Getting naked here... (Or possibly my most vulnerable post yet)

     Got you there, didn't I? You thought I was actually naked on here. Silly reader. I'm not famous enough to get a naked picture of me put on the internet. That would be dumb. And you would be desperate if you were trying to find one.

     By nakedness, I mean vulnerable. Filleted. Bearing my soul. Risking whatever reactions I may receive. It makes me a little nervous, not because you are reading this, dear stranger, but because people I know and worry about their opinion of me might be reading this. I guess if it really matters to them, and might cause them to have a bad opinion of me, then they aren't the type of person I want in my life, right? So, it shouldn't matter. Eventually anyone deeply immersed in my life is going to know everything about me anyway. Might as well toss it out there now. Rip off the bandaid, so to speak. 

   

 I suffer from depression. There it is, in case you didn't get that already. Some might think, "That's it? That's what you were afraid to share?" True. Depression isn't as hush-hush as it was years ago. Back when I was growing up, you didn't talk about it. It was called being blue. Most people expected you to snap out of it.  I've had it my whole life. When I was little I blamed it on my dad's abuse. I thought that if I didn't live with him, I'd be a happier person. I was always thinking of ways to run away because then I'd be happy. It kind of became my mission in life as a teenager. I wanted Prince Charming to sweep in and save me from the evil king. I just thought that if I could live anywhere else, I'd be happy. 

     It kind of transitioned into college and thinking that if I got married, I'd be happy. I wouldn't have to go back home. Then when I was married (the first time), I was always looking for the place where I'd be happy. It was right there in front of me and I didn't see it. My first husband was a great guy. He still is. He's happily married to his second wife and they've been together for over 24 years. They are perfect for each other. They did a great job of raising my oldest son, as I've said before, and they have three boys of their own. He's an amazing father. I take complete blame for my first marriage failing. It didn't matter what he did, I was never going to be happy. I didn't know how to be happy. All I knew was that somewhere out there was a place where I would be happy. And I just kept looking. 

     I "escaped" to California when my oldest was about 5. Thought I'd be happy there. Left my two oldest boys behind to be raised by my first husband because I was too self-centered to see that I only needed to stay with my family to be happy. Stupid stuff you do when your mind is not clear and you don't live in reality. Funny how now my happiest place is with my children. I never ever regret time spent with my children. I can't get enough of it.

     ANYWAY, I moved to California to seek fame and fortune and instead I found it to be a profession full of a lot of really sad, mean, wicked, etc, people. I met some really nice people but mostly they were out to help themselves and nobody else mattered. It's part of the "business." I remember standing up on Mulholland drive, overlooking the Hollywood Bowl (great place to sit and think, by the way). It was where I would go on Sundays and just sit on the hood of my car and watch the view. And think. I never went there with anyone. It was always just me. People would park up there to watch the view but they were generally with other people. I would sit and think, "What is wrong with me?" You know, my favorite mantra. "Why doesn't anyone love me?" "Why am I alone?" I'm sure I cried a few times up there by myself. Whenever I needed to think, I went for a drive. During the week I was too busy to think. Weekends were bad. If I wasn't out at a club, I was home alone watching a movie and consuming a pizza by myself. (Of course, back then my metabolism was amazing so I could eat an entire pizza and hardly gain a pound)

     Then I met my second husband. You've heard that story already. He suffered from his own issues of trying to make everyone happy and wanting everyone to like him. My issues were depression, still not diagnosed. I would fill my head full of old stories and junk and get mad over things that didn't exist or weren't important enough to get upset over. I'm sure sometimes he just stood there and thought, "What the heck is wrong with her?" Heck, I didn't even know. Either way, I knew that if we lived somewhere else we'd be happy. And maybe he thought that too. He was kind of a wandering soul also, working 4 jobs in our first three years of marriage. 

