In previous relationships, that was exactly what I was taught. I wasn't good enough. I had to earn respect. I had to perform to be loved. I had to make the other person happy through what I could do for them. Otherwise, I was worthless and unworthy.
I have let fear take control of me. At one point I thought I was fearless, but somehow, I let it creep and settle in and make itself at home within me. I’m hoping—no, I know—as I continue healing, I will become fearless once again.
Over two decades of pushing down emotions, blocking out memories of abuse, fighting my mood disorder while trying to slap on a happy face? Yes, it's only right that this is my new word for the new year.
I had a nervous breakdown a couple of weeks ago that led me to a deep, dark place that scared me. I understand why people advise not to write publicly about things you've not yet healed from. Reliving these situations has left me feeling raw and exposed. While I plan to continue sharing, I am going to have to be careful how I go about it.
Perry screamed taking a step towards me. A list of profanities came out of his mouth, as he threw an ashtray across the room. Suddenly, my brother busted through the front door.
Recognizing that I was triggered this week was actually a step in the right direction. That's one of the ways bipolar is managed. Years ago, I would not have been able to do this.
We tend to have this preconceived notion of what an abuser/rapist or survivor/victim looks like... So in my case, you would see me as a whore, and him as just a lover?