"Don't ask me. Tell me. You're the boss." #pelvicfloorphysicaltherapy #endometriosis #PTSD

Three months ago, I had a complete hysterectomy and endometriosis excision surgery. The doctor didn't know how extensive the endometriosis was until he got in. My bladder, bowel, colon, rectum, left tube, left ovary, and uterus were all fused together in one big clump. There were several other spots of endometriosis spread throughout my pelvic and abdominal areas. It was a pretty extensive surgery, and it's taken a while to heal.

There are a lot of things that have improved since my surgery.
I no longer have pain so bad that I feel nauseated. I no longer spend a few days vomiting during my period.
I don't have a period.
The intense pain (felt like a hot poker stabbing my insides) is gone.
I don't feel the burning/urgency/painful cramping whenever my bladder is full or while peeing or after I've peed. It used to feel like I had a UTI all the time, but I don't feel that way anymore.

I still have some bowel issues that weren't there before the surgery, but since I had major surgery on my bowels, it's apparently normal. It takes time for those things to heal.
I also still feel exhausted a lot. I no longer take a nap everyday, but I feel like I still could if I had the chance.

I still have a constant aching, burning, uncomfortable pressure pain throughout my whole pelvic region. That combined with the fatigue I still have since the surgery has been discouraging. Last week, I spoke with the surgeon again. He told me I should be feeling better by now, and suggested I give physical therapy a try to see if that could help me. He also said it could help with preventing more adhesions (scar tissue) from sticking to my organs and muscles. Scar tissue can cause the organs to stick together in the same way endometriosis did. If it got bad enough, I'd have to have surgery again to fix it. Physical therapy can help break up the scar tissue and keep the organs moving in the way they should.

Pelvic floor physical therapy was not my idea of fun. It sounded AWFUL. Besides the fact that physical therapy of any kind is generally painful and difficult, I have a history of sexual abuse. I have been diagnosed with PTSD, and anything that feels anything like being sexually abused felt, triggers reactions in my brain and body. PTSD makes it hard for me to know if I am in the present (with a doctor that can help me) or in the past (with a man who is raping me). As far as my body and brain are concerned, I FEEL like I am being raped. I am in the past. I can see the things I saw then. I can hear the noises of the fan whirring above the bed, and his grunting. I can feel the pain of being raped or the suffocation of having a pillow over my face. I feel scared and alone and betrayed and disgusting and disgusted. I feel so many things that I can't come back to the present without a lot of work and usually some help.

Pelvic floor physical therapy uses both internal and external muscle manipulation. It's like a regular exam on steroids - and I have never done well with regular exams.

I was afraid to go, but I also want to feel better... Really better. I want to be able to go to work, or fishing, or horseback riding, or to sit on my couch and watch TV, and not think about being in pain. It's exhausting to be in pain, and it takes a lot of energy.  If there's a chance I don't have to live like that, I want to do whatever I can to take that chance.

Pelvic floor dysfunction can be caused by a lot of things.
Chronic pain from endometriosis can be a cause. Surgery (hysterectomy or the extensive excision) can also cause it. Sexual abuse can also be a cause.
It could also be caused by pregnancy, miscarriage, sitting too much, exercising too much, poor posture, etc.

(In other words - I have a lot of things that could cause it, and they probably all contributed to where I'm at today.)

I had my first physical therapy appointment yesterday. I was scared out of my mind. I asked Todd to come with me. I made the decision that I wasn't ready to do any kind of internal work yet. As I was filling out the paperwork before meeting with the therapist, I was trying not to cry or panic or run away.

Then I met her.
She asked me about my pain. She asked me to describe it. She asked me what has helped, what has made it worse, what other doctors and professionals have told me, and she told me it usually took a woman seeing at least seven doctors before they got to her. (I counted. I have been to eight doctors for pelvic pain. The last two were helpful. Everyone else was dismissive.)

She showed me some stretches to do. She reminded me the importance of breathing deeply (diaphragm breathing). Then she handed me a sheet and told me she liked to do both internal and extrernal work.

"Is it okay if we just start with external for now?" I asked, very timidly.

She responded, "Of course! Don't ask me. Tell me. You're the boss. It's your body - I'm just here to help you."

I breathed a sigh of relief, and gladly got on the table where she massaged my incision scars and tested to see how tight my stomach and back muscles were. She had me move in different positions as she massaged and moved different parts of me. I learned about fascia, which I was unfamiliar with before. She talked a lot about teaching my body to send new signals to my brain, because the cause of the pain was gone - but my body didn't know that yet.

I walked away feeling hopeful. I still don't want to go through the physical therapy. It still sounds awful. I still think I will have a really hard time with it, and I will probably get triggered in a way that will leave me feeling awful on more than one occasion. I also know enough about recovery and PTSD and myself to know that I can handle it... And the only way out of the pain is to go through it.

So... here I go... through pain. Twice a week for at least the next month.

It wasn't all in my head! #endometriosis #adenomyosis

It's done. Yesterday I had my uterus, cervix, Fallopian tubes, and left ovary removed. This morning I am laying in a hospital bed waiting for the nurse to let me get up and move around. Then I will be waiting for the doctor to give me the okay to go home.

I haven't talked to the doctor yet - my surgery was schedule to be an hour and a half. It took him three hours. I had endometriosis.

My uterus, colon, left Fallopian tube, and left ovary were all covered in endometriosis adhesions and twisted and fused together. As the doctor was telling Todd all that I had cut out, Todd's main thought was, "No wonder she was in so much pain."

I went to several doctors who all told me my pain was psychosomatic. I really thought it was in my head, and I was worried I'd get into surgery and the doctor would find nothing wrong with me.

What a relief to know there was disease, and the surgeon cut it out, so hopefully once I recover from the pain of surgery, there will be no more pain.

The pain has changed a little with surgery, but it's no worse than what I was living with almost everyday. (There's an incision in my belly button, and that hurts. The other three incisions don't hurt at all.)

The other cool thing about this experience: I was able to talk about PTSD and anxiety, AND I was able to ask for help. As I was coming out of anesthesia, I was in pain and felt panicked. I was able to tell the nurse, "I have PTSD from being raped, and I'm having a hard time right now. Can you talk to me to help me stay here in the present. My brain thinks I'm being raped again."

She brought me a pillow to hug and then talked to me. She asked me about where I live and what I do for a living and told me stories about herself. It didn't take too long for me to get grounded and be okay enough.

I'm really excited to see evidence of how much better I am than I was just a year ago.

Free from the Other. It is not my problem, and I won't make it mine either.

Facebook has an "Other" folder for messages. It's where messages go if I'm not Facebook friends with the person who sent it. I think I knew it was there, but I had never checked it until yesterday.