     So, searching for that place where we'd be happy, we moved to Tennessee. I loved that place. We were in our second home with three kids (my oldest still lived in Utah with my first husband and came for the usual court-ordered visitation-poor kid) and a dog or two...and a cat. And I still wasn't happy. He was never home because of his job so I was raising the kids by myself, no one to talk to except a couple of toddlers and a pre-teen I couldn't figure out. Throw in depression and anger/abandonment issues and you've got a mess of a woman sitting at home, waiting for you to return. 

     It was during those first couple of years living in TN that I learned about depression and medication, and ADD medication, and how prescription drugs can make everything better. But I never learned how to fix myself. My own head and my own issues. I figured medication would fix it all. Silly me. Silly doctors for not telling me that I needed to more than just pop a pill or two, or three. I think at one point I was on six different medications. Depression, ADD, sleep, uppers, downers, vitamins, etc. It finally reached a point after 12 years of taking medication that I looked at my handful of pills and suddenly saw my dad with all of his vitamins and drugs and thought, "I don't want to be this person." I started removing medication after medication from my life. I had taken depression medication for about 12 years and stopped those also, still not fixing my issues in my head. After a break of five or 6 years I realized that I was still not happy and went back on them. 

     I know that depression is hereditary and caused by a chemical imbalance and you can lessen the symptoms without medication by using positive affirmations. BUT, if you still carry with you the emotional issues that only exacerbate the problem, you won't be able to deal with it. Even with medication, you are still going to have to deal with what is going on in your head. Medication or no medication, personal issues are not going to go away if you don't face them, figure out what causes them, and make them go away. Sadly, it wasn't until this past year that I did just that. Before it was so much easier to just blame my dad, or my ex-husband (both of them), or my boyfriend, or whomever of the male species happened to dip in and out of my adult life. Instead of looking at them and blaming them for my issues, I needed to look in the mirror. Oh, there were some that definitely contributed to the problem, but I could have handled it much, MUCH better. I took their own issues internally, blaming myself for their problems, simply adding to my already damaged psyche. It was how my brain was trained to think and react. It was all I knew how to do.

     I'm better now, even just in the last few months. I recently released one of my biggest shackles, the biggest weight I've had on my mind and my heart, and lightened the load I've carried with me for four years. The darkness, shame, fear, guilt, anger, hurt, etc. is gone. Two years ago I sent a lengthy apology email to my ex-husband (#2), my gift to him for his birthday, releasing any guilt and regret I might have been toting around with me. Any angry feelings he may have towards me is on his shoulders now. I release them. 

     I still have my days, of course. I am on medication again but once again, if you don't fix your head medication does no good. Mondays are my worst day. I'm not sure why. Seems pretty cliche' to be blue on Monday. I don't eat well, I don't function really well. I don't go outside. I don't accomplish much except homework (the big paper is always due on Monday) and even that is a struggle. I don't feel inspired. Not even to write on here. I have to force myself to write. Maybe it's because it is my first off day after probably 7 days working. I always have Mondays off. Maybe it's because I am let down after a boring weekend, wishing I'd gone to that dance, or had a date with someone amazing. Maybe it's because I'm still looking for that one thing I think will make me happy? It's entirely possible. 

     I understand that I am the only one who can make me happy. I KNOW that. But some days I still need someone there to help. It would be better if I just left the house on Mondays and did something creative, or outdoorsy, or social. (Definitely not shopping. Not a good thing to do. It is sometimes my drug of choice. The Amazon gods are to blame for that. Dang that instant gratification thing.) This is when I wish I had someone I could call and say, "Get me out of the house." Dinner, a movie, laughing hysterically, something. I hate Mondays. I need to get out and do something that helps me forget myself, or stop listening to my head. 

