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If you are highly sensitive and gets offended easily, do not read this post.
I think I have just about had it with liars and hypocrite. In the past 2 months I have learned so much about women and fake people. These people pretend to be your friend, pretend to 'care' (when actually I can see right through you but I give you benefit of the doubt). They abandon their own 'friend' when they were going through major hell and depression and suicide attempt but here to give advice and help other people go through it. What kind of person are you?
They pretend to be your friend and listen to all your crap and when they decide that they don't like you they tell people your personal matters that you shared only with them. When they decided/realize oh you're not so bad after all, I wanna be friends with you again, they pretend to be nice to you and be your 'friend' when all along without you knowing it they have been talking shit about you and telling other people how much they do not like you and the things you do. Fucking ridiculous.
I just can't believe how many fake people I have met in a very short period of time. It is also super super scary to know how these people think suicide/suicide attempts/suicidal thoughts are jokes. I tell you, if I am not as strong as I am, I would be long gone and you would've been a part of the reason why. But luckily I am strong. But for those people who are not? What happens to them?
Just so fucking ridiculous how people can be so damn fake. Time to stop. End of rant.
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I've been in this funk for well over a year now. This loneliness is killing me on the inside. I don't know how to even began to get out of this sadness.
I've tried everything I can think of to get out of this..... still I stand in my loneliness. I feel like I'm just going through the motions just to get by.
I feel so used and broken.
I feel like I'm not a good friend, wife, mother, daughter or sister.
I grew up my friend...
I grew up and betrayal no longer touch me...
I got used to back stubbing and i only need just a moment
to pull the knife out and clean my wound...
I grew up my friend...
I grew up and passerbys no longer nake me upset..
I grew up my friend....
And i found out that family is more than blood..
Family are the ones you choose to stay with you once your door is closed..
when you are low...
The ones that will not put you inside a box and they will accept you
without terms and without limits...
I grew up my friend...
And i want to make this journey only with the ones that we sing
the same tune even if we are out of tune..
I grew up my friend..
And if it is not love then i prefer to have nothing...
And if it is not faith then i don't want it...
because i prefer to have nothing instead of nearly something..
I grew up my friend and it's not because i am old..
I grew up from my losses..
And now here i am standing..
marked but still alive ...
I am not giving up..
I am not surrendering ..
Its something i read and it touched me.It was written in Greek and it probably loses in translation but i tried to translate it as best as i could
The other weekend it was Manchester Pride and I was along with a big table full of bi stuff at the community fair. BCN bi magazines and subscription forms, the Getting Bi In A Gay / Straight World guides to coming out and staying out, bi & pan pin badges, bi research info about how it's different for bis, Visibly Bisexual stickers to pop on the back of your phone, some shiny new leaflets that I've just had made that help people find local bi support group meets near them all over the country... you get the idea.
Running a stall like that for two days you get to have a lot of conversations. Some are better forgotten, but some really strike home.
One was with a 13 year old and her parents, who were super-supportive and whose school had helped her set up an LGBT group for pupils. Lots of members, all older than her: but her being out to teachers has been a catalyst for a whole bunch of teens feeling less alone. I gave her as big a pile of resources to take for their classroom as I dared.
One was a woman maybe three times that age. She clearly had gay and gay-friendly friends, but there being bi stuff out there, there being other people who would put all those moments of silencing and erasing we live with as bis into words was like more than she had ever imagined she could find. We wound up in hugging as her tears started. That isolation we get from bisexual invisibility is so damn powerful.
Definitely worth being out and visible for the weekend.
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I’m going to deviate a bit in this post, as I want to further my healing with this tragic event. Hope you don’t mind.
Growing up, seeing the twin towers was the first thing I saw in the skyline as we approached the city. Seeing the sunrise hitting them really made them gleam. When you stood beneath them and looked up, it looked like they went on for infinity into the clouds.
September 11, 2001, is fuzzy in my mind up until about 9am. My earliest memory that day was thinking how beautiful the morning was; more so than most— low humidity, low 60s, sunny, not a cloud in the sky. For AP Art, we were allowed to go outside and draw landscapes. When I went back in and the period finished, I saw students hysterically crying all in the hallways and frantically trying to dial their cell phones. At social studies, I turned around and asked my friend what’s going on. The teacher was just sitting there and everyone was oddly quiet.
“Didn’t you hear? Planes crushed into the World Trade Center.”
”yeah, right” I told her, as I turned around. I thought she was joking. Class eventually started as if everything went back to normal, for 30 minutes.
Next period at lunch, my friend told me it really did happen. It felt like my heart went into my throat. I went frantic and went to the library to see it on tv. The library was closed to us but all the teachers were allowed in to watch. I could see the tv through the doors and opened my mouth stunned. A teacher scolded me for trying to look at the tv, and I told them I have a right to see what’s going on, and what if I had a parent who worked there? (Which my dad actually had stopped working there a few years prior).
We were the only school in the area that didn’t get sent home early. So many students had family in the towers, but none of our phones were working.
Once I got home, all I heard were fighter planes flying right over our house. It was shaking the house so much you could hear the china in our cabinet rattling. I went outside, and there were so many of them. I suppose I had just been stunned up until that point, but at that moment I finally started crying. It was probably the scariest moment of my life. The what-ifs and feeling like you’re in the thick of a war over what you’re seeing.
The next morning, the smoke made its way in our direction. It’s something I hope nobody ever has to experience. It was green and murky and smelled terrible— like burned metal and flesh. It gave me a really bad headache. That whole day at school we were talking about where our loved ones are, who we know survived, passed away.
Those few days after feel like such a fog; like I was in another world. Our cell phones weren’t working, and the entire radio was all static. Most local stations’ antennas were on the WTC.
The signs for missing person were plastered all over the place. That was perhaps the saddest thing I experienced. There were so many, everywhere. I cried every time I saw one. And it was especially saddening seeing some of them still up after a few months.
3 months later, my mom and I went downtown to the overlook to see ground zero. It was specifically built for the public to see the damage. It was massive; so much bigger than I imagined. The amount of sadness you felt walking around there is something you can’t put into words. For the next couple of years, you could still see ash in the corner of the buildings. I’ll never forget that.
In 2007 when I moved a few minutes from downtown Manhattan after graduating college, there would always be constant reminders of 9-11. Posters about treating PTSD, what to do if you get 9-11 related cancer, and being on the subway and passing demolished stations that have been untouched and have all the debris still inside. Not to mention the gaping hole in the skyline.
Now that we’ve rebuilt, many of us are glad something is filling the hole in the skyline now, but it still doesn’t feel the same. It feels like something was robbed with us and we aren’t quite the same; empty.
Generations now won’t understand the impact that day had, but we can teach them. It will always stay in the back of our minds. Last month I took my 4 year old son up to the top of the Empire State Building. The last time I was there was one week before 9-11 when I took my friends from Arkansas around the city (my mom actually predicted 9-11 and told us to stay away from the towers). I had to first ever panic attack because I didn’t want to be that high up. Sometimes it’s hard to forget the impact something has on you.
RIP to all those lives lost.
here I am in 1996 in front of the towers-
I’ve been a member here for two years now, I love shybi...this place has become crucial to my sanity. It is my safe haven when I need a place to breathe, my sounding board when I need to vent, and most importantly, my support system. You ladies are my therapists, my teachers, and my friends. I don't know how I would cope without having a place like this for self expression. Here I am free to be the me that I want to be, but can't in 'the real world'. Here I don't have to hide, or pretend, instead I can be emotional and vulnerable. Here, it's ok to be bisexual, and express my thoughts and feelings towards women. You may not always like what I have to say, or agree with me, but you listen, and make me feel heard. You make me feel truly grateful to be part of this community...I love it here...