I discovered some nice messages from people thanking me for my Ordain Women profile, and for the Sunday spotlight interview I did a month or so ago. It also had a message from my ex-husband. It had been there a while, so for him this is way old news. For me, it's pretty darn fresh.

I didn't know what to do with it. I don't know what to do with it, so I guess I have decided to write about it here.


This post isn't to him, but of course he's welcome to read it. This is for me, and for anyone else who is trying to figure out what to do with past abusers, forgiveness, apologies, etc.

A couple years ago, I wrote the blog post "The Letter I Will Never Send", because I was contacted by the Catholic church asking what I thought about his getting remarried. They asked me to describe my marriage and my experiences with him. I chose not to do anything with their questions except to write my experiences FOR ME.

I guess he read it.

"Hey Jen,

I wanted to write you because there is a lot I have been thinking about for a long time. Someone alerted me to the blog you wrote and it solidified what I think I didn't quite understand before. Where I didn't think rushing you into sex so often was kind, I didn't understand how bad it was. I didn't know to you it was a forced obligation. I thought because I had your consent it was o.k. --I didn't realize how abusive that was to you. I think aside from that, we both went into things unprepared and unrealistic and hurt each other. I am truly sorry, I realize now how hurt you were. I don't want there to be any tension in the future and I hope you are and continue to do well in your life. It would mean everything to me if you would forgive me.
-L"

Since writing the letter, and the response to it, I hadn't thought much about him. I am still dealing with some false beliefs about relationships. I am still dealing with a lot of guilt and shame that is left from a lifetime of abuse - which included my life with him - but was not limited to just him. I have had to completely reconstruct my whole emotional/mental/spiritual foundation, which takes a lot of time and a lot of work. (That could be the understatement of the century.)


Reading his message, my initial reaction was fear. I was afraid that he could find me, and I wanted to hide.

Then I felt like I needed to write back and apologize for not responding sooner: to tell him that I hadn't seen it, but now that I had, give him a response that would make him feel better. I felt like I should tell him I wasn't angry and I had totally forgiven him... but I didn't do any of that.

Todd told me to tell him to "Fuck off."
I wasn't entirely against the idea, but it didn't really resonate with how I was feeling.

I thought about asking how I had hurt him and apologizing for anything I had done to him, and then I realized: I DON'T CARE

I have had to work my ass off to recover from what he did. I have gone to therapy, I have read books, I have cried, I have gone through flashbacks and nightmares. I have spent countless hours thinking and rethinking, so that I could make sense of the world around me. I have spent time talking to others about how they treat their wives, and defining rape, and going to SLUT walks, and writing and writing and writing and crying and then writing more. I didn't ask him to apologize. (In fact, if he read anything besides that one post - he would have seen that I didn't want an apology.) I didn't ask him to do anythig. All I did was to go out and do MY work to make peace with what he did and what was my life.

I worked hard, and I have created a beautiful life. I didn't need anything from him, and I don't care what would mean the world to him...  What he needs and wants doesn't matter to me. I can finally say what he needs and wants and thinks and does means nothing to me. I wish him no ill will. I also don't wish him happiness. He gets to exist completely separate from me.

(Oh, and there is no tension between us, because there is nothing between us. That is exactly how I want it.)

I don't know what prompted him to write me - maybe he was trying to repent, and apologizing to me was part of that... but that's a pretty shitty apology. If I cared about him and his repentance, I would suggest that to him: Learn to apologize and take some responsibility if you actually want forgiveness. But I don't care about his repentance, or his work, or what he needs to learn or do... He gets to be responsible for his own learning and growing, and I get to completely dismiss it. It's his, and has nothing to do with me.

I have gone through anger at him. I have gone through all kinds of emotions, and now... I am at peace.  I don't know if that means I have forgiven him. (I am not a fan of the word forgiveness - I think too often it is used to manipulate and control. In too many cases, it is used to shift responsibility from an abuser to the victim.)

I have cried a lot in the last couple of days. I am not even sure what the tears were for. I just felt like crying, so I did. And now, I feel more free than I have felt in a long time.

Feeling helpless - feeling triggered

A couple months ago my life and my summer plans took an interesting turn.
We had big plans for camping trips, fishing trips, horseback riding, etc. We weren't going anywhere extravagent - I just bought a new car. BJ just bought a new truck. We were planning on doing a lot of grand adventures, just close to home adventures.

Then BJ's dad had to have open heart surgery. (A quintuple bypass!) BJ's dad has been the full-time caregiver to BJ's mom. She can't walk and can't do anything for herself. BJD (BJ's Dad) was beside himself with worry about what would happen to BJM (BJ's Mom). The three kids in the area decided we would take shifts and stay with the parents to make sure they were taken care of.

Because BJ and I have to get work done during the week, our shift is the weekend. Basically, for two months, I have either been working or at BJ's parents. We took the horses out a couple of times, but they've had to be fast evening rides. We went fishing for an hour. We had his grandkids come to the house to play for a couple hours, and then had to go back to work after they left at 8pm.

It's been hard to have life plans changed, and not be able to go on our riding, camping and fishing trips. (And to know that we are going to have to cancel all of our plans for the rest of the summer too.) It sucks a bit, but also... not a big deal. I'd like to write about how this has triggered old thoughts and patterns in me.

BJ's mom is diabetic and very obese. Her dietary needs are very restrictive: Low calorie, low carb, and we have to count and keep track of everything she eats.
My dietary needs are very different. Higher calorie, high protein, and a really bad idea for me to keep track of everything I eat.
How do you match both of those at the same time? I can't keep track of what she eats without also keeping track of what I eat. If I eat when she is not eating, it's hard on her. (Probably in the same way it is hard for me to eat when she isn't eating. We are opposite ends of the same disorder. I feel bad for needing food. She feels unloved when she doesn't get food.)

I knew that would be hard for me. I compared it to an alcoholic having to poor drinks for everyone else in the room: totally doable, but difficult.

I also knew that without a compelling reason to do old behaviors, the triggers wouldn't be enough... I needed an eating disorder in the past, because my thoughts, my life, my existence were all incredibly painful. I needed an escape, and took the only way I knew "out" - at least until I didn't need it anymore and I found other ways to get my needs met.

I have to be here. I can't leave. My body is needed to lift and move and help. They also need me to appear emotionally and mentally strong. No matter what I am feeling - I need to get the work done. AND this is hard. I haven't wanted to be here. I've wanted an out - or some sort of emotional release.

Eating disorders are a way to get an emotional release. An out.