   

       So, to those who suffer from depression, I understand. It sucks. It hurts. It can be debilitating. It can make even a sunny day seem a little foggy. You make stupid decisions on those days. You say things that you should never have said. You do things you would never do. You think things that you should never think. You shut yourself in. Little things are annoying. A comedy isn't funny. Music makes you cry (Do not listen to ballads, if possible). It is nearly impossible to smile. And those who have never suffered from depression do not get it. When you meet that person who does, suddenly you feel normal. You are not the only one. 

    So, you are not the only one. I'm here. Me and a million other people who have no one to talk to about it. I get it. I hate it, but it definitely get it. Get out of the house. Make new friends. Laugh hysterically. Sing. Dance. Do what makes you happy. Be creative. Write about it. Understand that you are loved. Just don't sit there and wallow in your bad mood. It won't get better. It will only get worse. 

   And repeat after me: There is nothing wrong with you. 

    Repeat as necessary. I know I do.

     

Blog Challenge #6: A Vulnerable Post

     I think this one was a little tougher for me because I thought I had already been vulnerable with my personal post. As I said before, I am an open book. What you see is what you get. I don't really hide anything. Just ask me and I'll tell you. 

     Fine, let us revisit #10: My self-esteem. That's about as personal as you can get, don't you think? Revisiting something that I try so hard to ignore is pretty "vulnerable". 

     Being raised in a home where you were never pretty enough, you were overweight, had bad acne, a bad haircut, your hair was too short, or too long, the only girl in the family with thunder thighs (my personal favorite), OR if a guy stopped dating you it was because you made him feel things he didn't want to/shouldn't feel (sexually) and he got scared (college). This makes it my fault that I can't keep a long-term relationship. I wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be popular (who doesn't?). I wanted to hear that I was beautiful and hey, I wanted to be told that if a guy left you it was because he didn't deserve you. I never did. I kept waiting. I was always insecure about my looks, my life, and my relationships. On the outside it didn't look like it, and no one believed I had low self-esteem. I was loud, friendly, happy. How could I have a low opinion of myself? But, I craved attention. My senior year I had three boyfriends all at the same time. One at my school, one in college, and one at another school in another district. I'm not bragging. I'm not proud. Of course, it all blew up in my face eventually. I deserved it.  I NEEDED to feel loved. I went from one relationship to another. I was never NOT in a relationship. If I didn't have some sort of relationship, I felt empty and unloved. What was wrong with me? Why am I single? It must be that I didn't deserve someone who would love me. Really love me. Like forever. 

      Jump ahead twenty-something years later. I was married to a pornography addict. Now my "story" becomes that I am not attractive enough for my second husband to pay attention to me instead of the computer or tv. Wherever he could find it. Even going so far as to look at it while the kids are in the next room. He even told me at one point that he wasn't attracted to me. It was about me. Too fat, short hair, mother of four kids. The spark has taken a vacation, the thrill is gone. 20+ years of this and you truly believe it is all about you. Something was wrong with me. 

     Add in the next four years with an abusive boyfriend/friend and you are back to when you were growing up. You deserve the abuse. It is something you are doing. You can love someone with every fiber of your being but if they have issues of their own; a low opinion of women, depression, anger issues, low self-esteem, suspicion, jealousy. You become the target. You are their punching bag, literally and figuratively. And all of their behavior is your fault. They will not take the blame. If you had acted differently, if you had done something differently, this never would have happened. 

     And now I find myself single again. It's tough. Once in awhile the old story, the one that was written for me but not by me, pops up in my head and says, "What's wrong with me?" I learned a year ago that I could erase the old story and rewrite a new one. It's hard to let go of 50+ years of fiction. FIFTY YEARS. 

     And it really WAS fiction. All that crap that I was raised to believe was never true. Whether I had long or short hair, acne and no makeup, fat or thin, thunder thighs or not (and I have fully embraced my thighs, thankyouverymuch), I was beautiful. I was loved. It was learning to love myself that was the hard part. I had made many many mistakes in my past, most of them fueled by my self-loathing. Can you imagine if I had grown up differently? Learned about healthy relationships in my youth? Viewed myself with "God's Goggles" my entire life? But I didn't. Would I have grown into the woman I am today? Probably not. And that's okay. I like the woman I am today. I really do. 

