Aesthetically, fuck you

Aesthetically, fuck you

My brain is wiiiiired for the drama, the trauma, the crawling out of dark spaces, the focus on betterment, working on myself, improving this that and the other and, well, I’m kind of tired. I haven’t opened this in FOUR years because I didn’t want to confront how often I write about things I am working on. The last time I posted (four years ago) was a private post about the same thing I was going to write about today… which further confirms where my brain is comfortable. I’ll sum it up so I can move on. My intense response to emotional situations with men (i.e. hiding under tables, kicking and screaming, shutting down in utter and complete fear) are a trauma response I was “gifted” when I was 16 and completely violated – my body responded, or didn’t, a certain way and has continued to over the next 20+ years as I, and all of my therapists, have somehow not quite put that together or taught me how to create safety around feelings, emotions, disagreements, etc. I have since then sought relationships that exaggerate and/or mirror behaviors of my abusers.

Great, moving on. I’m ENGAGED!!! I would like to be very clear, this is a pattern change in the most spectacular of ways. I am safe, I am loved, I am cherished. There is room for my whole self, I am held when I cry, I am reminded I am safe when my body believes I’m in danger, I am celebrated for all I have walked through and most importantly, for me, we are focusing on living in that part of myself less. On romanticizing the life we have built, dancing in the rain, on whimsy and aesthetics – because they make my heart smile. This man is a “put on a record and dance in the living room” man, a “cry in my arms so tomorrow you can laugh in them” man. Did we just wake up here one day? HELL no, we worked our asses of for it. We show up for each other, wherever we are at… and then take a walk to watch the deer prance across the meadow. We make life magic by showing up for it.

Good thing – because I was sexually assaulted in December by a close friend. There are a million details that make this story especially rough, and I’d like to keep those close. At this point, it felt like I somehow found these situations for myself. As is briefly mentioned previously, my brain is wired toward trauma, my body revels in shutting down. At some point, naturally, I started to believe that I was weak, that I ask for it, that I surround myself with a life that will perpetuate this cycle. There is research to back some of that, intellectually I understand this and that made it beyond infuriating that understanding did not help. Please, please understand that this is not victim blaming. I do not take accountability for anyone behaving in these despicable ways, or for violating someone (me) that should have absolutely been in a safe environment. I especially understand the wrongness as I can 1,000% say that had the roles been reversed, there would be no victim, no early flights home, no emergency medical leave, no dark basement for weeks on end, no twitching spells or psychiatry appointments. So to be clear, a big FUCK YOU to this person.

Anyway, back to my fiancé, whom I am learning I can be free with. I have been stuck in a body that learned something a long time ago that does not serve me, and while I understand it, I resent it. I know that having a person is not a necessity, but I also learned that not having one, or continuing to date emotionally unavailable, perpetually avoidant partners was helping me avoid addressing the things I needed to break out of my abuse cycles. Here, with this person, I am being witnessed. I am yelling, dancing, jumping up and down, bothering him, kicking and screaming and hitting the ground, getting (safely) angry, crying LOUDLY, laughing even louder and without restraint. I am sitting quietly, learning to again experience the world rather than gather information to protect myself from it. I’m sitting at a cute coffee shop, writing on my blog, in a cute outfit with wild, red, curly hair and a honey lavender latte because to me these things matter, these things are life. I give myself an incredible amount of credit for getting here, for being here, for moving forward. And I give endless thanks to this soft blue-eyed man, mostly for letting me stare into those eyes as long as I need to so I can find all of the good things of the world reflected in them.

I guess today is a little bit of fuck you, a little bit of thank you, a touch of freedom and a world of hope.

Love y’all.