An Open Letter To My Bullies

Sometimes I wish I could go back and ask the people who bullied me (my dad included) why they bullied me.  I just want to know why.  Why did you pick on me?  What did I do to you?  How did I hurt you by minding my own business?  Why did you lock me in the girls' bathroom?  Why did you make me beg for forgiveness at your feet for something as trivial as talking to a boy?  Why did you go through my belongings with no respect for my privacy?  Why didn't you encourage me, no matter what I was interested in?  Why did you ask me, in front of everyone in class, "What is that on your head, it looks like bird poop?"  For the record, it was a ribbon or a bow.  I didn't wear bows for about five or six years after that.  My husband helped me to love being myself again, which included wearing flowers in my hair.  I still don't totally love myself.  In fact, sometimes I don't like looking in the mirror.

Why did you tell me that no one would ever love me?  Why did you tell me that I was the equivalent to the bottom of your shoe?  Why did you hit my mom in front of me?  Why did you make fun of me?  Why did you make fun of my name?  Why did you tell me that some guy liked me, when you knew he didn't, because in your mind, I was hideous?  Why did you have to break my heart?  

What pleasure did you get from torturing me?  Why was it fun for you to make me eat lunch by myself?  Why wouldn't you leave me alone after I turned 18?  Why did you insist on following me everywhere I went?  Why didn't you defend me?  Why didn't you stand up for me when I needed you most?  Why couldn't you ever choose me?  Why didn't you love me when I needed you most?  Why did you rape me?  Why did you ask me out, when you knew that I was looking for a relationship and a best friend instead of a one night stand?  

Why couldn't you ever understand that my family was poor and that's why I wore the clothes I wore?  Why was it so easy for you to tell me that none of the abuse happened?  Why is it is so easy for you to forget me?  How can you live with yourself on a daily basis when you know that deep down, you've hurt someone who has always loved you?  

Why, bully, did you treat me the way you did?  I never deserved it. 

I'll say this.  I hope the cycle stops with me.  I sincerely hope that if you have kids, no one treats them that way.  I hope that you don't treat them that way.  I hope that your kids don't do that to some child.  I hope the cycle stops with me.   To my rapist,  I hope that if you have a daughter, that no one does that to your child.  To my dad, I hope that you can live with what you did.  If you're so delusional that you think you did nothing wrong, I hope that someday, you find clarity.  To my mom, I know that you think that you need him and maybe that's why you do what you do.  I don't think you know how much it hurts me to see you waste away.  Maybe you stay with him out of religious duty.  I don't want to know, to be honest.  Please know that I love you.  I always will.  

-Cookie 

Dirty Little Secrets

Everyone has dirty little secrets.  No one is perfect.  No one, except maybe The Creator.  No, this not a long rambling post on religion or anything like that.  Its actually more about the skeletons in our closets.  The people we were in the past.  I've been dragging my feet with regards to going through my old laptop.  She's been out of commission a long time and its probably high time I went through it.  Part of me doesn't want to.  Part of me does.  Part of me feels like I'll regret it.  Part of me is really hurt by what my husband said to me before going to bed.  Maybe he meant nothing by it.  Maybe he did.  I have no idea.  He basically said that, "You need to tell me the day before that you won't be able to iron my stuff or have a really good reason.  When you have a job, then maybe things will be a little more balanced."

If that doesn't make what little self confidence I had dissolve rather quickly, I don't know what does.  I know I have it pretty good.  I get that.  But at the same time, I don't think he's ever been down that dark road where you wake up in fear every morning.  When the place where you're being bullied is the same as your home.  I'm sure my grammar is awful here, but I don't care tonight. 

I found old pictures of my husband before he met me.  He had those things on his sides that make girls stupid (as so eloquently put by 2 Broke Girls).  He's standing in front of a mirror preening for the camera.  I don't know why it bothers me.  Maybe I'm vain.  (Ha!  I'm one to talk....)    I know I'm not the prettiest girl out there, but I sure as hell try.  That picture makes him seem like someone kind of cold and detached.  He reminds me of Barney Stinson in the photo.  "Look at me.  I'm hot and I know it." (His internal dialogue maybe.)  All I know is that when I was single, I was looking for love.   I wanted to be loved.  I don't know why it bothers me.  I know it shouldn't.  I just don't get it.   Damn you skeletons in the closet.  I wish you'd stayed hidden.

-Cookie

I'm Back! Get To Know Me Better!

Hi Y'all,

I've been super neglectful about positing, so I thought a blog revamp was in order.  I did manage to get married I December of last year.  Yes, I did have a breakdown because of a job.  And yes, I'm one of those pre-30 ladies who doesn't want kids right now.  I might take a few jumps back on throw-back posts, but for the most part, my goal is to be funny and insightful.  If you have a topic suggestion or something you'd like for me to discuss, let me know!


