He Lives in My Shoulders

I began Yoga. I began again after years of healing from back surgery and the injuries incurred from my attack. I didn't think I would be able to do much. It has been years of being frozen. Both inside and outside of my body. The attack left me with physical injuries I will never shake. It left me with memories and flashes I never would wish on anyone. The worst of this, is that it comes to me when I try to take care of myself. Move my broken body. Melt away the frozen ice caps of flesh and try to heal from the inside out.

This morning, ironically enough in warrior II , he came creeping into my practice. He banged and pulled and beat on me, just had he had years ago. The fear and sadness flooded into me. I became overwhelmed and had a flash in my mind to run. But I didn't.

Years ago, I read that emotion lives in your body. That you hold fear, sadness, trauma, in your muscles, cells, and bones. I used to roll my eyes at these types of things. But I can feel him clearly in me- he lives in my shoulders. I can feel him dance around my cracked bones and tendons. Just as he had before. I can feel him pulling on my still- my heart, my hair, the me inside of me that speaks softly still.

This happened two years ago. Sometimes that feels very far away. Sometimes it feels like it never happened, or at least, that it didn't happen to me. Sometimes it feels like I am over it. That I have moved beyond it (as best as one can). That I have begun to take care for myself and heal and focus on getting well. And it is then in these moments that he comes back and reminds me that he still haunts me, still hurts me, still lives- apparently- in my shoulders.

365 x 2 + 1

Two years ago I was here. I lay right there in that spot. Beaten and assaulted by someone I never saw before. And never saw again since. I became someone else after that. Someone I am still trying to figure out.

Still, sometimes, I flash back. Flash back to the me I was before all of this. She was happy- getting somewhere- following a plan of some kind. The me of that night. She finally had some fun that night after years of pain, back surgery, and giving up her first pregnancy. The me of the attack. Screaming fighting clawing. The aftermath. The fear the anxiety the sleepless nights of smoking. The imprints his heels left on my thighs.

But now, it is two years later. And I am here. A place I dreamt of in my secret moments. A place that I felt would save me if I ever got there. And now I am here. Possibly closer to the person I dreamt of being and the man I always wanted to be with. That is of course, if I don't blow it by being me. The me that gets in my way. The way I snap. The way my emotions turn to sour milk. The way I become a stranger to myself- a stranger I don't care to know. Someone who is needy and wanting and clingy. Someone who pushes him away by pulling him too close. I got to work on that. 

I have spent the past two years coming out of a prison beaten into me by a stranger. A stranger who wanted nothing more than to rape and hurt me. A man who tore me up from the inside out. I have spent the past two years trying very hard to become some type of normal. To try to love myself in spite of myself, since that would be the only way for you to find then love me. I try very hard at all this. It at times can be quite exhausting, terrifying, freeing. Something.

Another year has gone by. And I find myself here. Here in this place. Here waiting for me, trying to find the me in me. Still waiting. Waiting for me-us. Me and You. Something.

Antsy

I am beginning to climb the walls. I'm bored but busy. I'm interested and not interested all at once. I'm excited and furious in this moment. I'm getting all and nothing that I want. I'm love and hate combined.

I just want it to come together in an easy way- no drama. No problems. Just easy. And damn it- that just isn't happening. I don't want to be understanding. I don't want to understand anything but things falling in place- right now. I want to be the priority, especially when I ask for so little.

And my anniversary is coming up too- did I mention that? Next week it will be two years since it happened. Two years ago I was alright. I was in school. I was living where I wanted to be (at the time). I was back together with a man I wanted to be with. I was just starting to recover from surgery. I thought I got my life back- but really, it was all taken away. After the attack- I lost her. My old self.

And now, now I am someone else. 

Now I am someone who doesn't play around. Someone who knows her worth. Who won't put up with second best. My attacker beat my old life out of me. Which, I chose to look at in a positive light- even though I would prefer to have learned my lessons another way.

Still, they are learned. I learned to expect more, and deal with less. I learned I am strong and worth wanting. I learned that I am rare. I learned that I still have some fight in me yet. I learned that I know what I want and how I want it. Now, I just have to figure out how to say it out loud and make it known that I need to hear these things - out loud- from you.

