holding my head up, even when I'm holding my head up on my way to hide in the bathroom for half an hour so I can cry without anyone seeing it.
I wish I could simply accept that I'll be alone forever. It would make my life so much easier. I continue to hope this one's going to be the one, and I do a pretty good job of convincing myself, but, well, they never are. I suspect they never will be. I no longer know if it's because of my pain over losing Danger and realizing exactly how much I love him and miss him, or if it's simply that I suck at this sort of trust thing, but I'm more and more convinced that this ugly little cycle of 'I love you now leave me alone' will continue. Bunny is very good to me, but he's got more than his share of problems as well. Mostly, I think he helped me ignore my own. It was nice. I talk about it like it's over, but I'm not convinced anything's ever really over any more. I just know what I'm comfortable with and what I'm not, and, well, this ain't it. Something just feels wrong about it, and that means it's time to move on.
Wasn't this supposed to get easier at some point?
I'm going to start saving up money for a car, though I have no clue what kind just yet, and a friend is going to loan me one of his vehicles for a couple months so I can save money for a down payment. As much as I'd tried to avoid a car loan, it sure doesn't look like I'll be able to avoid it this time. So, come end of December or beginning of January, I'll be buying a new (new-to-me) vehicle. My birthday is mid-January, so that should be a nice bonus for my birthday. Now, to get it all rolling...

When It All Falls Down Again

2010-09-23T09:42:00.000-07:00

Trying to take care of Dad has become a sick and twisted and hopeless joke.
He doesn't understand why I need him to figure out which way he's going to be willing to go with this, never mind why it's so urgent. I'm getting questioned several times daily about this crap with him and he can't decide if he'll allow me to do what I have to do to help him. I'm trying to be patient, but with the other thousand or so things on my plate, by the time I head home from work, dealing with another situation is the last thing I want to do, never mind break everything down Barney style. Every other day he talks about moving somewhere so I don't have to take care of him, and the other days he wants to know when this will be taken care of. He's now making more than me, and, well, I've had it trying to explain all this to him.
I have a clinic to set up, and things are extremely stop-go with that, and that's frustrating beyond belief.
I am now getting nasty emails from friends and exes and people I thought understood where I was at and didn't.
G-dammit. Yes, I am healing. Nothing is for certain, nothing is stable, and everything feels like it's on it's frikking head right now. How does everything fall down all at once?
I still miss Danger every single day, I still cry over him, n now I have someone who's here when I need them, who I can lean on when things get dark, and who is going through dark times themselves.
Nothing will ever be good enough for this world sometimes, I swear.
People I thought I was friends with have turned their backs on me, and people who I thought had a clue, don't. I'm fed up, and I just want the world to go AWAY for a while. I'm hiding this weekend. The first full weekend in Oct is a 4day and I will be as gone as it comes that weekend. I'm done.

4Give Yo'Self!!!

2010-09-22T14:41:00.000-07:00

Holding on to past habits- in the way I treat myself, my emotions, my beliefs, and all that ends up encompassing others via relationships- has been a major downfall for me.
I am an all-or-nothing person.
I've said this for years.
I've tried to change this for longer.
Why?
I'm not saying that ALL of my past habits were, by any means, healthy. If I thought these habits were healthy, well, I wouldn't be sober, amongst other accomplishments. (18 months sober yesterday!!!)
Bunny is going through some things, as am I.
Instead of judging myself, him, us and my/his/our feelings, just accepting it and letting it be is the goal.
Yep, he's at the tail end of a divorce. While he has an incredible grasp on the reasons, circumstances and cause-and-effect of it all, it's still a divorce. I see the hurt, I see the frustration, I see the changes.
I am dealing with Danger's death. I may be able to see, clearly, the grieving process I am experiencing, but, crap, the guy's gone. It's going to be hell for a little while.
So, do I think this is all a rebound for both of us? Pain seeking pain to avoid pain? A distraction? Let me get to the real question: Do I think we're two people distracting ourselves by getting involved with one another in a relationship that can only be doomed for failure?
Let me be honest:
I don't know.
I know I care about him, that he has some truly amazing qualities, and that he has the potential to be someone I keep in my life permanently. As a spouse one day, or as a friend for life, I don't know. I know he cares about me, listens, is there, and is a great friend. We are leaning on each other right now, and I don't regret it. It feels really good to have someone outside the situation to vent to, to lean on, to reach out to and for, and to be there for. If this is something that ends, then so be it. If this is to be the foundation to a future, good for us.
Both of us are all-or-nothing. We're both very aware of that. We've discussed our situations openly, with all the crazy, chaotic, overwhelming details included. We will not give this the label (and pressures) of a relationship until after all his papers are finalized. We will not consider marriage until January (soon, I know, but for two people who rush into everything, it's surprisingly reasonable). Lastly, children are something neither of us are ready for and, if we wind up getting married, after being married for five years, we will discuss what our thoughts and feelings are on pro-creation, adoption, etc., at that point.
This may not be what I would have put in an outline of my perfect relationship. I don't color inside the lines, so to speak, so this sort of relationship is unlikely at best. It is, however, incredibly reasonable and a lot more grounded than any situation I've been in. It has specific boundaries and we're both aware of what they are, in no uncertain terms.
Even if this isn't forever, this is a step in the right direction, and I'm proud of myself.