About Me

• I'm 28 years old.
• I like horror movies.
• I watch the Walking Dead.
• I don't want kids right now.
• The degree I have is in a field I know I don't want to work in.
• I'm on the fence about my religion.
• I love country music.
• I enjoy shooting rifles and guns at the range.
• I live in Maryland but miss my home state of Florida.
• My mom drives me crazy.
• I get lonely sometimes and can't figure out for the life of me why I can't make friends.
• Maybe I'm not really ready for friends, until I'm comfortable in my own skin.
• I love my husband, but if I could move back to FL, support myself and still be married, I'd do it.
• I like reading, but I'm not religious about finishing them.
• I like to skip to the end of books so I know whether or not the characters get the happy ending they deserve.
• Growing up, my favorite Disney Princess was Ariel.
• I could be in better shape.
• I like driving with the windows down.
• I am an abuse survivor.
• I am a rape survivor.
• I like nail polish.  Wayyy more than I should.
• I have come to terms with the fact that you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink.
• I know I want to go back to school.
• I know I want to pursue photography.
• I'm afraid of heights, spiders, and snakes.
• I enjoy the beach and the outdoors, but my husband is allergic to it.  (Literally)
• I am determined to be happy and enjoy life because its too short to waste.

-Cookie 

Living Proof

I just wanted to pop in for a quick update.  I'm engaged as of July 29th, 2012.  I'm getting married on my twenty eighth birthday.  I'm living proof that you can survive what life throws at you.  That's all for now.

That Song I Have Stuck in My Head

I'm returning to the blogging world today.  I apologize for my absence.  However, the absence, is really well-explained, I promise.  Just read the disjointed post below....

Anyone who even remotely knows me, knows that I love music.  I use it as therapy.  I use it to celebrate.  I use it to mourn.  I use it for just about everything.  I always have songs stuck in my head that take me back to times in my life.  And sure, I associate them with feelings too. 

Watching the universe get married while I'm still trying to put the pieces of my life together, is depressing.  But scarily enough, I don't even care any more.  I'm done chasing after the ring, and the magical proposal.  I saw the pictures of NB's brother's wedding posted by his wife's bff.  That's like a mouthful right?  And you know what song goes through my head?  Jealousy...by Natalie Merchant.  I miss 1995.  I commented to NB that his brother looked about as happy as a clam.  His response, "He's a sucker."  When I asked him for clarification, he goes, "He lets her push him around."  My response, "You're really smart then, you wear the pants in the relationship, you have the power to make someone homeless."  Luckily, I don't think he caught all of that...I said some of it under my breath. 

That little comment he made takes me back to where I was five minutes ago.  Wondering what others have that I don't have that makes them  more marry-able than me.  Yes, I just went through a big thing with my job.  I had to quit.  It was making me miserable and I just couldn't deal with it anymore.  I couldn't take waking up and dreading the sound of my alarm going off.  I couldn't deal with fearing everyday.  I couldn't deal with waking up several times a night, covered in sweat thinking to myself, "I have to get up in 2 hours, I have to get up in 1 hour and fifteen minutes, I have to get up in 30 minutes."  It was a scary thing to have to deal with.  I'm glad I got sick.  I'm glad I quit.  It was by far the best decision I have ever made in my life.  I decided that taking care of me was more important. 

Then I had the issue of telling NB.  I texted him before I did it.  I resigned via email from that nightmare of a job.  They wanted their crap back, so I drove out there and dropped it off.  As I was headed out, my phone rang and it was him.  I told him and he said he was disappointed and I thought that was the worst of what I was going to have to deal with.  Boy was I wrong.  NB comes home and tells me I need to get out.  As in he's throwing me out. 

I'm not entirely sure how to breathe at this point.  Breathing is cancelled.  Anything making sense is cancelled.  I'm standing there, just staring at this kid...touching his shirt and he's pointing at the door, "You have to leave.  I'll help you pack.  You don't have to leave right this second.  I'll even help you get back to FL."  "How much money do you have?"  I respond.   "Good, you have enough, you'll need it to get back to Orlando." 

Um okay.  I look at him.  "So you're going to be with someone else. You're going to love someone else."  His response, "Yes, eventually."  My answer was an astounding, "Okay."  I for the first or second time in my life was actually left speechless.  Here I stand, the last five years of my life just come crashing down.  He has the picture of me from his desk in his lunchbox...(which I didn't know at the time.)  He's done.  Everything is over...he's telling me to go and live with my abusive dad and my mom.  I know I can't do that...so in essence, I am homeless. 

I start calling friends from Jax and asking if I can crash on their couches until I figure stuff out.  Not a soul can take me.  Everyone has lives, and its understandable that no one is just going to let you crash on their couch.  One of my old coworkers finally finds someone who kindheartedly says yes.  But God performed some weird miracle, I tell you because as I stood upstairs pacing away, NB changed his mind...

