You Don't Have to Try So Hard

I've been feeling really bad about myself lately. I'm not satisfied with the way I look, how much I weigh, the way my clothes fit, how I feel emotionally. I'm just not happy with me.

Since the moment I woke up this morning I have been going. I cleaned off our weight set and moved it outside and lifted. I went out on the lawn and did my gymnastics warm ups and routines. I did a work out that my little brother had. I did work in the house and outside with my little brother, all the while thinking about how I needed to work out more and eat differently.

I realized that I wasn't working out for me though. The reasons going through my head today for why I needed to do all of this wasn't so I would be healthy...I want to look good in a swimming suit, I want my legs to look nice in shorts, I want to look good naked. But not for me. All of these reasons have been so other people will think I look good.

This hit me as I was doing my gymnastics outside. As I walked outside in my shorts, sports bra, and t-shirt I thought to myself "it's a good thing no one is going to be seeing me today because I look fat." But then as soon as I started tumbling all of that left my mind. I felt so good. Stretching, bending, twisting...it felt amazing to be out there doing what I love.

And that is when I realized I wasn't exercising for me.

Why should I care so much about what people think of my physical appearance that I am willing to go on an extreme diet and basically spend my whole day working out? That is ludicrous.

Now don't get me wrong, being healthy and working out are fantastic...but you should do it all for you. You shouldn't do things just to appease others.

If I'm not happy with how I look I need to change it for me. Not for any other person. I need to focus on making me happy not everyone else.

My Scars Remind Me That the Past is Real

I have scars all over my body. Several are from simply being uncoordinated, several are from surgeries, but most of them are self inflicted.

Self-mutilation has been my main coping mechanism since I was in the 6th grade. Thirteen years I've been hurting myself. Thirteen years I've been too afraid to confront my demons and try and get help in a healthy way. Thirteen years ago I took matters in to my own hands and I have scars to prove it.

Now many people might not understand the thinking behind cutting and other self-mutilation techniques. People might be tempted to assume the person is looking for attention. If you are one of these people please read the following very carefully:

SELF-MUTILATION HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH GAINING ATTENTION. 

Okay, we've gotten that out of the way. Let me try and help you understand my struggle with this addiction; yes, self-harm is an addiction as real and dangerous as drugs or alcohol.

I don't handle my feelings well (obviously). I never have. I don't like to open up to people because in my eyes it is a sign of weakness. When I was younger I was not as candid as I am now. I was afraid to tell people that what they said to me hurt my feelings: that was weak. I was afraid to be myself because I wasn't like the "popular" kids. I didn't like to admit to my siblings that what they said to me was beyond the line of "just playfully teasing". I wanted to be strong, popular, smart, beautiful, a confidant, best friend. Unfortunately, many kids I went to school with found it in themselves to tear me down.

Now, I want to take a minute and say that I REFUSE to mention names when discussing the years I was bullied. Saying these people's names will not benefit anyone. Ever. So please don't even try and ask. And I promise the people reading who know me, you might think you know, but you have no idea. Continuing:

I moved to Blackfoot, ID when I was in third grade. That was the first time I was told I should kill myself. Yes. At eight years old my classmates told me to kill myself. Unfortunately, that was not the last time I ever heard that.

Many kids gave me terrible nicknames and made up rumors about me and I went home crying from school almost everyday. I had two best friends from my first day in Blackfoot who are still here for me to this day. (I love you, Brianne and Kamrie). Despite the joy they brought into my life, the negativity overcame everything and I felt as if I was in a dark hole unable to ever reach the light. Any time I ever felt I might be overcoming the darkness my classmates would oh so gratefully plunge me back into the blackness.

When I was in sixth grade I had the opportunity to try-out for the Jr. High School cheer team. I was beyond excited! That is all I had ever want to do. I was going to try out even though I hated being in front of people. My sister and her friends, who were on the High School cheer squad, helped me with my tryouts. I MADE THE TEAM!!!

I was beyond blown away that I had made the team! I was sooooo happy...for a total of 15 minutes. I am not kidding you. 15 minutes after we were told whether or not we made the squad I was confronted by several of my classmates and told I should quit because no one wanted me to be their cheerleader, I was too fat and ugly to be a cheerleader, and the popular girls should have made the team not me (I was also told, again, that I should kill myself).