Shoot

2010-09-20T16:31:00.000-07:00

Now that it's made national news, I won't avoid posting about it.
There was a shooting here on post today, just a few hours ago.
Someone shot the shooter. No gender, name, motive, or any other details have been released.
I'm sitting in my office, waiting for Bunny to finish work and pick me up.
I'm bordering on numb and sick.
I know someone will mention Muslims. I just hope I won't be where I can hear it.

People make me so sad these days.

Someone felt that violence was their only option today. Now, they are dead.

Maybe that's what they wanted.
Maybe they were scared.
Maybe they asked for help and didn't get it.
Maybe it could have been prevented.

Nobody else died, as of the most recent reports.
Plenty of people will say the shooter got what he/she deserved.
I can't think that way, though.
What that person deserved was help.
They clearly didn't get that.

I'm tired of a world so cold, so full of violence and anger and hatred.
I've always been so unaffected by death, and now, someone I probably didn't even know is dead after trying to harm others, and I feel absolutely sick over it. When did death stop being part of the life cycle for me and something far more traumatic? When Danger died, I suppose. None the less, I wish I'd had the chance to help this soul before nobody could. That's what they are, you know, a soul. No different than you or I, except maybe they didn't have someone to listen like we do. Maybe that stranger telling them they should smile more would have made them understand the effect they have on the world, at least long enough to keep them from opening fire on a store full of people. Maybe that guy that was having a bad day and snapped at this soul instead of seeing his own pain reflected in their eyes could have made a difference to them, if only he'd slowed down a little bit, if only he'd taken the time to see this person as his brother or sister, and not just another face in the crowd.
Heaven is my father, Earth my mother, all mankind my brothers, and all living things my companions.

Love And Loss

2010-09-20T14:49:00.000-07:00

This weekend didn't turn out quite the way I'd expected.
I didn't end up spending much time with Big Alamo who came to town this weekend- a battle buddy from basic training- or with Lady La La's crowd, like I usually do.
I met someone, at the club no less, who understands better than I can comprehend what I'm dealing with.

Talk about scary.

Bunny (short for Gun Bunny) is a tanker. Tankers are big guys, as a rule. He reminds me of my dear friend Tank on a level that is just plain eerie. He's going through his second divorce and has a grasp on it all that I wish I could say I could relate to. I've never had such a clear image, while going through something, of why it happened as it did. None the less, it's turmoil, and it sucks. If we end up dating, it wouldn't break my heart, but, for now, it's one day at a time. The patience this man has for my moods and emotions is mind-boggling. He's strong without being pushy, and laid-back without being passive. He's become a close friend very quickly, which is something that doesn't happen often. I allowed him alone with me in my car the first night we met. After 2 rapes in cars, that simply DOES NOT HAPPEN. I have people I consider friends that I'm not comfortable alone in a vehicle with. It's that serious.

He lives 5 minutes from me.
It's scary to lean on someone like this, and I pray that this isn't going to look like a re-run when all is said and done. Whether this turns into love or friendship or a memory, I have something to learn from this. I just pray it involves not repeating old mistakes/habits.

Painful is the path to healing, and terrifying is the path to faith.

Caught In The In-Between

2010-09-17T19:34:00.000-07:00

I'm lonely as all get-out.
Yet, I'm far from being over Danger's death, and I know full well I'm not ready for a relationship.
Honestly, I dread the thought of having to answer to someone.
I meet people every day and think 'Wouldn't it be cool to be with someone like that?' and the other part of me screams, in a very you're-not-my-real-dad sort of tone 'We don't need to answer to him!!!!'
Yes, in my head, it's a plural. I never have figured out why. Neither of us have.
*shrug*
If it's there, might as well run with it, right?

