“The Fighter”

I don’t need you to save me
I don’t need you to cure me
I don’t need you and your antidote for I am my disease
I don’t need you to free me
I don’t need you to help me
I don’t need you to lead me through the light
I will always fall and rise again
Your venomous heroine
‘Cause I am a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter
I will fall and rise above
And in your hate I find love
‘Cause I’m a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter
I will not hide my face
I will not fall from grace
I’ll walk into the fire, baby
All my life
I was afraid to die
And now I come alive inside these flames
You don’t want me to love you
You don’t want me to need you
You don’t want to look at me for you will turn to stone
You don’t want me to hurt you
You don’t want me to bite you
You don’t want me or my aching soul
For I will only fall and rise again
Your venomous heroine
I’m a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter
I will fall and rise above
And in your hate I find love
‘Cause I’m a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter
I will not hide my face
I will not fall from grace
I’ll walk into the fire, baby.
All my life
I was afraid to die
But now I come alive inside these flames!
I don’t need you to save me
‘Cause I’m a survivor
Yeah, I am a fighter
I will not hide my face,
I will not fall from grace,
I’ll walk into the fire, baby
All my life
I was afraid to die
But now I come alive inside these
Alive inside these
Alive inside these
Songwriters: Christopher John Howorth / Kevin Churko / Maria Diane Brink / Michael Spadoni / Nick Helbling
The Fighter lyrics © BMG Rights Management US, LLC

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Erasing the Memories

I woke up today feeling better than I have in months. This breakup is a lot easier than the last. But I’ve said that before. It’s a more normal course for me. Or it would be if Lilith wouldn’t have involved herself1. At this point it’s not about missing Sam anymore.

I realized last night that I’m done missing him. I wish him well and I hope he gets the help he really needs. I will never regret knowing him. I don’t give a flying fuck about anyone else’s opinion of that. “It’s his fault. You should hate him, too.” I am angry with him and the things that I’ve found out recently2, there’s no doubt. But now I know what happened. I don’t need to hear him say it. I don’t need to hear him say anything else now. I was shocked that he’d turned like that, but now I know why. And now I will let all of that go.

But I will torment that bitch until the end of my days.

There’s a process in my brain when someone breaks a connection with me. It doesn’t matter how much I loved this person. It doesn’t matter how much we shared or how deep we were into each other. It doesn’t matter how well we know each other. I have one serious cry – the kind where your eyes are swollen for the entire next day – and then the healing starts. Then I empty my brain. You can see that part here3 it through the written word first. Then the weirdness starts.

The first step is forgetting the voice. I can’t recall what he sounds like. I have a recording, so I can listen to that, of course. But to recall it on my own? Even immediately after listening to the recording I forget the sound. My brain reads the words I’m trying to remember him saying. His voice is missing. My mind has erased it.

Then I forget the eyes. It doesn’t matter how deeply I’ve looked into them or how I’ve stared in an effort to burn the image into my brain. If I try to recall what his face looks like without an image to remind then I will fail. I know the words to describe the color or shape of them, but I can’t see them. If I imagine a face my mind’s eye avoids the area of the face where the eyes should be. There’s nothing there. I’ve erased them from my memory.

Next the entire face goes. When I remember or dream this person (whoever it should be) my mind will avoid the face or… blur it out. I saw a Buffy episode that had a monster with a similar face of what the people in my mind look like. Again, I can describe them with words, but I can’t see what I’m describing.

Then the memories become choppy and segmented. If I were to imagine him from head to toe I wouldn’t be able to do as a whole. I can see a hand, an ear, the stubble on his chin. I can see his weird toes, his calves… The images don’t seem to belong to a single person. They just kind of float there for me to snatch out of the ether.

It’s frustrating for me, but also a blessing. For some I can remember what their touch feels like or their breath going through my hair. But that’s not typical. That happened once when I was standing in my closet and it was almost like a ghost hugged me. That was probably the weirdest memory jolt I’ve had. The weirdness of it is the memory now, though. I can’t actually recall the feeling. Sometimes I will come across something that reminds me of a certain person. When I touch the object I get a sudden rush of feeling. But it’s short and a one-time only thing. My brain adjusts and plugs up the hole that memory may have leaked from. I liken it to the pain of childbirth. I can describe what that feels like but can’t recall the actual feeling of the pain. I’ve read that is a mechanism in place so that women won’t avoid having babies4.

