Life Update; Being Homeless and Hopeless

The past year has been a tumultous ride full of ups and downs. While I’ve let my writing slip to the backburner, the more time I spend with myself the more I wonder why I haven’t set aside the time to post – even going as far as slipping on my monetization and losing my domain name. Here I am, though, striving to make that change and commit to this blog and to my own personal writing goals.

Transparency

For as long as I can remember, hiding things is something I’ve been really horrible at doing. It’s been a perk, and somewhat of an annoyance, but it’s something that has had a huge impact on how I navigate relationships – both romantic and platonic. Continue reading if you’re interested in how being an open book has changed things for me.

Change

I’ve always heard that fear of change is irrational, yet inherent to human nature. So many professionals in my life have pressed over and over that not all change is negative, that growth is essential, and that fear of the unknown only limits you as a person. I’ve been trying my hardest to take this advice to heart, and here’s what I’ve learned so far

A New Kind of Grieving

Anyone who knows me and my life is probably aware of how much death I’ve suffered through. I lose loved ones what seems like so often, and I’ve struggled so hard to deal with the grief that stems from a loss of life. Loss can come in many forms, though, and recently I’ve learned just how difficult it can be to miss someone and grieve for them when they’re still roaming this earth.

Body Dysmorphia

Body image is something that affects so many aspects of our lives now a days. Having social media and so many platforms to share our lives, people see us and sometimes the parts of us that we’re most self-conscious about. These things begin to control us if we let them, and I’ve definitely been someone who has let myself spiral into depression and anxiety over these things.

I’m Back

Wow it seems like forever since I’ve posted on here. It’s been since December, and it’s now March. That’s not common for me, and I’m a little disappointed in myself for losing some commitment, but I’m determined to get back to it and have even better content! The whole point of this blog is to be true to myself, to be real, and to learn about myself, so every post brings me a little closer to that goal I feel like.

These past few months have been a lot for me. The spring semester has been a tough one, having another dog is a lot of work, I’ve taken on some extra responsibilities on campus with some student organizations, and since graduating Caleb has been working and that has changed a lot of things around the apartment, and my commitment to working out has increased drastically taking an hour out of most of my days. Not that things getting tough is an excuse to slack on writing after I told myself that I would do it every few weeks, but those are the reasons that I’ve been giving myself a break. I’ve always been super hard on myself when I didn’t meet the standards I’ve set, but forgiveness is something I’ve been working on very hard in life and in therapy.

Caleb having a full time teaching job has been incredibly bitter sweet for me. I feel like I barely see him, and when I do he’s tired. I let it put a strain on my feelings that we’re at TOTALLY different parts of our lives right now. He’s in the adult world and I’m still in college, which is like an entire universe apart I’ve come to find out. I let it make me feel small and insignificant. I let it break me down, and I even let it make me question whether this is what I wanted anymore. On the flip side, though, I am SO proud of him! He is taking this transition like a champ, and is so professional and moved into the career world so quickly after graduating. I could not be happier for him! It’s obviously taking some getting used to, but it’s also so comforting to have some sort of stability, and that despite the fact that our growth is happening at different paces, we are still growing together.

I’ve been struggling again with my anxiety and depression. I’m still trying to know what is too much and what is just a natural reaction to my life. I forget sometimes that even people who are completely healthy have days where they’re unmotivated, or get sad about sad things. It’s natural! But for someone who deals with these things at unnatural levels and has for most of their life, it’s easy to think one little setback is a complete backslide into illness and voids all of my progress. I’m getting better, though. My psychologist even told me that he’s never seen someone so motivated to work on their issues rather than expecting an instant change, and that working with people like me is what makes his job rewarding. (yes I am patting myself on the back for that, because a year ago he would have thought the complete opposite!!)

Every single day I’m growing as a person, and I’m learning that I will become who I’m supposed to be, even with the mistakes I make along the way. Putting things in God’s hands is something I’m getting better at as time goes by, and my faith is never tested beyond the means that it can handle.

Coping with Depression and Loss

So, I haven’t been able to write for my blog in awhile. School has been really taking a toll on me and wearing me down, so I’ve been putting my full focus on that. However, I wanted to take the time to talk about how I’ve been handling things over the past 5 and a half months since I lost my dad. 

My Experience with Sexual Assault

All of these anecdotes are true, and are things I have experienced or that I have seen the people I love experience. Some depictions may be triggering, so if you are easily triggered by retellings of sexual assaults – please don’t read. This is a serious issue in our world, and I sincerely hope we start treating it as seriously as it is.

 

I was fortunate. Luck smiled upon me because I knew what to look for, I knew the signs, and I realized what was happening before it had a chance to happen. That one time, I was lucky. There were other times, though, where I was not. Where I didn’t realize I had the power to make my own choices, for my voice to be heard. And there are millions of people everywhere – men and women both – who are not given the respect enough to be heard.

When I was 14 years old, my step-father told me that he had a dream he was dating me and not my mom, and not to tell her. I, of course, immediately told her what he said. She told me to let her know if he did anything else weird, but she stayed. Then, he’d ask me to come and lay in bed with him. I refused to get under the covers, but he would wrap his arms around me and hold me. I thought of it like the way I would cuddle with my actual dad, but suddenly it felt wrong. I was changing, maturing, and he wasn’t my dad. Then he’d start asking me to get under the covers, and I’d make up something to do. I would go into the back field and run and run laps, just trying to make myself less anxious.

It progressed from there to him listening to hear when I would leave the shower and try to come into my room while I was changing to “say goodnight.” I started carrying my clothes into the bathroom with me, changing in the tiny steam-filled area where I knew the lock worked, and then running to my room and locking that door. I couldn’t handle being under the covers, all the lights out, and him coming in at midnight asking “what ya doing?” another time. That same month I found a box of single edge razors in the garage, and took some.