As I've talked to friends who have struggled with their own eating disorder, they have been compassionate and also said, "Remember you have to take care of yourself or you will be of no use to them."

That is when I realized, part of the trigger is that if I don't take care of myself, I don't have to take care of anyone else. I feel sad and selfish knowing that THAT is one of the reasons I feel triggered. I also understand it makes sense... I'm not so good at establishing boundaries for myself. I struggle to say what is too much, and I feel like I should give until I am dead. With that underlying belief, it makes sense to hurt myself so that I won't have to give as much.

One of the big pieces of eating disorder (and probably most addiction) recovery is recognizing the needs it fulfills, and then find a new way to have those needs met. I'm tired and I can't give as much as I have been asked to give (and be healthy).

BJ and I sat down and talked to his sister a few days ago. (Incidentally, she is the same place. She can't keep going like this without damaging her health.) BJ's dad has been doing this for years... no wonder his heart has finally said, "NO MORE!"

Sadly, there are not many resources for people who don't have money. I know what it's like to need more help, but have no resources to get that help. BJ's mom needs a lot of care.

Will she have to go to a rest home?

How will we pay for a rest home?

What happens now?

Do all of us sacrifice our health to help her? How long?

I really appreciate that he asks

BJ and I have lived in the same house for a while. We are "in a relationship". (It's official. It's on Facebook.) In my mind, being in a relationship was difficult to get to for many reasons, but one BIG reason was the loss of myself.

Basically, deep down I hold the belief that I have no right to my body, my wants, my desires, my possessions, because I have to give them up and sacrifice for my significant other.

Of course BJ doesn't want that for me, and since he generally holds the same belief for himself (HE has to sacrifice everything in order to make his significant other happy, or else he isn't a good man.) We're pretty funny together.

Today, we were both at work. I had driven my car. He had to go home to meet the farrier. (Horses are getting new shoes... as we speak!) I decided to stay at work and get some things done. I assumed he'd take my car, but as he was leaving, he asked if it was okay.

I felt confused... OF COURSE it is okay. How else was he going to get home?

But the truth is, I'm really glad he asks. I'm really glad he doesn't assume he has a right to my stuff. I can't picture myself ever saying no to him. (He says I should test this out sometime, but I can't see it happening any time soon. Not even as a test to see how he handles me telling him he can't use something of mine, but... anyway...)

Even if I still don't believe I have a right to tell him "no", I appreciate that he acts as if it might be an option.

Fishing with the guys. Part I. To feel included

I just got back from a week long camping/fishing excursion with BJ, Brad, and Ben. I wrote about my desire to go, and the excitement of going last month.

I was going to tell you all about the fishing and the grand adventure, but I'm going to start with the therapeutic part of the trip.

Our first night, we set up camp and then went fishing. We were on the river until 9, then Brad made dinner, and we (eventually) went to bed. We'd arranged the cots so that BJ was next to me and between me and Ben and Brad. I was in the corner, because that's where I felt safest.

Everyone else went to sleep. I did not. I heard them breathing deeply, snoring slightly. I heard them all get up to pee. I listened to the frogs. I listened to the other critters scampering around the campsite. About the time the frogs stopped and the birds started, I fell asleep. About an hour after that, the sun came up. I stayed and tried to sleep a bit longer, but it didn't work out as well as I would have liked...

We spent all day fishing, and the next night tried sleeping again with no luck.
(I wasn't sleeping, because every time one of them moved or breathed, my entire body would tense up. Every time I started to fall asleep, my brain would say, "WE'RE NOT SAFE! WAKE UP!" and I would be wide awake again.)

We got up and spent the morning fishing, but the sun was intense, and I was tired. I tried to rest, but the hyper-vigilance that kept me up at night wouldn't let me rest during the day either.

Something else started going screwy with my brain too. I was sure they didn't want me there. I was taking all the good fishing spots, and I was in the way. I'm aware that lack of sleep makes me emotionally vulnerable, but it is REALLY hard to enjoy fishing when you believe you don't deserve to be on the water, taking up space, and nobody wants you. I was doing everything I could to fight the crazy thoughts, but I was losing.

In the tentative plans for the trip, we had talked about going to a play in town that evening, and maybe staying in a hotel that night. None of us were super excited about going to the play. (There were fish down there, and no one had caught enough yet!) BJ suggested we still break camp and go into town to get a hotel room.  His reason being that he wanted me to get sleep before the next day of adventures.


I was uncomfortable. I had made grand plans to take care of myself, but when it came right down to it... I didn't want to inconvenience anyone. I didn't want to talk about me. I didn't want them to do things for me or to help me.

We sat and talked for forty-five minutes. There was only one room available at the only hotel in town. While I think being in a bed would have helped - being in a bed in a room with two men seemed to be causing as much anxiety as being in the tent.  Ben and Brad were trying to be helpful to me, but I wasn't expressing myself well... I told them that I wasn't comfortable with all of the sounds, and although I knew I was safe, I was having a hard time feeling safe around them because they were men, but I didn't want them to feel bad...


Finally, BJ just said, "Jen was violently raped in her sleep. She has a hard time feeling safe when she's starting to fall asleep because it takes her right back to what happened back then."

Instantly... they said, "You guys will go into town and sleep in the hotel. We'll stay here and camp. We'll come pick you up in the morning. No big deal."

I cried. Brad gave me a hug and apologized for not being more sensitive. I tried to explain to him that wasn't what I was feeling. They were all great, but I didn't want to even be worrying about it. I felt like a failure that I wasn't sticking it out. I wasn't strong enough, and I couldn't handle camping. I also felt sad, because I was enjoying being there... and it sucks that something that happened fifteen years ago is still fucking with my life.

We got back to fishing. I finally caught one fish. Brad thanked me for taking care of myself. Ben said he was sorry that I had ever been through such fucky shit. (And I got to use my favorite joke, "Or just really shitty fucking.") He laughed, and then said he felt bad for laughing. We ate dinner after dark, and cleaned up what we could before we left Brad to do the dishes and Ben drove us into town.

I took a shower, and I slept.

They came and picked us up and we went fishing. Nobody treated me with kid gloves. They didn't treat me any different at all. I still felt like I belonged, and I was part of the group. I REALLY appreciated that Ben was already planning next year's adventure, and maybe the year after that. 

As we said goodbye, Ben gave me a hug and told me he was really glad I had come... and that he was looking forward to our next grand adventure. Brad said he was really glad I was there, and we'd get together again soon.

I cried again. I had honestly thought they wouldn't want me to come back, because it was such a burden to have to deal with me and all my problems.

The four of us on the Yakima River.