365+7

One year ago I was attacked. I was assaulted at my door step. Beaten and nearly raped. Nearly. I fought myself out of it, most of it. And home as never felt the same. I tried to heal, still try to heal, and open myself up to The Universe for where my place should be. But still, when I come home I don't feel at home. I feel challenged and uncomfortable. Every time I am here

So 7 days ago was the 1 year anniversary of my assault. I just didn't want to be here, be there. Be in the same place where someone treated me like nothing. Treated me with brutality. Didn't see me as someone at all. So- I went away to see my friend. Several states away to feel accepted and loved and living again. It felt wonderful to be with my friend ago and to be around these- they always make me feel at home

Now, a week later, I have traveled across the country and back. Still feeling the west pulling me and wondering if I throw my chips in the air and gamble it all and get there. Get there. Get there...

To Beyondo!

I believe in Messages from the Universe. I believe that life is something to be renewed. I believe that I need a Message to Renew. Last year, I fell into Mondo Beyond and was invited into something called Dreaming. I believed that I really needed that.

It is coming up on one year of my attack. It will be a year two weeks from now, but who's counting, right? I'm still trying to get used to living again, trying to not to be frightened about everything. And trying to see this attack as a positive. Crazy perhaps, but maybe have it serve as a sign that I was on the wrong road. That I need to go somewhere else, perhaps.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about children, and how much I would like to have my own. It only occurred to me yesterday that some of this is linked to my sadness of having to give up my pregnancy last year. After undergoing major surgery and being heavily medicated for three weeks, I got ill. Only I found out weeks later, I was not ill. I was pregnant. And there was no way that I would keep it. My body would not be able to hold the pregnancy after the surgery. And of course, the baby could have some major complications due to the sedation and medication. The sadness was unbearable. So much so, that I only really began to think about it yesterday. That I not only wanted children, but that I miss the one I had to give up, because it was best for the both of us. I'm not sure if the loss will ever go away.

So, I thought of Mondo. After my attack and losing the baby, I needed some light. Some joy. Some thing. And Mondo and the dreamers were there. Bless them. I thought about joining up again. Still, money is tight and time with work is tighter. So, I threw it to the Universe. Looking at Andrea's Blog, I found a little clue- a two for one buddy deal. I threw my hat in the ring and thought- let the stars decide. And this morning, I was matched. And so it is. Thank you for being a sign Andrea, thank you.

I am happy to begin to dream again. I believe I need it. As I try to clear out the cobwebs of my life, I am hopeful that Mondo will help me to plant some new seeds that will somehow make my life beautiful.

Instant Karma

My last few entries have troubled me. It is tough to admit that you may kinda like things that are bad for you. That you get a rush from it even. But it is true, and that is the point of my writing this. To have some Bravery.

I've had a slew of boys from Christmas past in my mind this week. Two in particular. Maybe it is because they are so much alike. Or maybe they both make me feel the same empty way. Probably a mixture of all of that really. One of them jumped back into my world this week completely at random. And I jumped too. The lameness of it all is even too much to get into, but let's say I fell back in a cat and mouse pattern of stupidity. 

The other has been skating around my brain for days. I heard a random song very closely associated with him twice this week- a never played barely known song. Twice. This is a person who very much took advantage of me. In a time of great sorrow and loss in my life, he used my hopelessness to his advantage. He used me in ways I thought impossible, then turned it all around on me in a perfectly crafted manner. It was quite a job he did. I'll never understand how you can know that the person in your arms is a victim and then go out of your way yo victimize them. My brain doesn't work that way I guess. 

Then there it was- his face in the newspaper. He had become a victim of violent crime. Just like me. His assault was not as vicious as mine, but it left him on the ground and bleeding. I immediately called him. And there he was. This person living in my mind as a bad memory on the other end of the phone. I told him that I read about what happened, and wanted to make sure he was alright. It was as natural to me as breathing. But I am not sure if that is so great. Do you treat people with kindness who have gone out of their way to hurt you? I just don't know.

The fact that he has been on my mind during the time of his attack is not lost on me. That it occurred a few blocks from my house, where my attack occurred also sat with me for a bit. What does that mean Universe? Is that a breathing Message? Am I beginning to unlock something of great importance or, am I locking myself into bad and dangerous habit? Do I hold the key to the answer? Or is something or someone else unlocking me?

