I think I can… I think I can….

So, my fiance and I finally decided to get on a diet and exercise regimen.  The final decision-maker for me was, surprisingly enough, not the fact that I’m going to be in my best friend’s wedding or that mine is less than a year away even though both are good motivators. No, the final push I needed was seeing myself naked in the new mirror after I got out of the shower. Oh yeah, the new mirror is situated directly across from the bath/shower so I didn’t really have a choice.

I was appalled. I was disgusted. I was, well, shocked. I look so much different than I did a year ago. One year ago I was forty pounds lighter and under 200 pounds. For my height, which is tall for a woman, it’s not terribly horrible, but I want to be able to not be self-conscious of how I look when I sit down. Or move. When I checked my BMI, it came up “obese”. I’ve never gotten that, and I hate that I finally crossed that line.

I hate how I look. I don’t want to end up even more obese. That was the deciding factor.

I want to be someone that I can be confident in how I look. I want to be someone who, when they’re older, my children won’t be embarrassed for their friends to see me. I want to be a confident, beautiful, happy young woman. I want people to say “You’ve had three kids? No way!”

I want to be able to feel good about myself again. Like I did in the spring and summer of 2012.

It’s going to work. It’s just a feeling I have. My fiance’s done it before and he lost 80 pounds. He’s since gained 20 lbs. of it back, but he wanted to lose more anyway, but the point is he knows what he’s doing. He’s doing it in a healthy fashion and, now, we have a “buddy” to do it with: someone to encourage us when we’re starting to lose our way who’s going through the same thing.

We can do this. We can.

I can.

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What Did I Say?

This is something that I honestly don’t understand. I need somebody to talk to about it and I have no one. Literally no one. If I told anybody in my family judgement and hatred would follow and I just don’t want that.

I spoke to my fiance earlier, about an hour ago. I thanked him for being there for me when I needed someone the most. I thanked him for pushing me to stop going out and partying and drinking so much. I told him that if it wasn’t for him, I probably would not have changed as much as I have [in a good way].

About half-way through me telling him, he looked away. A few minutes after that he dropped his arm from around my shoulders. Did I say something wrong? I just… I don’t understand. I even asked him if I said anything that he didn’t want to hear or if I said something wrong, but he wouldn’t say anything at all. Finally I just moved away from him. My insecurity took hold of me too much. I started crying. I had to move away from him. It felt cold trying to curl up to him when I felt like he didn’t even want me around.

About ten minutes ago he just got up and walked away. He didn’t say anything or look my way at all. I looked at him, hoping he would say something. He didn’t.

I just…. I’m so confused. Help?

Post-Note: To Prevent Confusion

I feel like I owe some sort of explanation, a post-note of sorts, because there might be some confusion or misunderstanding with some things that I mentioned in my last post: Love & Friendship Prevails. I hope this clears things up. Otherwise, ask me whatever you want. 🙂

In my last post I wrote that I don’t sleep with guys before I get to know them or on the first date. Later on I go on to say that I had given him a blowjob, and further, that I “began sleeping with all those men from the bar for a couple of months”.

I want to point out that that is not who I am.

I was not lying when I first said I don’t sleep with a guy on the first date or before I get to know them. It is no excuse, but as I stated in the post, after being raped three (3) times in such a short period of time, I didn’t feel I was good for much else and I went into a frenzy of depression and any spare moment I had to myself I was out partying, getting drunk, and sleeping with a different guy. It is not an excuse.

To put how worthless I felt in perspective let me tell you a few things about myself.