     So, yesterday I had one of those POF first dates. He was one of those guys that skipped "Let's get to know each other" (and chat online for a few days) and went right for, "Let's go out." I didn't really want to go out with him. He wasn't my type. But the day he asked me out for a second time I felt vulnerable (there's that word again). I felt lonely. (Beware of feeling sorry for yourself.) So, I said okay to his request but kept it neutral. Coffee. Broad daylight. Here's the funny thing: the date was at 11am. I was required to drive north about twenty miles because he didn't offer to come in this direction. This meant that I should have been in the shower at 9:30 at the latest. I was up at 7:30am. It was possible. And then I got sidetracked by my last blog post. I wanted to get it written and online. And the next thing I knew, it was 10! I had to leave by 10:40 at the latest!! I hadn't even showered!! AND I cared enough to make sure I looked good for this "date." I texted him and asked if we could move it back to 11:30. He was fine with that. I got ready, out the door, arrived at said coffee shop at 11:31. He was no where to be seen. 

    I texted him, "I'm here. Where are you?" No reply. I waited. 11:35. 11:40. I see a car pull up right in front of the coffee shop and I get a text: "Are you inside? I just pulled up." Seriously? Wouldn't you just go inside and check? I texted back, "Uh, yeah." It was the only thing I could think to say. I was past the point of no return. I was annoyed. That still didn't make him come right inside. Nope. He sat in his car for two more minutes. I was already rehearsing what I was going to say. He would have every opportunity to fix it. He didn't take advantage of that opportunity. He walked in wearing an old ratty t-shirt that he had worn in at least three of his pictures on POF. Must be a favorite. I get that. BUT, it is a first date. Isn't the point to impress your date? He was wearing sunglasses. He never took them off. Inside. He walked across the small shop, said hello. Not "I'm sorry I'm late," and make some excuse. Not a word. He hugged me and purred, "Mmmmmm." I stepped back. "Nice to meet you. I'm going to buy myself an iced coffee and go home. You are ten minutes late. I understand that I moved the time to later but..." He just looked at me and said, "Okay. Bye." and walked out.

     Now, this was something new for me. I had never ever stood up for myself like that. Had it been about four months earlier, I would have just put a smile on my face and endured the date, thinking I would never go out with him again. Once he walked out of the coffee shop, I just laughed. A loud belly laugh. I don't know if it was because I was releasing stress or if it was suddenly realizing that I deserved better. I spent the next 10 minutes chatting with the little barista boy about ballroom dancing. Better conversation in ten minutes than I would have had on that entire date had it have happened. I got back out to my car just in time to get a text from Mr. Wonderful: "Good luck dating with that attitude." I laughed again, so hard. I texted him back, "Yeah. You too." and then I blocked him.  

     I felt liberated!! Look what I had done! I had stood up for myself. I had found self-respect and self-love. I realized my own self-worth. It was about time! I had often said "I am lonely but I am not desperate." When I accepted his date, I was most definitely desperate. Why would I accept a date from someone that I knew would not be what I was looking for otherwise? It would not happen again. 

          I still have those days of feeling lonely but they are getting fewer and farther between. Even without a date, or a text, or a phone call from whomever I happen to be attracted to, I am okay. I don't blame myself. I don't wonder "What's wrong with me?" I'm not sitting by the phone. I am enjoying the peace and quiet in my soul, my head, and my heart. I know what I have to offer the next man in my life. And I know I don't need someone to complete me, or fix me, or make me happy. Whomever I let into my heart next will simply add to whom I am now and whom I will become. I have years of adventures, travel, and love ahead of me. The next guy is going to have to be amazing for me to make room for him. 

AFTER the date...