It was really nice to spend time with guys that were just nice, normal guys. And to feel included, even though I'm a girl. Even though I have issues. Even though I was once raped, and I still have to deal with side effects of that. Words just can't quite describe how loved I feel, and how much safer the world feels today.

what do you Really want?

Ordaining Women has been all over my Facebook, the news, blogs, etc. My family and friends all have opinions, and very few of them agree completely on the issue.

Last week, I wrote about how I left the church because it was an abusive relationship for me. I could stay and try to change the church to be better for me, but it's not my responsibility... and the trouble with trying to change someone (or something) that I have no control over - it just doesn't go well. They don't want to be changed, they feel resentful that I am trying to change them, and who am I to decide who they should be anyway?

On a completely different note, I have had a temporary tattoo on my right arm for a year. It wears off and I replace it. Not many people have seen it, because even though it reminds me of a goal I am working on, (Still. After a year.) I am embarrassed that I am working on it.

You might think I am embarrassed, because this is a goal I have been working on for a year, and I haven't made much progress, but you'd be wrong. This is how much of a struggle this is for me. I am embarrassed to be asking myself that question. A "good" person doesn't worry about what they want. A "good" person only thinks about what everyone else wants and needs, so I don't want anyone to know that I am constantly reminding myself to think about my own wants.

Six months ago, I watched the videos of the women asking for what they wanted - to be let into a meeting. A few days ago, I watched as they gathered and asked again. There weren't as many cameras there this time, but a few still caught the conversations. They asked for what they wanted. They still didn't get in, but they asked.

I've believed that even wanting something... anything... was bad. Asking is annoying and wrong and selfish. A good person doesn't do that. A good person doesn't HAVE wants, let alone ASKS... But these women belong to a church that is entirely based on asking questions. Over and over and over the church has changed because someone asked a question. Why shouldn't they be asking?

And whether they ever get what they want doesn't feel like the point today. Today, I think it must be an incredibly powerful feeling for them to ask; to hear the words spoken in their own voices. To feel supported by other women and men who care. To feel connected, even in a small way, to the woman that turned them down and asked them to listen online.

Watching them has motivated me. If I do nothing else, at least I am writing here and showing off my tattoo. I'm telling you all how hard it has been, and continues to be. I'm sharing with anyone who reads this that I am reminding myself everyday to think about my wants. Maybe one day I'll get around to asking for more too.

Going fishing with the guys

I was invited to go on a four day fishing trip. I will be the only girl there. We will be camping and sleeping in a tent, fishing during the day, and I am really excited.

And nervous. A long time ago, I was raped in my sleep. Many times.
My nights are a million times better than they once were, but I still have nightmares occasionally and night terrors fairly often, and a tent with four other men could be incredibly problematic for me.

I've been invited before, but didn't go, because I was afraid of trying to sleep.
This time, I decided to do it differently.

I talked about what my nights are like. I asked for some accommodations that will make my trip more fun. We talked about sleeping arrangements. We talked about how they can help if I do have nightmares or night terrors. (BJ will be there, so I told them to just trust him.) I also promised to take care of myself - which means if I don't sleep at nights, rest during the day.

I feel guilty - that somehow I am a burden on my friends.
My friends have insisted that they want me there, and what seems like a huge deal to me is really no big deal to them.

The trip is six weeks away, but I can hardly wait.

A fork in the road: Do I try to change the world? Or just go fishing?

A few weeks ago, I wrote about a desire to start some kind of center for PTSD. BJ had a big vision: Something like the Huntsman Cancer Institute... Since I'm not a billionaire, that idea isn't a workable possibility. BUT. The vision sparked something in my dad.

Every time I have seen him or talked to him since then, he has brought up new ideas that ARE possible. Put together a training for doctors. Work with the local PTSD therapists and the local hospitals to educate medical professionals. Make a website with a list of all of the professionals who have been through the training. Put together a list of resources. (Therapists, doctors, dentists, groups, treatment centers, books, blogs, stories, etc.)

(Pause to recognize how much I LOVE that my dad is bringing this back up. I would have let it completely drop, but he's inspired me to keep thinking.)

I admit, I feel torn.
On the one hand, I feel super excited and passionate about this idea. I could start contacting people, help to create a training. Be the organizer. I used to do that for work, but that job wasn't nearly as personal as this would be.

On the other hand, at this point in my life PTSD and abuse are not part of my everyday existence. There was a time when my everything revolved around trauma and the effects of trauma. That isn't the case anymore, and I am glad. I don't want it to be. I want to walk away and never think about it again.

I work at a job that has NO connection to mental health, eating disorders, trauma or abuse. I love what I do. I think it's fun, and I'm excited for what the future holds.

I live with a wonderful friend and we have a great time together. We laugh and talk and play, and I'm excited for our future together.

I have a lot of hobbies and passions that make me feel happy and alive, and I am trying new things all the time.


If I start investing time and energy into this idea, will it trigger my own trauma? Will I be thrown back into my past, and the memories? I don't want my life to always have trauma and icky stuff in it. Will I be able to enjoy my life AND follow this idea? Will I be able to keep myself in a good place and help others?
I don't know. And if it will cause me to have nightmares or sleepless nights, would it still be worth it?

I think so.
And I just don't know.

(And when it all comes down to it, it's going to take a lot of work, and who knows what will even come of it? At this point, I'm just trying to decide if I want to pursue pursuing the idea.)

It doesn't make you kind - it just makes you feel like a slave.

The following conversation has actually happened. More than once. Most often, I have been the pink person. Once or twice I have been the green person.

A conversation between two people:
Do you WANT to do that?

Sure.

When some people say "sure" I don't feel concerned. When you say "sure", this is what I hear: "I can't even think about what I want. HE wants me to do that, so I will." Which means what you are really saying is, "I haven't thought about what I want yet, but I probably don't want to do it."

Of COURSE I don't want to, why would I want to do that?

I don't know. Why would you?

I DON'T.  But... I'm supposed to do what everyone else wants me to do, that makes me a kind person.

No. It just makes you a slave to other people. I can't imagine that he wants you to feel like his slave. I think he probably actually cares about YOU... If you cared about someone, would you want them doing things they didn't want to do JUST because they felt like they had to... or JUST to make you happy... Only a really selfish, abusive, jerk would want you to do something you hated, just to make them happy. How could knowing you were miserable make someone else happy? I don't believe he's that kind of person. Do you?

No. It's just easier to do what other people want than to deal with the anxiety of disappointing them.

Really? That's easier? You feel depressed and anxious most of the time. You feel guilty and afraid whenever anyone asks you to do anything (unless you also want to do it, then you feel happy. That's the way it is supposed to be. BOTH people are happy.). It might be easier, but I'd say it's killing you slowly. Besides, the fear of NOT pleasing them makes you avoid people. If you had the freedom to say NO, you'd also have the freedom to say YES. Being with other people would not freak you out as much as it does.

