Awakening

You should know that this post is a confessional. I’m going raw here, folks, and it’s going to be uncomfortable for me. But this is like therapy right now and I have to let the words out. I have to make them real. No editing as per usual. I’m just going with the flow here.

Comments are closed. You’ve been warned.

I’ve found my music again. I didn’t know it was gone for a long time. I didn’t miss it. But when I found it again I became obsessed. I couldn’t get enough. I still can’t get enough. Right now I’ve got Black Lab’s “Gone” blaring from the music machine¹. It’s a beautiful song². I forgot that part of me.

I always had music. “Jen’s Life: The Soundtrack”, I called it. Lots of little mix tapes. And then CDs. I could always find just the right ones to go with whatever situation I was in at the time. Then I stopped doing that. Stopped listening to it and craving it. Until a couple of weeks ago when that part of my soul seemed to break free. I started searching for music. This time it’s “Gone”, “This Night” (Black Lab) and “Familiar Taste of Poison” (Halestorm) at the top of my soundtrack.

I tried. I really tried. I put my self in a box and buried her somewhere she couldn’t escape. I tried to be normal, do normal things, think normal thoughts. I made promises in the early part of January 2009 and, fuck me, I kept them. I took vows and I was holding up my end of the fucking bargain. I stopped socializing again, shut off the music and accepted that this was my life and I was making a valiant goddamned sacrifice for my children. I stifled myself because I thought I deserved it. That part of me was horrible, selfish and wild. She hurt people, including herself. She burned bridges and made enemies. She had to go. He didn’t love her anyway. Stuff her in the box and forget about her. We were better off that way.

I thought I needed a knight-in-shining-armor and he thought he could “fix” me. I was somewhere really dark and I needed saving. I thought it was the right thing to do. I tried so hard to let him shape me into what he wanted. I fought against it sometimes, but mostly I allowed him to mold me into someone so different that anyone who knew me and loved me couldn’t even recognize me. “Why him, Jen?” they asked. “Better than the alternative,” I’d say,”and I love him.” Didn’t like the tattoo, the clothes, the music, the writing, the friends…changed it all. Because I promised them I would. I’d try to open up to him, but he didn’t like that. Too much of her still left in me. So, I closed off my history to him. No sharing secrets with him. Shared them on the blog. Shared them with strangers because he didn’t really love me enough to want to know me.

I had an out when he cheated on me. Could’ve let her have him and been done with it. But it wasn’t right. “Think of the Lil’lady!” So, I did. Didn’t want to struggle with her like I did with Lil’ Miss. Wanted her to have a better life. A normal life. Brought out the box just long enough to make sure he came back. Needed her to be able to do what I did, afterall. I honestly thought, though, that it would be different. I would be more like he wanted me to be and he would… I believed that. I believed I had to make it work. Pushed her back in the box and locked her back up. It was the “right” thing to do. Even my counselor, Goddess bless her, wondered if I’d made the right choice. Of course I did, I told her, I’m good at this shit. Heh.

That box wasn’t secure though. That part of me would peek out every so often. I put the car in my own name. Kept my own bank account. Kept with my schooling. He’d try to convince me otherwise, of course. Didn’t need a separate account, he said. Don’t need the car in your name, he whined. I didn’t listen to that. Not after what he did to me. Some things I’d give in, but that part of me wouldn’t give up total independence. I kept trying to be what he wanted, though, and I failed miserably. It was pitiful, really. He pulled away again and it didn’t even take 3 months for things to start going back to the way they were.

We’ve only been intimate 3 times since he got back. And it stopped completely 15 months ago. Not that I didn’t try that too. But he pushed me away one too many times. Physically pushed me away. Didn’t want me to touch him. So I didn’t. And for a while I accepted that this was how it was supposed to be. I settled for that because I deserved it. God, I was so lonely.

It started when he took me to his “club” and I had a few beers. I got up to dance with an old (as in 65+ years old) lady. We were having fun and I was thoroughly enjoying the music. He got irritated and decided it was time to go. Then he told me I was “fucking embarrassing” and that my laugh “is goddamned irritating”. Nice.

