First Published on Into Heartbreak and Back on May 28, 2014
I forgive you. I forgive you for losing your cool on that lady in the street that day. I forgive you for your fear of my betrayal. I forgive you for trying to control me. I forgive you for withholding affection. I forgive you for making me feel stupid and worth nothing. I forgive you for your your anger. I forgive you for hurting me.
I still love you.
Please forgive me for not asking the right questions. For staying silent when I should have spoken up. Forgive me for professing love but not always showing it. Forgive me for not knowing enough, doing enough, being enough.
What happens in your nightmares? What really went on over there and how do you feel about it? What would you do differently? What would you change? What do you miss? What did you love? How can I be there for you? What do you need right now?
First Published on Into Heartbreak and Back on May 28, 2014
I will give you brotherhood (family). I will love you. You can love me. I will have your back. I am not perfect but I am trustworthy. I will do it all for you, as long as it is right and just.
My emotions were sitting in my throat while I watched this. There are a million reasons to cry and a million reasons not to. If you only understood in your mind in your heart that I will be your brotherhood…
First Published on Into Heartbreak and Back on May 23, 2014
Awhile ago I found our son. I stumbled upon this blog and there were pictures of this sweet little boy named… wait for it….Ryan. That’s right, Ryan. Funny that. He has a round face like mine and beautiful red hair like you and guess what? Its curly like ours! So so sweet! I love him and want to hug him all day long and carry him around on my hip.
Looking at these beautiful pictures of this beautiful boy makes me long for you and a future that may never be. In this little stranger I see a future that could be born of you and me. Do I mourn this future or do I still hope in it?
Here is the saddest of the saddest of the saddest of all stories ever told: 3 weeks ago this little boy, little Ryan, little person You and I could make some day…. was hit by a car. 3 weeks ago this burst of life died. He died. I cannot even believe it. I mean, I never knew him. Only the hope of “him” through his pictures. But I loved him. Still do. Because he reminds me of me. He reminds me of you.
Dear Ryan (and Ryan), may you forever remain as pure joy and light. That is what you are to me. Pure Joy. Light.
First Published on Into Heartbreak and Back on February 20, 2014
I am tired. I am tired of feeling. I am tired of not feeling. I am tired of caring and tired of not caring. I can’t seem to figure myself out these days. I am living on a ledge. Sleeping on a ledge. My long deep breaths seem empty. I know my irritability and my numbness is part of my depression but it feels so uncontrollable. I hate myself for still loving and wanting you but on the other hand the love I feel for you is one of the joys of my life.
I have been a mess since you called me two weeks ago. I feel like I have back tracked. I feel so overwhelmed and I do not know what to do. I want to see you and puppy so terribly awfully bad and yet I am scared to. I am so scared.
I feel so unlovable and unwanted. I feel ugly. I am angry and confused. I keep trying to get back to myself but I can’t find her. I can’t find. Not even sure if that girl is worth finding anymore. Where has my faith gone?
One moment this song expresses so clearly what I feel for you and at the same time I want to take a bat to your truck.
First Published on Into Heartbreak and Back on February 18, 2014
So I have been feeling very angry. I am crying tears of anger as I am writing this. This might sound strange but I do not know if I have ever actually felt true anger until now. Truthfully. “Anger” had just not been part of my nature. But for the past few days it has been my main emotion and it sucks. I hate feeling this way. I am not sure what feels worse: anger or numbness. I have been asking myself what this emotion is trying to tell me and I don’t know. I really don’t know….other than my life is crap (feel like that is not the real answer just my anger talking). And I don’t know what to do with my anger.
I am mad at He-who-must-not-be-named. That he did this, this and this to me. That he isolated me. And this and this! THIS! And how could I forget this. And so much more that I have not written. I am angry that He-who-must-not-be-named hasn’t contacted me in 3 weeks. That I haven’t seen him or that sweet dog for two months! I am angry that he gets to make this choice and not me. I am so angry and hurt.
I am angry with myself. I love him still and want his attention. I want him to love me back and treat me right. And I hate myself for it. I hate that I have to pretend to be okay most of the time because other people can’t seem to handle it when I am not. I am so angry. I do not want to go to church. I do not want to fulfill my calling. I do not want to talk with the Bishop or anyone from church. I do not want to hang out with my friends because they piss me off for no reason (mainly because I feel like I have to put on a show, that I can’t share with them about He-who-must-not-be-named cause he might show up to church and I do not want to ruin any of his chances for his own healing).
I am angry and I do not want to be here. I am angry that I do not have the means, the money to go any where else. To escape and breathe new air for a while. I am angry angry and I feel like I am going to explode.
Not sure what I am to do with all this anger or what it is telling me.
First Published on Into Heartbreak and Back on February 17, 2014
When I first share my story with people (and I have shared it with VERY few) the first question they ask was if He-who-must-not-be-named ever harmed me physically. My response is an immediate NO. NEVER. Well today when I was driving home from church I remembered something. He has.
