Work, Write, Love

There are so many things wrong right now. It’s ridiculous. I’m thinking too much and everything is driving me crazy. I think I’m getting slightly depressed because I’m stuck inside all the time recently because of the weather, with all of this cold and snow that’s been coming through everywhere here in the eastern United States. I guess it doesn’t make anything better when my fiance is working overtime because one of his co-workers is so badly injured that he isn’t able to work for the next two (2) months, so him and his other co-workers are putting in an exponential amount of extra hours to cover for him. This week, alone, he’s worked over sixty (60) hours. While, yes, the paycheck’s going to be lovely and both of us are looking forward to it… I miss him. I miss him a lot and I don’t get to spend enough time with him. We used to spend more time with each other. Hell, when my aunt was living with us we saw more of each other then, than we do now and we had severe privacy issues back then!

But all of this is just me ranting and raving. I need to get it out of my system. I have nobody – absolutely no one – to talk to about all of this.

I don’t have any close friends. I don’t really trust my family with personal information any more. It’s come to the point that the therapist who stops by bi-weekly to help with my child in his development (he’s a little behind, y’see) is easier to talk to than anybody else… except, of course, my fiance. But then it comes down to the fact that he’s never here and when he is, he seems to be sleeping because he’s so worn out from working. We never talk anymore. We never spend time with each other. We don’t even have money for a single Valentine’s Day dinner, I’ve come to find out.

I’m trying to figure out his schedule so that maybe I can arrange my mother and stepfather to babysit the children for a night or two so that my fiance and I can just have a night to ourselves and we can just, I don’t know, go out. Spend time with each other. See a movie. Have dinner. Go to a bar. Just have fun with each other. It’s not a big deal. The whole point, nonetheless, being is that we just need to spend time with each other. Without the children. Every couple does.

I feel like I’m losing him. And maybe it’s just me. I know I get paranoid sometimes and I definitely know that I have a tendency to overthink things, but it seems like my fiance and I have been growing distant from each other as of late and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

I know he loves me though. I need to stop being paranoid. The signs are there that he loves me. I’m letting too many things build up inside of me. Little things. Reminders from my past; things that people have said to me that are starting to get to me. It’s unfair and I don’t like it. I know what he’s really like. But again, that’s the problem. The little things that are wiggling their way into my mind are making me doubt stuff like that and, in my mind, if I really love my fiance I shouldn’t ever doubt him. I know that nobody is perfect; I know that no relationship is perfect, but I can’t help but continually wonder if something’s going wrong or if… just if.

I’ve wandered into “what if” categories. I really don’t think that’s a good sign.

A good sign, though, I think, is that he is the one person (not including my children) that I can’t picture myself without. I think and think and think, and then it occurs to me that we already act like we’re married. We share bills, rent, a home, chores, cooking (though, I will admit he does the majority when he’s not working); we share decisions and we compromise. We actually talk about where we’re heading in the future – where we want to go, in the sense of “when we finally get a house of our own and not this place, we’ll…” or “when we’re more financially stable we’ll take a trip to *example place* with the kids… they’d love it”. It makes my heart just grow and burst with such warmth. I feel like squealing and crying from happiness sometimes.

And, y’know, I guess it’s also probably a really good sign that when I’m reading my romance novels or watching my romantic-comedies (*cough* chick-flicks), or any sort of movie or book that has a significant amount of romance in it, I picture the leading female as myself and the leading male as my fiance. Especially once they start dating; especially if it’s starting to get more romantic. The thing is, though, it doesn’t have to be the “more romantic” parts. I have a wild imagination, and if I can picture my fiance and I doing something similar – then we’re in whatever book or movie I’m watching or reading at the time.

I love him and I’m in love with him. I’m not convincing myself of this. I’ve known it for about a year and a half now. My feelings have not faded; they’ve only grown stronger. I guess, though, I didn’t anticipate all of the other emotions – the stress, anxiety – that would come with it.

But he makes me feel beautiful. He makes me feel whole. He makes me feel complete. With him, I am me and no one else. I don’t have to be. He feel in love with me at my worst and has helped me pick up the pieces. I truly believe he loves me for who I am. It’s just hard to believe sometimes. It’s a scary thought… to have found somebody so completely right for me that they’re willing to accept all of my fuck-ups & help me through my rough patches. It’s hard to comprehend to have found somebody who loves me even if my family is so against the relationship, or just completely horrible in their own right but he still loves me because, well, because my family does not define me. My family is not who I am. Just because I am related to them by blood does not always mean they are my family.

