How Do You Show Your Love?

Here I just made a promise to myself to blog more and our internet went out. Ha. Oh well, I didn’t want to take the time to sit down and blog today.. but I decided I might as well.

We just came back from a trip to my hometown and I have really thought about how my actions could have tarnished the relationship potential I could of had with my m. I am trying to uncover the truth and realize that I am not the only victim and my story isn’t the only one in this relationship.

Maybe my m. did the very best she could. Maybe she didn’t know how to show love because she was never shown it. Or maybe she just didn’t know how I wanted her love.

My husband does things for me to show his love. So when he isn’t romantic- it is not because he doesn’t love me but by helping me out with dishes, my car, cooking and cleaning- he is showing me that he loves me. How I show love is by wanting to be with him and making time for him and I to spend time together.

I think once we all take a step back and see how someone loves- it will make a big impact on how we interpret that love.

The Hardest Hurt

I have been thinking this morning… After I emailed my ex and talked to him, I realized what one of the hardest hurts in life is. For me personally, it is someone who says they love me but all their actions point to no. And the fact that I have a gut feeling something is up or I don’t feel their love.

Anytime I try to confront them on the subject whether it is my first love/ex or my mother- I have never felt their love. I wouldn’t say I am sad because THEY don’t love me truly. I am sad and hurt because they always say they do, manipulate me into thinking they do but when I need them they are no where to be seen.

Now my ex is a thing of the past, I am just now able to deal with the reality of his lies. Our relationship is tied in with my sexual abuse since he helped me through it. My mother, of course, will always be apart of my life whether I like it or not.

But why would someone ever say they love me but not really mean it? That is such a deep rejection I cannot almost not even process it in my mind. Plus with me already having PTSD is not a good mix.

I get so sad thinking about how someone who is supposed to love me unconditionally, who helped create me doesn’t love or want me around. It makes me think something is totally wrong with me and then I go into people pleasing mode. I also try and conform to the crowd because I am not confident enough to be myself. Why be myself when I am always rejected by my own mother?

 

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How It Starts

Contacting Cowboy has really put me through the ringer. We finished our conversation yesterday with some questions he wanted me to answer. One of them was “Why did you leave me?”. I forgot to tell him because he cheated the first time we tried dating, he never admitted it during that time. But the main reason was because of his lack of maturity and after he broke my heart I couldn’t  give it back to him.

After this conversation I thanked him for talking with me and that this was helping a lot. He then began to say it was hurting him because he tried to forget all of this. I felt extremely horrible. Of course! How wouldn’t it hurt him? I don’t know if he considers me “the one that got away” or not. I didn’t ask him. He did tell me that if things were different (I wasn’t married, he didn’t have a baby or fiancé) he’d want to try again.

I kinda expected that. Not to sound arrogant but what we had reminds me of the movie the Notebook sometimes. We weren’t all lovey dovey infatuated with each other, we had something special.

We first met at a rodeo. I was there with one of my girlfriends, walking along when all of a sudden a rope was wrapped around me for no reason. I turned around and there he was, on his horse, rope in hand and around me. He pulled me in close. Sounds amazingly romantic right? That is exactly how it happened, I was so intrigued by how forward he was. But as he pulled me in close he didn’t say a word. He just kept staring at me. His friend was talking to me but he didn’t say anything.

The whole couple minutes I was there, roped, Cowboy never said a word. It got awkward so I unroped myself and left. I didn’t see him at all the rest of the night even though I tried searching for him. I didn’t even get his name I don’t think. My best friend went and got his number somehow and I didn’t know it. I was in the car getting ready to go home. She gave me his number and I put it away.

A year later. YES A YEAR! I found that number when I was going through some stuff of mine. I thought, Hey what the heck- just give it a try. I didn’t know if he would of kept the same number or not. I got the courage and called. He answered. And he remembered me.

He was actually in a different state for awhile going to school or something. And we talked for a whole year. I can’t really remember the progress after that but we made such a strong emotional connection. I knew everything about him and he knew everything about me. We could speak milestones without saying a but just a few words. I turned to him and he turned to me.

 

I can still remember how it felt when he would look at me. I remember how it was to kiss him. I still remember our song. I remember how he hugged me so tightly. I remember how we slow danced to our song at my Winter Formal. I remember his goofy laugh. I remember his sweet voice calling me darlin’. I remember the comfort he gave me after I’d have a hard day or nightmares. I remember him. Now enough of the “easy stuff to remember about my ex”. This is what I also remember:

I remember what it felt like when he cheated on me (long story, I think alcohol was involved), what it felt like when he was immature and embarrassed me. I remember what it felt like him shutting me out. I remember what it was like when I laid in his bed next to him- ready to marry him if he asked and  he got up and walked out on us because he was too scared. I remember what it was like when he wouldn’t look at me. I remember how scared I was to fully trust him. I remember how he’d get up and leave the room if I walked in. I remember what it was like when Cowboy shattered my heart. I remember how he left me and never came back.

