I am sitting here wondering what the fuck am I supposed to do next. I have plans... big fucking plans but I seem so stuck. I thought that what I was doing was going to assist me to reach higher in life, alas.. no. A big fucking ZED. DO NOT think I am talking about my job, hell no! I love my job as a mother and as a Crisis Advocate. I am so excited every morning to get up and go do something I love and see my beautiful children everyday. It's not that, I'm happy there.
It is where I am mentally and emotionally. What I do not have that I should have had years ago. Yeah, this may sound like a pity letter to me and the world; but it isn't.
I am still trying to survive. I am still trying to grow as a person from my past. As a domestic violence survivor I still find it difficult to reach out to people. I still find it difficult to form healthy relationships and maintain them. Hell, I just found out through neurological testing that I needed that my IQ is way above standard; however, because of all the trauma and hyper-stress I lived with for decades, the wiring in my brain is still in survivor mode. I need to reprogram my brain and I will tell you, it hurts.
Your head starts to get foggy as you try to think outside of the box per say. You constantly try to tell yourself that everyone is not against you. You keep thinking that you cannot make mistakes and you have to be perfect or you will get "punished" if you do not follow the parameters set by the abuser of the house. Then you have to remind yourself that... THEY ARE NO LONGER FUCKEN THERE!!! to torture you and the kids. Then the guilt sets in. You self-sabotage and then, you and the kids get neglected. Appointments suffer because your abuser didn't want the kids talking about life at home, so now you are in a rut. The rut is that you don't want your kids reliving that trauma if the Doc asks questions. Months go by, missed appointments. Keeping only the Mental health ones even-though the physical health ones are just as important. You do not keep them. You don't because you are too embarrassed to tell the Doc that you don't have a licence and a car because your abuser prevented you from learning how to drive. Oh, did I forget to mention they also kept money from you too? They kept you poor and fighting to keep the lights on or food in the fridge because their things were more important than the kids and you? Clothing? What was that? You and the Kids don't need more than one pair of shoes or new clothes. And the US thinks Saudi Arabia is so misogynistic. Try looking in your own back yard USA.
I am still paying their debts.
There is a good side. I have been single for a year. My kids are alive. I am alive. I graduated College Cum Lade, although late in life, I still did it despite the fighting, yelling, screaming, protecting my kiddos, and my sanity. I have an awesome job with equally awesome people I work with. I am working on getting my License and a vehicle to drive so I can have full-time employment plus getting my Master's Degree.
See, big plans... Big plans to me, may-be small stepping stones for those who do not understand the mind of the Traumatized. In retrospect, my trauma dates back much much further than my marriage, the relationship after the marriage, and the very short one after that. I do not know what I am supposed to do next other than push through my obstacles. I am terrified. I look in the mirror and I cannot believe what I see. I should look old. I should look haggard. I should look drained. But I don't. I do not look my age. Inside, I feel younger than I should. Why? Well, I feel younger because I was never given the skills to be an adult, I was only given tools to survive. I am still a child, not a healthy child. I joke that I am an awkward teenage gay boy stuck in a woman's body. If that offends you, I really am sorry, however, here is my explanation.
As we all know adolescent boys are trying to find their way in the world of maleness. This means that they are surging with testosterone during puberty so naturally, bigger boys pick on smaller ones for dominance...today we call that bullying. What happens if that smaller boy is very different than the other boys? What if the smaller boy has a crush on that bigger boy? OR what if that bigger boy really has a crush on his best friend who happens to be another bigger boy? See where I am going? I'm that scared little boy who has a problem reaching out to people for friendship because I'm not like the others. Now I have this knowledge that I prefer boys than girls, it terrifies me because I see other boys get picked on and hurt for the same reason. To put salt in the wound, I also love geeky things. I don't like sports, I would rather read, I would rather watch Doctor Who, I would rather go to Comic Cons and dress up. I am socially awkward because I don't fit in... well, most kids don't but here I am, secretly gay and love geeky things. Now add an abusive childhood to that poor boy. All of it. You name it, it probably happened.
That is me, that poor, scared little boy who just wants to be nurtured and loved in a good healthy way.
I love men, I relate to men better than women, and I know that there are great men out there but I am not (my belief and it is because of my childhood and my adult life) fitted for them. I do not have the tools for a beautiful healthy relationship with a beautiful healthy man. I have been asked as to why I do not just give up and date women. Well, this is what I say.
"The right one hasn't come around and really folks, I love me the penis and the beautiful male body, and I have my own boobs and vagina to play with. This is not to say I have not contemplated looking for a woman, I have. I would have to find a woman who is very masculine in body shape and personality. Too complicated and potentially hurtful."
I have resigned to staying single. It is safer that way. I still need to work on rewiring my head before I even go back on the dating scene, If I ever Chose too. I need to better myself and learn to love myself before I can be healthy and good with someone else whether they are male, female, or transgender because feelings are real. They do not need my baggage from my past. They need me to be just as nourishing for them as I need them for me.
This post turned into something I was not expecting, but I hope you all understand that these rambling words are from a traumatized mind that just wants to be fixed and wants the best life for my kids and It seems that it isn't happening.