Blog Challenge #2: Passionate Post

     

     Blog challenge number two is a little more of a "challenge" for me because I don't have a business. It seems as though this challenge is to help promote your business. I'm not really a business person. I have tried to promote myself in the past selling painted items, clothing, scrapbooking supplies, even porcelain dolls. I did craft shows, home sales, parties, even had a booth at Costco. I did everything but build a website, but I did think about it. I'm just not a salesman. My dad was a wonderful salesman, supporting our family selling snack foods all over Montana, Idaho, Oregon, Utah, and Washington from a company he successfully built himself. My brothers inherited his great selling skills. We three girls? Not so much. I can get excited about helping someone find art supplies at Michael's, especially if I know what I am talking about, but ask me to push a credit card application or get an email address to fill a quota? Nope. Can't do it. 

     I have always had the ability to sense when someone has something they need to talk about. I am someone people come to when they need to talk. I sometimes say that I have a sign that says, "The doctor is in." Random strangers will start telling me their life stories. And even if I'm busy or have somewhere I need to be, I will stop and listen. I have had this for as long as I can remember. It just happened. I did not cultivate it. I did not ask for it. It just comes with my personality. If you need a good friend, I am it. Tell me a secret and tell me not to tell anyone? That's me. I won't tell a soul. I could have been a therapist. 

     I also say that I have a "Superman Complex." I have a need to save the world. Sick puppies or motherless children? I'm the one to call. Abusive boyfriend or ornery roommates? Tell me about it. I've been there. I have great advice. I will drop whatever I'm doing to help someone who needs to talk or be cheered up. It also comes at an expense. I have a habit of setting aside whatever I need to do to help whomever needs me. Because of this, sometimes I won't answer a phone call or text. Sometimes I'm just too tired or stressed to be that person. Sometimes I have to say no and take care of myself. 

     I was talking to my daughter last night (in our five hour Skype conversation) and she said that she loves when she sees happy people because it makes HER happy. I told her to be the happy person that makes other people happy just by looking at her. That is what I hope to do. I want to be the happy person that can help others be happy. With this blog I hope to reach those that need my help or advice. I can pass on whatever help I can without having to be readily available when there are times I mentally cannot. 

     I am a passionate person in any situation.  Mostly I am passionate about being happy and making others happy. I have seen enough drama in my life to understand what others are experiencing in their own. I know what I have to do to become a happier person and I try extremely hard to pass that on to others. I have had some make comments that I post a lot on Facebook. I'm not posting what I made for dinner, or what color shoes I chose to wear that day, or a funny video, or a bad joke, or even whether or not a Utah driver annoyed me enough to cause road rage. I try really REALLY hard to post positive things. I follow so many self-help gurus, and motivational speakers myself because I choose to surround myself with happy, positive people. And those are the posts that I share on my Facebook page. I know I have friends that are experiencing trials and "stuff" in their lives that they want to get away from.  I know what I share on Facebook helps my friends because some of my friends have personally told me. I know that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. I am here to help others be as happy as I am trying to be. My blog will touch a larger audience, and maybe stop those naysayers from complaining about too many FB posts. 

Flipping That Switch (or How to Make Your Heart Stop Hurting)

      I have a switch. You probably have one also. I discovered that switch after my marriage fell apart. It really appeared when I begged my husband to take me back one last time. I had asked him two other times before that (I guess it only takes three times for me to get the hint), wanting him to take me away from Port Orchard and my problems and the dumb situation I had gotten myself into. I knew that if he took me away, even for a couple of weeks, everything would be better.  Our marriage would be back on track. We'd survive another 22 years and beyond. I told him I'd do anything he wanted if he would come back to me. I remember sitting on the phone late one night, crying to his answering machine begging him to come home, praying to Heavenly Father that he would. I texted him over and over again that night, waiting for his reply. I'm sure I knew what the answer would be but it was still devastating when he texted me back in the morning, "I'm sorry. I have promised my heart to Jennifer. We have promised each other that we will never hurt each other. Heavenly Father loves you and forgives you." BAM Just like that. 