There is a reason we didn’t work out and it wasn’t all him. I was a huge part to blame.

So anyways- after our conversation it was so easy to remember the great things and slip back into old emotions. So watch out if you talk to your ex! I told him I couldn’t be friends with him because everything comes flooding back and it’s not fair for my husband or healthy for me. And that was that.

Now the hard part- telling my husband. I called my dad and asked him how he got over his first love. I looked up some more articles and surveys. I found out that a whole 88% of married people have pondered at least once what it would be like if they were single, or without kids, or with an ex, in the privacy of their own mind. So thank goodness I am not crazy! Cowboy is my what if.

I have also come to realized with my last entry that my heart has never healed. My husband is the closest one ever to it besides Cowboy. I am selfish in nature, I think about me and what will be good for me or what I want to do, or need. I even used to think of our money separately (my money and his money) and that I was entitled to mine and he wasn’t. Now don’t get me wrong I am not a horrible unloving wife- these are subconscious actions and thoughts. I come across as lazy. I love him, I just never had the desire to do things for him for the sake of doing it. I did things for me and my future.

The longest relationship I ever had before my husband was maybe 2 or 3 months. MAX. Even Cowboy and I didn’t make it a full month I don’t think of exclusive dating but we were on and off for 3, maybe more years.

That is what I told my husband. I told him how I feel like I am selfish, my heart isn’t fully healed and I am reserved. Tears started making my eyes foggy as I told him how much I had been hurt. And how I learned to guard my heart because of abusive mother. I told him I was sorry and that I hope this didn’t hurt him. I told him the conversation between Cowboy and I. I told him everything. And I ended with a list I made for him.

The list was titled, I Love You More Because… and I would list my reasons why I loved him more than Cowboy. I only got about 6 down on the page before he came home. But I am going to write myself a copy so that when I am tempted to paint Cowboy in a romantic, dreamy light- that I see how great of my husband is and how much better he is to me than Cowboy was. One of the reasons why I love my husband more than Cowboy, is because my husband fought for me. He didn’t just leave or give up, he fought hard for me and for us.

I am my husband’s first love. He only had one other girlfriend before me and didn’t really like her. I wish I could be the same and give him the same as I gave Cowboy. There is just something about your first. I can’t explain it. But there is also something about a man that loves every part of you, accepts you for who you are, the bad, ugly and the good and who won’t leave your side no matter what.

Guilt from Past Relationships

I always blog about what I am going through and recently I have been facing a guilt from how I treated an ex boyfriend of mine. We weren’t so nice to each other at some points. Probably because of immaturity, confusion, jealously and I don’t know what else.

I have had this guilt for some time and it comes and gos. I dated his best friend just to get back at him for ditching me. (I know super horrible) We had years of on and off again. He was the first to have my heart and I think he still does have a part of it. Not that I would leave my husband for him at all, my husband is wonderful and what we have is amazing. But you always remember your first.

Anyways I feel so badly for how much I intentionally hurt him. I have wanted for years to tell him I am sorry but I never keep contact with exes. There is just too much temptation to hash out the old feelings and get caught up in the past.

Plus this guy, we will call him Cowboy, Cowboy ditched me after our relationship got really serious without a word. I would of married him then and there if he would of asked me to but instead he ditched me and never spoke to me again. Pretty confusing after our years of friendship and off/on again relationship.

I read an article online that if you feel so guilty about how you treated someone let them know you are sorry. BUT don’t do it for your own selfish benefit. Just apologize and move on with your life. Some people might not respond, or want to hear it, or not take you seriously if it ended really bad.

Thankfully Cowboy accepted my apology and I feel a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. So now when ever I am reminded of him- I would have that huge flood of guilt wash over me. It was nice while it lasted but we weren’t meant to be.

It’s hard to give your heart to someone else whole. I am still trying to understand and just trying to give my husband my whole heart. I feel like some of me is reserved and still out for my best interest. I don’t know how to shake it out of me. I have to learn that I can trust, subconsciously learn.

Love is not a feeling 100% of the time, love is a choice.

To the One Who Wears the Mask

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I know you.

I am apart of you.

When the fogginess of wanting to be accepted by you has cleared- I am left with heartache. My heart does not ache for myself or my own pain but for the mask wearer. I know if you probably read this it wouldn’t even sink in. You are too far gone in your mask.

I feel your pain and the heaviness of the mask. I didn’t know you as a little child but you went through some traumas of your own. Being the first child- did you have anyone to lean on? Did you create the mask as a little child to fool people that hurt you?