    • I never went to parties while I was in high school or after high school, even though I was invited.
    • I was a [clueless] virgin until I was 18 years old.
    • I didn’t drink alcohol before I was 21 years old.
    • My children’s father was the third (3rd) guy I had sex with.
    • My children’s father raped me multiple times. He thought I wanted it even though I said no.
    • I didn’t get into any sort of relationship after I left my ex for a year.
    • The first serious relationship I got into, after my divorce, ended when he raped me and laughed at me afterward when I was crying and bleeding.
    • He was the fourth (4th) guy I had ever had sex with.
    • I attempted to date another guy three or so months later. I got to know him over several dates. He was the fifth (5th) guy I had sex with.
    • He never spoke to me again after we had sex.
    • Less than six months after the previous rape, I was [date] raped at my best friend’s belated birthday party.
    • He was, if you count it, the sixth (6th) guy I had sex with.
    • Afterward, I had sex with 10+ men in less than two months. Sometimes more than one at a time.
    • And a couple women. I’m bisexual. I lean toward men.
    • I stopped sleeping with multiple men (and women) when I met the guy I’m dating now.
    • I truly went partying for the first time after the last [date] rape (with the 6th guy). That was, also, when I started going to to the bar every weekend.
    • I didn’t stop partying and drinking for almost six more months; I was an alcoholic.

At the time the date-rape occurred, I was just getting my confidence back in myself and about ready to attempt to date seriously. I never would have slept with him because of my past. Most especially not until I heard what my best friend’s opinion on him was, a thorough opinion, and until I got to know him better. The rape essentially broke me and sent me spiralling into a depression and I tried to bury the memories of it in alcohol, erotic dancing, and more sex.

Do I regret what I did now? Yes. Was there anything I could have done to prevent it? Probably not.

I was one of the lucky ones. I didn’t contract an STD (sexually transmitted disease). I’ve been tested multiple times extensively, especially since I’ve been raped, and I’ve come up clear. Also, since I slept with so many men in so little time, most of the time without a condom, I was extremely lucky I didn’t get an STD.

It was the darkest point in my life. I ignored my children for a social life I shouldn’t have even had. It was a social life of people that wanted to party and get drunk all the time. I kept alcohol in my home, at least two kinds, at all times for several months. Whenever something happened, whenever my kids were gone, I would want to go out and dance and drink and party. There were even times when I knew my children would be gone and I knew I wouldn’t hear from my boyfriend so I went out and partied; my boyfriend didn’t approve of what I was doing and he was trying to get me to stop. I think he knew when I did anyway and didn’t tell me, he just continued to discourage me from doing it.

It’s because of him that I stopped drinking and partying constantly. If it wasn’t for him, I would probably still be in a very bad place.

Since him, though, I have not slept with anyone else, though I have had plenty of offers. (I became known as a bar slut, a reputation I am happy to be rid of.) Since my fiance, I’ve only gotten drunk a handful of times since I truly stopped partying and he was with me each time.

I’m happy now.

Though, I do wish I were able to go dancing more. Drunk or not, I like dancing. 😉

Love & Friendship Prevails

I’m… so happy.

I honestly didn’t expect this outcome. I guess it shows I should have a little more faith in the young woman that I have deemed my best friend.

She came over earlier; it was the last day she was going to be in town before heading back out of state for classes at her college. She has a long drive. Anyways, she brought her nephew with her and me, her, and my fiance hung out. Well, more like me and her hung out, my fiance made waffles and jello, and her nephew and my children all played in the living room. It was… different, to say the least.

Then, finally, at one point, she asked me if I was still coming to her wedding. I didn’t have a response. I just asked her if she had talked to her fiance about it. She said she had, and that they had come to a screaming match about it because while he believed me, he also didn’t believe his friend (the guy who date-raped me) could be such a bad guy. I didn’t know what to say. I told her I wanted to be in the wedding, I didn’t want to ruin her wedding, but I couldn’t be around him. I felt like I was raped, completely violated, and just… couldn’t. She countered by saying that we were both equally drunk and if I had given him any signals that I had liked him beforehand, it could’ve been considered consent.

Well, let’s just say the conversation stopped there momentarily.

I went in the kitchen and talked to my fiance. She got called upon by her nephew and had to use the bathroom. When, at one point, my fiance walked out of the kitchen and I stayed behind making a snack for myself, she came in and talked to me; we continued our conversation.

I don’t know where exactly we started out the conversation again – I think we repeated a bit of it – but I did point out a couple things that I’m not sure she knew. Yes, before it happened I considered myself having a developing “crush”, for lack of better term, on him and apparently she mentioned that to him before the “party” got started; it was her very-much belated birthday party with a bunch of friends and we all got shit-faced drunk.