You have nothing to be afraid of. You are good and kind and wonderful. You will still be all of those things when you learn to let yourself do what you want. You will find that you want to do a lot of things for other people, and doing things for others won't wear you out like it does now. It will feel good. It will feel fun and loving and GOOD. 

Ok? I can't really think about all that you just said. So, what do I say right now? How do I answer his question today?

Say, "No". 
Say, "I appreciate you asking, but I am not interested right now. If anything changes I'll let you know". 
It doesn't really matter... You can even tell him how hard it is to say no, because you feel like you don't have a choice. You can tell him you feel like you have to do what he wants, but you don't want to... Just be honest with yourself, and understand you are worthy of having your own wants, needs, thoughts, and opinions. You get to decide what you do with your life. 



When I was afraid that I couldn't say NO, I had a lot of social anxieties. I was afraid of every man, woman and child. What if they wanted something? I HAD to give them what they wanted. If someone asked for something, I had no choice. If someone looked like they might sort of kind of want something, I had no choice. It was my job to take care of everyone else, and the way I did that was to always do what everyone else wanted. The world was a terribly frightening place.

It WAS really hard to face the anxiety of saying NO, and even more scary to think about what I wanted. It was SO hard. I wasn't sure it was worth it at the time, but it got better. I got used to acknowledging my wants and needs. I got used to doing what I wanted, and they were right! I actually WANT to do a lot of things for and with other people. I am much more kind and giving person now, because I do things from my own heart. I don't do things out of obligation, guilt or fear.

I feel very comfortable in social situations now. If someone wants a hug, I think about what I want and I do that. (I CHOOSE.) If someone asks me a question, I decide what and how much I will share. If someone needs money, I decide how much I can and want to give. The world isn't scary anymore, because I know I can take care of myself.

Other people didn't change. I did!
 I learned how to take care of myself. I learned how to respect me. I learned I had a choice. I had the right to say NO to any request, at any time, for any reason.

There are some people who don't care about my wants or needs... They care a lot about their own wants. Some people's needs include controlling others, controlling ME. When I encounter people like this, I find I have to be VERY strong. NO should be enough, but sometimes I have to get distance and space from them too.

There will always be people who don't understand or respect my boundaries. There will always be people who use manipulation, insults, and whatever else they have to do to get what they want. When I'm dealing with people like that, less is more.  NO is enough. If I give my reasons, or my thoughts, they tend to use that against me.


There are still people who don't know how to handle it if I don't say YES. They just aren't used to me saying no. At first, they might do some manipulative things, but they won't KEEP doing those things. (This usually happens with family. They've known me all my life, and they just don't know how to handle "the new me". Explaining to them where I have been and why the change makes a lot of sense to them. Their love for me motivates them to become a part of the next group.)

For the most part, all of my relationships are better. Closer. More open. Just more.

There are some people who were afraid to ask anything of me. They knew how hard I tried to please others, and they didn't want to make it harder for me. Now they know I will take care of myself, and that gives them more freedom to take care of themselves.

It turns out, mm  e becoming healthier and stronger made all of my relationships healthier and stronger. That was something I wasn't expecting.

There has to be a better definition of 'okay'

My mom had surgery last week. She spent a few days in the hospital. BJ went with me to visit her.
As we left, he had a good chuckle. He says I am just like my mom. Or my mom is just like me.

This is how the conversation went:

Me: Are you in pain?What hurts?
Mom: Yeah, but I'm okay. (weak and unconvincing smile)
Me: You're in pain, that means you're not okay.
Mom: No. I'm okay. I'm not dead, and death is not imminent... so I'm okay.
(BJ burst out laughing at this point)
Me: There has to be a better definition of okay... (and then I realized WHY BJ was laughing, so I stopped talking for a second.) I want to know if you're in pain. I can SEE that you're not dead, but I care about you, so I want to know how you are doing... So, the proper response would be, "Hell yes, I am in pain! I just had my insides ripped out!"
Mom: Fine. I hurt. And I feel CRAPPY! Ok?

Ok. I get it. I just got schooled.

What I just said to my mom is exactly what other people have said to me. (Including BJ.)
I want my mom to talk more about what she's going through... maybe other people feel the same way towards me. (Okay. Not maybe. They've said they want more... I just had a hard time believing them.)

Would you please stop smiling, so I can know what narcotics to prescribe

I have another infection that has gone into my kidney.
If I had gone to the doctor at the first sign of symptoms, I might have prevented it from getting this bad. There are a few reasons why I didn't go.

I hate doctors... Well... I don't hate doctors, I hate going to the doctor's office. I don't like people touching me, and doctors always want to touch me.

I hate spending money...

The biggest reason I didn't go: I was doubting myself.


I wasn't sure if what I was experiencing was pain from a urinary tract infection, or if it was body memory pain. It's normal for me to feel pain and discomfort "down there" all the time. The best way to describe it is it the physical memory of rape. I feel the same pain that I did then. There was a time when it felt EXACTLY like rape: I felt like I was being ripped apart. It was excruciating. Now, it's not like that. It has dulled considerably, but it's still always there. (The most common search term that leads people to my blog is body memories. People want to know how to make the pain stop. What causes the pain? Is it real, or imagined? etc. I wish that coming to my blog could answer those questions, but I don't know the answers. As soon as I figure out how to stop it, I'll let you all know. I do know that it is getting better. It's like the volume is being turned down. A little tiny bit everyday.)

I write about this, because when I was talking to a couple of friends who have also been through sexual abuse and dealt with body memory pain, and I told them about how I didn't feel the symptoms or at least I couldn't tell the difference... Joy said she couldn't tell the difference, and she waited until she was flat out with a serious infection. Tef just nodded knowingly, and I knew she completely understood what I was saying. It felt nice to know I wasn't alone. I HATE that they have dealt with the pain and the confusion, and I appreciate knowing I am not the only one.

My emotions were all over the place: Feeling broken and damaged. Feeling ashamed that I still can't tell the difference between somatic pain and infection pain. Feeling confused. Trying to figure out what normal is. Beating myself up for being weak (because I got sick) or lazy (because I don't feel like moving off my couch). Once the infection reached my kidney, I had no doubt what was causing my pain, and I went to the doctor as soon as I could.

The doctor was amazing. At one point she told me, "Would you please stop smiling, so I can know what narcotics to prescribe. With the infection you have, you shouldn't be smiling." At which point, I broke into tears. She wrote me a prescription for something to take care of nauseousness, and something for the pain, and then told me to rest way more than I think is necessary. She said exactly what I needed to hear.