Glass Half Full.

For the most part of 2010 has really been a bitch. A fucking bitch at that. In this year alone....
I had back surgery
Broke up with my boyfriend..... twice
Had to give up a pregnancy
Struggle with money in a very real and major way
Got attacked and sexually assualted
That resulted post traumatic stress and anxiety
Which sent me to therapy.

In therapy.....
I told my therapist that I had really thought 2010 would be my year. I really hoped 2010 would be life changing- in a positive way. She looked a little sad. I told her- well- the year isn't over yet.

In 2010, I certaintly found my strength. Most people don't ever have to deal with the things I have, let alone all of them within 5 months. But in that time, I kept on going. I got my second Masters degree and found an amazing new job.

This job has made my days better. It has made me feel like me again. And I love that. So yes, 2010 has been a real bitch. But she also got me here- now. And I was right- this has been my year. It has been the year that showed me I can live through just about anything, and lived through it coming out stronger than I began. Even through the sheer hell of 2010, I managed to find some success, some achievement, some of me again.

After The Darkness

It was hard to take my attack and see the positive in it. There was nothing positive about being assaulted and nothing positive from the head injury, the post traumatic stress, or the anxiety. The incident will never be a positive one.

What happened thereafter, however, has turned out to be.  Months of counseling and personal searching has lead me here. It has lead me to a place where I am really impressed with myself. I know it is out of fashion to ring one's bell, but damn it- this bell should ring. 

Directly after the attack, I returned to work and school- three days after. I went in with my arm in a sling and my head swirling, but I went. After the attack I managed to complete my second masters degree, complete a counseling internship, continue to work in the justice system (not easy to help offenders once you are a crime victim), and get the job a wanted- a mighty big job at that. 

After the attack I  went back to dating. Which is huge. Even in the middle of living life after a sexual assault, I was not closed off to the notion of love entering my life. In fact, I seek it out still daily.

I've never lost my friendships, in fact I gained and strengthened them. After the attack I found  dichotomy of people in my life. One side that loved and supported me, the other that dropped the ball and dropped out of my life. I will always be grateful for those who stuck with it and stuck by me. And it may sound odd, but I may be more grateful to the ones that did not. This group of people showed me that not everyone in my life should be there. And, if they don't value me, they can keep on moving.

Which brings me back to dating....

I've been out with someone a few times now. He's cute, we laugh a lot, and enjoy our time together. But it always seems to be me that does the asking, the getting in touch... the work. And that well, does not work for me. Now, he doesn't know my life story, he doesn't know what happened this summer- but that really doesn't matter. If he doesn't see that I am amazing, then he really isn't worth my time. I have learned that from this other group of people. I can take it negatively and personally, but in the end that just isn't true. What is true is that I am stellar- and if that sounds egotistical- then fine. But I am. I don't think enough people think that way.

Believe me- it is difficult. This addiction to unavailable men is harder to quit than cigarettes. But I am working on it.
   

 

Bravery.

I've done a lot of things in my life that some consider brave. But I never saw it that way. I just saw it as what I was doing.

I moved to different cities. I lived alone. I got a tattoo. I told told my grandmother to shove it.

I gave up my job to go back to school- a few times. I stopped talking to most of my family.

I got attacked and went back to work with offenders two days later. I continue to live at my crime scene.


I had back surgery in New York Winter and still traveled on the subway without a cane.

All of that seems like nothing compared to writing this. Because this is me unfiltered. And I have never done that before. I haven't told anyone most of this, and next to nobody has ever seen my writing. And it is hard to let it go out on its own and float. 

It's hard to float.

It's hard to let go, even though that seems like the easiest thing to do. 

It's hard to shed my skin and show my scars. It's hard to show I have them. But I think I have to do it so that I can move ahead and leave the stories of how they got there behind me. 


It's hard to feel that this is freeing. Even though it is. It's hard not to feel anxiety knowing this will be read, but the anxiety doesn't help anyway. It's hard to let go of this secret side of me. But great to know I no longer have these secrets.

I wonder if it is bravery or self indulgent. I pick bravery.