Here’s the thing. I was one of the last people up; so was he. One of the last things I remember is going into the bathroom to take my epilepsy meds that I forgot to take in all the excitement (that I should have taken before I started drinking) and changing into shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in. After that I walked into the bedroom across the hall from the bathroom that my best friend told me I could sleep in, and well, it gets fuzzier and fuzzier from there. Because, y’see, I don’t remember how or when he got into the room in my bed. I know I didn’t invite him. I may have had a “developing crush” but I don’t sleep with someone on the first date, or even before I get to know them. So, seriously?!

I do know, and I’m not proud to say this – I’m actually quite ashamed – that after I laid down on my bed I did try and go to sleep, but he started touching me. I must have been hardcore drunk, and I mean plastered, at the time, because I never would have done what I did otherwise because it was my best friend’s house (and my first time there, nonetheless), but I gave him a blowjob.

But then I just blacked out; I passed out. That’s all I remember, and then I woke up in the morning and…. I’m not going into detail with that, but let’s just say that it was very obvious that something had happened other than just a blowjob and I had not given consent. I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you can imagine a detail or two that would make it obvious.

… Oh, and there’s the fact that he saluted me as he tried to sneak out of the bottom of the bed. I woke up as he was trying to and looked at him. Asshole.

There’s more to it, though. As my former-military fiance has explained to me and, yesterday, to my best friend, if a female passes out and you still have sex with her, that’s automatic rape whether you were about to have sex or not. If she passes out she isn’t able to say yes or no, so it’s considered date-rape. When he was in the military it was imbedded into his head because, apparently, there were some [in his words] “pretty fucked up dudes” in the military with him that would actually wait until a woman was passed out and then have sex with her, just to get off.

I explained all of this to my best friend. I explained everything that happened to me. In detail. I told her how after I lay there, in that bed where it had happened, for at minimum 30 minutes, I got up, gathered my things, and took a hour-long shower. (Which she says she remembers thinking was unusual because I never take showers that long.) She brought up how maybe he didn’t know what he did was wrong because I never brought it up and told him. I looked her straight in the eye and told her that I tried to talk to him multiple times over that weekend and he just turned away from me without saying so much a word and she was witness to it. I asked if she remembered. She did.

She asked me more questions, various questions, to make sure she got the whole story, but there wasn’t much more to tell. I asked her though, and I was crying by this time, if she remembered when I started sleeping with all those men from the bar for a couple of months? She nodded. I told her “after being raped 3 times in a little less than a year and a half I felt that’s all I was good for”.

And then she started crying along with me.  She said she never realized and that she was sorry. She told me that she’d confronted him about how he acted like such an asshole after the blowjob and he just said “but we didn’t have sex”, but that she hadn’t mentioned anything else because she only found out a couple of months ago. My best friend said any other time she tried to bring up me around him in a conversation, he would just turn and walk away. That on the ride home from her place [out of state] last year he told everyone how he couldn’t understand how anyone could stand me for more than an hour or two.

I had no comment. I didn’t know what to say. That it’s pretty much an admission of guilt? That it’s completely immature? That he’s just an asshole? I had so many things, so many responses, that I wanted to say, but I didn’t know how so I just kept my mouth shut.

After a good cry and trying to figure out our options, she decided to call her fiance and figure things out once and for all; I told her my main goal was to be as far away from him as possible. I didn’t want to see him, be around him, anything. Our compromise was that he would be taken out of the bridal party and just be invited and made to promise to stay away from me at all costs, even if he wants to talk to somebody near me. (“If I get to pull my Bridezilla card only once during this wedding, this will be it. It is called the Bridal Party.”)

So she called her fiance; I listened to the conversation on her end [with permission, of course]. I was completely blown away by the response her fiance gave her. In fact, actually, so was she. We were prepared for a fight, hence the compromise we had prepared. Because of her fiance we didn’t even need it. He told her that if she would feel the same way [and she told him she would] and that if she felt that strongly about it then he was out. Not even invited.

She understood what I was going through because it had happened to her before. Her fiance listened to her because he loves her. Something happened, something wonderful, and now I can be with my best friend on her wedding day.