Brandon, Up, Negativity and the 99%

I'll tell this in order, but I had some stuff I just had to get off my chest.  First off, I want to apologize for being so negative.  I haven't taken moving well at all and lately I just feel invisible.  Sometimes, I just want to be.  Anyway, please accept my apologies for being so down.  I am sorry if I offend you.    Here we go.

Brandon
NB had a friend in high school named Brandon.  Brandon lived life to the fullest.  He lived to live and didn't care what people thought.  He was a genuinely nice guy.  Unfortunately, Brandon died almost a decade ago in a car accident.  I hate the fact that I've spent so much time dwelling on what people think/thought of me.   Life seems like fleeting moments flying by at the speed of light.  You blink and before you know it, college is a memory.  You blink again and you're 30 with like two kids.  I don't want to wake up one day and regret that I didn't live my life.  I ask myself what if my life was over tomorrow?  Would I be satisfied with what I've done and how I've treated people or would I have regrets?  I don't want to waste my time worrying about what people think.  So what if you pushed me in PE?  So what if you looked at me and said ew?  You don't matter.  I have to love myself so that the person who does love me gets the best me there is....

Up
I finally watched Up with NB today.  It happened to be on TV.  I cried throughout it. (DUH!) I cried because he loved this woman so much.  She managed to encourage him from the beyond.  Through her spirit.  I used to be that way with NB.  I tried to lift his spirits when he needed them.  Lately, I've been a disappointment.  He's been trying to lift my spirits to no avail.  I won't let him.  I don't want that to be my legacy.  I don't want NB to look back and think "She was so troubled.  She didn't bring me happiness."  I want to bring him happiness. 

Negativity
Negativity manages to flow through you like a poison.   I can feel when negative thoughts are running through my mind.  My stomach starts to hurt.  IBS is majorly connected to the mind.  Being negative hurts my whole body.  I've come to the conclusion that life is too short for that.  Not to mention I don't want to be sick anymore.  I'm working on what I eat.  I have to work on what I think too.

The 99%
Wanna know a secret?  I was raised dirt poor.  When I was going to middle and high school, I didn't have fancy clothes.  Hell, I wore clothes from Kmart.  I cared what people thought then.  My mom worked so hard to make sure I had something to wear period.  I was emotionally abused too.  Mostly by my dad and via side effect by my mom who never stood up for me.  I had proms, dances, even going to the mall taken away from me.  I've been dirt poor in college.  I've been a mis-manager of money when I thought I was going to be a teacher....decorating my hypothetical room.  I had credit card debt.  I still do.  Not a lot mind you.  It's what's still left.  I hate the fact that companies don't think I belong there.  They aren't willing to even try me.  I have something to offer.  I worked all through high school, college and beyond.  I wanted nothing more than to be accepted.  What I sought, was acceptance of me.  You can't make people accept you.  You can't make someone hire you.  All I can tell myself is that someday, someone will give me a chance and when they do, they will be glad they did.  I know my old job in Jax did.  What I can't get over is the fact that the economy supports people to stay home and do nothing and punishes you for getting an education.  When I worked at kmart...there would be women who would come through (on welfare) and they would buy junk food.  I'm standing there making seven bucks an hour, and here stands some rude crazy woman who hasn't put out an ounce of the effort tormenting me for not smiling.  I'm sorry, I don't feel like smiling when I'm working for chump change out of college.  I am the 99%.  I know there are PHd's out there flipping burgers.  Masters degree holders working the same awful jobs I've worked.  I just wish things made more sense.  What frustrates me, is that there is no justice.  I can't let that get to me. 

-The SG

Girls Who Complain About the Size of the Diamond...

I'll admit it.  I sit there and I admire engagement rings on Helzberg.com.  I like reading the reviews for no reason and I know that he may never ask me bc I have so many flaws and may never be a good financial investment.  I love the reviews where the girl goes "The center stone is only a third of a carat."  WHOA.  Let me get this straight.  You are pissing and moaning because he asked you to marry him and the ring he gave you wasn't large enough for you?  SERIOUSLY.

I would be happy with a true proposal.  I'd be happy with the el cheapo super value ring they sell that has like one stone in it.  It's the thought that counts.  The fact that some guy wants to make you his wife and spend the rest of his life with you should count for something.  I guess that part of it counts more to me than anything bc I come from a really really messed up family and my dad spent tons of time telling me that I was the equivalent to the bottom of his dirty shoe.  That was so comforting.

I just want to belong to a real family.  I don't have my mom's last name and thank God I don't have my dad's either.  I actually have his middle name as my last.  I hate having that brand on me.  I'm so tired of being sad.  I want to love myself but I don't know how.  It's really hard.  I know I have so many blessings in my life (NB being one of them) but the ambitious part of me wants so much more and a lot of it BEFORE I turn 30.

End rant.

xoxo