Me Too...Me still.

The liberation I personally experienced with the #MeToo movement is beyond comparison. I was able to share as much or as little as I felt comfortable with and still make it known, "Hey- I was abused." 

But I'm ready to talk now. I'm ready to open my bleeding heart and weep, with a naked soul in front of the world. 

I'm in counseling- because 16 years later, I still haven't processed so much of it. Did you know that your mind can essentially blot out memories? Whole years actually? It's a form of self-protection- but it's also kind of terrifying: instead of just blocking out the bad parts of childhood, I don't remember almost the first entire 9 years of my life. Some memories stand out, but most of those are recallable because of pictures that happened to catch those moments. 

Unfortunately, 9 was too old to be able to forget. And so many details of that wretched afternoon stand out, creep down my spine, grip my throat, and make my stomach lurch. The panic, the desperation, the hopelessness, the dirtiness, the shame...the secrecy. It comes back in a rush and all the sudden, I'm that lonely, broken little girl again, stripped of all that made me who I was. And I haven't been her since. I'm huddled in a dark corner, knees pulled to my chest, hallowly watching the walls of who I am, crumble. I can't stop them. I can't understand it. I can't change it. I feel betrayed. I feel empty. I feel alone. I feel dark. That moment comes back and taps me on the shoulder and I feel so vulnerable- like if someone stares too much, I'll shatter under the weight of it. 

I remember the day my mom looked at 10 year old me, and asked me, "where did my happy girl go?" And empty, confused, 10 year old me didn't have a clue what to say. Because at this point, that moment was locked up. And it wasn't until I was 14 years old, I experienced a trigger that was the key to unlocking that moment. So at 10, I was completely lost. I was drowning and I didn't even know what under. I just knew who I was had been ripped away, and I was suffocating. 

When I was 14, and that moment was opened up, the truth came gushing out like a waterfall, and the process began, but still hasn't ended. The correlation between how happy of a child I was, and how depressed I became wasn't made until adulthood when someone explained that the earth-shattering childhood I had, had created patterns of self-sabotaging behavior. And when I experienced grief after grief, I finally shattered again. The pieces of myself I had reconstructed, the person I thought I had built- she was so shallow, still so empty. She didn't know who she was either. I'm still that broken little girl. Nothing has changed, the hurt has just changed shape. 

I still don't know who I am. One day I woke up and looked around, and everything in my life felt like something I couldn't touch. People held no warmth. Moments joy didn't last. And Jesus felt so far away. Every day that passed by, He feels further and further away. Like He was the only happy childhood memory I had. Jesus, Sweet Jesus, my Saviour, my God...the only light in my childhood. The only light in my life now. 

I still believe at the very core of who I am that I cannot exist without Him, but I cannot find Him in myself. I search and I beg and I plead- but my life still feels like the same shallow hole that it has for so long. Is this just how it is? A passionless, dry, dull, empty life? Where is the fullness of joy? My heart aches for it.

I have chased the feeling of being alive. I have sought for the wind in my hair passion for life: I have tried the nights of endless lovemaking, the ecstasy of drunkenness, the laugh of a child, the high of a run, and delight of decadent chocolate....it doesn't matter. Nothing fills me. When I wake up, I'm still alone. I'm still broken. Around me still lay the fading pieces of a childhood I can't make sense of. I grasp for anything that promotes the promise of fulfillment or love. I have sought until the soles of my heart's feet are bleeding raw from the endless seeking and running and chasing. 

I wish I could leave this with "but here's how I have healed and how I'm doing better" but I can't. I can tell you this: I have a village of loving, amazing Jesus people who clear away the cobwebs of my passion-chasing mistakes and hug the broken little girl huddled in the corner. I have a man who reminds me of my self worth every time some pig downtown rolls his window down to yell obscenities. I have a community that spurs me on, that keeps me in church, that points me constantly to Christ- even when I can't see Him anywhere but in their faces. I have a beautiful family, that is so precious to me- all I want to do is protect them, and keep their hearts innocent to how dark my own has become. 

And I have only one last thing I can say: I still feel dark. I still feel shattered. Absolutely gutted and empty. But I am not alone. And I have one thing: I. have. hope.