Then on my birthday he said something that sparked that part of me that I had so willingly given up. “I’m not going to buy you anything because I don’t know what you like.”

What. The. Fuck.

Eight motherfucking years I gave to this person. This man who did not even bother to get to know me. This person for whom I’d sacrificed everything that I am. It was worse than forgetting my birthday. It was worse than him picking out the wrong color or the wrong size or the wrong brand. He was so nonchalant about it. As if it was nothing. That’s when it started. That’s when she started fighting me to get out. She started screaming and burning and begging to be let out. It wasn’t worth the sacrifice. Not anymore.

I didn’t know it right away. But I could feel it. Just a little bit crazy coming on. My thoughts kept going over our history and how I could fix it. I promised. Everything was forgotten then. I didn’t work. Didn’t talk to anyone. I walled myself off completely from the world. I knew this wasn’t right anymore, but I wanted so much to fix it. But it didn’t take long before he committed one last crime against me and who I am.

Lil’ Miss was in the ER. Her grandmother called me to tell me she was bleeding really bad and that she needed me. She’d been living in another town and I didn’t know she was sick. We don’t speak much anymore. My fault, of course, because he wanted it that way. So, I told him “She’s in the hospital and I’ve got to go”. His response was too much for me. “Why isn’t her boyfriend with her?”

I didn’t tell him who was or wasn’t with her. For all he knew her boyfriend was with her. No, he didn’t want me to go. Thought she wasn’t worth it. I told him “She wants her mother” and then I left. No more fighting. No more trying to convince him of anything– trying to salve his hurt feelings. I went to be with my child and I spent two days with her up there. I was so scared for her. And he didn’t even bother to call to see what was going on.

Eight fucking years.

Then I stopped sleeping and I started craving the music. I went 40 hours with no sleep and then only slept 3-4 hours a day. I was crawling out of my skin and couldn’t figure out why. I had so much energy and just felt like I was caged. I don’t think I’d ever realized what “high strung” really meant until these last couple of weeks. How is it even possible for someone’s nerves to be so raw? I couldn’t get away from him fast enough. That part of me that I thought I didn’t need anymore burst out of her box and took over. I gave up. No more. No fucking more.

That feeling is still there. I still can’t sleep, even though I know what I have to do now. I’ve got too much energy. Too much I feel like I’ve missed, I think. I feel like I’ve wasted so much time on this. I made the decision and it’s only a matter of time. And I can’t fucking wait. Gods, but I’m losing my mind with wanting to get out of here. But I’ve changed more than I realized. I stopped hiding and allowed her to come out. And she’s, pardon the conceit, beautiful and fun and full of life. She’s anxious to get on with it, but I know that I’ve got to wait a bit. I’m not ready yet. Soon, though.

People that have never met this part of me are a little shocked at my “transformation”. At work they say they’ve never seen me smile. They think I’m fun. They like to hear me sing. “What happened to you?” someone asked. I’ve been awakened, whatever that means. No more hiding. Here I am, in all my evil, fucked up glory.

Last weekend I went dancing for the first time in a long time. My friend and her husband took me. They know what’s going on and they know what’s going to happen. It’s been so long since I had so much fun. I even managed to get hit on, which was an unbelievably big ego booster. You don’t miss that stuff until the cute little convenience store clerk tells you that you look really nice and he hopes to see you out. I can’t even tell you when the last time was that he looked at me like that.

I feel like I should feel guilty for starting to move on before I’ve even done it. But I don’t. So I feel a little guilty about not feeling guilty. It’s very strange. But I’m anxious to start living again. In my way. Without the restraints I’ve put on myself. I hated that part of me that I hid away. Hated her so much. But it wasn’t really her that caused me so much grief. I was in a cycle and made decisions based on what I learned from my mother. I know that now. And I know I can do better now. I’m better equipped now. I’m not the least bit afraid of myself anymore.

(To Be Continued)

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1. Not a stereo. He says we don’t need one of those. [↩]
2. Check out my blip.fm if you’ve not heard it [↩]