Friday, August 23, 2013

Ironic



  Due to all the excitement in the last week, I’ve been pretty preoccupied and not able to spend any good chuck of time at the computer and I feel really guilty!!  Like all things in life, we have high points and we have low points, and I’ve had a lot of both in the last few weeks.  A month or maybe 2 ago, I was approached about an article and decided to accept the interview, and unfortunately didn’t make the cut, and I was ok with that because shortly after I was approached for another awesome article.  Soon after a THIRD was proposed, and following right behind, a TV appearance.   I got REALLY excited about all of these opportunities while also having finally starting my volunteer work for an anti-sex trafficking organization AND finishing up my college program.  LOTS going on.  In the end of all of this excitement I’m left having been chosen for the two articles, turned down from the TV opportunity, and still making awesome strides in school and in volunteering.  I was pretty devastated about the TV thing, and then I was pretty pissed…and then I was humbled.  I realized that in the midst of the excitement, I’d sort of forgotten the important thing, my priorities:family, blog, school, volunteering.  I’m so excited to still be doing the articles because I feel that they are the beginning of my great success and journey on where I’m going.  They are the full circle.  But I’m also glad things are slowing down and I can concentrate on me for a while, and work on my inner-turmoil and the struggles I still face when drudging up my past.  That is where I need to be RIGHT NOW.  Also…I have a cold and my body hurts sooo, that’s probably a sign I need to slow down. 

   
  After getting to New York and meeting Kris and Drew, life went in a few different drastic and confusing directions long before it went in the right direction.  It took many years of failed, or sabotaged relationships for me to understand my self worth and my own personal value, and to basically love myself.  When I first started school and testing the social waters, I found myself trying DESPERATELY to find a better situation than what I’d just come from.  I started making friends in all the little social cliques to get a feel for where I belonged, and I made a few mistakes before I settled in where I felt most comfortable.  I wanted to be accepted and liked, and I wanted people to want to know me, so long as they didn’t want to know the old me.  I started at the top of the ladder with the good kids, the seniors who had their lives outside of high school right before them, and I wanted to be them so badly. 
  
  In each social group I infiltrated, I had a boyfriend (or several) before moving on to the next.  With the “Seniors” it was a sweet boy, totally unsuspecting of the damaged girl with far too much ambition and baggage.  Wanting so badly to be loved in what I assured myself was a healthy manner, I became clingy, and he freaked out.  It seems to be a pattern in my life.  If I get feelings, I get clingy.  It taught me not to slow down, but to harden myself.  And through that I caused a lot of damage to others.  Sweet guys who never knew what was coming and sure as hell didn’t deserve it.  The sweet senior boy and his friends quickly slipped out of my life, and I was soon onto another group of friends, people I’d already began making friendships with in the beginning. 
  
  My next boyfriend was a kid who I didn’t know well, who hadn’t been in the area long, but cute, and a little bad ass.  My age though, and that was never a comfortable position for me.  I preferred older guys, guys who I felt were more mature.  BUT I was trying to be normal, and “healthy” and I set aside my past preferences and tried like hell to be happy.  It never lasted long.  I’d always be on my way into the next relationship before the previous one really ended.  They always happened in random ways, never intentional, just me being me and finding ways to subconsciously sabotage whatever good I might have before it got too comfortable.  About 7 months after we’d moved to NY and a long string of guys I’d mangled and spit out, I met a guy who I thought was pretty bad ass.  He was quiet, and he was HUGE (literally, like he was wide and stood a good height) and I knew nothing of him and he knew nothing of me.  I’d met him at a little party amongst me and 4 others, including him.  I followed my then-boyfriend’s sister to this apartment for a night out and there we got drunk and had a grand time.  I remember initially thinking he’s shorter friend was cuter, but my boyfriend’s sister had her eye on him and I figured that’d be a dangerous route.  So I turned my attention to the tall one, and I flirted, and I got drunk and I got stupid and made bad decisions as always.  And my boyfriend had a really shitty sister who didn’t care what I was doing so long as it wasn’t with “her man”.  Who the hell is ok with girls cheating on their brothers and basically facilitating that?? Anyhow, so before I knew it, I was already seeing this tall guy and had broke up with the boyfriend.  Always an easy transition because I felt like I had no conscience when it came to hurting others.  I don’t know when I’d hardened so much, but I had, and no fucks were given. 
  