One day, it all ends. One day the sun rises on that little girl- the bruises heal, the heart mends, the shattered pieces create something beautiful and touchale. One day she dances. One day her hair flows in the wind. One day her lover spins her around a field of flowers and one day the dark first 25 years become a chapter, instead of the whole story. 

Controversial Faith and my Taboo Life

My whole life, sex was something we didn't talk about. Not in a good way, not in a healthy way, but also not in a bad way. We didn't talk about sex, at all. I was told, probably in 8th grade: "babies are made when mommies and daddies love each other very much." And this was the extent of the conversation. Too bad for my poor parents, it came two years after a friend of mine divulged the details of her family life class to me. Their patronizing explanation left me with so many questions, and with the smidgen of information I had kept to myself for years, I did what most curious children did, and I tried to put the pieces together. 

Fast forward to 16 year old me, still trying to figure out the nuts and bolts of my own body, and I ask my best friend, "when they're trying to have a baby...does the guy have to pee inside of her?" Because   the very basic "how things function" was never told, never taught. It was taboo. I didn't understand how bodies functioned in the basic sense. I knew what my period was, and that when I got pregnant, I wouldn't have one for nine months. But that was it. 

And the thing about sex, is it's miraculous. It doesn't have to be this weird, uncomfortable conversation. Bodies do amazing things during sex- and they were designed to do that! How amazing?! And they were designed in such a way that sex is to be enjoyed by both people! And this was a conversation my parents and I never had. And now, its too late.

Because the other facet of the culture I grew up in was the idol of abstinence. There was no room for fault or failure and very little for curiostiy, and there was so much shame built into lessons on staying pure. It was well intended, and always done in love- but it was damaging. We still felt shame for simply having questions. 

So what did we do in adulthood? We said "f your way of life" and we found love in all the wrong places. We figured out how things work on our own, because we were sick of being ignorant. We didn't just want answers anymore- where they would have satisfied our juvenile hearts, we are now adults, and information is better experienced than explained. So we found ourselves in the beds of lovers with no commitment, and our hearts became cold and confused. 

We wanted to shatter the shame around it- and stop feeling guilty for feeling things. So instead, we threw ourselves deep into the life of having sex. Once it's open, it doesn't close. We are in the thick of sex, and love, and life. All the wrong ways, and I still don't feel shame. 

The thing I wish I'd known, is that having sex, doesn't make sex less confusing. It explains how it works, how it feels, how mindblowingly amazing it can be- but instead of confusion of how things worked, was the confusion of what love really is. 

Why is sex so built up? Stop making idols of not drinking, not having sex, and not cursing and just life your life like Jesus. He rough and tumbled with the worst of us, and He loved us anyways.

I'm not saying don't give a damn at all ever, but we have blown things so way far out of proportion. Why can't we have healthy conversations, in our families, our churches and our education systems about sex. Not in a way that glorifies it too soon, but in a way that doesn't build shame into it. 

I'm not sorry. As someone with an abusive past, I was terrified of what my first time would be like. Why on earth would I want that first experience to be on a Caribbean island far away from anything familiar? It wasn't. It was with someone who, though we didn't love each other, took his time with me, and made me feel safe. And if nothing else, I have him to thank for a good sexual experience. Because he taught me without the shame I grew up in. But what if it wasn't good, and I panicked. Would I really want that fear built into my marriage? I would argue no. 

What I want to understand now, is love and all it is intended to be. In each capacity, not just romantically or sexually. I don't regret it, I've learned from it. Should my story be different? Absoutly. The heroine isn't supposed to be so stupid. But it is what it is- we made our choices. Now we just learn from them and try to be better for them. 

I don't have the right answer, but the conversation has to change. We have to do better for our kids. No more shame. No more secrets. 

emotional booty call

my coworkers are loyal to a core and honest as heck. they are over this boy, this situation, and my constant heartbroken wining. my darling work twin told me i was just being his booty call, and when i confidently assured her we've never even kissed, she goes "fine, you're his emotional booty call." 

jerk. 

she's right though. if he seems evenly slightly ready to talk or hang, i will clear my whole day to devote to him. it's pathetic. when he's ready, i show the heck up. 

i'm working to just let him go, because he's clearly not interested or not interested enough in making a commitment at this time. i want to be ok with that, but i wholly feel like he's going to be the one that got away. and there's not a dang thing i can do about it. i've tried. i've tried to not let him get away, but i can't make him stay. its breaking my heart to let go of him, knowing i might not get him back, but i'm holding on to someone who isn't mine. 