     The second time was when he showed up at my father's funeral. I didn't want him there. He had no personal relationship with my dad. I hadn't told him the details of the funeral and neither had his children. He got the information from one of my nieces. Why he wanted to be there, I had no idea. I hadn't cried when my dad died. It's not because I was happy that he'd died. It was because my dad had suffered with dementia for probably ten years and it was his time. He was at peace. But when my husband arrived uninvited to the funeral, I cried. I thought he was there for me. I hugged him, told him I loved him. His words? "I will always love you." BAM He wasn't there for me. He was there to make an appearance. To look good to my family. The switch started to flip that day. It was halfway there. Two weeks later he filed for divorce. 

     The final trigger that flipped the switch was when I called my husband about a misunderstanding regarding a ticket I had received (dumb Tacoma Narrows Bridge). Suddenly I found myself telling him that it was a mistake. He said, "What is?" "The divorce, the whole thing, it's a mistake." Then he said, "You want to settle out of court?" BAM  "No. I don't want a divorce." Dead silence And then the switch flipped for the first time. We were done and I knew it. I wasn't going to beg him anymore. I loved that man but I was not going to beg him to love me back. 22 years was gone. He was in love with someone else. Our marriage no longer existed. All he cared about was settling out of court. It was another year before the divorce was finally over. I never settled, by the way. Switch Flipped. 

     The Switch for me is something in my head. It's the armor I put on to protect my heart. It's my survival skill. It's self-preservation. Call it whatever you will. It helps me to stop crying. Stop being depressed or blue or whatever. Stop thinking about whatever is upsetting me. It helps me to move on. It helps me to be strong. It's not as easy as it sounds, though. I may go through a day or two of sadness and loss but I finally just stand up, shake it off, and move the freak on. I have to consciously remind myself that the switch has been flipped. I tell myself that I am too important to continue to let myself be hurt. I deserve better. Whatever mantra works at that moment. I say it until I'm "cured" of that hurt. 

     One of my favorite Switch Flippers is a visual tossing of whatever has upset me. I put whatever thought or love or hurt into a tiny virtual box, pack it up tightly with virtual string and virtual brown paper, say goodbye to whomever it is I have placed into the box, and throw it away. I usually do it epically, like over a bridge or off of a cliff. Something so huge, I can never get that little brown paper package back. Kind of like burning the love letters or pictures of someone you want to forget. Right up there with dancing around a bonfire to cleanse your spirit. I recently had a picture of me and someone I had cared about for a really long time. That picture was important to me and, even though it was small enough to fit in my wallet, it meant everything to me. It symbolized a great time spent together when I thought there was a future for us. I brought it along with me on this last trip up to Washington, knowing full well it was probably going to be the end of a possible future with this person, and I was ready to release my heart from it. Driving back from Washington, once I had Flipped the Switch and realized that this person could no longer have control over my heart, soul, or mind, I literally tossed that picture out of my sunroof and watched it float onto the freeway behind me. I was crossing over the bridge that divides Washington from Oregon. To me it was fitting to leave those thoughts and hurts behind, never to be thought of or be hurt again. I loved that person but our relationship together was toxic. He was toxic. I deserved better. I love how the symbolism of leaving our "relationship" behind in Washington worked so cleanly. I laughed as I released the photo. I said goodbye.  It served its purpose. Weight lifted. Happiness found. Switch Flipped. 

    I perfected the Switch over the last year. Crazy ex-boyfriend was a huge contributor the the strengthening of the Switch. You can only go through so much abuse, anger, verbal and mental beatings, suspicion, and defending yourself, etc,  before your defense mechanism kicks in. When you reach that last straw, you know, the one that breaks the camel's back. The one that says "I am done taking this." The final straw was over two weeks ago. Friendship gone. Door shut. Switch flipped. Peace. 

     And I've had other moments of Flipping the Switch. Whenever I want to move on from someone or something quickly. Generally thinking, "It wasn't meant to be," works extremely well. Or analyzing what wasn't good about the relationship or experience helps me break it down into quicker reasons to Flip the Switch. I have learned that I am more important and deserve better than whatever is upsetting me or hurting me. 

     Over the last four years, and especially the last year of self-discovery, I have learned to love myself and see that whatever drama or anger or sadness or depression or stress, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, that slams into my heart, soul, mind, and body, is not what I want or deserve. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to love and be loved. I deserve everything my little heart desires. We are placed on this earth to be happy. To live epic lives of loving, making ourselves happy and of course, making others happy in the process. We cannot love others if we do not first love ourselves. 

     Flip the Switch, my friends. We deserve better than what we have been accepting into our lives. I am a warrior of love and light against those negative and toxic forces that seek to drag me down into their personal darkness. Join me. Let us make this world a better place. I don't know about you but I have an adorable little grandson who deserves to be as happy as he can be the rest of his life. Let's do this. Switch Flipped.

Addendum to last post

***Addendum** (Updated October 7th)
     Said stalker seems to think that this whole thing has not affected me at all. I lost my friend. This was someone who has been in my life for four years. He's been involved in every facet of my life. I didn't just let go of four years of abuse. I lost someone who was important to me for four years, practically my whole life, even throughout the crap he put me through. Had he not been important to me, I would have walked away the first time he ever picked a fight with me over religion. Told me my birthday was just another day of the week. Picked a fight on Christmas. Got mad at me because I didn't need him to leave work early because I had cut my foot. Or the time he got mad because I didn't need to wake him up when I went to the ER with heart issues. I would have walked away the first time he kicked in the cabinet doors in our bathroom. Or kicked a hole in the bedroom door. Or shoved me into the wall hard enough to leave an indent in the sheet rock and a bruise so big on my arm that I had to wear long sleeves in the summer. Or sent me nasty emails and text messages when I was at work. Or decided at the last minute he wasn't going to help me with a school presentation he promised he'd help me with so that I got a zero for my grade. Or shoved me to the ground in the parking garage at work so that I slammed my head into the cement. (This was the first time I filed a police report.) By this time I had been dating him for 2 1/2 years. 
     Let us not forget June of 2013 when he got mad because he didn't think I was paying enough attention to him while he was out of town. And when he assumed I was picking him up from the airport (when he had never actually asked me if I would), and I couldn't because I had an appointment, he lost his ever loving mind. It was midnight on my birthday and suddenly I'm receiving alerts from Amazon, my bank account, my email addresses, my cell phone account, and Netflix all telling me that someone has logged into my accounts and is making changes. He locked me out of Amazon and ordered an iPad mini plus the supplies that go with it all using my debit card on file. (I need to add here that Amazon is really amazing at fixing stuff like this almost immediately. The order was canceled/no money lost). He locked me out of Netflix and attempted to order gift cards using my debit card on file. (Thank you Netflix for being so diligent in getting everything switched back to normal). He even changed the language on Netflix to Spanish...because I can speak Spanish? Nope. (He really should have been more creative and changed the language to Chinese) He attempted to hack into my bank account but he didn't know the password so his attempt failed, thankfully, and I received an immediate notification. He even went so far as to create a new Facebook account in my name and friend request me. Seriously, I was friend requested...by me. Luckily he was crazy enough to use my email address to start it and I began to get those emails also. He hacked into my email addresses and began reading my emails looking for something suspicious. As all of this was happening, I was frantically chasing after him online changing everything back and changing every single password into something he could never even guess. Then he sent me messages admitting he had done it all. I spent the next two days in a police station filing a report against him, trying to get an order of protection against him. They wouldn't do it. He wasn't violent enough. Don't they know that this is how women are killed by their spouses, boyfriends, etc? Not violent enough? How violent does he have to be before it is enough? 