And he accepts me. And he loves me. And he loves my children.

That’s all that matters.

Fuck the world. We don’t need anyone else. Nobody else’s opinion matters.

Just ours.

Life = Drama

I shouldn’t feel like this. I don’t want to feel like this and yet I do.

My life is a soap opera. It’s drama-filled and it’s never boring. I hate it. It’s never a happy drama; something bad is always happening. I could name around ten (10) things right now that aren’t even close to good, but I don’t want to rant about everything.

I only want to get one thing out of my system. I’m so stressed about it, it’s not even funny. It’s scary. I’m anxious and freaking out and crying.

I’m honestly afraid that I’m going to lose my fiance. I honestly fear that I’m going to lose the man that I love.

Why? Because I made some bad choices in my past and they keep being dredged up when he’s just managing to stop thinking about them. And it isn’t as if I like to think about what I did in my past either – I hate it and I would rather not think on it either – but it’s harder for him. We got together right afterward. As in, less than a month afterward.

And I didn’t realize it at the time, in fact I didn’t realize it until my fiance pointed it out earlier this evening to me, but I had inadvertently lied to him.

At the time my fiance and I started our relationship I was just coming out of my bar-hopping/partying/drinking/sleeping around phase that lasted a whole three months. (Not very long, right?) Well, I don’t remember exactly when I said it or in what context, but I said that I wasn’t “that kind of girl” – the kind to sleep around or lie or betray him. And to be quite honest, I’m not. I just fell for him and I fell hard. When I told him that, and I can guarantee this, I didn’t think of myself as any sort of bar slut or some sort of floozy.

But he thinks I lied to him just to get with him. I didn’t and I’m scared that he’s going to leave me. He was angry about it earlier. He made a point of telling me earlier that when he was growing up it was said that the type of woman I was weren’t the kind for relationships and the men who tried to get in relationships with them were the stupid ones because they eventually ended badly – i.e: with some sort of betrayal.

I cried so hard. I told him straight-out that at the time I didn’t think of myself that way at the time and that I really am not like that. I told him that I was sorry for inadvertantly lying to him. He didn’t say anything. He pretty much stayed quiet until he had to get ready for work.

I didn’t want him to go to work. I was… am… afraid that he’s not going to come back.

I miss him.

I love him.

I wish someone could explain to me something. Help me.

Friendship Fail.

A month or so ago I posted about my “best friend” who’s getting married later this month and we were having some difficulties because early-mid last year I was taken advantage of in a most deplorable way and he was standing up for her fiance in the wedding. I haven’t fully gotten past what happened back then and I told her that if he was going to be there, if I had to be around him so intimately [because I, too, am in the wedding] then I wasn’t going to be in the wedding and probably not even attend the ceremony or reception.

Back at my other posts, I thought we had patched things up to the point where we determined that he wasn’t going to be coming: not invited, nodda.

I found out earlier today that not only did neither she nor her fiance tell the friend (the guy who date-raped me) that he was no longer invited to the wedding or anything to do with it, I found out the exact opposite! She has been in contact with him, messaging him and questioning him “why the lack of sudden friendship? I hope there’s no hard feelings from when you moved out earlier this year”.

And no, there’s not apparently. As it turns out, “the guy” and my supposed “best friend” are still good pals and she still considers him a very close friend and is very upset with her fiance because he took his friendship with “the guy” for granted and now she’s trying to mend it. Literally. So far, in fact, that she’s trying to get him to stay in the wedding that he dropped out of being in.

Yeah, the same one that I’m in later this month that my “best friend” said he wasn’t even going to be at. Yet, here she is trying to get him to salvage his friendship with her fiance and come to the wedding “because it would mean a lot to him and he wouldn’t have invited you to stand up for him in the wedding if he wasn’t trying in the friendship”.

I’m so friggin pissed. I’m not sure many people have any idea of just how angry I really and truly am.

So basically, I’ve decided that I’ll go. My children aren’t. They’re going to be staying at my mother’s house for, at the very least, the day of the wedding. My aunt is going because MY fiance decided he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her after this particular stunt and that she isn’t worth rescheduling part of his day at work. Honestly? I’m just going to see what exactly she thinks of me. If “the guy” is there, most especially in the Bridal Party, then I’m just walking out and never speaking to her again. It will be her fault and I just don’t care. I’m at the point of almost not going anyway.

I don’t know what she must think of me, but she must think I’m just some little toy, some sort of pawn, to be used and played with and whose emotions are so easily messed with it’s not funny. She must think that I’ll forgive her for anything. And she must not believe what I told her. I’m hurt; I feel betrayed. This is truly the last straw and for more reasons than one.

