Rumors

Rumors

Rumors are the shards of glass that fall from the shattered chandelier of adolescence.

They stick in your feet as you try to walk by them with your head held high and scar your hands when you try to clean them up.

When you get dressed and try to go about your day, they constantly sting and burn.

Everyone notices your hands. They heal quickly though, that’s the good news. People will forget.

But at night, when the world is quiet and the shoes you had to wear come off, the shards are still there, so deep you can’t extract them.

They’re still there in your 20’s when you’re deciding what kind of life you want.

They’re still there in your 30’s when you’re asking “is there anything more?”

They’re still there in your 40’s when you’re teaching someone else how to navigate the world.

Maybe you can find a way at some point in your life to overcome the pain and help someone else through theirs. You can’t get that time back though and sometimes it all comes rushing back.

Something to remember though, that’s helped me down the road, is that nobody starts a rumor about someone who doesn’t matter. Your magnetic qualities, your strengths and your charisma made you a target. You get to keep those things.

You couldn’t have prevented it. That’s how rumors work. Rumors are the things you didn’t do. Someone else is responsible for causing that kind of pain.

Just don’t be that someone else. You’re better than that.

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SHARED Trauma and a Facebook Post

SHARED Trauma and a Facebook Post

Dear William,

I wanted to write a response to you regarding your comments on my post but I needed to do some digging first. Like, the real deep kind. My knee-jerk reaction was just to make a snarky comment and set you in your place. That’s not what I dreamed up when I made that blog post you didn’t bother to read with my picture attached, that you so harshly judged. See, that blog post was about my insecurities about my arms. Then you used it to hurt me. But, I am in a place that you are not yet and in this place, I can be candid. I am in control. I am going to give you some grace.

So as I was driving today I decided to take a good long look inward and decode my emotional response versus my pro social therapeutic response options.

Several times I thought maybe I should just pull the car over and have a good cry. But I didn’t do that. Someone might pull over and try to rescue me. AND I DON’T NEED TO BE RESCUED!

But, maybe YOU do. So allow me. I was also in an abusive relationship. I also got hurt. I responded in life in a variety of damaging ways. I’ve not always been proud of the choices I made when I was trying to get over the whole ordeal.

When I finally got out of ‘said relationship’ and began to try to heal it was NOT EASY.

Healing is a process, the length of which is akin to the length of the process that was used to alienate me from my family and friends. To make me feel worthless and useless. To make me want to please someone at my own expense. To walk around in my own home every day and wonder what I was doing wrong. What was I going to do today that he would berate me for? Why can’t I just get it right? The process that made me believe that I was the terrible wife and mother that he wanted me to believe I was. It took a long time for him to train me.

It took one split second for me to suddenly and violently realize that I was not all of those things he accused me of being and I was going to get out. It took another three years before I actually did.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t much bigger than me. It didn’t matter that I was skilled with weapons and COULD fight back. He may have very well been able to physically overpower me if he came at me just right, but he didn’t even have to do that. His words cut me deeper than any of the beatings I took. The anxiety that I had just wondering if I was gone too long at the grocery store was enough to send me into a panic attack.

And it took me A LONG TIME TO HEAL FROM THAT! I’m still not done. I will come out of every corner I am ever backed into swinging still to this day. But here is what I have become.

I am strong. I am proud that I am strong. I survived. I am proud of that too. I am proud that I didn’t become another statistic. But I know that there are two sides to every story. Maybe you didn’t want to know mine. Maybe I don’t know yours. Here is what I do know.

Men can be victims of domestic violence too and I would say that many, much too many, frequently are. And they’re never going to tell. As stigmatized as I feel right now admitting it, I can’t imagine what you feel, as a man, because you aren’t supposed to admit that you let her hurt you. Of course that’s garbage talk, but that’s where we still are as a society.

I think you are brave to admit that a woman overpowered you and physically hurt you. Because you are not supposed to admit such things. You are a man afterall. I can’t compare my pain to yours and I won’t.