He never punched me or kicked me or anything like that but one time he went through about a dozen ways he could kill me, instantly. But I was never scared. I was never afraid of him. Then there was this other time when I wouldn’t tell him something he wanted to know. I don’t even remember what it was. When I continually refused to tell him he pinned me down. He straddled me and held my hands down above my head with one of his hands. And then with the other hand he began to tap my sternum. It hurt so bad! I gave in after a few minutes and told him whatever he wanted to know. I wore the biggest ugliest bruise on my breastbone for a couple of weeks after that. Somehow my bruise became a joke between us. We would laugh about it. I. WOULD. LAUGH. ABOUT. IT. What was wrong with me?!!!
So I am remembering this as I am driving home from church and I lose it. I just lose it. I start bawling in my car. And I am so angry. I am so angry! I love this man and he hurt me. He has hurt me in so many ways and I don’t even get to tell him. I have been so good to him. So good. Like the time I came home and he had punched through a door and ripped it off it’s hinges. He pulled cupboard doors off his kitchen cabinets. His knuckles were so bloody and broken. And I knew how I responded would be important. How I reacted would either push him further into his PTSD or help him take a step out so I simply said, “I like what you have done with the place, really opens things up.” And we went on to have a great night. I kissed his hands. I have been so patient and understanding with all he has gone through. I would walk it with him. There is no one out there who could have the patience, the compassion and understanding, the education to see him, to see what he is going through and WALK WITH HIM the way that I could. The way that I have. And I would continue…..
First Published on Into Heartbreak and Back on February 15, 2014
Sometimes I wear your clothes. Your socks. Or your hat. I wear your pants or your shirt. Your sweatshirt. And I try to feel close to you. Sometimes I get mad and take whatever I am wearing off. I throw it across the room and I scream and I cry. When I am done I pick it up and put it back on and crawl into bed.
In the beginning you loved my clothes. You complimented me. Then things began to change. My shirt would be too low and you didn’t like it and would let me know. You would question the length of my skirts/dress and decide they were to short even though my garments didn’t show. You would ask me all the time if I were altering my garments so I could wear “revealing” things. One day I got so mad I wore an outfit that covered me from head to toe. You told me you liked it and the next minute you changed your mind. The shirt was “too flesh colored” and you hated it. Once I wore a button-up and tie. And you were mad at me because you like the whole “school girl” thing and I was wearing it. It was my fault. Everything was my fault. I was your “weakness” your “temptation.” That is what you told me. I was your “weakness.”
You were attracted to me. My whole self. And sometimes being around me, looking at me turned you on. You thought about things, things you wanted to do to me, with me. And that was wrong. And so it was my fault. Not yours. I was the one wearing whatever it was I wore that made you think naughty things. It was my fault. I was the one who made you think those things. In the end it didn’t matter what I wore. It was everything about me. Who I was. I was kind. My fault. I was pretty to you. My fault. I was mad. And I am “sexy” and “hot” when I am angry. My fault.
Everything my fault. And I miss you so I wear your clothes. I want to be close to you.
First Published on Into Heartbreak and Back on February 9, 2014
No one told you life was gonna be this way. Your job’s a joke, you’re broke, your love life’s D.O.A. It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear. When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year. You’re still in bed at ten and work began at eight. You’ve burned your breakfast, so far things are going great. Your mother warned you there’d be days like these but she didn’t tell you when the world has brought you down to your knees…
I’ll be there for you
When the rain starts to pour
I’ll be there for you
Like I’ve been there before
I’ll be there for you
First Published on Into Heartbreak and Back on February 7, 2014
Tomorrow is your birthday. You will be 27. I know you hate your birthday. Oh how I want to acknowledge it in some way. I will probably give in and send you a text. Already planning to. I will most likely send something like “Wonderful day to you!” But what I really want to say to you He-who-must-not-be-named is…
I am glad you were born.
I was reading about grief today. Just feeling the loss, you know? This is what I came across “Create your own ritual. Most cultures have ceremonies to mark death. A ritual marking any loss helps us to acknowledge that the loss is real. It is a way to honor the loss, and to separate the past from the present. When faced with any kind of a loss, feel free to create any kind of ceremony that holds meaning for you.”
So tomorrow, February 8th, I will begin my new annual ritual to celebrate you and my love for you and my loss of you. In the morning I will go to the temple and spend time with my Savior. Then I will meet a friend to share all the wonderful beautiful memories of you with. And all the hard heartbreaking ones too. Then I will do something special for myself like get my hair done or maybe my toes. Pamper myself. I will close the night by watching “Good Will Hunting” because Matt Damon’s character reminds me so much of you in so many ways. And it hurts too much to dream of you right now so maybe I will go to sleep dreaming of Matt Damon. Haha.
And I will give myself permission to love you anyway. To love you forever. To pray for your healing and recovery. To pray (without judgement) that somehow, someday we will end up together. Sealed. Grow old. Babies. Grand babies. Permission to cry. More than once. Over and over. To bury my heart. Set it free. Release it. Whatever the day calls for. I give myself permission…