However...there is a downside...there's always a downside....envy! I'm not the only one who feels free to express my thoughts and feelings here, there are many many more of you. I love hearing about your lives and situations...understanding our similarities as well as our differences. Some of you I've gotten to know more personally than others, but regardless, I find everyone's story interesting. It's refreshing to see just how many of you are out there, confirming that I am not alone. The problem is, the more I learn about you wonderful women, the more I realize just how envious I am of you...
Some of you are happily married to a man and successfully maintain an intimate relationship with a woman in addition to your marriage...I envy you...because you've managed to achieve my ideal situation.
Some of you are involved in long distance relationships, whether it be your ‘primary’ or ‘secondary’ relationship, some maybe restricted to online. Even though that would be difficult, I still envy you...because you have the emotional connection.
Some of you have explored your sexuality prior to your marriage but now feel incomplete because you miss that female connection...I still envy you...because you figured this shit out before settling down.
Some of you have experienced mutual meaningful relationships with women (whether married or not) and for one reason or another parted ways and you've lost the love of your life...I envy you...because you've had such profound love to begin with.
Others are single and feel lonely because you haven't yet found the right person...I envy you...because you're free to explore.
Have you talked to your husband about your desires and he surprised you with his understanding and support? I envy you...because you can communicate openly.
Have the perfect marriage but hoping to find that one missing piece of the puzzle? I envy you...because my puzzle has pieces scattered all over the floor and I don't know what goes where.
I mean I could go on and on...you all have different situations, and I'm truly happy for each and every one of you...but I'm also envious of you. You have something that I want, whether you have it now, or in the past, or may in the future...
I wish I had the perfect marriage...I wish I had open communication with my husband...I wish he showed me support and understanding. I wish I was free to explore my sexuality in my own way, on my own terms. I wish I could have some of what many of you ladies here have, or had...I envy you!
So I’m 5months along and single and jobless.
Last month, I’m chilling in my room talking to my mom on the phone, and I look up and see my boyfriend walking up the stairs. I get excited because I hadn’t seen him for almost two weeks. I tell my mom I’ll call her back and hang up.
He hugs me and says the worst words possible. “We need to talk.”
So we both sit down and he flat out says, “We need to break up.”
I’m too shocked to react as he goes on about us not being right for each other and that he thinks it best if he has time to figure stuff out. He trembling at this point and I reach over and take hold of his hands. He proceeds to say he still wants to be there for the baby and he thinks I must hate him now. I told him that I don’t hate him. We hugged and he got most of his stuff and left.
Then everything hit me at once and I called my mom crying and she (being the mama bear she is) got pissed. After getting off the phone with her. I called my best friend and talked about it with her. She helped calm me down and convinced me to go eat something (after finding out I hadn’t eaten since 10 that morning and it was about 9pm when we started talking). I just felt so lost. I didn’t understand and probably won’t understand what went wrong.
Over the next few days it started to frustrate me more and more. Why hadn’t he talked to me about how he was feeling beforehand? Why did he go to other people? He got upset with me earlier in our relationship because something happened and I felt I couldn’t say anything to him. So he found out what happened and then got upset that I didn’t communicate because it was all a misunderstanding. So from then on, we had been open books about stuff to each other. Or so I thought...
A few more days go by and I found more of his stuff to return and I figured, he said he wanted to be there for our child so I’ll give him a couple of the ultrasound pictures. I put them in a baggie and then put it in on the side of the big bag with the rest of his stuff. I had a couple errands to run that day in the same town so I sent him a text saying what time I’d be up there.
Well it started to storm and he wasn’t answering, so I just texted his mom and asked if I could just drop off the stuff at the house. She told me she was absolutely okay with it. So I got there and it was pouring down rain. His dad came out of the house and waved at me to park under the covering. So I did and as I was getting out he (being a nice guy) takes the bag from me to take inside. Then an “oh sh*t” moment happened.
I had my back turned head back to my car and his dad stops me and asks if I could come inside for a minute. I kind of thought that was weird, but I obliged. When I got inside his dad was at the bathroom door pounding on it and yelling out my ex’s full name. His mom greeted me and asked me if that was his stuff in the bag and when I looked over (after confirming) I saw the pictures on top of everything. His dad and, now, his mom had seen them.
So, not only did he break up with me, he never told his parents about our child, and he didn’t show up to any of the appointments.
Well, at this point I’m heartbroken and hormonal. One of the worst mixes of emotions and I ended up getting fired from my job because a comment I made was taken out of context and they wouldn’t even give me a chance to explain. They suspended me and then told me I was okay to come back to work and then fired me when I stepped foot inside the building.
So, currently, I’ve been trying to find a desk job and dealing with other stuff going on.
Good news is, my parents put an offer on the table for me to live with them once my lease is up, not worry about working, so long as I do some housework, take care of my son (yup, baby is a boy!! ), and go back to school online at their expense. How could I say no to that?
I know you won't see this. I know I've already apologized. And I know you've already forgiven me. But I haven't forgiven me, so I'm putting this here as a promise to both of us.
I'll learn to forgive myself for what I've done to us in time. In the meantime, I'll fix the pieces I've broken and build us back up even stronger. Despite that it was unintentional, I'm ashamed and disappointed in myself for what I've done. I wasn't supposed to do what everyone else did to you, but I know that I will fix it like none of them ever could because what we have is real and it means so much to me. What I feel for you is real and it's never faltered. My words might only be words to you for now, until I show you with actions that you can believe in my words again. I can live with that because I know that it can be done. I will be stronger for us. It's my turn to take care of you now. I won't disappoint you. <3
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I never thought I'd do a post like this. But it's something I feel more than one of you can relate to. And it might be some comfort to know that you are not alone with these feelings. The things that lay in the dark, best left not given voice to for fear you will break someone else's reality, when all you do is want to scream, or want to cry, or worse want to fold it all in on itself, pack it in and want to die.
As much as this may help, it may also hurt, so major [TRIGGER WARNING] to anyone who suffers from depression or is suicidal. Don't watch or listen to the videos contained herein BEFORE the break (the first 4 spoken word pieces, or quotes, some may find triggering...the 3 music videos at end should be fine, but you may or may not like depending on your taste.) if you can't handle hearing things that sound too much like what is in your head, or mine...Please don't hurt yourself and know you are not alone. Others of us struggle just to live sometimes, often, or nearly everyday. I know it might sound trite to you, as everyone likes to say this, but take it from someone who knows firsthand what you are going through: It's an uphill battle but it can get better so long as you don't throw your life away. Time changes everything, and we always feel differently in time. Please don't make an impulsive decision based on the pain you feel in the moment because our situations are forever changing and making a permanent and irrevocable decision in such a time should never be the answer, no matter how badly you wish for it, or think it so in the heat of the moment. There are people who care, people you might not even yet know, people who will miss you. Even if it feels like there's no one, and can never be, and you are nothing but a burden, or worthless, or whatever other pretty lies fill your mind from your Depressive Side.
Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem and resolves nothing except leaving an empty space were you used to be in this world. Others will grieve you, miss you, be heartbroken, and you won't be around to see it, to know that these same people would likely have tried to comfort you if only they had known something was wrong sooner. Talk to a friend, family member, or anyone you can trust to listen, or baring that try to find something creative to channel your feelings into, if you can, be it art, music, writing, or whatever works for you. It can really help. Or you can use one of the resources below if you aren't sure who else to turn to or where else to turn.
Here are some resources for you in case this sounds too much like you, please reach out, even if everything in you is telling you not to, even if you're feeling so low it may seem pointless. Talking to someone, anyone, is so much better than the alternative:
Bosnia & Herzegovina: 080 05 03 05
Canada: 5147234000 (Montreal); 18662773553 (outside Montreal)
Estonia: 3726558088; in Russian 3726555688
Finland: 010 195 202
Hong Kong: +852 2382 0000
New Zealand: 045861048
Portugal: 21 854 07 40/8 . 96 898 21 50
South Africa: 0514445691
United Kingdom: 08457909090
Veterans' Crisis Line: 1 800 273 8255/ text 838255
For other suicide resources and hotlines broken down by region, or may not have been in this list, go here: http://www.suicide.org/suicide-hotlines.html
Now onto the today's entry:
"You are a good person. An extraordinary person. Don't you forget that."
A normal person would feel comforted, possibly uplifted or even dare I say hopeful after hearing those words. Not me.
I can't because they come at the worst time for me, when I am down, it's like being trapped in Bizarro World, inside your own head. Blessings become curses, and you would rather see yourself dead. When really, like most everyone with such morbid thoughts creeping around in their brain, it's the opposite that is slowly driving them insane. As much as they feel like they should die, it's really just a cry for help from our souls screaming "I want to live!" Just give me a reason to. Anything, a sign, that this will pass in time and there will come a better tomorrow...
But instead "You are a good person. An extraordinary person. Don't you forget that." becomes:
Me wanting to cry, feeling like I'm so unworthy and undeserving of that statement even if I do deserve it, I can't feel it, feel that way. It feels like a lie even if it's not.
How can I keep loving others, keep trying, keep giving myself away, when deep down inside the secret I try to hide is -I HATE Myself-
- And it becomes more apparent everyday as more stressors in my life makes more things unstable triggering my Depression, and it becomes harder to hold at bay.
But I can't afford to lose this battle with myself because what that might mean. But if this isn't you, you can't understand where I'm coming from, so here I invite you to explore the videos below. It's not exactly the same as what goes on in my head, but it comes frighteningly close, the thought process, but the sentiments are the same, the words are, the same, it's all the same at it's core...desperately needing things to change, feeling lost and alone, swallowed by despair, and if any of you have ever felt this way, this will no doubt seem familiar to you in the same way we always look at Depression and say:
"Hello, Darkness, my old friend, come to see me once again..."
Things may get worse, before they get better, but they always will. Life is cyclic. We have to change that hateful voice in our head, replace it with kinder things. We have to find the excuses to get out of bed, and face the day. We have to remember what life was like, when our passions rode us, made us take delight in all Life's special moments that have come before us. It is always darkest before the dawn, but within us all lies the strength to carry on.
I am normally one that does not partake in self-care routines, but today I decided to give it a try. I had my very first facial every, and I really liked it. The individual who did my facial told me I had great skin even though my skin care routine is non-existent. Given that I enjoyed it, I am thinking of doing it again but may be in 2-3 months as that what she recommended. Additionally, I am now interested in getting a massage. I have horrible neck and back pains after sitting in the office all day and being on the phone. Hmmm... I wonder if I should get my nails done? Maybe I should but I am not one for nails. It will have to be short and look great.
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After watching this video again at a conference last weekend, it helped me feel so much better about having the courage to work with people in my new career. It also helped me have a better understanding of why I got angry at people after my father died whenever they kept telling me:
"I'll pray for you."
"At least he's in a better place..."
Those were band-aide responses I received when I didn't want anyone to effing pray for me or tell me something they had no idea about and made assumptions. The video especially helped me understand my irritation toward people whenever I would reach out to receive some comfort after breaking up with one of my partners or to express that I'm having a difficult time finding a partner, they'd tell me like, "...you're still with your husband, right?" In my mind, I"m like, "what made you think I was not with him?" Why is it that whenever a relationship fails with a secondary (I hate using this word because I don't like ranking my partners) or tertiary partner, the relationship with the primary partner is somewhat at fault with the other relationships. What? Seriously? My marriage had nothing to do with the failure of the relationship with my recent exes. Why is this so difficult to understand? Honestly, I think this is why I want to be a counselor and help polyamorous individuals so that they don't feel like there is no one out there who understands them. It makes me think of this in the video:
"Rarely, if ever, does an empathic response begin with '...at least'...and we do it all the time. Someone just shared something with us that is incredibly painful, and we're trying to 'silverline it' [...] we're trying to put the silver line around it..." ~Brené Brown on Empathy
Examples of people who try to Sympathize versus Empathize:
Sad person: "I had a miscarriage..."
Sympathetic person: "At least you know you can get pregnant."
Sad person: "I think my marriage is falling apart..."
Sympathetic person: "At least, you have a marriage..."
*My personal experiences*
Me: "I'm feeling depressed because I miss my father who died four years ago."
Sympathetic person: "At least you still have your mother. Think about that."
Me: "I'm sad that I haven't found the right second partner, and I'm feeling lonely right now."
Sympathetic person: "At least you still have your husband."
Here are some examples of being empathetic with a polyamorous person if you aren't poly and have no idea how to relate:
Imagine the last fight you had with your significant other. I'm not talking about the one where you forgave each other within 5 minutes. I'm talking about the one that lasted for quite some time. You felt horrible inside, and that person really hurt you deeply. Think about how that feels. Now relate that to a person who is poly and fought with one of their partners. Every relationship is unique. Deal with the current relationship with which they're upset. Don't discuss the other relationships that have nothing to do with the current one.
Think about a time you had a nasty break up, or a break up that left you feeling like you'd never find someone else again. Imagine that when trying to comfort someone who is poly and they just had a breakup. Do not discuss a relationship that has nothing to do with the current one the poly person has presented. How would you feel if someone filleted your heart and served it back to you?
You'd feel downright crappy, wouldn't you?
For aching that they're having trouble meeting other poly people for relationships:
Think about how it felt when you were looking for someone to date, and you kept meeting people who were just not right for you. Do you remember how sad that felt? Do you remember that hurt and pain? That is exactly how a poly person would feel. Worry about the current issue. Don't bring in other relationships that have nothing to do with how they currently feel.
Poly people hurt too. It's not about whether polyamory works for you or not. It is the person who is hurting that needs some comfort. That is all! I really wish people would understand that instead of assuming that because many of us are married or partnered and that we are automatically sunshine 24/7. We love differently.
That's just how I've felt for a long time. This is why I keep to myself because if I try to reach out to anyone, I get those sympathetic comments from people who have no idea how I'm feeling and don't try to understand how much I'm hurting.
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AW MEH GAWD, I'm back???
Maybe. So I peaced out Shi's for a bit just because there was someone that I didn't get along with on here and had enough drama in my life that I didn't need another invisible online person to give me shit just for speaking my mind (OMG an opinion you don't agree with?? Gahhhh!). No it's not you or you or even you in the back there. I blocked the person so you are all okay. For now :P. Kinda super turned me off from the site. But I was reminded to come back and check it a bit by a friend.