Eventually I told my grandparents and they swept in to save me. Not before the guilt had set in, though. My mother even made it a point to tell me “if you weren’t so promiscuos grown men wouldn’t see you that way. If you’d act more like a child should, you’d be seen as a child.” Little did she know, I’d had to be the adult for myself for so long because she wouldn’t. I didn’t know then that he was already a registered sex offender for having sex with a 16 year old girl when he was in his mid 20s. I didn’t know that she brought him into our home with that knowledge. She made the excuse then that “the girl was slutty, and he didn’t see her as a child.” As if that should have made a difference.

The promiscuos behavior she attributed to me was the fact that at 14, I was not a virgin. I had slept with a boy who was 18. When everyone found out, no one stopped to ask how I felt. No one made sure I was safe, no one took me to the doctor. I was screamed at, told that I should have been smarter. That I was a liar. That I had disappointed God, my family. That I was shameful, disgraceful. They were furious that I refused to file a police report for statutory rape. I didn’t see it as an assault then, I didn’t see it as rape. I didn’t understand that I was a child and he was an adult, because I didn’t feel like a child. I didn’t think that the fact that I wanted to say no but didn’t would matter. The fact that I cried and he ignored it. The fact that he kicked me out after and made me walk through a dangerous neighborhood alone at 3 am. I thought because I had kissed him, I had made the decision to sneak out, that I had given the full consent for him to do whatever he wanted to me.

One of my close friend’s parents still don’t know to this very day that she was sexually assaulted by both her uncle and her brother. They don’t know that she never felt comfortable with her body because of it. They don’t know that it took the fun out of any high school relationships for her. They have no idea that she was chronically molested and even raped once by the men who were supposed to take care of her, and keep her safe. If they did know, would they even care? It was so long ago, and you have to keep up appearances in a small town. Would they believe her? The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach. Remembering all the times I held her as she cried because her body felt foreign, disgusting even. All the times I saw her be forced to sit next to her uncle at a family dinner, the way she cringed away from him.

One of my family members was molested in my house, while I was in another room and I didn’t even realize it. A little girl that we were all friends with had come over for a sleepover. An adult caught her in the bathroom with my family member, years younger than her, with her pants down. She told her that they were playing a game called “touch the tee tee.” I was a child, there was nothing I could have done. But I stop and think sometimes, what if an adult hadn’t intervened?

We live in a society where people still think rape and molestation are things to joke about. Victims are still judged and blamed by those who have sworn and have a duty to protect them. Men who were raped are shamed, invalidated, and even made fun of. Our world likes to focus on the good things that these people had done before, making something so life altering for the victim seen as something small. “It was one time, they made one mistake, should they have to lose their freedom for that?” Yes, they should. Why should a rapist get to return to a normal life when their victim can’t look in the mirror anymore without crying. Why should they get to be happy when the person they touched is afraid of leaving their home? It’s infuriating, and sickening. We need to stand up for victims, and make a real change. Rape is not a joke. Molestation is not a joke. Touching another person against their will is not a “lapse of judgement” or a “mistake.” It is a serious offense, and should be treated as such for EVERY perpetrator.

Moving In and Moving On

Incase you haven’t kept up to date with the rest of my blogposts – it’s been quite the interesting summer. I’ve been through a lot of heartache, I’ve experienced new things, and overall I’ve learned a lot about life, about God, and about myself. Now, it’s time to begin a new portion of my life – as well as a new school year (yay for sophomore year of college!).

Last Thursday, August 17, I moved into my first apartment with my boyfriend of a year and five months. It has been more exciting for me than I ever could have expected. Leaving the small town that I have lived in my whole life and signing a year lease felt like the biggest weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. Everything big that has ever happened in my life has happened in that area. So, that means all of the good things and – more importantly – all of the bad could be left there

It hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, though. We’ve had countless maintenance issues; our washing machine doesn’t work, our air conditioner runs constantly without ever getting down to the set temperature, our hot water heater is terrible, we’ve had to fix the garbage disposal, there is a huge football sized wasp nest on our balcony, the balcony floor boards are uneven and rotting, our sink leaks, our outlet covers are all broken, one outlet doesn’t even work, and who knows what else we’ll find. A ton of money has been poured into furniture, bills, curtains, bed stuff, hangers, groceries…

On the bright side, though, I feel so independent and empowered. We made it to church and had an awesome service on our first Sunday here, which really lifted my spirits. My boyfriend and I are learning to work together, even through very tough situations. I’m learning how to be completely independent from my grandparents for the first time in my life, and I feel like I’m doing really really well with it. We get to pick how everything looks, we get to make all of the decisions ourselves. We FINALLY get to be adults without any parents shadowing over our shoulders, waiting to catch us.

Our dog has been an immense comfort, as well. He’s adjusted way better than I ever could have hoped. He goes to the door when he wants to go out, he’s on a good schedule for going out and waking up and going to bed. He met a new friend at the doggy park, and played his little heart out until he was exhausted and ready to crash on the couch (where he still is right now, 3 hours later).

I can’t lie, it’s been a lot. We’ve experienced more ups and downs in 5 days than I have felt in months, My excitement, though, has not been dampened. I am still positive and beyond ready to experience the rest of this journey with my boy and my dog. There is nowhere else I would rather be than this stuffy, too-hot apartment with a growing pile of dirty laundry.

Costa Rica Journals

This started off as long winded, and as I became more engulfed in the time I was spending there, I started to write less and less. These are just random personal thoughts, so I hope they’re somewhat interesting to someone other than myself. Enjoy!