Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Needless to say, I’ve been ignoring my blog for the past several months…I have mostly good reasons, but then some that are just more so superstitious, because apparently, that’s what I am. Over the last four months, I have started my school year, started a full-time graduate program (online), but no less difficult, gone through a family tragedy, and maintained a relationship with the love of my life, and also had time to practice not being irritated at the happiness of my ex. Not because I miss him, but because in my head, he doesn’t deserve it yet. Welcome to the ass end of 2017.
Sometimes it’s difficult to write because I literally have too many things to discuss that I can’t pick the appropriate amount of words to describe what’s going on to an audience. The audience, albeit small in number, is the reason I write. I’m grateful for the readers I have!
Anyway, I digress, mostly because I don’t know where to start, so I’ll just pick a point.
It’s a day to be thankful, and I can tell you that I am, above all things, just that. If you had asked me six months ago if this is where I thought I would be, I would have said no. Not a fat chance would I have imagined loving another person and being loved the way that I am. Nor would I have imagined that I would feel supported, cared for, and appreciated the way I do because truthfully, in the last three years, I haven’t known what that felt like.
I was constantly being criticized for the way I am, and being molded into a different version of myself to meet Wes’s standard. There were countless fights, mostly me defending myself, this constant fight to hold on to who I was and not let it change, but also the constant defeat when it did. The never feeling good enough because I didn’t paint my nails, or do my hair differently, or wear clothes that he liked, I didn’t “show off my figure”. When I did wear something that he liked–and in my mind, I was always dressing to impress him. I never wore anything comfortable–it was always, “why don’t you dress like this more often?” or “You should paint your nails more often”, or anything I did simply was not to his standard no matter how hard I tried to fight for his affection, which I never received, but always gave, and believe me, I tried so much that I could have killed myself to do it, never eating a full meal around him out of fear I’d get fat or look like a pig, back straight, mouth poised, seductive look. All the time. Never comfortable.
I remember that night actually. It was the worst of our fights. You see, in all two years of our being together, I never received one genuine compliment of my appearance or the things I did for him. I never heard the word “beautiful” to describe my appearance, or for that matter even an “I love you”. He never said it to me. And at that point, I was sick of being criticized. I was so done. I’m stronger than that, and I am more than he made me to be.
He used to buy me the things he liked for me, rather than the things I liked for myself. I remember the year his parents bought me leather boots and he had told me that he wanted me to have something nice….”I shouldn’t be walking around on plastic boots”. Actually, I believe it was his mother who asked in disdain, “Why does she wear those plastic things?” At first I was grateful for the gift, until the gift became more of a symbol of charity and pity from his parents. I had never complained about the things I owned. They may not have been 400.00 leather boots, but I worked for the things I owned, and they never looked old, worn, or dirty. They looked great to me. He was prepping me for a world I didn’t want to be in, or fit in to.
Despite the fact that these things happened, and there’s far more. I could write a book, but that would just make people pity me. While I never called it emotionally abusive and controlling, the words of my diary are filled with evidence on the contrary. But six months ago, I had no idea that I would be here, reflecting on things I didn’t see while I was in a relationship with him, that everything I was fighting against was something I shouldn’t have had to fight for. Ever.
Despite the fact that for the last three years, I’ve been fighting for affection that I would never get, I’m in a place now that I never thought I would see. I met Tyson during our “break”, just expecting a fun date or two, and that was all it took to realize that he was everything I have been looking for. He’s kind, he’s gentle and strong, thoughtful, and funny…AND LAWD…is he handsome. I’ve never really known what it means to be loved for who I am, and not feel the need to change.
It shouldn’t take hell to make me grateful, but I am grateful for the struggle because without it, I wouldn’t know what it feels like to appreciate the love I have been given and hope to never stop getting. It feels good to have someone believe in you as much as you believe in them. Someone who wants to make you know how much you are loved and how beautiful you are. I only hope that I am able to give him the same love.
(I also feel that writing about my love is a jinx, so I keep it to a minimum haha)
PEACE, LOVE, and HAPPY TURKEY DAY!