A Sort Of Death

“You people always hold onto old identities, old faces and masks, long after they’ve served their purpose.
But you’ve got to learn to throw things away eventually.” -Death (Sandman Series by Neil Gaiman)

It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m feeling a tad introspective. I’ve thought a lot about the last year and the way things changed. Twenty days into this year I faced a truth I had been avoiding for a very long time, it forced me to leave my entire life and try and start over alone and very afraid. I made mistakes, a lot of mistakes. I found and lost someone I thought was a true friend, I faced the sad truth that a person I loved and cared about did not see me as anything more than a convenience and an object to be used. I looked at myself and realized I was becoming a person I didn’t like. I took all the pain I had been through and turned it inward, allowing myself to become cynical and bitter. I stopped hoping and became content to be used and hurt. I felt that was all I deserved.

At my absolute lowest point, crying on the floor of a former friend’s bathroom I realized I needed a change. I realized that despite how much I was hurt hurting myself more was never going to be the answer. I was holding onto that pain like a security blanket because I was comfortable being in pain. When I left that former friend’s house I wandered right into the person who showed me I don’t need that pain anymore.

When Ben and I first started dating I was asked what I liked about him. I couldn’t quite explain what it was so I said he makes me feel good. That was both correct and an understatement. He makes me feel good, positive, happy. He takes my insanity in stride and calmly tells me when I’m being a crazy person. He’s the only person who has flat out, point blank told me to stop allowing myself to be a victim, stop victimizing myself. My initial reaction to that was a flash of anger, I worked hard NOT to be a victim, I ignored my pain, ignored the trauma, I was stronger than that. Who was he to tell me I was a victim? For once I kept my mouth shut and thought about what he said.

He was right.

As much as I wanted to not be a victim I turned myself into one. I let myself be used and abused and hurt. Hearing that was like a shock, being slapped in the face by my own hand. I cried a lot when I realized that despite my internal mantra of  “I am NOT a victim” I was. I had been through relationship after relationship where I was abused either physically, emotionally or in one case, both. I had gotten to the point that I was uncomfortable with relationships that didn’t center around me being hurt. Ben called me out on that, told me I needed to stop that because he wasn’t going to hurt me and I needed to accept that.

Letting go of feeling like I deserve to be hurt hasn’t been easy. I look back on the people I loved and when I objectively look at those relationships I see they were all full of pain. I don’t like admitting I failed horribly, but I did. I did exactly what I said I never would, I let someone else dominate me and hurt me. I’ve always said I want a partnership in a relationship, I want an equal, a friend. I never had that until I met Ben.

I was so used to dysfunctional relationships I was terrified of one that actually might work so initially I ran away. I’m glad I turned around and when I did he was still there. This year has been a year of letting go, of moving on and of starting over. I have always hated change, I’m not good at it but I don’t think anyone really is. This time though, I’m happy for the change, glad I had the courage to see it through. I look back at this year and I’m so glad it’s over. I’m glad I’m starting 2012 in a happy place.

Mother

I think anyone who has read anything on this blog is well aware of the fact that I lost my mother when I was a child. It is a grief I’m not sure ever really goes away. Yes, it gets easier and nearly all the time I can think about her and not feel sad. There are some times, however that I can’t.

I am six weeks pregnant with my first child. I’m happy, really happy. But there is a small part of me that is incredibly sad. I will never be able to share this with my mom. She won’t get to know her grandchild. This makes me sad. I know how much my mom loved me and my brother and the older I get it becomes clearer how much I really do miss her.

I’m trying not to focus on how much I miss her. I know it will get easier again, but right now when I think of questions I want to ask I realize I don’t really have anyone to call or visit and talk to. Part of that might be my fault too, I don’t let people in easily. I don’t really trust easily and I don’t like other people to see me vulnerable. I know this sort of compounds my problem.

When I think about having this baby I want so much for my mom to be able to see him or her, to be able to share that with her. I see how happy my nephew makes my dad and I wanted to be able to see my mom happy like that. I guess in some ways I just feel gypped. I know she’s with me, and if she were here she’d be happy. I guess this just sort of added another layer of grief I wasn’t really expecting to deal with. It’s not like the grief I felt when she first died, that was sharp and hard. This is more subtle and quiet, kind of like the way warm soup feels when it hits your stomach. You feel it and it’s familiar but at the same time kind of uncomfortable. I don’t like feeling sad and missing her. I especially don’t like feeling sad right now. I want to just be happy and excited but I can’t seem to shake this little sadness.

I guess there’s another layer to this feeling as well: Fear. Everyone I know who has kids has their mother to provide some kind of guidance and example. I do have memories of my mom, but I’m afraid I won’t be good at this because I’ve spent half my life without my mother. Ben has already told me I shouldn’t worry about this, that I’ll be a good mother, that I’m a good person and a kind person and that will translate to my parenting.

I am glad I have him, every time I’ve gotten sad and cried he’s reminded me that my mom is with me and that even if she’s not here she is happy. I know I’ll probably cry some more and miss her some more but eventually I think I’ll be ok again. And above all else, I am SO happy I’m pregnant.

Back to Me

So it’s been a while since I’ve put anything up here. I guess I’ve taken a bit of a hiatus from writing in general, not a single line has come forth from my keyboard or pen in quite some time. A lot in my life changed rather rapidly and I think I needed some time to find my center again. I’ve never been someone who deals with change exceptionally well and I don’t know if that will ever change.

This past year has seemed like several years, I look back on it and it’s kind of hard to believe I packed so much stuff into one year. I had a lot of fun, made a lot of good memories and even a few friends. On the flip side I found myself hurt and brokenhearted more than I think I ever have been. It seems some of the people I placed trust in were never worthy of that trust. I had to learn the hard way that I deserve better from the people in my life.

Sometimes I’m still sad at some of the losses I dealt with this year, other times I look back on it with contempt because I am unable to tell what was fake and what was genuine. When I think about how many words and feelings were wasted on people who never gave a damn about me it does make me angry because I genuinely cared about and loved those people. Despite the anger and hurt I learned a lot, more than a lot. I learned a lifetime’s worth of lessons in a little less than 365 days.

And that brings me to where I am now, somewhere new and different. Somewhere where my smiles far outweigh my tears and where I wake up in the morning truly happy to be waking up (even if I am waking up at 5am). So after spending the time I needed to reassess myself, my writing and my relationships I am finally back to feeling like a writer again, so writing is what I will be doing. Results to follow.