Becoming Me

Hello and welcome to my journey. This is my journey to finding and becoming me. She’s been lost for awhile. I will find her and free her. I can’t wait to meet her. I can’t wait for everybody to meet her. Thank you for your support.

My Father

My biological father and mother divorced when I was about 3 years old. My mother remarried when I was 8 years old. My father was not interested in being active in our lives, so my step-father was more of a dad to me than my self-centered biological one was.

My step-dad wasn’t the best at showing his emotions or feelings. But he got it across to my sister and I the best he could. Looking back , I am in awe that he took on a stay-at-home mom on welfare,  with 3 kids. He provided for all of us.

When he became comfortable, almost desperate, to share how much he loved us, unfortunately was shortly before he passed away.

But by that time, I had already learned how to build up my walls.

I was one of the first and last to touch him after he stopped breathing.  In fact, when I squeezed his hand in hopes of feeling his squeeze back, his body involuntarily took in a breath from the oxygen tank, which was turned up to full blast. I truly thought he had come back to life.  My family, behind me, knew better, and had to take a few minutes to convince me. That was the start of the popping of my optimistic bubble.

This is a poem I wrote 2 years later when I was a senior in high school.  I rarely shared my personal life and emotions with classmates, but for some reason I did. Here it is, polished up just a bit.

My Father

It was dark

I took his hand

My pressure to his lifeless palm

He was now free

But not for this ugly world.

 

The clear tube hung down

It had done its job.

It was now useless

As were my tears and pleas

As was his once labored breath.

Are You Watching Me?

Are you watching me?

Are you sitting back comfortably while my life spirals out of control?

As I take the face-exploding punches that come after each right thing I do.

As I meet the soul-crushing walls with each good decision I make.

And while I am knocked out, falling further away, do you hear me screaming a silent prayer, doomed before it begins?

As I feebly hope for a mildly interested audience, I am left to meet my rocky landing alone.

Do you witness the still, sharp silence as it obliterates my entire being into a million neglected pieces?

Can you feel my children cradle, comfort, soothe these pieces of me in their brave despair, until I am somehow put back together?

Do you notice that I seem to lose a piece of me with each crash? Each time I wonder in vain hope if it will be my last.

Are you watching me?

Fill Me

My body is starving for physical love. It can’t be sated with sex alone.

My mind is ravenous for arousal. It won’t be quenched with words of desire alone.

My soul craves to be set on fire. It must be fed with the fire of another.

So fill me. Only then will my heart be atoned.

I run

I am a mess of walls and fight or flight reactions. I became this way over time. But it was my choice, my way to cope. I take responsibility.

Therefore, I tend to push people away when I feel they are getting too close to me. Not because I don’t want them to be close and not because I don’t wish them to want me. It’s because I don’t want to hurt them or fuck their lives and dreams up.

Because that’s what I do. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If I stay, I get hurt. If I stay, I hurt them. If I run, I hurt them. When I run, I hurt myself.

One way or another, someone’s getting hurt and it’s always my fault.

My ex-husband started calling me the Ruiner of All Things towards the end of our marriage. I never believed him because he verbally abused me daily, and I didn’t believe any of the other names he called me. But this one stuck in my mind.

I feel like everything and everyone I touch, I kill.

Memories

I’ve been thinking of my mother a lot in the last couple days. She passed away two years ago. It’ll be 3 years in June 2018.

These thoughts and memories are usually very painful and trigger tears, which I try to terminate as quickly as possible. This is followed by the reinforcement of my walls. Then it’s necessary to find a task to distract my mind so I can move on with my day.

I usually don’t let myself think about my mom too much. Not because I didn’t love her or didn’t get along with her. On the contrary she was my best friend. Mostly I try not to talk because I don’t want to cry in front of my kids, as it upsets them.

But the main reason why I avoid thinking about her is because my kids and I were the ones who found her dead in her bedroom. On the floor. It was a complete shock. Of course I immediately called 911, not even thinking to remove my children from the horrific sight of their Grandma. Thankfully a neighbor took them.