I'm on antibiotics. I'm taking cranberry supplements. Avoiding the stuff she said to avoid.
Eventually, I'll learn how to take care of this body I live in.

Redefining selfishness (again)

I was reading the book, Who'd You Put Your Panties on for Today? this morning, and feeling frustrated with the author. "This woman is selfish, controlling, and she's driving me crazy!"

I kept reading... mostly because the book was a gift, and I wanted to be able to say nice things about it.
About half way through, she finally said something that warmed me up to her a bit:

"I realized I was putting my panties on for me, and I was expecting everyone else to put their panties on for me too."

Now we're getting somewhere.

In the book up to this point, this woman wanted things perfect. The rug straight. Her children, friends, husband, and family to look and be a certain way. And she thought that by telling them how (and really who) she wanted them to be, she was "putting her panties on for herself". It was a big wakeup call to her when she finally saw things as they are. (She was expecting everyone else to do things her way, and by demanding that she was not taking care of herself like she thought. In reality demanding others to be and do what she wanted was hurting them and herself.)

Redefining selfishness (again):
I used to believe selfish was living my life for myself. That's not true. That's healthy living. Doing EXACTLY what I need and want to do.

Selfish is expecting others to live their life for me.

It is not selfish to take care of myself. It is not selfish to have wants, needs, desires, and to go after them.
It IS selfish to expect others to take care of me. It IS selfish to expect other people to give me my needs, wants, and desires just because I want them. It IS selfish to expect others to sacrifice their wants, needs and desires for mine.

Expressing wants and desires = taking care of myself. Owning my voice.
Expecting others to give me my wants just because I express them = being dependent on another person. Giving them my voice. In this scenario, my voice (sharing my wants, thoughts, desires) is only worth what they give me as a result of my speaking up. If they give me what I want, it was a good thing to ask for what I needed. If they don't, then I shouldn't have asked.

Asking for what I want is NOT about what others do. The part that is important is just saying what I want... it doesn't matter what comes after that.

(By the way, I liked the rest of the book. It was a fun read. Using panties as a way to explain self-care and healthy change. It was like reading her journal - traveling and learning right along with her... I enjoyed that. Plus there's lots of sketches of different types of underwear.)

I've been made aware I have a kidney/I think funny

I got to visit with a very nice doctor today.
It turns out I have a kidney infection. I pretty much knew that before I met with the nice man. Two weeks ago, I couldn't have told you where exactly the kidney is located. I sure could now.

Sitting in the doctor's office, I felt anxious.
I was aware of one source: They expect me to lay down on my back and let Dr. Dude touch me. That causes some panic.

I was not aware of the rest of it until he started asking me questions.



Pain here? Yes.
Pain there? Yes.
Nausea? Yes.
Fever? Yes.
Energy level? I just want to sit on the couch and not move.
Have you done that? No.
You've had these symptoms for a week? Yes. Yes I have. 

What was going through my head as he was asking?
"I've already peed in the cup. He KNOWS there's nothing wrong with me. He thinks I'm being dramatic, I'm weak, I can't handle a little bit of normal pain. He's wondering why I even came here..."

And then he told me I have a kidney infection. The urine sample let him know I had an infection. It turns out he asked the other questions NOT because he thought I was weak, but because he wanted to know how bad the infection was. He wanted to know how much antibiotics I would need to get rid of it.

Oh. I think funny.

I was afraid of being a hypochondriac. I was afraid I was being weak - that I could have just taken care of this myself. This isn't the first time I've had to say to myself (or others have had to say to me):

"You're so afraid of being THAT extreme that you are the other extreme." 

You'd think I'd be used to this kind of realization, but I'm not. It still catches me off guard and strikes me as funny... One day. One day, I'll find the middle and I'll be comfortable there.

***Unrelated except for that it happened at the doctor's office:
They put me on the scale today. First time I've been on a scale in several years. Interesting to note, my weight hasn't changed. It is still right where it was when the dietitian gave me the thumbs up. There is a remnant of the voice that says, "That's not the right number!" (There was a time when it wouldn't have mattered WHAT the number was, it would have been too big and too small all at the same time.) That voice is quieter today. Much quieter, and far less persistent than it used to be. Mostly, I don't even care. It really has become just another number that doesn't mean anything to me. Which is awesome.

Emotional Intimacy

I heard a quote the other day:

"How do you know when you are being emotionally intimate with another person? 
When you feel anxious and afraid of how the other person will react to what you are sharing, that is when you are being emotionally intimate."

That kind of blew my mind. It's been rumbling around in my head for several days now.

In my post a few days ago, I talked about how intimacy requires saying what you mean to say. Being honest about anger, pain, love, happiness... I talked about how afraid I was to talk about my anger and my pain. I was afraid of getting hurt. Sometimes, literally PHYSICALLY hurt. I was also afraid of being criticized, demeaned, or humiliated. I was afraid of the things I said being used against me at a later date. I was afraid of so many things, so I kept my anger and pain to myself. I thought for so long that I didn't deserve to be treated with kindness and respect if I wasn't doing everything everyone wanted me to do, and that feeling and belief drove my fear... which kept me from expressing... well... anything.

I like this new idea of what intimacy is... It makes so much sense to me...
Saying, "no", requires more trust (for me) than doing what the other person asks of me.
And thinking about the people that I like having in my life: They accept my boundaries. When I say, "No," they don't push me. They are still kind to me and treat me with respect even when I don't do everything they want me to do. It would be IMPOSSIBLE to have an intimate relationship if it wasn't safe for me to be honest... say no; I don't like that; I don't want that; please don't... Completely impossible to have any level of intimacy if "No" is not an option.

Argh! Even now, I hear voices from other people telling me, "It is selfish."
I hear myself saying, "It's no big deal. I can handle it."
Or the fear of retribution from some... the ones who don't understand what a healthy relationship is... thinking that it is okay to respond with hurtful words or actions if I don't do what they want.

But I go back to what I would want for those that I care about. I would want them to be respected. I wouldn't think it was selfish of them to take care of themselves... in reality... seeing others stand up for themselves and take care of themselves has created many beautiful friendships.  (My FAVORITE moment with BJ, "I'm going to take care of myself. I'm going to do what I want, and if you don't like it, then FUCK YOU!" At the time, I resisted the urge to smile... I didn't want to ruin the moment. It felt AWESOME! Loved seeing that he could and would stand up for himself... even "against" me... That was hard and scary for him to say: Completely goes against HIS need to please everyone... which is probably a big reason we became such good friends. He trusted me, and I responded in a way that showed I knew him and I respected him.)
 I wouldn't want them to force themselves to do things they don't want to do because "It's not big deal."
And I hope that if I ever say or do hurtful things, they would get themselves away from me to a safe place. I don't want to hurt anyone.