Lets see, so broke up with fiancé who been with for 9 years, broken engagement, lost "friends", moved back in with my parents, trying to look for a condo, realized that I need to put down way more of a down payment for a condo, mom had cancer and beat it but had her kidney and spleen removed, my best friend (who is also an ex) has stage 4 cancer but surviving so far (please baby jesus, let him live), so yeah.... not gonna lie, these past 3 years haven't tickled. Still healing and in pain, but making the best of it. Hoping I change to a better person. I mean, I was awesome before, but now, I can be SUPER awesome. Humble right? At least my job is steady and pays well and I have a roof over my head and a bed to crawl into. and wine. lots and lots of wine.
hope yall have been well
Hi and welcome to another installment of Philosophical Ramblings of a Menstruating Woman, if you have been following my other ramblings you will know there really is no structure to these blog posts, I usually just post whatever comes to mind and there is no telling what my fingers will type so strap in here we go.......
First of all does anyone else get road rage while grocery shopping? or am I the only one? I just don't get it, they clearly see me trying to pass them even say the polite excuse me, but to be ignored. Which reminds me of the Movie Fried Green Tomatoes, where Kathy Bates Character is trying to get a parking space and this really sporty car with young girls come in and take the spot, she yells "Tawanda" and just rams the other car with hers. I wonder what would happen if one just shouted Tawanda! and started ramming a grocery cart into a rude person's cart and just keep shouting tawanda and keep ramming their cart. I mean what is the worse that could happen?? thrown out of the store, fitted for a strange jacket that fastens in the back? Anger management classes??? Okay probably not a great idea to do in reality... but lots of crimes take place in my mind So TAWANDA! I think we need to start a TAwanda movement, I am just know it will take off!
Lets see what else do we have... So I was on youtbe and was watching these video fails videos, these are the videos were people do things and end up hurting themselves and someone was kind enough to capture the event on video and upload it to youtube so the whole world can see it. Some of them I just can't watch cause I feel so darn bad for them but you continue to watch them knowing full well you shouldn't be watching them, its like a train wreck you just can't look away. I also do the same thing when I am watching like a reality show where they are suppose to have some sort of talent and they clearly really bad, those I actually turn the channel, I feel so bad for those folks in front of millions of people. Its just so sad.... I can't take it... Also if you are on youtube and you see shark videos they will swallow you up ( Pun Intended) also when you go in the ocean try not to look so chewy!
I guess that is going to wrap this post up as I am getting sleepy ( finally), if you got this far, thanks for reading and enjoy your day/night.
It Begins With Me
To love thy self is to love without fear of what others may say.
Wear that outfit you feel makes you look a bit too fat.
That outfit that makes you look a bit too, sexy? Just wear it!
Why do I have to dress to make others feel comfortable instead of myself?
It is hot outside!
Why do I have to cover myself from head to toe because of my stretch marks?
Why do I have to hide my jiggly thighs?
Why do I have to hide my belly because it makes you uncomfortable?
The belly, which does not meet the world's terms of
What is the epitome of attractive?
If I don't love my curves, then I have allowed another win against me.
If I don't appreciate my body the way it is before I change, then I'm buying into the world's view on
Women who do not fit inside the outfits in the front of the store.
The outfits that look like flags and trash bags, yeah, those...
If I only allow those to be my options, I do not do myself justice.
I do not need to be thin to be beautiful.
I need to be human to be beautiful.
It is not like the grass is greener on the other side either.
Just because a woman is thin, doesn't mean her life is better either.
We do not know what she is fighting too.
It is not a war between the big girls and the skinny girls.
It is a war against materialism vs. realism.
Realistically, women define their beauty.
Every woman has her own size.
Every woman has her own style.
Every woman has her own beauty.
I am my beautiful.
If someone else can't accept my thickness, then it is on them.
I will not adjust myself to fit the terms someone else placed for me to be beautiful.
Walk on by, child.
I'm not for you.
I'm for someone who appreciates my beauty and never lets me forget
That which I define as my beauty.
I define my worth.
And baby, I'm worth it!
My jiggles are as vivacious as can be.
My skin, the color of milk chocolate.
My belly that bounces to the rhythm of the music I sway to.
And honey, do I sway and sway to the music that lifts my
I am the Johari, the precious gem that is like no other.
The bells that hug my hips as I shimmy my way across the floor,
Help me feel all of my femininity I forgot I had, which I was taught to be ashamed.
I am that lovely, magnificent being I longed to be.
I just never realized it and allowed myself to believe the lies
Others tried to tell me.
It begins with me.
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Founding Mothers. Think carefully as you select your answers for this next round of decisions. Our choices will further determine the scope of our Civil Rights, Economy, and Political Freedoms. @celeste teal @JadeBleu15 @Nidalaeh @moonbynight @blueberry @Sukeybaby @Apsalar15 @Mofgirl
As we are only allowed 3 questions per poll there will be more polls coming on shaping our nation.
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A woman looking at The Sleepers by Gustave Courbet - source unknown
The previous blog post in this series ended with a brief description of the The Sleepers which many feel is one of the most important LGBpaintings in history for the honest and sympathetic depiction of same-sex sexuality. This post reviews the artistic environment of works featuring women with women produced around the time that Courbet painted The Sleepers.
Women Bathing at the Brook - Ferdinand Georg Waldmuller (1848)
Many paintings were produced in the 17th to 19th century depicting a group of young women bathing together, usually naked, for the pleasure of male viewers. Often the bathers are shown in languid poses suggesting ready availability for the viewer(s) but here Waldmuller shows the women interested in something that has happened beyond the edge of the painting creating some mystery and tension.
Courage, Anxiety and Despair: Watching the Battle - James Sant (c.1850)
This painting by Sant is atypical of the vast majority of 19th century paintings of women, most of which show domestic scenes and lives lived mostly separately from the world of men and affairs of the world. Here Sant shows us a scene of battle that we don't often see - from a female point of view and how they are affected by and respond to organized male violence.
A Morning. The Dance of the Nymphs - Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot (1850-1851)
The title of this painting does not make specific reference to ancient mythology but the scene is reminiscent of many from the past which featured the nymphs of Diana or Venus celebrating life, womanhood and perhaps Bacchus. These more modern dancing women are clothed and could be seen as ballet dancers celebrating nature on a natural stage.
Promenade - Constant-Emile Troyon (c. 1850s)
The 19th century saw unprecedented improvements in living standards which allowed greater numbers of women to have leisure time to spend, usually with other women, on strolls in gardens, or parks, or sharing confidences and the joys of life as a woman in the industrializing West.
The Ball Gown - Jules Trayer (1860)
Along the Arno to the Cascine - Giuseppe Abbati (1862)
Bringing Home the May - Peach Robinson (1862)
This photograph is an example of the movement known as Pictorialsim which was dedicated to advancing photography as a legitimate form of imaginative fine art and not just a technology for static portraits. Pictorialists carefully planned their scenes using models, costumes and sometimes multiple exposures which were combined into a single composite image. Here Robinson creates a romantic and idealized representation of country life.