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we reached a new point in our relationship this week: i required that he respect me. he's not mean to me, but he blame casts on me and doesn't respect my time, even on just a friendship level. it's the first time i have told him that i'm not being psycho to ask for the simple thing that i was. something's shifted, and i don't know that i like it. 

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i'm supposed to see him this weekend. and of course i want to, but i also want my heart to stop hurting. and maybe cutting him out of my life for a while is the best way to do that? 

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to be continued. 

the cocoon exists

the whole time unnamed "best friend" and I have been talking, I've sort of just talked about the whole ordeal in terms of butterflies because we never actually were in a relationship. I made the bold and somewhat heartbreaking claim that the butterflies died. But the truth is, I'm 100% not over this boy. Not even a little bit. Everyone in my life is telling me to just dump him, get on with my life, get over him and get over the situation. "Find someone else, move on." But I can't seem to just walk away. I don't want to. I know what he can be, why can't I wait until he decides to live his life to the fullest? I know what they're saying, and I understand, but I'm not ready just yet to give up on him. I want him to be the best version of himself. I want to push him to that, and be his top cheerleader when he does. I want to be able to say I was with him when he wasn't his greatest, and get to enjoy him when he is. I don't want to just walk away because he's not what he can be. I won't. I can't.

And then he does it; he shows up. He's there for me. He texts me, just to see how I'm doing. He takes an interest and invests in me. He always disappears again, but just when I'm ready to give up, he shows back up. And when he does its right when I need it, right when I think he doesn't care. And it's the sweetest, most pointed and caring he's been towards me.

It's been in these moments I have realized the butterflies may be dead, but I think there's a cocoon, tucked away in the corner, waiting for a bright, bold butterfly to burst forth. maybe it's his butterfly, maybe it isn't. but either way, the hope isn't gone. and I'd be lying if I didn't add, I especially hope this boy comes around. if he doesn't, that's ok, but my heart will have a lot of healing and moving on to do if its not him. cos for me, its him. 

The Butterflies Died

They died because I've had to suffocate them. You will learn that I misread situations professionally. It is embarrassing and never any less. I didn't necessarily misread this one, but I hoped too strongly for how it would continue to read, and I was wrong. For the first time maybe ever, I could actually see and wanted, a future with someone. I didn't have a lot of reasons to think it wouldn't happen, except for my horrible track record, which proved consistent: I can't make 'em stay. I don't know what it is about me, but I get to a certain point with a guy and its like I hit the "repulsive button" and off they go. It's not even always at the same point, sometimes its a lot sooner or later than others. I have no idea what I do to cause them to so abruptly lose interest in me. But for one reason or another, they always just, stop. Stop texting, stop calling, stop dropping by, stop chasing, romancing and pursuing me.
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All I want is to love and be loved. But I don't know how to do that. I have so much love to give, it's built up so fiercely. I'll learn your dreams and support them, and help you build them to make them a reality. I'll discover your demons and walk right into your darkness; I'll touch the most broken pieces of you, and love you more for them. I'll stand loyally by your side when everyone else says you're wrong, I will see the good in you when no one else can or wants to. I will defend you like you've never been defended before. I will love you to my own detriment, and keep loving you when I think I am empty. I will empty myself of love and still have love rushing in to give. I don't know how not to love fiercely. And all I want is someone to love.
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Do you ever feel like "I'm about to make a huge mistake"...and know you're going to make it anyways? I'm there. He's not right, the time isn't right, my family wouldn't approve. My friends wouldn't understand. It would be chaotic, passionate, emotional, one to go down in history...it wouldn't be right. It would be all kinds of wrong. I think we would both encounter demons neither of us expects. And yet for two days now I have hardly stopped thinking about him. I hardly know him, I don't even like him. But I want this wild oat. This reckless fling. This thoughtless autumn lover. I want this chance to love with abandon and be empty and broken when it's over, because at least then I'll feel like I've loved. Because I'll know at the end of it someone felt all the weight of the love that's been building in me for so long.
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The truth is, it's not this fling I truly want. It's the boy with the butterflies. The one with the beard, and the eyes and the hands and the fashion sense and the geeky side and the terrible shoes and the taste for black coffee and the horrible questions. The truth is I'm not over him at all, I still want him. And I can't have him. 