Respecting boundaries doesn't mean that they don't share feelings. If I say, "No. I don't want to spend the day with you," then a healthy response (if it's true) would be, "I feel sad and disappointed. I really wanted to spend the day with YOU." I respect their feelings and don't try to change what they are feeling... they respect my feelings and don't try to change what I am feeling... I share what I need to share, and I allow others the freedom to respond in the way that is truest to them. (And as always, if their response is abusive, I can let them know, I can choose not to be around them, or any option... I always have the freedom to get out of a situation that is harmful or toxic to me.)

Still learning. Still exploring. Still thinking.
What are YOUR thoughts on this idea of intimacy??

August 2010: My commandments for a healthy relationship

I was looking through my journal tonight... August 8, 2010... I wrote this...
Just felt like sharing it today.

Spent the day at the LDS gift show. A whole bunch of products to promote the ideals of the church.
My "favorite" was a plaque:

"Commandments of a Happy Marriage"
1. Thou shalt always remember that thy marriage is a partnership between thee and thy spouse and the Lord. For in knowing this, thou wilt have the strength, courage, and determination to conquer all challenges that may come into thy marriage.
2. Thou shalt cleave unto thy spouse and let not thine eyes wander, nor do anything like unto it. For it is through fidelity and commitment that thou shalt find confidence and trust.
3. Thou shalt not be selfish with thy time, nor with thy money, nor with anything else that is thine. For in doing this thou shalt avoid resentment and find harmony.
4. Thou shalt remember that thy parents are good, but need to give thee space in thy marriage. For it is through relying upon each other that communication and unity is formed.
5. Thou shalt always remember to call thy spouse sweetheart, honey, or whatever else that makes them happy and to remember the little things. For it is through little acts of kindness that thou shalt find love and tenderness.
6. Thou shalt remember to always use kind words and cease to find fault with thy spouse. For in doing this thou shalt find peace.
7. Thou shalt enjoy each others company and remember to date often. For it is in spending time together that one truly gets to know their spouse and find intimacy.
8. Thou shalt add the words "I'm sorry" to thy vocabulary and use them often. For in doing this thou shalt melt down the barriers of anger and resentment and find mutual forgiveness.
9. Thou shalt recognize and acknowledge the desires, efforts and accomplishments of thy spouse. For in this thou shalt find appreciation and gratitude for one another.
10. Thou shalt live within thy means and learn the difference between wants and needs. For in doing this thou shalt avoid needless stress and find contentment.

I got angry. Angry enough that I finally wrote down what I want and my boundaries for my relationships. Not just marriage. ALL relationships. (This has been a therapy assignment for more than two years now... I just couldn't figure out what to write , or what to think, or how to think.)

My commandments for a HEALTHY relationship
I am free to come and go in this relationship as I feel the need. If the relationship is no longer healthy for me, I will leave. I am free. I am mine.
The relationship must be able to "stand on its own". I will not eliminate the things I love to make this relationship the "best" one. I will have many friends. I will have my own hobbies.
I will choose who my friends will be. (I will not be in a relationship where someone else tells me who my friends can and cannot be.)
I will talk about what I want, when I want, and to whom I want. (I will NOT keep secrets! I have the right to choose what and when I share with you also.)
I have the right to say no to any request, at any time for any reason... so do you.
I will take care of my needs. I expect you to take care of yours.
My body is mine. Period. I choose when and what I share with you. Every time.
I will be honest about my thoughts, feelings, and who I am. I expect the same from you.
When I'm feeling hurt, angry, or sad, I will talk to you.
When I'm feeling happy, grateful, or loving, I will talk to you.
I am not your honey, your sweetheart, your anything. Please call me by name.
I am me. I will always try to be the best me I can be. Defined by me.
You are you. I expect you to be the best you, you can be. Defined by you.
Trust is something that must be earned. I do not have to give it freely.

I know these go against everything I have ever been taught... They seem selfish and self-centered... But... THIS is how I plan to live. This is how I want the people I love to live.

Honesty is the most important part of this. Honest about the love I feel. The hurt I feel. Who I am. What I want. And the same kind of honesty from you. That is the only way.

Honesty and Freedom = Love

"It isn’t just about dismissing a thought, it is about self-dismissal"

I just read a blogpost on "Gaslighting".
Gaslighting is a form of emotional abuse where the abuser tries to make their target think they are crazy, their reactions on abnormal, or wrong, or... in some way completely invalidate the other person.

The blog is not superbly written, and there are a few things I really didn't like about it. (The biggest being that he seemed to think that it was only a problem done to women, and that he could tell other women what their problem was.)

There was one line that really struck me, "That “forget it” isn’t just about dismissing a thought, it is about self-dismissal. It’s heartbreaking."

Here it is in a little more context:

"These women aren’t able to clearly express to their spouses that what is said or done to them is hurtful. They can’t tell their boss that his behavior is disrespectful and prevents them from doing their best work. They can’t tell their parents that, when they are being critical, they are doing more harm than good.
When these women receive any sort of push back to their reactions, they often brush it off by saying, “Forget it, it’s okay.”
That “forget it” isn’t just about dismissing a thought, it is about self-dismissal. It’s heartbreaking."

That is what emotional abuse does to a person. They can't express what is going on, and when they try to express it (especially to the person that is already abusing them), they are told to forget about it, and in order to forget about that kind of violation to their own psychological boundaries, they forget about themselves. We dismiss ourselves. I dismissed myself.

It's heartbreaking.
After years of being told to dismiss my own emotions, experiences, myself, I didn't need anyone else to do it for me. I told MYSELF I was crazy. I told myself I was too sensitive, overreacting, nuts, I deserved it, to just forget it, it wasn't important, I wasn't important, etc.

I believed it for a long time, but it just wasn't true.
I still have a hard time knowing if my reactions are "too much". The most valuable tool I have found is to think about how I would react if someone was doing or saying (...) to my sister, my friend, to those that I really love, how would I react? I believe I deserve the same love (and boundaries) I want for those that I care about most.

I wouldn't want my sister to take abuse, so I won't take abuse.

Abuser's Remorse

I went to see the movie Water for Elephants last night. It would be a very appropriate thing to ask, "Jen why on earth would YOU see that movie?"

I hate movies with sex, violence, or any  kind of abuse. This movie had all of it, and I knew in advance that the movie was all about abuse. I just felt like I HAD to see it, so I did.