She’s the reason why my fiance almost broke up with me this afternoon. And that’s a much longer story. Let’s just leave that at with her, there’s been so much drama and it’s causing him to doubt me in several ways.

I’m not a liar and he has no reason to doubt me. I’m hurt, I’m disgusted, and I’m betrayed. I will not lose one of the most important people in my life because of some petty drama. She wants drama, she’ll get it on her wedding day, especially if she’s the cause of it. Using the “but it’s my wedding day” card won’t work on me then.

And I’m normally not such a bitch. I’m just that angry and hurt.

My Life As It Is Now.

It’s… odd. At least to me.

I’ve never been a morning person. Ever. Even when I had to get up early so I could get ready and make sure I was on the bus by a certain time so I wouldn’t miss school, I was the grouchiest lil’ thing in the world. But you’d never know it.

I was good at putting up a happy front. With the life I’ve lived, I had to be otherwise people would be constantly asking me if I was okay, did I need something, or treat me different. Oddly enough, me being happy – or pretending to me, acting like I was – didn’t seem to help and I realized that sometime around my junior year in high school. I stopped caring. I would wake up 10-15 minutes before the bus came; I would brush my hair and pull it up in a ponytail or bun, put on some eyeliner (if I felt like it that day), and grab whatever I could find in my closet. Half the time I re-wore the same pair of jeans 3-4 days in a row. Please don’t get me wrong, though. I did take showers, use deodorant, and keep clean. I just didn’t care about my general body image.

Or socializing. That year I lost all of my friends because they, as I’ve come to find out within the past couple of years, thought I was “too snotty” or “too uppity” or that I thought I was “better than everyone else because I got better grades”. When they told me this these past few years I laughed out loud, and quite obnoxiously at that. Back in that timeframe, I literally just, for lack of better words, didn’t give a fuck. I wasn’t going to “dress to impress” every single day of the week when it was obvious nobody cared anyway. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone beforehand, besides. I was sick and tired of the rumors being said behind my back; that’s why I ignored and just walked passed so many people. They want to talk bad about me and then act like it was nothing? Even when I heard them personally saying it? Ok. Fine. I’ll ignore you.

I’m not a bitch. I give second, third, fourth, and so on chances. But that year I gave up.

Oh, and what’s even funnier? I didn’t have good grades. I got the occasionally A, but it was mostly C’s and D’s, again, the occasional B. I was no where near smart. I cried a lot because I didn’t have good grades and I honestly tried in my classes.

But honestly, none of this is what I wanted to talk about. I just kind of got off track. (But I meant every word.)

My life is different now than it was then. Obviously.

Back then, I wasn’t a mother. I was a teen whose life sucked horribly. At one point I think I considered suicide. Right now I would never even come close to considering it. Right now, in my life, I don’t fake being happy because I genuinely am happy. I don’t put on a happy smile so people will treat me differently. I smile when, well, when it feels right.

Compared to back then, my world is topsy-turvy. I never would have imagined my life as it is now if you would have asked me to back then. I would have said that right now I would either be in college or doing something with my career, maybe planning a wedding or in a serious relationship. The only two that are correct are the “planning a wedding” and “in a serious relationship”, which kind of go hand-in-hand.

At this point in my life I’m a mommy of three and one of my babies, my oldest, is in school. Every weekday morning I wake up between 6:30 and 7AM so I can start getting ready for the day and, more importantly, start getting my baby ready to get on the bus and off to preschool. When we transferred to the school district we’re in now, it was a big switch. Before it was only 2 days a week (Monday and Wednesday) and now it’s preschool every day, which is something I had never heard of.

It’s been three weeks now and we’re finally adjusting to the schedule, though I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that my fiance started his new job and, currently, he’s working a 12-hour shift and leaves at 6AM. (I hate to admit it, but it’s hard to sleep without him.

Recently I’ve been waking up about a half-hour before my fiance leaves for work, though I don’t know how I manage to time that so perfectly. I normally end up staying awake for the rest of the day; I can’t seem to get back to sleep, but by the end of the day I’m ready to pass out. I’ve been getting a lot more done, though. I’ve been eating better or, I should say, I’ve been sticking to my diet better. My kids have been happier and I’ve been sticking them to a better schedule/routine. (Right now it’s about naptime, though they’re fighting it really, really hard. Hence why I’m still typing.) Today I’ve gotten two loads of dishes done, put away one load (from yesterday), swept and mopped the kitchen, taken out the trash can and diaper pail, picked up all of the dirty clothes and started picking up the computer room. Oh! And I finished paying the bills. 🙂 All before 3PM.