I can see how a mask can be empowering and an escape to a little child when the home is turmoil and unstable. It was like a breath of fresh air. Something you could control and focus your energy into. You can be anyone you want to be in your mask. No one has to know who you really are or what your life is really like. I can understand your mind was just trying to protect its self. I told you- I know you. I am apart of you.

At first the mask was a protection tool and an escape. Over time it became your face, your safe haven, your “go to” and as time went on- you took the mask off less and less. Why would you need to take it off? It would only show the hurt, the pain, the abandonment, the broken home and the abuse. You like the mask better- anyone would.

You have a huge hole in your heart and this mask fills it for you. You rid yourself of the liability of feeling guilt because guilt and shame were thrown at you as a child constantly. You witness first hand how manipulation can get you things that you want so you developed the tool.

As a little girl when you tried to emotionally latch on you were rejected, hurt and abused. You stripped yourself from viewing people as people and only as objects. Looking at a person as an object means they cannot hurt you and you don’t have to be emotionally bound to them.

The mask provides you with just seeing their uses and how they can benefit your mask further. I compare it to sex “without the strings” of the relationship. You view, collect and pick people for their uses and benefits “without the strings” of emotional attachment.

And of course how can a mask be fun if it doesn’t make you feel better? Want to be sexier? Smart? Desirable? Smooth? Charming? You as time went on made the mask so incredibly pretty. You softened the edges so “the objects” can’t find the seam-line. Your mask is slowly latching onto your face but what you have created makes you feel so good.

Let me illuminate something for you before think your mask can save you. Have you ever thought about the side effects of wearing a mask for so long? It gets hot, stuffy, suffocating and sometimes it actually sticks to your face. Your mask helped you as a child deal with your emotions and help defuse the situation but now it is apart of you.  You can’t get it off or change it nor do you want to because you are still that scared little girl behind the mask.

The mask has its own mind now. Its own wants and needs and you must fill it at any cost or it’ll start to crack. And the “objects” will see. The mask that used to be a breath of fresh air is now a parasitic leech. You and your mind have no idea about this. You cannot see the damage it is causing you because you have wiped away the feeling of remorse or guilt. You do not care in your mask. You just want it your way and to feel good about yourself.

The horrible side effect of your mask has made you callous and shallow. Can anyone ever truly smile in a mask? No. No one can see your real smile and the mask won’t let you- even if you knew how to smile. You mimic what you have seen over the years because you, yourself did not let yourself experience or deal with emotions. Your brain never made the connection as a small child.

Your escape has now become your prison. I told you- I know you. I am apart of you.

One night, after I cut my legs so deeply my dad and step mom found me outside. They helped me into the bathroom and washed away all the blood. It was such a humbling, loving experience- I couldn’t help but cry. They were cleaning the cuts I made because I hated myself so much.

I wish I could provide you with that kind of support, love and understanding. They didn’t hate me or get mad at me for what I did. They were just there to surround me with love. I wish I could peel back the mask piece by piece and save you. I would do it in a heartbeat for you. I wouldn’t hate you, judge you, leave you or whatever else you might think- I want to just surround you with love and help you.

This is how much I love you.

My heartaches for you because I know the little girl is stuck behind the mask still reliving all the trauma and pain. I just want her to come out and heal. I want her to experience life in the way it is meant to be, to truly love and to be loved. I don’t want you to drown in your own sorrow and pain. I don’t want you to be cut off from family and friends. I don’t want you to be imprisoned by your own mask- I want you to just be free.

This is how much I love you.

The Calendar

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Imagine waking up every morning as a child and having to do things not just promptly with “joy” in your heart but someone else’s “perfect”. And then when it is not completed to the measure of their “prompt” or “perfect” you wouldn’t be able to go to school, eat a meal or worse you- you wouldn’t have the love and affection or approval from that person. You would be completely ignored, despised, looked down on and felt like a waste of space.

The icing on the cake would be is that you wouldn’t know if you “failed or achieved” that day until she decided when to put it up on the calendar. So don’t you dare make her mad on Wednesday or she will decide Monday is getting an X. Don’t you dare challenge her because she is always right. And finally, don’t you dare get three Xs in a row.

Everyday I would look at the calendar and just pray I wouldn’t get an X. I felt so horrible. I was a child! A child in need of love, affection, support and care.

So now imagine that child growing up and even though the child no longer lives with the abuser- the connection has already been made. Be perfect to get love. It wasn’t until just this past couple years I realized why my anxiety for disorder was in place. I felt everything had it’s home and if it wasn’t put in the home or if I didn’t get a lot done in that day I would have an X on my calendar, mentally.

When I am in her presence now as a young woman I still feel like a wounded 10 year old just waiting for mommy to love me and most importantly to want me.