First Born - Gustave-Leonard de Jonghe (1863)
Red Shirts Staplers - Odoardo Borrani (1863)
Elegant Women on the Beach - Eugene Louis Boudin (1863)
Buying Fruit and Vegetables at the Night Market - Petrus Van Schendel (1863)
Listening to the News of the Day - Gerolamo Induno (1864)
Restful Afternoon - Charles Hue (c.1864)
A Walk - Silvestro Lega (1864)
Two Women in a Clearing - Louis Dericks (1864)
Two Women in the Garden of Castiglioncello - Giovanni Fattori (1864-5)
Spring - Jacques James Tissot (1865)
Livorno Waterholes - Giovanni Fattori (1865)
Some artists chose to depict women together in rural peasant scenes as a more honest and real representation of most womens' lives.
Forbidden Fruit - Auguste Toulmouche (1865)
The rising standards of living included the growth of book publishing and reading and many paintings depict women engaged with books. Sate sponsored secular education of girls and women emerged in the West in the middle of 19th century.
Women Dancing in a Brothel - Constantin Guys (c.1865)
Guys was one of the Realist artists in Paris who traveled the streets and painted what he saw. Here he shows us the social life of women with other women inside a brothel.
Women in the Garden - Claude Monet (1866)
The Impressionists were a group of artists that succeeded the Realists in France as an important counter-cultural artistic community. Like the Realists they were dedicated to painting everyday life but pioneered painting plein-air (outdoors) using palettes of bright, vibrant colours.
The Visit to the Artist's Sudio - Louis Marie Joseph Ridel (1866)
Painting as a profession was dominated by males in the 19th century as it had been for centuries but it became both increasingly acceptable for women to become painters and achievable with prosperous families financially supporting their daughters aspirations.
In Sun - Vincenzo Cabianca (1866)
The Secret - Jules Salles-Wagner (c.1866)
The Reluctant Bride - Auguste Toulmouche (1866)
Summer Days - Julia Margaret Cameron (1866)
The new technology of photography attracted many artistic talents to explore the potential of the medium. Julia Margaret Cameron (1815-1879) emerged as one of the finest portraitists of the nineteenth century - in any medium. She took up photography in her late forties and produced over a thousand images over 14 years.
Promenade - Paul Cézanne (1866)
Cézanne, one of the Impressionists, shows us via the arrangement of the figures, the reality of relations between the sexes in the 19th century. The men are standing indicating their greater status and are engaged in discussing important matters of the day while their wives are parked on a bench waiting silently for the men to conclude their conversation.
Minerva and the Graces - Marc-Charles-Gabriel Gleyre (1866)
Apricots - Albert Joseph Moore (1866)
The Hermitage at Pontoise - Camille Pissarro (1867)
Pissarro was one of the pioneers of Impressionism and he painted outdoors in rural France for most of his life. Here he completes a scene of tranquil serenity with a genial meeting on the road of two women, one a young mother.
Blind Man's Bluff - Charles Baugniet (c.1867)
The Confidence - James Tissot (1867)
Six Bathers - Adolphe-Joseph Thomas Monticelli (c.1867)
After the Manner of the Elgin Marbles - Julia Margaret Cameron (1867)
The Drawing Lesson - Charles Baugniet (c.1867)
An Interior with Japanese Objects - Juan Leon Palliere (c.1867)
Collecting Water - Edward John Cobbett (c.1867)
Confidences - Jules Adolphe Goupil (1867)
Spring's New Arrivals - Charles Baugniet (c.1867)
The Visit - Alfred Emile Leopold Stevens (c.1867)
The Love Letter - Gustave Léonard de Jonghe (1867)
A Shared Moment - Cesare Felix Georges Dell'Acqua (1868)
Young Women of Sparta - Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot (c.1868)
The musician in the foreground appears bored, perhaps melancholic since her talents aren't appreciated by the women in the background, who are practicing their hand-to-hand combat skills as warriors for militaristic Sparta.
The Weeders - Jules Breton (1868)
Quartet of Musicians - Albert Joseph Moore (1868)
Moore creates visual tension here by his arrangement of the figures. The standing women and sitting men is a flip of what one would expect within a patriarchy and the close embrace of the two women suggests a romantic connection.
Allegory of Lust for Life - Hans Makart (1868)
Spring Scene - Anselm Feuerbach (1868)
The Bath - Marc Charles Gabriel Gleyre (1868)
The Eavesdropper - Carl Heinrich Hoff (1868)
Confidences - Cristiano Banti (1868)
Women's Art Class - Louis Lang (c.1868)
Elegant Ladies at the Baths - Raffaello Sorbi (1868)
The Visit - Alfred Émile Léopold Stevens (c.1869)
A Visit to the Haunted Chamber - William Frederick Yeames (1869)
Ladies Playing Billiards - Charles Edouard Boutibonne (1869)
The Diary - Auguste Toulmouche (c.1869)
Young Ladies Looking at Japanese Objects - James Tissot (1869)
Two Seated Women - Mary Cassatt (1869)
The Impressionists considered themselves socially progressive and deliberately included both men and women among their ranks; Cassatt and another woman Berthe Morisot were prominent members. Despite being accepted as an artist of equal merit she was limited by the range of subjects she could paint as she was not able to move as freely around Paris and rural France as her male colleagues could.
At the Opera - Charles Edouard Boutibonne (1869)
The Hay Field - Thomas Armstrong (1869)
The Daydreams - Auguste Toulmouche (c.1869)
Young Women Looking at Japanese Objects - James Tissot (c.1869-1870)
A Surprising Visit - Otto Wilhelm Eduard Erdmann (1870)
Rural Landscape - Ernesto Rayper (1870)
A Beach Stroll - Frederik Hendrik Kaemmerer (1870)
Bathers - Paul Cézanne (1870)
Cézanne appears to be anticipating future artistic movements with this painting, which is more about shapes and colours than it is about the portrayal of soft, voluptuous bodies of women. These figures look cold, and perhaps uncomfortable, after their swim in the dark of night.
A tintype from 1870. A stand was often used for the subjects to lean against to prevent movement which would result in image blurring.
Glance Exchanged - Frederik Henrdik Kaemmerer (c.1870)
The arrangement of the seated men and women suggests that the exchanged glance is between two women, perhaps a moment of attraction and/or flirtation.
Back From the Dance - Giuseppe de Nittis (1870)
The Washerwomen of the Breton Coast - Jules Breton (1870)
Fannie (née Heriot), Lady Wentworth; possibly Maria Colclough Turner (née Heriot, later Blyth) - W. & D. Downey (1870)
The Visit - Albert Roosenboom (c.1870)
The Love Letter - Petrus van Schendel (1870)
By the Well - Jozsef Molnar (c.1870)
La Toilette - Frédéric Bazille (1870)
This painting belongs to a genre that reflects the Wests' fascination with the Orient/Middle East and depicts a scene within a harem. The intended audience were males, who enjoy the nudity and the subtext of lesbian sexuality. There were a great number of harem related works produced in the 19th century but I've chosen to include only a few of them in this series of blog posts.
The next post will continue with works produced during the 1870s.
There is a new Amazon Prime mini-series coming out this week which is a remake based on the novel of the same name by Joan Lindsay:
There was a movie version of the book released in 1975 by Peter Weir which I watched recently and quite enjoyed. It's mysterious, thought provoking and frustrating all at the same time. The story revolves around the young women at a boarding school in Australia at the turn of the 20th century who go on a day long picnic outing.The atmosphere during the first part of the movie is quite dreamy and lush with romantic suggestions and connections between the girls.
The new mini-series stars Natalie Dormer (Game of Thrones) as the head-mistress of the boarding school.