I still have a hard time thinking about that day. But I’m finding that as time goes by, I’m able to talk about it more and more. I’m able to mention more details. Once I speak the words it gets a little easier to think about the day. One might think it would be the other way around. But not for me. You see, I’m an over-thinker. If I think about that day, I’ll actually go there and be in that day in my mind and relive it over and over again. Then the anxiety is in full swing.

So I tend to block it out. I tend to block out a lot of things having to do with emotions. I’d rather not deal with anything emotional, which is why I refuse to watch sappy movies that might make one cry. It’s not that I wouldn’t cry. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a heartless, cold-hearted bitch. (Okay, yes I am a Capricorn and I can be a cold hearted bitch in some situations. Particularly during those special ladies days that come each month. You got a problem with that? Bite me.)

Normally I am extremely emotional and sensitive. I can feel things deeply. It’s just that I don’t want to. I’ve learned over the years that it does not pay to make oneself feel, as it makes one very vulnerable. And I spent so much of my life being vulnerable due to my sensitive, naive nature. And as you can guess, I got burnt more times then I can put here without getting smacked upside the head for being that dumb.

So there came a point in my life where I simply said “Nope”. No more door mat Carmen.

So when I started thinking of my mother, I found myself discussing her with my kids. But for the first time, I wasn’t sobbing or looking away, blinking rapidly to avoid the scared, disappointed eyes of my kids. This time I was relating funny stories about my mom. Some funny things that she used to say and funny songs she used to sing. And I could laugh. It felt good to laugh.

But the amazing part of this is that for the very first time, I didn’t think about that day. For some reason my mind just didn’t go there. And I felt relief and peace. And I know my children did too. It doesn’t get any better than that.

One day soon, I’ll be able to talk about that day and process it so that I can start to grieve properly. And maybe one day my mind won’t see her the way I last saw her. One day I’ll think of her as she was. And how she probably is now. Always laughing.

The Turning Point

I used to be an innocent, naive, good girl. Overly optimistic, my family and friends worried about me. It was almost to the point of being delusional sometimes. That’s where my stubbornness kicked in. I just refused to believe that anything but good could happen in most situations. If I felt even the slightest inkling of things going south I would white-knuckle it and overthink it and force it to try to make it go my way.

For now we will skip over my 17-year marriage that ended in verbal abuse, a restraining order, no money, no car, eviction, and the lowest self-esteem I’ve ever had. Not to mention my long-term drug addict husband who introduced me to meth 2 years ago. What a mess, right?

So let’s go back to a year before the restraining order. We hadn’t functioned as a married couple for a couple of years at this point. I had been sleeping downstairs in the recliner for two years. I would only have sex with him if he begged and I couldn’t shut him up. Was easier just to give in. he would get angry and bully me if I turned him down. At the time I didn’t look at it like he was using me because after all, we were married. I still hated it and couldn’t wait for it to be over every time. I didn’t even bother for myself anymore. I just wasn’t turned on by him at all. And I thought there was something wrong with me.

We weren’t functioning as roommates either. He was a long-time drug addict and he was full-blown into it during this time. He became verbally abusive about a year before this. He always had an anger problem but it had never been like this. We fought all the time. The children were being affected. I started to see that there truly was no hope. I knew that I needed to have the courage to end it and file for the divorce. We just didn’t have anywhere to go and I didn’t have any money of my own and I knew it was going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever have to do. It was so easy to just forget and pretend like it wasn’t going to happen again until it did. It always did. The amount of time that would pass by in between incidents just got shorter and shorter.

I had worked on this marriage for so long. He hadn’t done much work at all. I tried to be compassionate about the drug problem and thought we could get help. He wouldn’t work but I thought he would buck up and get a job. The fact that I had fallen out of love with him, I even could overlook that because I knew that with counseling lots of couples were able to rekindle that flame and fall back in love again.

Little did I know that downloading and joining an innocent little game app had more in store for me than I ever could have imagined over the next year-and-a-half. A journey to sexual and emotional self discoveries, gaining new friendships, feeling utter brokenness, being used financially, and a phone hacking situation from hell.

But most amazingly, I experienced true love for the first time in my life…