I explained to my counselor that I will forget what he looks like in 2 weeks. She seemed a little taken aback. I’d assumed it was a relatively common thing. “Out of sight; out of mind” as the saying goes. That’s me, basically. She told me that’s a survival mechanism I probably honed from the time I was a child. I had to do it to survive. I asked her if I can fix it. I didn’t want to forget the way his voice vibrated when he called for me in the morning. I didn’t want to forget that growl he does. I didn’t want to forget the beauty of his eyes5. She didn’t offer anything other than “you need to find a way to connect more easily with more people”. Pshaw. That wasn’t the least bit helpful.

So, I tried to fix that. And I failed. There is no stopping my brain from doing what it’s been honed to do forever. I can’t recall his face without looking at a picture. I can remember what it felt like to lie with him, but his voice? Gone. I look at his pictures, but they don’t stick when I shut the app. It’s not because I didn’t love him. Don’t get it twisted6. But I’ve subconsciously released myself from… missing him.

I can’t guarantee that I’d even recognize him if I saw him right now. Forgetting faces is frustrating. I’ve been there with other people. The last time I saw the love of my life I didn’t even recognize him. He had to tell me who he was. I have no pictures of him to remind me. I remember that I really loved him and why I really loved him. Again, I can describe it in words. But I can’t remember the feeling of being in love with him. I know I’ve never loved anyone else the same7. I want to believe that part of my memory is just walled up so tight even I can’t get to it – as opposed to it being gone forever.

I don’t much care who reads this or what their opinion is on the matter. I’m genuinely bothered that my memories just kind of evaporate. Overnight almost. After a while I completely forget what it felt like to be in love with someone – though I can describe it with words. That’s part of what I meant with “The Hollow”. I know that it happened on a logical level. I know because I do have the bare-bones memory that it actually happened. I don’t have the emotional memory of any of it. Not when I’ve decided it’s time to let go. I’ve packed it all away. Except the parts that caused the severance. That won’t go away. And that is why I don’t get back with my exes if we’ve been apart for a good length of time: I forget what it felt like to love that person. I also become friends with exes because I can’t recall the feeling of hurt – just that I got hurt and how. Not the feeling of it.

Anyway, the way she described what I was doing to me leads me to believe that it’s not common. That someone can really remember their loved ones faces well enough to count the freckles on their nose. How though? I told her that I’d forget his face in 2 weeks. She looked shocked. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen her since as she’s been out of town. She seems to think there’s something in me that really isn’t there. That’s kind of sad. When I tell her I was right I wonder what she will say.

Yes, I keep pictures of all the people who are involved in my life because I need to be able to visualize them. If they’ve not been around in a while then I begin to erase them. It does not matter who the person is. It’s all part of my curse. It tortures me. Because I want those good memories. I want to reach back into my past and pull up the good stuff. I can’t do that without visual or audio aids. I can watch that video of Lucifer and I and remember that I had a great time. I smile when I watch it. In my mind I have separated those memories away from the horrible ones I have. I like to focus on the bad ones in an effort to heal8. I can do the same with Sam or TheMan. I can remember that moment for the length of time it takes to watch that video. My brain puts it away after that.

So that’s where I’m at today. I don’t really even care much about the Lilith at the moment. She and her co-conspirator are annoyances on the peripheral of my life – Sam isn’t even part of that. I’ll always know why I can’t stand her. Eventually it won’t even matter. I’ve already begun moving her out of my head. I’ll never know how well or bad any of them are doing. I won’t care. I don’t stalk or circumvent blocks or drive by anyone’s house. I refuse to allow myself to do that crazy shit. I won’t allow more wounds to my psyche before these ones have scarred over. I know she will continue to hurt Sam with the words that I write here, but he also had the choice of finding out for himself when we were together9. He had the choice of talking to me about anything she and that other person told him. He chose their lies over my truth. And that’s that. Good riddance, I guess.