Anyway, today has been the worst, loneliness-wise. I'm not sure why. Yesterday, I hid in the bathroom for a while after lunch to get the tears out of the way. Today, yes, I miss Danger dearly, but... I just don't want to be alone or sit still for too long. Maybe this is the healing process- waves of misery, followed by waves of keeping myself so busy I don't notice the pain. The other night (I've lost track of which one, to be totally honest) I was at a point I recognized as being one of those times when alcohol would have pushed me over the line, from sad and grieving to destructive. Tuesday will be 18 months sober. A year and a half, man. Those first few months were so hard. I remember being happy when our unit got put on dry status (no drinking) for a while because then I didn't have to see anyone drinking. I remember ordering cokes just to look like I was drinking, or those super-girly drinks (virgin, even though I'd never been one for the alcoholic girly drinks) just so I would give the appearance I was drinking. I remember people laughing at me and saying there was no way I'd stop for good. A lot of people.
Mom told me I'd never hold a job. I've been in the Army three years now. She said I'd never drive a car- I've had my license for a few years now, no tickets, accidents, fines, nothing. She never told me, though, that I'd never quit drinking. I think that was unspoken. Not only is sobriety one less way I'm like her, it's one more way that I've overcome her. She's still drinking, I'm sure. Decades of alcoholism don't just fade away, and she'd have to admit she had a problem before she could fix it.
I don't know where life will lead me, or if I'll ever be in a relationship again, or if I'll just wander this earth til Heaven calls me Home, but here I am, in control. It's my choice.

Normal

2010-09-15T17:40:00.000-07:00

This can't be normal.
Call it PMS, grief, depression, call it whatever you like, but falling apart the way I am right now can't possibly be normal.
I don't want to hurt like this anymore.
I don't want to be here alone, but I don't want anyone seeing me sob like this, and there's not a person in the world smart enough and strong enough to put up with me when I'm this much of a mess, much less one who's recognize that I was in pain- because I'm sure not asking anyone for help.
I'm overwhelmed, hurting, angry, frustrated and alone... because the only person to ask for help is the person I'm most likely to yell at.
I just want to give up....

Statement Of Intention

2010-09-15T10:44:00.000-07:00

I don't know what my latest entries have come across to other people as.
I'm not going to assume anything.
I will say, though, that I realize my more recent writings here have been a lot more pessimistic and emotional than the earlier ones.
I will also say this, as a bit of a disclaimer: I am a Baha'i, but this blog is not solely about that. This blog is a personal blog, and a very limited number of people who actually know me are actively aware of it's existence. Anyone who feels they have the right to judge me for what I write here may be better off not reading it. I don't make money off of this, nor am I promoting anything via this blog- these are not my intentions.
I have discussed things on here that would make plenty of people feel uncomfortable. Some individuals may even manage to be offended. While none of this is my intention, again, it's a personal blog.
I am living my life the best I can, and this is just a brief glimpse of that life.
Take it or leave it, it's that simple.

Broken Heart Beating

2010-09-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

I'm reading "Where The Broken Heart Still Beats- The Story Of Cynthia Ann Parker" by Carolyn Meyer.

Cynthia Ann Parker is a "White" woman who was, at a young age, taken from her family by members of the Comanche tribe. She lives with them, marries a chief, and then, during a rather violent raid, re-captured by the White folks. She's returned to her family, along with the daughter she had with the chief, and, despite trying to escape, is forced to live as a White woman. The reason I put "White" in quotations at the beginning is because it's incredibly clear, even by the first pages of Chapter 5, that this woman in no way considers herself white.
Here is a woman, living completely outside her element, not by choice, without the man she loves. She struggles to maintain what she knows and believes in but, of course, it is a struggle.
It's incredible how much I relate to this woman.
Why do I cringe every time someone calls me white? Why am I more offended by that than anything else? Why do I feel so empty when I do what I feel I "should" do? My faith helps so much, but there's just so much of me that screams that there's more for me than what I'm living right now. I struggle with the decision of whether to stay in or leave the Army in 2013 when my contract expires. I have wanted to be a career Soldier for some time, but I crave India, and a few weeks, I think, would only leave me wanting more. I don't know how to go about visiting there, though I'm not the least bit frightened to do so, even on my own. After spending two years in Korea, I'm quite confident in my abilities to manage in a non-English speaking country. From what I've read about India, there's actually quite a large part of the population who are at least relatively fluent in English. Perhaps I would enjoy trying to learn Sanskrit or Hindi? Hindi is India's major official language, with English being a secondary. I'm relatively sure that Sanskrit is mostly a religious language, more than a frequently spoken one.
I don't know, but I have found a fascination in this place for a long time. I think it might be time to try to figure out what to do about it.

Guilt About My Lack Of Guilt

2010-09-14T19:56:00.000-07:00

I don't feel guilty for ending things with Bright Eyes.
In a way, I do feel guilty for not being the figure I wanted to be to his daughter.
Mostly, though, I feel guilty... for not feeling more guilty about the situation.

Weird, right?

Do I miss him? Yes.
Do I feel I made the right decision? Yes.
Do I hate being single? Yes.
Do I need to be single? Yes.

I've been keeping myself incredibly, insanely busy.
It's not Bright Eyes I've been avoiding thinking about, though.
It's Danger.
Not that there's much avoiding thinking about him, most days, though.
He was my friend for years before we dated. YEARS.
I really think he was the greatest love of my life, and I let him go.
You wanna talk about guilt? The man's dead.
I was so scared to lose him that I lost him.
Twice.
I was terrified he wasn't what he seemed, so I pushed him away. I never stopped loving him. This man was everything I wanted. He was the bad boy, the wild one, the tattoo artist, the free-thinker, and he was also one of the most affectionate, doting, loving people I've ever met, not to mention an incredible father. He loved his kids more than anything. He was the unattainable one when I first met him- that guy that was clearly above me, out of my league. As all crushes do, it came into perspective. He was real. He had some flaws- mostly, he sucked with money, but that wasn't news to anyone- but the way he loved me, sweet Lord....
He bragged about me.
Not a little bit.
Constantly.
He thought I was his dream come true. I was the one who stole the heart of the eternal bachelor.
I love him so much it hurts- literally.
Some part of me, even after 2 months, refuses to accept this as real. He can't be gone. Not him.
He wasn't supposed to leave me behind.
I woke up, and he was just.... gone.
The man I sat next to in the hospital all night, the man who always insisted I stay with him when I, once again, found myself not welcome in my mother's house, the man who's eyes lit up when he talked about marriage and settling down, or moving to Texas for me, the man who took goofy pictures of himself for me and posted them on Facebook so everyone could see how much he loved me... The man who was planning our wedding, who wrote an email to my 1sg to try and get him to help him with a surprise formal proposal... The man who was designing an engagement ring for me.... I love this man more than life, and I can't imagine anyone ever capturing my heart the way he did.
Danger could get anything- and did.
Some of the crazy stunts he pulled off still amaze me.
I want him back.

I'll turn 25 in January. I've decided I'm not getting in a relationship until then. What little dating I've done since Bright Eyes and I broke it off a few weeks ago has been nothing short of disastrous. I want to feel loved and cherished, and this sure seems to be the wrong way to go about getting that feeling back. I miss feeling like there was someone in this world who couldn't live without me. The sick part is, Danger and my exhusband were the only ones who ever gave me that feeling, and with my ex, it was brief.
I want him back.
I need time to heal, and I know this... I'm trying, I really am.

I won't lie, I haven't felt like a very good Baha'i lately.
It's not that I've done anything really wrong, it's just that our community seems so conservative, that I feel like a troublemaker lately. I haven't made a huge effort to attend devotionals on Thursdays, and Ruhi study has been nearly abolished for me lately... I just feel so much better when I'm not trying to focus on memorizing and, well, discussing things with people lately. I've surrounded myself with people, but not ones I wanted to talk to about all of this with. Lady La La is the only one I've kept around that I really would talk to, but she and I have been staying busy with keeping other people around. While she gets me, nobody else needs to know what's going on. She's Baha'i as well, though she's the other rebel child of our community.

As I write this, I'm lying in bed at almost 9pm, which is much earlier than I've seen my bed as of late, with what I'm pretty sure is some minor food poisoning. I never thought it could be so miserable. If it was just my stomach, I wouldn't care, but it feels like it's EVERYTHING. Dehydration, secondary to minor food poisoning sounds about right.

And so it begins, through the eyes of me,
A tale of what my life was never supposed to be....