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There is a whole truth that "sex" topics in the site has proliferated recently. Some of the dead threads have come back to life and believe it or not it's because there are always a number of people who are interested to know and seek a legitimate answer. Yes, some are very explicit in details. Yes, some people have no reservations about telling a piece of their private lives in a public forum. SO, BLOODY WHAT? A lot of women here WILL NOT EVER DARE to talk about what’s in their mind with their friends, with their husbands, with their siblings, or with anyone...because they can’t for the fear of being misunderstood, shame, prejudice, societal differences, personal biases and surrounded by bloody holier-than-thou people around them. This site is created to be a safe haven for everyone.
When I joined the site last year, it was full of “meaningful” discussions everywhere. What is meaningful for me may not be meaningful for others. What is meaningful for me? Anything that I can relate to because it serves certain purpose to me, or piqued my interest or passion, or something I perceived as valid in my life. Since joining, I have learned a lot about my sexuality, life itself, sex and other hardcore (as interpreted by my innocent thinking mind) stuff. I’ve been actively visiting the site and like many things in the world, the conversations in an online forum like Shybi has its ebb and flow. This pattern is dependent on many factors: how many members are in a problematic or particular situations that post to seek advice, number of postings created by members who are searching for answers or advice; and the high influence of the subsequent responses of the members to the post that makes it more relevant and interesting. In my observation since last year, many members who were actively contributing to the forums (seeking advice and/or giving advice) had ceased to be around for some reasons and I do believe that it’s due to life priorities. Other members, however, are just happy to look around quietly here. For whatever reason, sometimes,they decide to pop their thinking head out of their cave and join the conversation. That is fine.
I could go on and go on but I’m tired now and I have to work tomorrow. So, I will rest my case here.
Something to ponder...
“We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path.” -- Paulo Coelho
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3 Ways to Roast Mixed Vegetables
If you'd like to make a mixed-vegetable side dish, you have three options.
- Roast vegetables individually: First, and easiest, you can roast the individual vegetables on separate trays and combine them after roasting. This lets you monitor how quickly each vegetable is cooking and pull each vegetable from the oven as it's done.
- Pair "vegetable friends": Second, you can pair together "vegetable friends" — ones that roast at roughly the same rate. For instance, you could roast cauliflower and broccoli together, or butternut squash with potatoes. Combine these on the same baking sheet and roast them together. If the baking sheet is getting crowded, split them between two sheets.
- Roast in stages: Third, you can add different vegetables to the baking sheet in stages — start roasting the hardest, longest-cooking vegetables first, and then add softer, quicker-cooking vegetables later on. If the baking sheet starts to get full, split the vegetables between two pans so you don't crowd the them. Aim to have all the vegetables finish roasting around the same time, and remember: A little extra roasting time is unlikely to hurt.
General Roasting Times for Vegetables
Cooking times are for roasting vegetables at 425°F.
- Root vegetables (beets, potatoes, carrots): 30 to 45 minutes, depending on how small you cut them
- Winter squash (butternut squash, acorn squash): 20 to 60 minutes, depending on how small you cut them
- Crucifers (broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts): 15 to 25 minutes
- Soft vegetables (zucchini, summer squash, bell peppers): 10 to 20 minutes
- Thin vegetables (asparagus, green beans): 10 to 20 minutes
- Onions: 30 to 45 minutes, depending on how crispy you like them
- Tomatoes: 15 to 20 minutes
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I wish that some people could understand what it's like to be an introvert. Then maybe, just maybe, when I have a hard time wanting to go out anywhere, they will know the things they are saying is making things 10 times worse. I do NOT need to be told I'm irrational in my thinking, or I'm going to miss out on a good time. Don't you think I know I'm going to miss out on life and experiences? I don't need those comments. Or being told I'm a boring and un-fun person who likes to do nothing. My "nothing" is what grounds me. I need my nothing or I will go crazy. So please, just stop.
CW: sexual assault, abuse
Hey there Shy’s. Perhaps you’ve noticed I’ve been away lately, perhaps the thought never crossed your mind. In truth it hasn’t been all that long since I was last posting regularly, maybe a month or so. Objectively that’s not very long, but it feels like a lot considering that for a while I was logging on multiple times a day. I’d like to say I was just busy, and that would be partially true, but it’s not the whole story. I’ve been avoiding the site because I know it’s a place where we are open and vulnerable to each other and I haven’t been ready for that. Frankly I’m just starting to emerge from the mental equivalent of fetal position.
I made a post in March titled “Does Your Primary Limit You?” in which I described the experience of being dumped by my secondary partner because they disliked my primary partner. Things went downhill rather quickly after that. I took stock of my relationship with him and decided that things couldn’t continue as they were. He initially seemed to agree, looking into the logistics of getting his own place once our lease ran out in January. However in retrospect it seems that he was bluffing, hoping the prospect of him actually leaving would make me change my mind. Instead in only convinced me that I had made the right decision.
I know now why it’s said that the most dangerous stage of an abusive relationship is leaving. As I began to assert my independence and embrace the prospect of being single, he became increasingly aggressive towards me. This came to a head on St. Patrick’s Day. My back was sore, so I asked him to help me into the bath. He agreed, being very solicitous and bringing me Epsom salts. He then started taking off his own clothes and got in the bath. I thought that was a little odd, but didn’t object. He stated an interest in taking a bath separately after I got out. Consequently I was surprised when he followed me into the bedroom as I went to get dressed, or should I say tried to get dressed. He leaned over and lay on top of me as I tried to put my panties on. At first it seemed playful, and I just asked him to get off so I could get ready for choir rehearsal. Unlike other times, he didn’t budge. He asked to do more and more, eventually demanding that I have sex with him before I left. I declined four times, but he still wasn’t getting off of me. At this point I was running half an hour late for my rehearsal so I told him to just get it over with. He entered me immediately without even pausing to put on a condom. After a few minutes it was over. Oddly, he was the one who cried afterwards rather than me.
On the way to rehearsal I felt hollow inside. I wasn’t ready to call it what it was, but I still had a distinct sense that what had happened crossed a line. Once singing, I sang “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair” with an unusual degree of enthusiasm. Afterwards I was scheduled to audition as part of an octet to perform the song “Quiet”, composed for the 2017 Women’s March. Singing the opening lines “Put on your face/Know your place/Shut up and smile/Don’t spread your legs” I almost broke down crying. Still, I wasn’t ready to explain to my fellow singers why I had been late, and stuck with the half truth that I had missed my train.
Afterwards I went to an Irish pub nearby, as I had originally intended to do, but with a very different mindset. I grabbed as much Guiness as was put in front of me. At this point I began getting a string of passive aggressive text messages from my boyfriend asking where he was and if he could join. I responded that I would prefer not to see him but wouldn’t tell him not to come to a public place. This led to him berating me for not giving a straight answer and insisting that I state my preferences more clearly (fat lot of good that did me when I actually tried it.) We eventually agreed to the “compromise” of meeting at a nearby bookstore. While he traveled over my phone died and my primary concern was that I wouldn’t be able to contact him; the psychology of abusive relationships can be strange like that.
After hanging out at the bookstore, we went home and attempted to have a Serious Talk. He asked why I was still angry about what had happened that morning, since he had apologized a whopping three times. He also pointed out that he had forgiven me when I supposedly cheated on him by being naked with someone else he knew I was dating. Having not clearly established a rule against this, I didn’t view it as infidelity, but that is a discussion for another time (if ever.) In that moment I realized how much he had been holding a grudge over that incident. After I officially declared my intention to end things with him because of what he did, he exhorted me not to cope by hopping into bed with strangers “like you usually do” – despite the fact that I have never had casual sex in my life and have had only one additional sexual partner besides him. I mention this context not to slut shame, but to highlight that only a person with a highly distorted view of my sexual behavior and beliefs would make such a statement.