I’m glad it didn’t take as long as with Lucifer, though. Holy shitballs, I don’t have that much time in my life. Once again, as a reminder, my relationship with Lucifer was incredibly damaging. It was likened to an addiction. I had to detox from him and get him out of my system before I could even give Sam a chance. I remind myself what he did to me so that when I see the signs again I can act10. I just remind myself that I’ve been here before and I’m still alive and kicking. Sam’s friends helped me realize that I don’t have any more time for him either. That door that I opened has been closed to him forever.

I’m broken, yes. Lucifer took what I had to give, burned it to ashes, set the ashes back on fire and then pissed on those ashes. Yes, I’m recovering from that. Sam didn’t do all that – though he was digging the triangulation. I didn’t allow it to happen. Not this time and never again.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. That one has a long life of misery and internal torment to which to look forward. I should feel bad for her, but I hope she suffers for a very long time. []
  2. My suspicions that have all been confirmed. []
  3. I used to do it in a private journal that I’d eventually burn. My deepest thoughts still go into a journal though. Either way, I process []
  4. Silly scientists. We’ve found ways around that. []
  5. Which is funny because he and I have the same color eyes. []
  6. Lilith, if you read this, I hope you choke. []
  7. I was young. We were hot and heavy and dangerous. But he knew me. He knew my thoughts, he could read my face and, yes, he could finish my sentences. We loved the same things. We were inseparable until we separated. []
  8. And, with Lucifer, completely forget him forever. []
  9. I will not stop blogging. Fuck them. If they don’t like what’s being said then too fucking bad. There’s the x to close the window []
  10. As I did when Sam did his thing. I saw the signs and I couldn’t ignore them any longer. I acted in my own best interest for once. Survival mode kicked in and, well, it was different this time. []

And here she is in all her glory

So, I found this of the Lilith – doing her part to make sure trash multiplies. She’s very good at this or so her ex and 100% of the friends of his I’ve met have said.

Toxic Cumdumpster at work
I am not the father
Her boyfriend after each of her pregnancies
When you can’t get your daddy to love you so you go for the next best thing.
When you really want to spend time with your mom so you work together.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

What’s the Big Deal about NPD?

I’m putting this here just so people will understand what my thought processes are with Lucifer. He has NPD – a covert Narcissist. He is text book. Apparently, I’m just pining for him instead of healing from what he did to me. So, here’s a link with some information.

Narcissistic Victim Syndrome << This is something I think anyone who gives a shit about me should look at. Let me quote a bit1:

Once a person has become a victim of a narcissist (whether it happened in childhood or later on in life), the victims are already unconsciously primed to enter the narcissist’s “convoluted dance” that opens them up to further abuse. It is necessary for the therapist to gently shine a light on what they are doing in the dance that makes them a victim. Once again, a “Narcissistic Victim” is any person who is harmed, injured or killed by a person who displays pathological narcissism (which can occur on a spectrum of severity).

The victim needs to understand that this “dance” of codependency requires two people: the pleaser/fixer (victim)2, and the taker/controller (narcissist/addict), together both partners dance beautifully in perfect step, and the madness begins. The consequences for the victim not understanding the intricacy of the dance, is that, no matter how often they try to avoid “unhealthy” partners, they will find themselves habitually returning to the same dance floor; the only thing that will change is that they will find themselves dancing to a different tune, but always the personality of the dance partner remains the same.

Therapist need to be seriously aware that narcissism is a very complex disorder that creates a lot of suffering, both to the person who has the disorder, and to those people who have to live with the disordered narcissistic behavior on a daily basis. When I speak of narcissistic abuse, (abuse that can lead to Narcissistic Victim Syndrome), I am speaking about a form of abuse that is very insidious. What I mean by insidious is that the abuse is covert, cunning and often indirect. This form of abuse is often carried out in a subtly and clandestine manner, because narcissists go to great pains to avoid being observed publicly as being abusive. This Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde behaviour of the narcissist (loving one minute and totally enraged the next) can inflict great harm on the victim. Understandably, the fear, distress, confusion, inner turmoil, and chaos that they experience leaves them “walking on eggshells” in order to avoid further conflict with the narcissist. The effect on the victim over time can be very crippling indeed. I liken narcissism to a parasitic worm that manages to penetrate under the skin, where it is out of the sight of witnessing eyes, but is free to injure or consume its host slowly, leaving trauma or disease in its wake. By the way, the narcissist can manage to live on inside the victim even after they manage to escape; it is as if their “seed” goes on.