     And yet, even then, I did not learn. I should have walked away right then and there and never looked back. 
     He has packed up his belongings and threatened to leave so many times, it was more packing than he did when we actually moved. He continuously threatened to take things away from me that he gave me because to him "THINGS" were more important than a human. Than the heart of the woman he supposedly loved. His way of controlling things. In his mind. When I could FINALLY walk away and stand on my own two feet, even THEN I never felt safe. 
     And now, even though I have told him to stop contacting me or my family or my friends, or even ex-friends, or I would contact the police, he STILL CONTACTS ME. Even after his Bishop tells him to stop contacting me twice in twenty-four hours, he still does it. He creates a fake profile on POF with a fake picture, fake description, fake name, fake age and starts a conversation with me pretending to be a nice guy. And thinks it is okay. Does anyone else see a problem with this? Is he for REAL? 
     And, the thing is, I have NEVER mentioned his name in any post, whether here or on Facebook. Because I don't want to cause OTHERS to look at him badly. Only those in my family and those closest friends even know who I am talking about. Does he do the same for me?
      I lost my movie buddy, my Comic Con buddy, my sushi buddy, my Walking Dead buddy. I lost someone I could talk to about anything. If I was upset about something, he was the first person I called because I knew he'd be there. I lost SO MUCH MORE than he thinks I realize. I lost my best friend. And more. 
                     But I need to remember all of this so I don't do it again.
     Why did I stay? I couldn't tell you. Nor can any woman involved in an abusive relationship. I think it's because I am not sure I don't deserve it. I've spent the last year trying to fix not just four years of abuse, but a lifetime of abuse from practically every male influence in my life. SO, when the ex-boyfriend tells me all of my relationship failures are my fault, why not believe him? He would tell me that the common denominator in my failed relationships was me. It must be true. Why should I deserve a loving, honest, sweet man? WHY SHOULD I?  We attract what we feel we deserve. When he tells me that any issues my children have is my fault, why shouldn't I believe him? I've spent the last year trying to change that mindset. Yet, one blow-up from him brings everything rushing back. Every old story that was written for me, but not by me. It must all be true. Just when I think I have healed and worked towards seeing the light inside of me, he reminds me that I must be garbage. It must be true.
     And that is why I must walk away for the last time. It's survival. He will never change. I'm sure even now he believes I will let him back into my life and forgive him. Again. It is not going to happen. EVER. Because he will never change. There will always be something I am doing wrong. The eggshells will continue to be laid out before me, waiting for me to walk on them. I have told him a million times over that if he was sweet all of the time, because when he is sweet he is amazing, I would marry him. When he is good to me, he is wonderful. But Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde dance around me so often that I cannot exist in that same space with them. He will not and cannot promise me he won't hurt me, and he has told me that many times. And I have told him that I need that promise. He will not change because he does not see that there is a problem. He continues to blame me for his behavior. So, if I am to survive any longer I must walk away for the last time. When my family and friends tell me they fear for my life, it's time. 
     There is a commercial running right now during football regarding domestic violence and rape. I've never been a victim of rape but, because of my life with the crazy ex-boyfriend, I am an authority on domestic violence.

http://youtu.be/I6zKqx5srts

     Dear Ex-Boyfriend, seek help. I know you are reading this. Read it again and again until you understand. Before you start a new relationship. Before you damage another love. Before you hurt one more love. Before you help bring life into this world and pass on what you have been taught that causes you to be this horrible person, seek help. Stop the abuse now. I know you can be a really wonderful man. If I know that, someone else will also. But, before you seek the love and attention that you crave so desperately, seek help. I am sorry that you feel you can only be in this type of relationship. That, after watching the abusive relationship your parents have, you think it must be the only way to love. Stop the abuse now, before it's too late.