  We’ll refer to “tall guy” as Bobby, because it fits.  Bobby seemed sweet at first, a little odd, and was obviously not made of riches, and we was pushing that “older” thing that I really wanted at 17.  But for whatever reason, I decided there was potential there and I ran with it.  I committed myself to this in the first “official” week with him.  Within 4 months, I’d been drunk, high, and in terrible situations more times than I can count.  I’d been hit, pushed around, and verbally abused and in reality, it was only the tip of the iceberg compared to what Bobby was capable of doing.   And yet, I convinced myself I’d make this relationship work.  I’d had 2 “long-term” relationships in my short life, and neither had lasted 6 months total, but they were all I had to compare love to.  And before I knew it, 4 months had flown by and I found myself in the bed of someone else, the “short friend”. 
  
  By now the first school year was coming to an end, and by the middle of it, I was back to just not going, or going only to avoid the truancy on my mother, but not to learn.  I’d go hung over or still wasted, I’d go and do stupid shit just to be cool, like smoke in a bathroom.  But I’d given up yet again.  And then I left Bobby, and I quickly started building a relationship with Keith*. 

  Keith lived with his grandparents and he was 20.  He wasn’t the hottest guy, he didn’t have all the potential in the world, but he was sweet, and he was gentle.  I look back and I wonder if we ever really loved each other, but I do think we cared, we wanted things to work, at least for the first half.  The summer went by and I was on cloud nine.  I’d moved into his bedroom at his grandparent’s house, mainly because I wanted to FINALLY be out of my mother’s house.  It was a good setup, it seemed to work for us both.  And that summer we were inseparable.  I don’t remember passion or great obsession, but I remember comfort and cuddling, and holding hands everywhere.  And I remember that in some deep way, we never knew each other.  The summer passed and we moved into a trailer on his parent’s property.  It had been vacant for a few years and needed remodeling, but it was ours and we were excited.  I remember sitting on a damp couch looking around and imagining a castle.  I don’t look back at this point in my life often, because after it was over, I wanted to hate him, but right now I’m crying a little, because I’m allowing myself to remember the good with him.  Keith and I lasted about a year total, with a 4 month break in between.  The fall had come and I’d decided to go to school and give it another go (3rd try as a freshman, humiliating much??).  I wanted to be there, I wanted to be normal, and to accomplish something,  and I knew I had a hella long road ahead of me.  But I was determined to make something of myself that fall, I wanted to be better than I had been.  And Keith supported it as much as he really could.  But he also started pulling away.  And I had started pulling away too, because I felt him leaving me.  I had no idea why or when, but I knew it was coming.  He stopped coming home at night, and I’d lay there and cry myself to sleep.  I don’t know if I’d ever call what we had healthy because it wasn’t, it really was wrong, but at the time it was real.  But before either of us had a chance the end things CPS showed up at school and told me that what Keith and I had, had to stop.  And my heart broke.  In that moment, he was my everything.  We had almost 6 months under our belts and that was something major!  But they threatened my mother, and they threatened his parents, and then they threatened him.  And so I gave in.  I had 2 choices.  Go home to my mom, or go home to Maryland, and even though I wanted Keith, a part of me longed to be home.  So I dropped out of high school officially, and I left.  It was early November, and my heart was broken again.  And I stepped back off a plane, angry and alone, the same way I'd stepped off the first plane in New York.  With a heavy heart and no direction.  No ambition left.  I think I’d finally found some twisted path to my happy place, and it’d been disrupted by logic and law, and everything I support now.  Irony.

                                                     

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