Emphasis and footnotes are added as well as some editing to make this more digestible. The article above is very long, so keep that in mind if you decide to read it.

I saw a little bit of that in Sam. Just a bit. Like he’s not quite fully developed this way. There was a point where I refused to discuss things with him because he would get angry. The last week of our relationship was seriously stressed. That’s really why we broke up. I was afraid of falling back into the same trap I’ve been in before. I completely and totally freaked out as soon as he started lashing out at me3.

With Lucifer… That mofo… There’s a reason I call him Lucifer. He tore my brain apart and put it back together all wrong. And that is why I’m seeing a trauma counselor. I’m not pining for Lucifer in the way Sam thinks. I’m recovering from him. Because that’s what happened in my brain when he messed me up. I’m the fixer in this scenario. The link above explains it more in-depth. I’m currently wallowing quite a bit, but I’m certainly not pining.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. It’s quite a long article. []
  2. This is me. []
  3. There really was no reason for the rage he displayed that day. We weren’t fighting and we had an excellent morning. That wasn’t the first time he did that – in less than a week – and I felt threatened. My lizard brain went into autopilot and I lashed back. It’s what I do. []

The People with Whom We Surround Ourselves

the-best-version-of-ourselves
A quote that my friend sent me

The above reads:

The people we surround ourselves with either raise or lower our standards. They either help us to become the-best-version-of-ourselves or encourage us to become lesser versions of ourselves. We become like our friends. No man becomes great on his own. No woman becomes great on her own. The people around them help to make them great.

We all need people in our lives who raise our standards, remind us of our essential purpose, and challenge us to become the-best-version-of-ourselves. [emphasis mine]

I was talking about this with the person who sent this to me. At the time we were discussing how group dynamics work and how someone who is struggling to gain their footing in life can be tripped up by their circle of friends. And it’s true.

For example, if a person is trying to get clean and trying to be a better person, their drug friends (and others) will work against that person’s effort. And pretty soon that person is right back to where they were before – going nowhere. Are your friends encouraging you to do better? Are they helping buoy you when you’re drowning? Are they holding your hand while you’re recovering and trying to get out of that pit of despair?

Or are they just going to bring you down. Some friends don’t want anyone in their circle to be better. They prefer to drag their friend down. Just like it says above:

The people with whom you surround yourself will either lift you above the shit or drag you down into it. Every time. How are they helping you navigate life and reach your goals?

When you surround yourself with good people then you begin to think like them. You begin to see a future. You begin to make plans and actually see them to fruition. When you have people helping you – not hindering – then there really is only yourself standing in the way. You have the option of being a better version of yourself. Or not.

Anyway, I like that quote above. I’m going to memorize it, I think. It’s suiting for this situation1. I want to be surrounded by people who will lift me up as I struggle to find myself. I want to be surrounded by people who say to me “JJ, you’re better than this, man”. Because I know I’m capable, but my brain always tells me I’m not2.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. For myself and others. Like the person living on my blog. []
  2. My brain is a liar. []

A Time to Reset and Rebuild

I become my own self-fulfilling prophecy

I wrote that last summer while I was dealing with the fall out from Lucifer. I was editing out Sam’s real first name1 out of a couple of places and ran into a post wherein I blame myself for what happened with Lucifer. I’m good at making myself feel like shit. Anyway, the above line pretty much sums it all up, I think2.

Today is Easter. I don’t really celebrate except for the kids and Easter candy, etc. But the whole point of the day for Christians is that Jesus is risen and he’s able to finally be who he was meant to be3. Spring is a time of renewal – a time when light finally begins to win over the dark. It’s when we in the winter climes begin to breathe a sigh of relief. Winter – and the darkness – are behind us now. Now comes the rain to wash away the cold hardness of winter. Easter is celebrated as a Christian holiday.

I celebrate it for the hope it brings. Hope for new things, new warmth, and new chances.

Spring is my favorite time of the year. It’s exciting to me to see the robins come or the daffodils emerging from the soil. I love song of all the birds coming home from their winter foraging. Everything becomes shiny and colorful again. The grass becomes green again and the trees begin to show leaves. Spring is the beginning. It’s the start. We celebrate our New Year in mid-winter. But we should mark it in the spring. