This is Who I Am…

Ok, let me preface this…this is going to probably be long. It is also going to be personal. Most of all it is going to be honest. 'Why write it?' you ask? Because, I answer, 'I need to organize my thoughts and maybe someone else out there can relate…most of all there are certain people I want to know this.'

I know what people think of me on the surface. It's typically one of a few things. I'm the good girl, I'm the 'cheerleader', I'm the sunny peppy chick, I'm the quiet one, I'm the comic geek, I'm the sweet girl. The truth is I'm a little bit of all of those things but they are also just a cover. In truth, I am damaged. I try to hide it like practically every other damaged person in the world, but just when you want to hide it most you can't. The sunny peppy sweetness? Yeah, that's a cover I use for work so the masses don't know how much I hate 99% of them. And I do. I truly dislike 99% of people. Of course I am human so I do need some people in my life. Lucky for me I do like about 1% of people (rough figures obviously). Why do I dislike people? People have expectations. People always want something. And worst of all, people lie.

OK, whoa, I got WAY off my point here. Let me divert myself back to my original point here. I'm damaged. Part of being damaged means I have issues. I don't feel like I deserve to be happy or am worthy of love. I guess it helps to clarify if I go into WHY I'm damaged.

It all starts with my biological father. Growing up he was very controlling, manipulative, and verbally abusive. Like most abusers he blames his victims and doesn't feel he is in the wrong. Like most victims I believed that for a long time. Everything changed one night. It's what I refer to as the 'worst night of my life'. I was 16, almost 17. It was in January of 2001. I had been a cutter for some time at this point (more on that later) and I had finally been busted by my stepmonster…I mean stepmother. She threatened to tell my father if I did not tell him I needed help. Well at that point what was I supposed to do? I went to him and told him I thought I was depressed and needed help. He in turn yelled at me, telling me that I did not know what it was to be depressed and that I was acting like I spoiled child so he would treat me like one. He then sent me to the corner for a 'time out'. Once I was finally sent to my room I grabbed a knife I kept under my mattress and seriously considered just killing myself. To this day I can't tell you why I didn't go through with killing myself. I had every intent, but something inside me just wouldn't let me do that. I ended up finally crying myself to sleep. It's worth noting that my father claims that night never happened. I know it did. We'll never agree on that. I know that night screwed me up royally.

Let me take a pause here to talk about cutting. We'll call this a PSA moment. I started cutting when I was about 15. I had moved in with my father and between the unrest there and the misery of being a high school student, mixed with my chemical imbalance (AKA depression) cutting seemed like a good idea at the time. Why? It was a way to take control of the pain. I couldn't control what my father did to me, but I could control what I did to me. It's warped but it's true. When I was 17 I stopped cutting and was 'clean' for 6 years. When I was 23 I 'fell off the wagon' so to speak. Luckily that time my brother helped me get help quickly and I've been 'clean' since (almost 4 years now). Like any vice I know I will never be cured so I refer to myself as a recovering cutter. I will always be a recovering cutter because I know I could slip up at anytime. I still get urges in high stress situations. I just know how to control those urges now. Cutting isn't something to hide or be ashamed of. It is an unhealthy coping mechanism. If you know someone that is cutting don't be angry with them, get them help. They aren't crazy, they are just in pain and don't know how else to deal.

Back to my damage. My father wasn't the only man in my life that caused me damage…in fact I would venture to say he didn't even cause me the most damage. The person that damaged me most is my ex. For the sake of anonymity we'll call him J. (Not that everyone won't know exactly who J is). I met J when I was 14 and a freshman in high school. It was love at first sight…not really, but practically. Unfortunately J did not love me. Through freshman and sophomore year I watched as he dated my friends. Then that fateful day in 1999 I found out that J had gotten his girlfriend pregnant…except not really. You see, she faked being pregnant. He didn't know that at the time and his parents sent him away to make a living and raise the baby. Turns out there was no baby, but J was still gone. We kept in contact via internet and when I was 20 I made the trek to Houston to go see him. By this point I had come to accept he and I would only be friends. I still loved him, but I had reached acceptance. Until that visit.

I stayed at J's apartment that night. He said I could have the bed and he would take the couch. We ended up staying in his room chatting until really, really late. As it got later he asked if I would mind if he just slept in the room with me. I said that was fine. I figured we were friends and it would be innocent enough. Yeah, I was naïve. So anyway, that night I'm almost asleep when J reaches around and starts touching me. I'll spare you too many details but let's just say this is how I came to give my first blow job BEFORE I'd ever had my first kiss. (The first kiss happened that night too, just later).

That night changed everything. I fell head over heels again. For the next 6 years he and I had this whole 'are we or aren't we' thing happening. He never seemed to know what he wanted from me so he kept me at arm's length. One week we'd be talking everyday about anything and everything and the next week he'd tell me that what we were doing was sinful and wrong. One week we'd talk about kids. The next week he was saying we'd never be together. It was a constant rollercoaster of emotions. At 22 I lost my virginity to him. The next day he promptly freaked out and stood me up and I didn't hear a single word from him for two weeks. I could write pages and pages about my non-relationship with J, but I won't. I think you get the idea. It comes down to this: he used me for his own gratification. I was little more than a sex toy to him and he said what he had to say to keep me hooked because he knew he could. He knew I loved him so much that as long as he baited the hook I'd be back. It was sick and twisted and I'm not sure I'll ever fully forgive him for what he did to me all those years. I'm also not sure I will ever completely stop loving him. It's taken me two years to even begin to move on from that 12 year ordeal.

In the midst of the J stuff I did try to break away. In breaking away I met someone else. We'll call him S. S and I had something good. It was a very long distance relationship, but it was good…for awhile. Unlike with J I do take some of the responsibility for what happened with S and I. The problem with us was that it was in the midst of the J ordeal and I wasn't ready to move on. I treated S horribly and things ended. S and I remained friends. It wasn't until later I realized that I wasn't the only damaged one in that relationship. S was using me too, again for his own sexual gratification. Our whole relationship really had become about phone sex before it ended. Eventually that's what our friendship became too. When I told him I wanted to try to have a relationship again he basically told me he didn't want to be with me, but he wanted me to keep the cyber/phone sex going. Um…hello? No. This just reinforced the idea in my head that I serve little purpose to a guy other than being a sex toy.

There is of course the string of guys I liked that didn't feel the same. They don't warrant being named as I don't blame them for anything. Not everyone reciprocates feelings. It's life.

The last of that string does deserve a mention though as he damaged me more than anyone since J and we really only were friends for a short time. We'll call him A. So A and I work together. We met when he started on my account and became fast friends. I developed feelings for A and told him, as I always do. He said he liked me as a friend, like guys always do. I swear I have little sister syndrome. I digress. Anyway, I eventually moved on and even got another crush. I asked A for advice. He told me, and I quote, 'You need to lose weight. A lot. Any guy that would even consider being with you would be like, 'ew'.' Um…ok.

Now, I am not a super model and yes I need to get in shape. And yes I'm working on it. But seriously? Good Goddess! So this damn near started me on the path to an eating disorder (again. I was bulimic in my teenage years…loooong time ago). Thankfully I have some good friends that helped me through that and enough guys have told me how pretty I am that I finally realized that just because I'm not a stick doesn't mean I'm not sexy and pretty. A never apologized for what he said. He never will. That's ok. I finally accepted that and moved on.

What I'm getting at with all this history is that now, at 27, I have realized I have an inferiority complex. I consider myself to be lesser and unworthy of affection. I have this idea of 'who could want me for me?'. I feel like I can't let myself be happy because it won't last. I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I'm afraid to love and to let myself be loved.

This wasn't much of an issue in my mind, until recently. I've finally met a wonderful guy. Don't ask me how it all happened. I certainly wasn't looking to meet anyone. When we did start talking I really didn't expect to feel the way I now do for him. Hell, I had decided I didn't want to feel that way again. But it happened. I started falling. The shocker is this time he reciprocated. I know! It's crazy! He actually likes me?! OMFGWTFBBQ!!!

Of course there is the whole idea of me caring about someone again. I'm terrified to care about someone again. When I care, I get hurt. I'm scared to death about the possibility of falling in love again, which I can so see happening here. It doesn't help that it's a long distance relationship and those are hard enough. I adore him, I want to be with him…but…it's scary.

And so now we have the evil demons lurking and whispering 'this isn't real, he can't actually like you, you can't be loved,' and 'this won't last, he'll realized how damaged you are and run,' and all those other little insecurities I have. So now I find myself constantly looking for reassurance from him that it's real. And come on, what guy in his right mind wants a girl that needs reassurance every 5 seconds?! So I'm sure by now I've annoyed the crap out of him. It's like I'm trying to scare him off because sooner or later I just know he'll realize what a mistake I am.

If he is reading this, and I hope he is, I want him to know that I want this to work. I really, really deeply care about him and I know I'm a work in progress. I'm as far from perfect as it gets, but I am trying. I want to be worthy of him…I want to believe I'm worthy. It will take time. I might need some reassurance more than I should. I might seem doubtful that he cares. But above it all I want it to be known that I care. I want this to work. I'm willing to try my best if he is. I might need him to say 'Baby, stop. You know I care and you're doing it again.' Eventually I will believe it. It takes time to cut through the pain of the past, but I'm getting there. I really am. If he is willing to stick it out with me I'm willing to give every bit of myself in return. I'm hoping I haven't already caused him doubt in being with me. I'm hoping we can move on and he can understand that I am who I am.

Yes, I'm a good girl, I'm twisted, I am a comic geek, I am sweet, I am sexual, I am a little unconventional, I am damaged…but at the end of the day I am me. I like who that is…I hope he does too.