The next day I called my best friend and said I had something to talk about. I considered trying to beat around the bush but eventually elected to just spit it out – “I think I got raped yesterday.” She listened to me and confirmed that what I had experienced was textbook sexual assault. At this point we had already been planning a visit in honor of her birthday, but agreed that it would be a good idea to bump it up a week so she could give me moral support. Once I finally said the words, my feelings became very clear and I told my now ex-boyfriend he needed to move out ASAP.
The process of moving him out was a saga unto itself, so I think I will end the post here and add an explanation of that later on. Thank you all for your wise advice on these matters, both directly to me and in general. Particular thanks to N00Bi for helping me talk through what happened and encouraging me to maintain strong boundaries and prioritize my own emotional health. It would be lying to say I feel ok at this point, but I have a lot of support and I am healing. I’m optimistic that I will get through this.
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Well since realizing i do have a crush on her, it is becoming apparent that i have a type. She is blonde and tall and i find myself staring at her chest...or i did when i was in her room and we would do circle time with the kids and omg... She is also very calming and she was a good teacher as i learned a lot from her and now i try not to make it so obvious when she is around...
Im not sure when i realized i was crushing on her and to tell her would not be a good thing as she has a boyfriend and it would make it awkward if i were to sub for her again..
I had thought of texting her, but im not sure because i hadn't really talked to her in awhile and i don't know if it would be a weird thing to do or not...
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Well seems like we spent all that time waiting to be together and then once we were together it was gone too quickly. We never seem to have enough time, but the good news is that she'll be back this summer and then I'll get to go and see her for her birthday in October so three times in a year of seeing each other I can't complain.
We have had an amazing time together and we reconnected again once we were alone in the hotel room. We didn't take things very slowly because it had been so long since we were last together. I can say this with confidence that we both have great chemistry on all levels, not just sexually.
We went to an ice hockey game and had an amazing time there, then when we got back into town we went and did our usual shooting pool. It was the second time we'd been there since she arrived and she loves to rub it in when she beats me at my game. It's usually pretty close when we play and we like to drink a few beers so that adds to the entertainment factor, especially when we both start feeling tipsy.
We also went and ate at her favorite place with my daughter and her boyfriend. It just happened to be taco Tuesday and Margarita night. I only had 2 Margaritas and I was done so my middle daughter ended up driving us home.
I have a lot more I could say about this visit and I probably will in another blog, but for now I need to go and rest and mope around my house as it feels so empty without her here. (sad face). I took her to the airport today and we've been on skype once again back to the flat screen boo hoo while she's being held up in a layover at Atlanta then she'll fly out and I won't see her again until she's at her connection airport before she flies home. So yeah I'm sad.
Thanks for reading and I will add more later when I'm rested and not mopey. Okay so I can add more to this now that it's been a few days and she's home. It just seems like the time we are together goes by way too fast, probably because I had to spend some of it working and couldn't take much time off. The weather was crappy except for the last full day she'd have here then it decided to be nice and sunny. Hopefully when she returns in the summer with her daughter, she'll be able to return home with a nice tan.
I am not in a hurry to see my youngest graduate high school because she's the one I will miss the most when I move. I'll miss all of my kids when I move, but hopefully they'll figure out a way to come and visit me and then they'll see why I wanted to move. As I've said in my previous blogs, I think that it's much harder on netty than me because she's a more touchy feely person and loves to have her hands on me all the time. We even like to go to sleep together holding hands sometimes and I can say this, I never was that intimate with my two ex-husbands and never went to sleep holding their hands. So yes, being in a loving relationship with a woman is much more intimate and definitely deeper on all levels.
I have no idea what kind of a job I'll get when I get over there, but I'm sure I'll be able to find something and hopefully we'll be married before I move. It's going to be quite a change for both her and I because she's used to having things a certain way and so am I, but her daughter is younger than mine so that is why I'm choosing to move over to be with her. Both her and I are anxious and just want to get our lives together started, but I look at it this way, we've been spending time getting to know each other over the last three years and we already know how it feels to be together and do things together, so when we do actually get to be together we will have already gone through stuff and will look forward to going through new stuff together. I also know that relationships take work and good communication and you have to be willing to do both if you want to have a lasting relationship because the minute you stop talking or communicating, that's when you will begin to have problems. So once again I have a countdown on my phone for July, and she'll be here with her daughter so that we can all go and see the fireworks together. Guess that's about all for now, until my next entry and thanks for reading.
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I'm not heartbroken. I'm not spending my days crying. I am fine and will continue to be fine, but I'm mad.
I can't STOP being mad because now I know I doubted myself when I shouldn't have. YOU made me doubt myself when I should have trusted my instinct that there was something going on.
Shame on me for letting you in. Shame on me for not keeping my eyes open and my head clear. Shame on me for expecting you to treat me the same way I did you. But worst of all, shame on me for not trusting myself when I started to notice things not right. I wanted SO BADLY to believe that I was different to you than anyone else you had lied to, cheated on, mistreated, or tossed aside. But now I know, I wasn't.
Now I know. And it stings. Not the unbearable sharp, sting of rubbing alcohol being poured on a fresh cut. More like a slow, seething burn that you don't notice until it's too late, like a sunburn. The kind that keeps you in discomfort, close to agony, for days afterwards because you didn't trust your instinct and put on some goddamn sunscreen, even though you knew better. I knew better, but I trusted you, I have been bit, one, two, three too many times. I
It still didn't stop me from being seduced by you. Or stop me from thinking you would see me as different, any more, than anyone else you had wronged. It didn't stop me from giving you trust you didn't earn and didn't use well.
I'm still mad. I see now, because I was stupid enough to keep checking on you, that you are happy and may very well have found exactly what you are looking for, and with the one that I'm so fucking angry about. And believe me or not, there is a small piece of me that hopes so and is happy for you. But there is a bigger piece that wonders how long until you screw this up too, because theres a bitter side of me that is betting against you.Ani Difranco Says..."I used to be a superhero
No one could touch me
Not even myself
You are like a phone booth
That I somehow stumbled into
And now look at me
I am just like everybody else"You were my phone booth. You were what made me forget to treat my feelings with respect and keep my eyes open to those who would do me harm, like I have diligently done for years now. And you took advantage of my vulnerability and now I'm mad at you. Furious. Resentful. Enraged.I blocked you from facebook, not because I care what you see, because I can't get mad about what I don't see if I block myself from seeing it. Another shame on me, I knew better than to keep checking in on you. But I did it anyways.As a result I will deal with another few days of anger before I can get back on the path of healing. A little more damaged, a little wiser, and a little stronger.
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Why I am doing this now, almost three years after the breakup and two years since we last spoke, I don’t really know. I barely shed a tear when we ended, and the one or two that I did shed were mainly down to annoyance at myself, that I put up with you for so long.
But to be honest, it is more than time that some of this stuff went on record. You were so sweet and so lovely to me when we met, and I believe that was genuine at the time, and to this day I can’t understand how someone could change so utterly. Looking back, thought, the red flags were always there.