This was all between making two bottles three or four times, one sippy cup twice, and handing out snacks at least four times minimum. Oh, and three diaper changes multiplied by 2 with four of those being poopy. And an hour and half (1.5) to two (2) hours was taken up by my oldest wanting me to watch “Pocahantas” with the little booger. The way I was asked I couldn’t say no; besides, it’s one of my favorite Disney movies too! Lol!

But yeah. I feel super accomplished today. I never get this much done.

And believe it or not, my children are currently quiet and asleep now.

Heck. Yes.

My Past. My Ex. My Anxiety.

I have to get this out of my system. I don’t know why, all of sudden, it’s bothering me so much. I don’t know why I’m thinking about all of this, forward and backward. I can’t get it out of my mind.

And so I going to write about it. I’m going to post it here.

I will forewarn you: I don’t know how long this post is going to be. Mind, I’m not going to try and make it a long post, but with what I am going to be writing, it might end up longer than anticipated. Please… if you start reading this, don’t be deterred by the long-windedness of my writing. It just kind of happens.

* * *

I was younger then. It was the beginning of a new school year and all of my friends were off to college; I never graduated high school. I was depressed. I had no idea where my life was going. Everyone was gone. I had no one.

And then He shows up.

Day by day, week by week, month by month – they all went by and I lost count. I can’t tell you exactly when everything happened or in what order. I just know that in the end, everything turned to shit. My family hated me; I was ostracized from the people who raised me and the only people I had to turn to were ones I barely even knew.

I was pregnant. I was engaged. I didn’t love the person I was marrying, but I was denying it to myself. Even looking back I can say that honestly. I just stayed with him so the child in my womb wouldn’t have a broken family like I grew up in.

I was an idiot.

He was abusive.

I eventually left him. It took me a while and several attempts; the cops were called several times to settle disputes between us in the process. What finally pushed me to the edge wasn’t a fight, wasn’t really any sort of abuse. It was a lie. I had finally convinced him to try marriage counseling and we decided on a local pastor/Christian couselor, which honestly surprised me because he’s some sort of atheist.

During the session – the one and only session that we went to – we talked things out, I got things off of my chest and told him what was bothering me. Of course, he nagged at me a bit, but in the end we compromised. My biggest “blah” was that he wasn’t helping out enough with our child and was demanding too much of me; he literally did nothing in the house while I was supposed to do everything and make time to shower myself, feed myself… and him. I had enough to deal with when I was taking care of our child and the household. He could cook for himself. Until I found out that he was only an expert at burning water. :-/

But yes, the session went great. I was happy. Suspicious, but happy. I was rightfully suspicious, I came later to find out. Almost every promise, almost every thing that he said he would change and start doing to help out, was broken not three hours later. He had planned on doing something “with the guys” for the whole weekend. I wouldn’t be seeing him for the whole weekend and I had no prior knowledge about it.

We argued again. I yelled, I cried. I gave up. I knew nothing could be done and I left. I packed a bag that night for me and then one for the baby and, on my way out, left him a note on the bed. I called one of my friends and had her pick me up. We were done. I filed for divorce a month later. He was dating another woman two weeks later.

The faux pas then, though, was that I was pregnant. We ended up having to wait over a year for the divorce to be finalized. Within the first six months, he did not contact me to see our already born child, he made no attempt to try and see our child. When we did make it to court, he said that I had denied him his parental rights to see his child and that’s why he never visited the baby.

Two years later and three children together, we’re going through the same thing.

I don’t know what he’s doing. I have absolutely no idea. I know he’s unstable. He’s the type of person that can’t go without a relationship. Literally CAN NOT. He split with his last girlfriend, at most, two months ago and he’s already dating someone else. Before her, it was a couple weeks. Before that relationship, it was around two months.

And I only know that through, y’know, Facebook. ^^;;

It’s been over six months since he’s seen his children face-to-face and he’s made little effort to see them. I don’t know if he’s trying something underhanded, if he’s going for what he did last time, or if he honestly thinks that I just gave up on fighting in court. (He doesn’t think that I’m actually paying my lawyer.) I can’t get into his mindset because I care too much about my children. The three weeks he took them and didn’t allow me contact with them I flipped out. My anxiety level was at an all-time high. I had panic-attacks and I seriously flipped the FUCK out. I’ve never been that way. Ever. My children are my life and not knowing exactly where they were, not having contact with them, threw me in a way I never thought possible.