The happiest day of my young life was shattered. I went home bawling my eyes out wondering what I had done to deserve this... That was the first time I cut myself. The feeling was amazing. I was in so much pain emotionally that I took a razor blade to my wrists to try and be in some kind of control. If I was going to hurt I wanted to be the one to cause the pain. I hated so much that I had no control over how much I hurt. Cutting allowed me to be in control, at least a little bit.

Over the next two years I continued to cut but had gotten better at it so that the scars were minimal. I wore long sleeves and had excuses if anyone ever saw the scars. I finally found a way to cope with the pain without letting others see me hurting.

Since that day, the longest I've gone without cutting or hurting myself in someway has been a month. I have scars up both arms, on my stomach, and my legs. At first it was only cutting but it turned in to burning as well. I tried to cope in other ways but I couldn't even go a day without cutting. I was literally addicted. I had to hurt myself...it didn't matter how. I even tried to break my arm which only resulted in permanent muscle damage. (At another time I was successful in breaking my hand).

The last time I cut myself was in May. I have the urge to hurt myself almost everyday. I don't imagine that urge will ever go away. However, I am finally in a place where I think I can do it. I think I can live without that coping mechanism. 

I got a tattoo over my most popular cutting spot: "Take care of yourself and keep in touch". Words I will forever live by.

The Beating of a Broken Heart

I guess the best way to start is with what I'm thinking right now.

The most emo phrase you can probably think of: my heart hurts. Literally.

Falling for the wrong person seems to be an MO of mine. Without fail I end up with the wrong guy.

The verbally abusive guy: check.
The emotionally abusive guy: check.
The sexually abusive guy: check.
The overprotective guy: check.
The physically abusive guy: check.
The drunk: check.
The drug addict: check.
The manipulator: check.
The thief: check.

You name it, I've been in that relationship. Unfortunately, my ex-fiance was most of these things. *sigh* Now, anyone who has been in a relationship with a person who possesses any one of these characteristics will tell you that it doesn't start out bad. In fact, it starts out better than you could ever imagine. It isn't until you are completely invested in every way that it turns sour.

After I broke up with my ex in 2010, I more or less swore off relationships. I wasn't interested in anything more than instant gratification because, in my mind, I couldn't get as hurt that way: I'd have more control of the situation. This drained me more than I even realized.

I'm still struggling to overcome the damage I did to myself. I'm most definitely not going to let my ex off the hook: he did some serious damage. But I didn't help myself the way I should have.

Last October is when I really came to understand how much damage I had done. I met a man at work with whom I ended up falling in love. Unfortunately, it didn't work out between us. [Although I'm still holding out for a miracle...] However, I learned more from Josh than I ever thought I would.

He is the complete opposite of my ex. He is kind, strong, loving, family oriented, religious, dedicated. Anything and everything you could ever hope for in a significant other. He made me realize that I was worth loving. He opened my eyes to the fact that I deserved to be treated with respect and nothing less. It is thanks to him that I realized that hook ups and instant gratification aren't rewarding. They are the dementors of love.

Josh opened my heart up to the possibility of a relationship built on honesty, love, and security whereas before I didn't know anything other than fear, abuse, and anger.

Thinking about what I've learned from Josh makes me so happy but it is also what makes my heart hurt. I am happy to know now that I deserve better than what I had been getting from men. But I am so hurt that it took me this long to figure it out. I'm hurt that I hurt myself.

But I know what I deserve and I know what I don't. And I can thank Josh for helping me realize that.

Every Story Has A Beginning...

...this is mine.

I'm not going to start from the very beginning; not yet anyway. I'm starting with today. Today is the beginning.

The beginning of a new chapter. The beginning of [hopefully] the happiest time of my life.

Twenty-five years I've been on this planet. Twenty-five years of darkness. Today the light will stay on. Today is the day I fight back. For real. None of the bullshit I've spouted in the past.

I'm done punishing myself for the actions of others. I'm finished putting myself down because I'm not what everyone thinks I should be. I'm no longer going to be afraid of who I am.

My journey is just beginning. However, the road in front of me is littered with debris from the past. The only way to move forward is to confront my past and quit running from the pain it holds. It won't be pretty but it will be worth it.

What I write will be personal. It will be painful. It has made me who I am and in some instances made me stronger. I won't say everything I've gone through has made me stronger but I will say that I have learned and been changed by my experiences.

The purpose in this is to help me. But also, to help my friends and family. And, God willing, maybe a stranger. I can't promise what I write will be universally liked but I can promise that what I write is me. Raw, vulnerable me.

This is unapologetically me.