Moving Forward

I did a thing today. A big thing. I'm admittedly emotional about it.

You see when the new year came, I knew it was time to get into therapy. Therapy gave me the courage to end my relationship and take a long hard look at myself. I read over some of my blog posts from the last couple of years. It was evident that I was carrying some deep anger. All of my blog posts from the last couple of years have had a negative, even vindictive tinge to them. 

Additionally, my behavior in real life had gotten out of control. I purposely hit other cars with my own to "teach them a lesson". I punched a previous boyfriend in the nose. I put holes in walls from throwing things, and have even been charged with "criminal mischief" (undeservedly) from an act of anger. I knew I was out of control and needed help.

My anger was like a plague. Anytime I would think about what I was angry about it would feel like big angry waves crashing all around me. It felt uncontrollable like the violent energy of the sea. I was genuinely scared that the anger would never end, and would eventually consume me. The truth was that I was already consumed.

Therapy taught me that anger is always the secondary emotion. My true primary emotion was deep deep sadness. And I had been carrying this sadness and pain for so so long. I used the anger to keep me safe from any perceived threats. But now, the anger was no longer serving me. It was just creating more and more pain. 

I wasn't operating as an adult woman. I was just a hurt little girl. I had to grow up and move forward. In my mind's eye I turned to that hurt little girl and said "I have to go now, and you can't come with me. I have to go be someone different, and can't carry you and the baggage anymore." It didn't even matter what the pain was about or who that little girl was, they had become dead weight.

I took the time to sit with the sadness, but I also knew I had to say goodbye to my old friend. The relationship I had with that hurt little girl, though it had protected me many times, had turned toxic. There was no way to keep her and move forward too.

It was from that place that I began to take steps forward. Other pieces began to fall easily into place. Never had I understood the notion of respect. I could not wrap my brain around what it meant or what it looked like. That also meant I didn't understand disrespect either. One day, I read a definition of it in a book, and it immediately made perfect sense as though I had heard the concept for the first time. 

I began to look at many relationships and events that were happening in my life and began to say of it all, "That's disrespect. That's disrespect, and that's disrespect too!"

I began to explore the idea of setting boundaries. That meant following through with those boundaries and creating consequences of violating those boundaries. It also meant setting boundaries for myself. I'm still working on that.

Most importantly, I began to listen to my body. It told me everything I needed to know about what emotions I was feeling. Because the only emotion that truly seemed familiar to me was anger. But as I listened to my body, I became less reactive to the anger and more accepting of all the other emotions I never allowed myself to acknowledge previously.

So as I sat with my therapist and recounted the date I had the previous night, and a light turned on for me. The guy was nice enough. He was not an Alpha Male type, and I could tell he did not have many dates. He was laid back, and seemed genuinely interested in me. 

We met at the park initially. He brought pizza, and I brought wine and a blanket. We sat and talked and enjoyed the Caprese salad on our pizza crusts as the sun went down. 

Eventually, sunset turned to night, and we were still talking while I sat there shivering. He asked me if I wanted to go to his apartment to keep talking. 

While at the park he had already begun to make physical advances. He put his arms around me when I was cold. It felt like a sweet gesture and a promise of what was to come.

Once at his apartment, we put on some music and continued to talk. Somewhere along the way I think he had too much to drink. I had only a couple of glasses of wine while he switched to whiskey once we were back at his place. He began slurring his words, but still seemed coherent.

We had been at his place for about 15 minutes and were chattering away. I was sitting on the sofa, and he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom when I heard a familiar noise. I have significant hearing loss and have hearing aids that I did not have on so I wasn't entirely certain what I heard. So I kept talking.

Then I heard it again. The guy apologized under his breath and then went to the bathroom. I could not believe it. He was farting right in front of me! They were long farts. He was not trying to hide it either. He was just letting them rip. Though I said nothing, I was pretty disgusted. This was a cardinal sin I was not so sure I could excuse.

However, I have my manners, and they told me to ignore the whole thing. He came back to the sofa and kissed me. I did not mind and kissed him back. His kisses became more aggressive to indicate that he was looking for more of a makeout scenario. I kept thinking "But this is a first date". I don't even kiss on a first date! As I tried to politely slow him down and re-direct him back to conversing, he would eventually always come back to kissing. I looked at him a couple of times during the exchange, and he had a look of rejection across his face. Maybe it was the picture he painted in my head of his mother with her lack of care and abandonment of him, but I knew the rejection was not about me. The rejection ran deep, and he was visibly wrestling with it. It was painted all across his face. 

Then he managed to roll around on top of me and ask if he could "go down" on me. So I said, "No. It's a first date!" I kept saying it in a light-hearted way so as to convey my lack of judgement for his request but also try to give him some context. He asked again and even tried to pull my pants down. I said no multiple times before he stopped. 

Eventually, I told him that it was late, and I should leave. He kept trying to get me to stay another hour. When I refused, he tried to bargain and ask for half an hour. I had to tell him no multiple times. I felt like I had to pry myself out of his hands. It didn't feel domineering, but more desperate than anything.

The next day I recounted my date to my therapist. Strangely, none of what I told her seemed to bother me. This all seemed pretty normal to me...except the farting. The guy liked me so of course he wanted me to stay, and of course he wanted to be physical with me! He's a guy!

Her response caught me off guard. She mimicked my body language I used when telling her the story. She recited my very words back to me. This was a man who did not respect my requests. This was a man who did not respect my boundaries. This was a man I felt it was my job to tip toe around to make sure he didn't feel rejected. Why were my desires and my boundaries less important than his? They might have been less important to him, but more importantly I saw that they were less important to me. I put his desires ahead of my own because subconsciously I thought they were more important than my own. 

Whoa. How many times have I done that? And what implications did that have in my life? Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. 

I proceeded to defend him to my therapist. He was a nice guy. He didn't seem like an abusive type. He was just drunk. But she asked me why all of that even mattered? He didn't listen to my request, and my biggest issue that causes me pain is not feeling seen or heard. This guy did just that! He didn't see or hear me! So what does it matter that he's a nice guy? 

Over the next few days I thought about what she said. I knew I had a decision to make. Not about whether or not I would see him again. It was about whether or not I was going to move forward. Was I going to keep making excuses for people who disregarded me? Was I going to keep putting others' desires and opinions before my own? Was his satisfaction more important than mine? Was his voice the one that mattered? Shouldn't my opinion matter most to myself? 

A choice had to be made. I texted him and told him that his behavior bothered me so I couldn't see him again. Truly, he was a nice guy. But this was about something so much bigger than him. This was about taking a step towards becoming the woman I want to be. And in order to become that woman, I have to do it differently. I have to make decisions that I respect. And that is way more important than being liked, or having a boyfriend, or making decisions that others respect. 

I haven't figured it all out, but I'm on my way. I've made the decision to move forward, and that really is the most important thing. I'm not angry about it. I don't judge the guy. I actually believe him to be a nice person who has his own issues like we all do. 

I'm on a journey to find myself though, without the pain and baggage. I'm hoping to find empowerment. I'm hoping to feel more in control of my destiny than ever before. I'm hoping to dream of new things other than being loved by others. 

I'm hoping. I'm dreaming. 

They say it's not about the destination but the journey. The journey is beautiful, but the destination is myself in it's truest form. I won't stop reaching for her. I won't stop dreaming of her. Because that's where the sunshine is.