And because of him I’m paranoid. Proof: my children stayed with my mother this past weekend. I had to call her on Saturday because I was flipping out because my children weren’t with me; I didn’t know how they were exactly. I knew they were alright, but I was flipping out. It was anxiety, near to a panic attack. Relate it to PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), if you must – I know that’s the only thing I can relate it to similarly, though I know it’s not the same thing. What happened to me all those months ago has affected me for life. And it sucks.

But now he’s (my ex) not answering texts. He asked me to text him when it was a good time that him and the children could talk. I did. He never responded. That was weeks ago.

And now he’s not paying child support.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if it’s accidental or not. I mean, I moved; what if because I moved the child support stuff is all blah. Oh, but wait… then I wouldn’t have gotten last month. Or the month before. Right?

So what’s going on?

I’m so confused. And scared. And anxious. Slightly paranoid.

I just want all of this to be over. All of the problems and issues. I want all of it gone. I know it never will be; I’m stuck with that man for life until the children are grown up, and even then, probably not even.

Hopes, wishes, and dreams abound. I just want everything to be well and good again.

Stable is good. 🙂

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

* * *

Friendship Status: Processing

It’s been about two weeks now. I wonder if she’s thought about it, if she’s actually talked about it with her fiance?

What am I talking about it? I’m talking about my “best friend” who’s getting married in December. I’m in the wedding, but so is the man that raped me. I confronted her about it and her response was… not very enthusiastic on my behalf. It was almost as if she was fighting for him instead.

In the time since then I’ve been busy moving but it hasn’t stopped me from thinking about the situation concerning her. My stress level, my anxiety, has went through the roof since that phone conversation those weeks ago. I’ve imagined so many ways that this could turn out, so many different conversations; unfortunately, most of them finish with the ending of our friendship. I can’t help but think “what happened?”

Five years ago she never would have second-guessed me about what I’ve said. Three years ago she would’ve stood by my side through thick and thin. Now, though, everything has changed and I don’t know why. I’ve known her for most of my given life, most of which I’ve considered her to be my best friend.

I’m afraid to her what she’s going to say, if she ever says anything to me at all. Because, like I’ve said, it’s been two weeks and I’ve heard no response about it.

I think she’s avoiding the issue. Maybe she’s afraid too? Maybe she doesn’t want to tell me that she [and her fiance] have decided that I’m “too selfish” and they don’t want me in the wedding at all? Or maybe she would rather tell me face to face? This weekend is going to be the first weekend since our phone confrontation that she’ll be nearby since she goes to college out of state. Or… or maybe she is just avoiding it altogether, avoiding me. It’s possible.

There are so many possibilities out there and I’ve only listed a few. I’ve even thought of the possibility where she and her fiance discuss it and she actually does defend me. Ironically, if she did that, her and her fiance (for the umpteenth time, might I add) would more than likely break-up… again. I think she’s going to choose him over me, which to some extent I can understand, but she also understands where I’m coming from.

She’s been raped too. That’s why I though, hoped, that she would understand where I was coming from and why I was asking something so drastic of her. Instead, though, I got the response of “he’s been best friends with him for 10 years, I could never ask that of him, just like I hope he would never ask me to take you out of the wedding”.

I didn’t think about it at the time, but she and I have known him for the same amount of time. We met him (her fiance) eleven years ago at the same time. Ten years ago said guy (“the rapist”) was not her fiance’s best friend when we met him, another guy was. Maybe seven years ago they became best friends, at most eight, but definitely not ten. I kind of think she was pulling the number of years out of her ass, so to speak. And it makes me angry.

And I’ve discussed it with MY fiance; he understands where I’m coming from. I made the comment the other night while he was preparing dinner (yes, he was – not me) that if her rapist was in our wedding I would take him out without a second thought. I’d tell the guy “sorry”, but something came up. Though, after hearing what happened I probably wouldn’t want to be around that guy much anyway. My fiance understood that and completely agreed.

It basically comes down to the fact to whose friendship does she value more. I’m not even sure if it has anything to do with her fiance, and if he does then their relationship is more of a dictatorship then one of equal value.

The way I see it, if she valued my friendship and believed what I said she would put more stock into my request instead of, what seems to me, just pushing it aside to be dealt with later.

Apparently I’m not a good enough friend because I’m trying to ruin her big day by asking for the guy that raped me to not be near me. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be less selfish; I only wanted to not have a panic attack in front of 200 people.