Before we’d even met in person, you’d pulled back when I expressed nervousness about meeting. If I ever committed the cardinal sin of saying you sounded low, or unsure about us, or - heaven forbid! - asking for reassurance, it would result in a freeze-out that would last for days. You helped make our one-year anniversary extra memorable, for instance, by blanking me for three days over something trivial right after we’d had what I thought was a lovely couple of days away together to celebrate.
If I ever had to change the slightest detail of a meet-up, a rescheduling or even just a slight delay in being able to get there, you’d try to call it all off. At least once you literally ended things with me because I said I couldn’t make a planned meet-up after all. You know what, I wish I’d just called your bluff and taken back my life much sooner.
You publicly wrote what amounted to a love poem TO SOMEONE ELSE and seemed perplexed as to why I would have a problem with that.
You ruined three meets for me, which is quite an accomplishment given that you were only on two of them.
You sneered at the town I grew up in, the town I love for all its faults. You ruined a fun evening in a fun place with nice people because you were homesick for fucking Chinawhite, or wherever else you deemed ‘good enough’ for you. If you want the truth, that weekend was the beginning of the end for me. First off you announced you weren’t coming. Then you changed your mind and I ended up wishing you hadn’t. You were so rude to some of my dearest friends, including the person who’d been kind enough to drive you there in the first place, and also the owner of the B&B where we stayed, someone I’ve been friends with since I was 16. You spent the evening after the meet giving me the silent treatment because someone flipped you the V on the street, like it was my fault because I’d apparently committed the unforgivable sin of stopping to speak to him in the first place. (Oh, by the way, you continued this theme delightfully the time you ripped me a new one for stopping in the street to sign a petition to stop a children’s acute care ward from closing: ‘You shouldn’t stop for these people,’ quote unquote.) You were still pulling your Princess Elsa act the next morning and I still didn’t walk, why? Because I was stupid enough to be concerned for you. You didn’t seem in a good place, but after the way you treated me you’re lucky I gave a damn about your feelings any more. I should have left you to stew in your sulk, and at the end of that weekend, when you superciliously announced, ‘I knew you wouldn’t go,’ I so wished that I had.
I have so many regrets about almost every aspect of our relationship. I regret that I didn’t care enough to get angry enough about the way I was treated. I made too many excuses for you, put up with way too much. But I mostly regret that I didn’t call you out more on the way you treated people I cared for. It was like if you knew someone was important to me, that was a reason to be shitty to them - and then you made ME out to be the insecure one. What a joke. You’d post the most horrible things online about MY FRIENDS and expect me to cheer you on, then sulk when I didn’t. You’d purposely stir up trouble and then get on Viber to me boasting about how you were ‘kicking some butt today’, no you weren’t. You were just being nasty for the sheer fun of being nasty. You almost drove more than one of my dearest friends away with your bizarre behaviour towards them. If you want the truth, I consider myself lucky they still speak to me. There were many, MANY occasions when I was ashamed to have anything to do with you. ‘The Defiant’? Don’t make me laugh. ‘The Psycho’ would have been closer to the mark.
I had so much going on in my life, but any show of weakness - or, heaven forbid, tears - was treated dismissively, or, worse, with contempt. Everything had to be about you all the time; I wrote a post on here recently about how I always thought I’d know narcissism when I saw it, but failed to realise for four years straight that I was dating it, it will always be a puzzle to me how I didn’t see what was right in front of my eyes. It’s like you can’t bear any trace of human frailty around you, you can only cope with people who have larger-than-life, tougher-than-Teflon personalities with the ego to match. The rest of us - those who aren’t afraid to feel, and to admit we feel and admit we cry - well, you have a word for us, don’t you? That’s right: inexplicably, somehow WE are the cowards.
And yet I let things drift on. Till finally the weekend when, in hindsight, I know I really should have told you where to stick it. It was already long overdue by that point. You flounced out of that meet on a whim, dramatically announcing that ‘this bi thing wasn’t for you.’ In hindsight I wish I’d let you go back to the hotel alone, stayed at the meet and enjoyed myself without you hanging around like a walking storm warning, but at the time I was stupid enough to care about what that meant for us, you’d become a habit by then, and my mind hadn’t yet caught up to the fact of how much better off I’d be without you. So we stood there, outside Candy Bar, the second time we’d stood outside a bar while you ruined my evening, and I let you have it, about what a bitch you were being, tears of anger streaming down my cheeks, and what did you do? You laughed in my face. And then when I walked off and left you to make your own way back, you were a bitch about that too. Did I ever get an apology for any of this? Not one that seemed even remotely sincere. (The saddest thing about that, by the way? Candy Bar was where we’d had our first kiss more than two years previously. Nice to see how much that memory meant to you.)
In hindsight, I can see that you were ambivalent about me for pretty much most of the time we were (supposedly) together. That’s fine - it’s your prerogative, especially as I was similarly ambivalent about you - but I rue pretty much all the time and money I spent on our relationship. It was an expensive lesson in more ways than one. Eventually I became so indifferent to you that I couldn’t even bothered to end it. That’s how apathetic you made me. When a person never shows you their heart, never shows a modicum of fragility, of human-ness… over time, there’s something oddly repellent about that. I stopped thinking about you in a sexual way long before we ended. I didn’t even especially want to kiss you. I used to get bored sometimes when we were doing ‘stuff’ and start listening to the TV instead, do you know that? Your insensitivity towards me at times was quite the biggest anti-aphrodisiac going, you see.
I keep trying to remind myself how good it was in the beginning when you used to actually let me in on how you were feeling, when you let me know that you cared, deeply, and even needed me. But that was only one side to your persona, and it disappeared over time. You just turned total ice-queen bitch and I was left scratching my head trying to figure out why. At one time I cared enough to try to figure you out. I knew you suffered badly from premenstrual mood swings, and I sympathised, but I tolerated way too much in the name of that excuse. It ended up being easier not to call you out on stuff because you would retaliate by making the most personal and hurtful verbal attacks on me, my insecurities, my vulnerabilities, that I’d been stupid enough to reveal to you. If there was one of us that had a personality disorder, it certainly isn’t me.
What you did to our relationship - to my feelings - was comparable to taking a beautifully handwritten love letter and scrawling obscenities all over it in marker felt. In the end my feelings just died, simple as that. Although you’d never have believed it, they were dead long before we ended. That was nicely done, by the way, via a random email in the middle of a busy work day - how were you to know all I would feel was relief? I could have been in bits for all you knew. But if I had been, and I’d told you so, I’d have been made to feel bad for that too. Everything is always someone else’s fault in your world, isn’t it? Your faith is so important to you, and you’re so convinced God loves you just as you are. Have you ever actually stopped to *look* at who you are? At how shabbily you treat people? And if you have, how on earth can you continue to call yourself a Christian? Oh well, that’s for your conscience to deal with now, I’m just glad to be out of the whole dysfunctional mess.
Even after we broke up you still tried to mess with my head, tried to make me jealous that you were moving on, when all I felt by this point was relief. At the time you tried out your little game I was rather more concerned by the fact that my cat had narrowly escaped death after being hit by a car and how did you respond? A cursory comment about hoping she was OK, then radio silence, because I didn’t play your little game, did I. You ‘hit back’ by unfriending me on Facebook and I just wanted to laugh.
The only regret I have now is that you’ll never get to read this. You’ll never know what I really thought of you towards the end. You’ll probably never get wise and stop being such a bitch, either.
So there we are, I finally said it.