Nothing has been truer considering my need to move in and out of so many different walks of life seamlessly since I was a child.
My ability to adapt or at times hide in plain sight is essentially how I’ve survived.
I recently got a new job in my field – its a huge opportunity. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to pull my hair out and cry every time I open up a new file and try to digest it. Its hard. Im under-qualified. My anxiety scratches at the back of my skull ha, you think you can do this? you’re going to fuck this up. you’re only kidding yourself. my paternal figure’s voice quickly piggybacks with a bellowing laugh you’re not smart like these people you dream too much, you’re not a smart girl.
My eyes water and my heart rate increases. I take a sip of water and straighten my posture I try to drown the negativity out you were chosen for a reason, you were built for this, yes- its hard…yes- you may make mistakes. This isn’t the first time you’ve been thrown into the water with minimal ability to swim, you always keep your head above water and learn to swim with the current.
This is just like anything else I’ve done in life….ok maybe with a lot more pressure. But there’s nothing I can do but smile, tilt my head back, charm and bond with the people around me in attempt to make the blows easier when I do make mistakes. Pretend I know wtf is going on to the best of my ability.
This is the first moment I’ve felt like “hey you ARE going to go into this field- you CAN do it” and for some reason instead of feeling immense joy I feel a constant nausea and desire to run away…..what is that?
I still know that this is what I want to do. Why am I so scared?
Of all the waters I’ve flung myself into I’ve never felt so crippled by fear.
Maybe its the xanax, molly, and coke bender I went on last week though….thats probably not helping if I’m being 100
I went out to see a friend who was visiting my city. We had some drinks (ok, a lot) and caught up. By the time we went to the second bar I was drunk, but it still didn’t mean I didn’t hate most of the fratty mid 20s-early 30s crowd. One of my newer friends who I’ve quickly gotten close to met up with us which helped, at least I had someone who hated the scene as much as I do with me. Lets call her N.
We were about to leave when I saw a man I thought I recognized, I went up to him “C? Is that you – do you remember me from high school!?”
We got to talking and exchanged numbers then N and I left to eat. I couldn’t tell you what time it was or how we got there, but I do remember eating! Eventually we went home and C came over. We had more drinks and did some blow. We talked about life and made out. It was a good time, I was amused. N and I were down to sleep with him if we found he was worth it (i.e meaning he had a decent sized cock). Its interesting to me that in m/f situations I’m usually very submissive – but if theres three I’m normally dominant especially with the woman. I told them to move upstairs to the bedroom. As they made out on the bed I pulled out a few of my toys.
I decided to blindfold him. It was a power move – its always about power. N and I kissed him and then when we pulled his boxers off he wasn’t hard – and even if he was a grower he’d still be pretty small. I kissed him and took the blindfold off “I don’t think tonights your night C” he smirked a bit embarrassed and replied “Yeah I shouldn’t have done so much blow.”
I didn’t want him sleeping over – nor did N. So I asked him to leave then N and I cuddled and fell asleep.
Imagine – two beautiful women willing to fuck you then when its showtime you can’t perform. I obviously know it happens and don’t blame him I’m just thinking how shitty that must have felt for him!
Sucks to suck.
Now its just another story I’ll add into my collection.
As I apply to grad programs I find myself smiling.
I always knew from a young age I’d either kill myself or if I didn’t, if I somehow made it out of the woods and away from all my abusers, I’d become an incredible woman.
That probably sounds morbid to a lot of people, but it was my reality and even at 13 I knew that.
My therapist once said to me “Its kind of a miracle that you don’t have a personality disorder, that you’re not more of a wreck, and that you’re not only functional in the world – but that you’re successful because most people who have lives like the one you had don’t get out or they end up locked up in mental hospitals rocking back and forth…your gift of resiliency is astounding”
I cried when she said that. While I’m so often told how strong I am rarely does the fact that I’m not a mess and that I’ve grown into the woman I am get validated. I’ve worked so hard to be who I now am. To have what I have. To know what I do. To survive and make something out of it. To stop perpetuating cycles of abuse that were placed onto me. To be better than the darkness that raised me.
My soul feels such a strong pull on the path I’m on. Knowing I’m doing it and knowing I’m becoming the woman I’m meant to be feels phenomenal as it does terrifying.
The most important part of overcoming trauma in my case has been making meaning out of it and gaining wisdom in order to support others. I feel triumph. I feel proud. I feel stronger than ever. Some days my feet hurt from walking a path covered in glass and flames. I keep my head high, I inhale and remember her.
I massage my own feet
heal my wounds
and keep walking
I have somewhere I need to get.