But brother, let me tell you something, you have got to do the work on yourself now in order to heal from your trauma. Read the book. Take the class. Join the f***ing support group. You need it. Don’t spend years denying that you do. It’s a waste of time and you and everyone you love pay the price.

I am not afraid of men who are bigger and stronger than me. No person’s physical appearance is threatening to me. I don’t find strong men unattractive because they’re strong. I don’t think they look like monsters. I don’t find less muscular men unattractive because they might be weak. My trauma didn’t manifest the way yours did. I know that no matter what a person looks like on the outside, they are who they are at their heart. There really sometimes is no clue to who they are until you give them a chance to show you.

Don’t carry your trauma around for the rest of your life making assumptions about what people are capable of or what kind of pain they may inflict on you because of the way they look. You are gonna miss out on a whole lot of awesome. Do the work on yourself and keep your mouth shut about the way other people look.

And for the record, I wanted to be strong, not so I could fight back against some man if they ever tried to hurt me again. Not so I could show off my muscles and take selfies. I’m 44 and I just want to still feel good when I’m 66 and beyond. I want to be able to make the damn bed without giving up and asking for help. I want to be able to do the fun things I like to do without the amount of pain that I was in before I started lifting weights. And it is working. And I’m happy about it. AND I want to inspire other women to take their health into their own hands. Eating right and exercising takes a lot of dedication, but it’s worth it. It’s another step I have taken on the road to being my best self. I will never be ashamed of that, regardless of who finds me attractive.

Healing….. means wading through the trauma you experienced and ending up standing on top of that mountain of bullshit that life threw at you and screaming “I F***ING WON”!

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Finding YOUR PEOPLE and ACCEPTING YOURSELF

Finding YOUR PEOPLE and ACCEPTING YOURSELF

I used to hate my stomach. Then I hated my arms. Then I felt insecure about all of the things. ALL OF THE THINGS….

I used to wish I was smarter. I used to wish I had more tact. I used to wish I fit in everywhere with everyone. EVERYWHERE WITH EVERYONE….(sigh)

And then one day I noticed that I was healthier and happier and didn’t hate so many things about myself. But there was a lot of stuff that happened in between.

One of those things was realizing that not ALL of the people are MY people. I had to find my people. Not everyone thinks they need this but I’ve never known anyone who regretted finding theirs. It’s like this giant step I made toward ACCEPTING myself.

Finding other people who accepted me first. I didn’t know it was happening. I didn’t feel that anything was changing. I just know that when you are around people and you don’t have to hold the real-you in, good things happen. When you don’t have to pretend to be more confident than you actually are, when your sense of humor doesn’t have to be checked, when you don’t fear that they’ll cast you aside because you said something offensive accidentally, you’ve found your people.

The weird part is, they don’t have to be LIKE you. They don’t have to eat the way you eat or workout at your gym or do the same thing for a living. They don’t have to be people that politically see eye to eye with you. They don’t have to be the same religion or color or size. They just fall in love with who you are and you fall in love with them. You love their life and how they’ve built it. You feel their struggles and want them to succeed. And they feel yours and you can tell they want the same for you. Those are your people.

I can say that I wish I had found them sooner. But really, I might not have appreciated them so much.

And I say all of this to say, it’s okay to insist on improving yourself. To constantly try to mold yourself into your idea of a better you and LOVE YOURSELF ALONG THE WAY. Some of us feel unlovable because we aren’t the best version of ourselves yet. Love yourself anyway.

Every day I still look at my arms and wish they were tiny like they used to be. But I love that they are strong and I see their potential. My arms don’t bother anyone but me. My people could give two shits about my arms. I know this because I couldn’t care less about what their arms look like. I might not realize this if I hadn’t found them.

If you haven’t found your people yet, you will. It’s going to happen when you least expect it but it’s going to happen when you need them the most. Cheers.

Link to Part 2 of this article in reply to a comment I received on my FB (you need to check this out)

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