I'm probably about to spoil the whole movie, so if you don't want to know what happens, stop reading here.

Malena was a lost child. She met August, he took her in, taught her how to be a circus star, and married her. All throughout the movie, she talks about how there is nothing else for her. Her whole world is the circus and August, but he is violent, mean, and nasty to her, the workers at the circus, and the animals.

There were two scenes that were meaningful (for lack of a better word).
The first was at the end. In a fit of rage, August was strangling his wife. I've been through that. I remember the look in his eyes while he was pulling my scarf tighter and tighter around my neck. I also remember the look in his eyes when he seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped. It was hard to watch, because it brought it all back.

The other was after August beat the elephant nearly to death. The circus vet, Jacob, goes to August's tent. August is visibly upset. Near tears. When Jacob walked in, he seemed remorseful and apologetic, but as I listened closer, there was no remorse.

"She'll never forgive me for this. If she leaves, I'll lose my star attraction. I'll lose everything! Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her the elephant is okay. Fix this for me."

It wasn't remorse - it was fear. I'm only sorry, because I don't want MY life to change. I'll do anything... but actually stop being a mean, violent, controlling man... I just don't want to have to face the consequences of my actions. I'm so sorry I got caught.

People often talk about the cycle of abuse:

(Abuse - Apology/Honeymoon - Build Up - Abuse)

I remember asking Bishops and therapists when I would know if the apology was "real" vs. just part of the abuse cycle. I also remember when the apology finally felt real. The real apology was not about telling anyone else he was sorry. It wasn't about his fear. It wasn't about how I "made" him do that to me. 

The "real" apology was, "I'm so sorry I've hurt you. I hope for your sake, you can forgive me and move past this, but I don't expect anything from you. I understand that you may never be able to trust me again. I want you to be happy, and if that means we can't be together because of what I've done, so be it. What can I do to help you heal?"

That apology has meant all the difference to me. As I watch others go through very painful separations and divorces, I wonder how I lucked out. He knows I keep this blog. He knows I sometimes talk about him. He knows that many people may hate him for what he did to me, and he's never asked me not to write. I don't know if that is healthy for him or not, but I am very grateful.

I can't know for sure what another person is feeling, or what their motivation is. I CAN know what I feel when they apologize. For years, after an incident, he'd apologize and I'd feel shutdown rather than loved. I felt hurt rather than healed. That was a sign TO ME that something wasn't right. 

Its been a rather intense day for me as I've faced emotions, memories, old beliefs, and current thoughts. 

Now its time for some Pawn Stars and razzleberry pie (with ice cream of course)!

Indiscriminate Self Sacrifice

This morning on Everyday Joy, they were talking about the movie Avatar. In the chatroom, someone shared that they didn't like the movie. I loved it... It was a big deal for me... I SAW people defend themselves, and I didn't feel like that was bad. I wasn't angry at the people for trying to protect their world.

I shared that in the chatroom... It was such a foreign concept to this person: "Survival instinct will force you to defend yourself."

Nope. Not in my world.

When I was inpatient at CFC, Paul (therapist) liked to give people signs to wear. I willingly wore every sign he gave me, except one. I don't remember exactly what it said, but it had the word "martyr" on it. I refused to wear it. I told him I wasn't a martyr. There were some assignments he gave me that I fought because they weren't what I needed. This was not one of those times. I knew it. I think he knew it, but I flat out refused, so what could he do??

Some might think I didn't want the martyr sign, because being a martyr is bad... That wasn't the case for me. A martyr was the BEST kind of person, but I wasn't one. I was still alive. I had survived, so therefore, I wasn't good enough. (It sounds really crazy to write this now, but I BELIEVED it.)

"Greater love hath no man than to give his life for his friends."
The stories of Joseph, Hyrum, and Christ... If I wanted to be good like them, I couldn't value my own life, so I didn't. (Direct result of not valuing my own life: sitting in an eating disorder treatment center, literally starving to death, and only eating because someone else told me THEY needed me to eat.)

How this played out in my life:
Ex-Husband #1 raped me, and I laid there. I thought his needs were so much more important than my pain, my sadness, my fear. THIS was love for him.
I gave money I didn't have to people who said they needed it.
I worked two jobs, had three callings, went to the temple, listened to friends as they shared their heartaches, reached out to the lonely, and no matter how much I did or gave or tried, it wasn't enough, because I WAS STILL ALIVE.
I stayed with Ex#2, even when he was physically violent. It hurt me, but it was okay, because I LOVED him... and if he needed to kill me, that was what needed to happen. (It never crossed my mind how AWFUL that would have been for him. I was SO confused.)
My cat sat on my lap, flexed her claws in my skin, and I did nothing. It drew blood, I think I felt pain, but I didn't do anything to stop her.
I didn't tell people about the violence in my life, because I didn't want anyone to protect me. I didn't want anyone to get hurt.

I was so ashamed of being alive, I was willing to die slowly by starvation rather than face the guilt and the shame.

Paul eventually changed his terminology. He came up with the phrase "indiscriminate-self-sacrifice". I was willing to sacrifice myself, my wants, my needs, my life for anyone, anything, everything, and everyone.

I'm slowly unlearning all the things I learned. I'm worth protecting. I can feel safe and happy and still be a good person. I don't want to ever harm someone else, AND I will take care of me. I can have needs and wants, and express them, and still be loved. That's what is has always been about, I just wanted to be loved, and I didn't know there was any other way.

"I can be trusted."

I was talking to my friend, Jen (not me Jen, another Jen) a while ago. She was sharing the story of her coming out. Everyday for nine months, she told someone new. I can't remember exactly what she said, or how she even said it, because as she was talking fireworks started going off in my head and a voice was shouting, "Listen! Listen!"

It went something like this:
I had to show my spirit that I would choose me over everyone else. I had to show me that I could take care of me.

I thought of the body memories and pain I experience. I have known for a long time that the pain will be there until I can show myself I will take care of and protect myself from being hurt again.

My move was big.
But one big event doesn't make you trust.
It is a series of little events; little things everyday that say, "I can be trusted."

Like Jen's story of talking to someone everyday. Everyday telling someone who she is. I know this is what I need to do, but I really don't know HOW. Or what that even looks like.

What does that look like? How do I show ME that I will take care of me?
I know that I don't allow people to hurt me like I used to. I speak up much more often. I'm learning skills so that I can communicate my needs and wants better. I'm paying attention to my own feelings SO much more.

Is there something I am missing? Does it just take time?
(Jen's story wouldn't have been quite so big to me if I was already doing what I needed to be doing... right?)

Frustration!!!
I want to do something different. I just don't know what...yet.