For more than a month now, my best friend has made me question everything. And I'm gonna be honest, I'm starting to lose it a little. We didn't dance the night away, but we did attend a formal event together. I felt like a princess before he showed up, but as soon as he did, I walked around like a freaking queen. I felt like absolute royalty. He was nothing short of charming perfection. But of course, he always is. 

Here's the reality: I am falling in love with my best friend. 

And he's not settled on me. He's not opposed to me, I know that much. But my heart is becoming more and more settled on him and everything he is, and he seems to be content exploring other options. If I had a dollar for everytime the thought "it's just not fair" entered my head, I think I could pay cash for the house he's looking at. 

 I love the area he's looking. I love his hopes and dreams, and I can see myself fitting so perfectly into them if only he'd let me. I love how sexy yet absolutely cheese sauce he is. And I love that he doesn't really seem to care what others think of him...until he's not sure how he looked doing something, then he's adorably self-conscious. I suppose I love and hate that he always asks me what I think of him and what he's doing. As if he's seeking my approval, but yet he doesn't seem to regard it as much. He doesn't, however, seem to ask other girls for theirs, so I suppose there's that to be thankful for. 

Oh, how my heart aches to just have answers. I'm not confused, I know exactly what I want. I know more and more every day, every prayer, every conversation that he is who I want to spend my time at the very least "getting to know" but if we're honest, dating...with. I want to date my best friend and I'm ready to risk it all to let him know that in no uncertain terms. He knows I'm "open" to the idea, but bro needs to know it's basically all I think and pray about. This potential future seems so logical. Seems so right. I have to trust the Father, and I'm trying. But man, if y'all knew this guy...you'd understand why the idea of letting him go is an excruciating one. 

An update on the butterflies

Almost a month ago, I wrote and a vulnerable and girlish piece about my best friend, and the butterflies he started giving me. real life update? they haven't gone away. they feel less school girlie now, and a little more like, "yeah this is the direction I want for my life at least at this point" they're very specific butterflies. we've now gone out (as I said in a text to my sister, "gone out", gone out? not sure.) twice now. I don't hate spending time with him. even if we're just growing our friendship, I'm ok with that. I like getting to know him without having to compete. He and I are walking a fine line if we are headed towards something more than friends. It would rock our friend group a bit. I wonder if that's why it's going slower than maybe it normally would. 

and then the demons show up. 

you know, those little hellions that get into your thoughts and make you question everything. the ones that don't even try to find tact, they just straight up tell you "he's too good for you."

"have you seen his body? way out of your curvy girl league."

"have you seen his ex? you're not his type."

"have you heard what he talks about? you're not cultured enough."

"have you listened to his week? you don't work hard enough."

"have you seen your own dating success rate? you're not datable enough."

"have you listened to your own stories? you're not interesting enough."

"have you looked in a mirror? you're just not pretty enough."

no matter what they feed me, I am never enough. and i struggle to combat it because i feel that. I will not be enough for this guy because he is, wow. he's amazing. his motivation, his heart, his work ethic, his personality, his dreams...to be honest, his face, hair, and beard...this guy has so much going for him. what do I have to offer him, but a 5'2" chubby body, a "spicy with a side of awkward" personality, and the guarantee that I'll make him good food? not much. I listen intently when he talks about his job- he works hard and I want to understand what he does. but I 100% cannot explain it to you. (I can, however, tell you his job title, so hopefully, that's a plus) he is up on all the pop culture, I, am not...not at all. he loves to quiz me on songs and drop references and I wish I got them, but I don't. I don't want to be a disappointment to him right out of the gate. I want to be what he wants. I don't want him to be disappointed that I'm who he gets if I'm who he gets. but I feel that ache in my soul, to want to please him, and feeling like I just don't quite get there. If we do decide to walk this road, I want him to be proud of me. I want to know he will proudly introduce me to his family, his people. we'll see what happens, but its a lot right now, and to whoever reads this, just pray for me. ya girl needs it. 

Xo,

Ellen