I am literally crying right now at the miracle of it all. 

* * *

Any questions brought on by this blog-post article might be answered in this blog-post that I wrote shortly after this one. If you have a question that is not answered, feel free to leave a comment and I will answer it to the best of my ability. Thank you.

Post-Note: To Prevent Confusion

* * *

Recollection of a Dream

It was a time of war. Everywhere I looked there was sadness. Buildings were crumbling to the ground, everything in various shades of black, brown and red. I was searching for something. I could feel it inside of me. I had been looking for days, weeks, months; you could see it in my eyes and on my body. I was worn down and hadn’t had a shower in a long time.

It was like I was in tunnel vision. All I could think was “where is he? why can’t I find him?”

Then a little boy ran past followed by more children. And then I knew. Somehow, I knew. I had found him.

Quietly I followed the children; they were playing some sort of game – chasing each other with not a care in the world. They had no idea what kind of world we were living in. That made me smile a bit, before I remembered what I was searching for.

I came to the entrance of one of the many refuge sites. They were hard to come by and very well hidden to the rest of the world. Those who wanted to stay away from the war – the young, the elderly, the disabled – hid there.

I was a prisoner of war who escaped to find my child. The enemy had captured me early on; I knew they were coming for me and I gave my only child to someone I trusted, a semi-elderly woman past her prime, to watch over him until I, hopefully, came back to get him.

She was here. He was here. I could feel it in my heart.

As I walked through the dark tunnel – there was no electricity – women, men, and children of all ages looked at me in fear and awe. I can only imagine how I looked to them. Occasionally I would stop and ask someone who looked especially kind, normally a woman, if she knew where the woman I was looking for was. I was always asked many questions and then pointed forward with a smile. My hope was growing.

Finally I stumbled upon her. I found her with her back to me and so I observed her. She had cut her now-gray hair short; it used to be long and wavy, mid-back. I didn’t think I was gone for that long. Had I been?

She must have sensed me behind her because right before I called her name she began turning around to face me. She didn’t look surprised, just… determined. There were children behind her, some sleeping, some looking up curiously at me. She motioned for them to go and play. I looked at all of the boys; which one was mine?

I spoke to her: “You know why I’m here. I told you I’d be back.”

Her eyes got harder, fiercer, more determined. “I didn’t think you’d make it back alive. You can’t have him.”

I choked back a sob, bringing a hand up to my chest to steady myself. “He’s my flesh and blood. I trusted that you.”

“He’s mine.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks now. There were people staring from their seats in the hallway. I didn’t care.

“You have eight children of your own! He’s my child! Give him back!” I yelled it to her. I was crying, scared.

She snarled at me. “You abandoned your own child to go with the enemy. He’s no child of yours!”

I cried even more. And then a child came running up to me, wrapping his arms around my legs, hugging me. I looked down in surprise. Was he…?

He looked up at me. “Are you my Mama?”

I leaned down and hugged him tightly as I cried. I could see the tiny features that grew with him in the baby I gave birth to long ago. This was my baby boy.

* * *

I woke with tears streaming down my face. This truly is the recollection of a dream I had last night. It was one of the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had and I can’t get it out of my mind. It scared me out of my mind. I could feel everything. I knew everything that was going on. I could see myself as it was happening. I hope something like what happened in my dream never happens in real life.

WTF, Obamacare: Short, but Sweet

I don’t know much about Obamacare; I already have health insurance and so do all of my children. I’m thinking I need to look into it, though. Apparently making health insurance a requirement for everyone in the good ol’ U.S. of A. is costing everybody mucho money. Oh, but not just businesses. Education’s taking a cut too.

Especially the area for children with special needs.

The area I live in is taking a cut in education, cutting funds for the teachers and giving them less hours now because of Obamacare. I hate this. Part of the reason I moved to the area I did was because it had some of the best educational resources in my state.

I want to know what Obamacare has to do with cutting our education funds, especially for elementary aged students, and why isn’t the government funding it if it was supposed to “help the people”? I think we’re moving backward instead of forward.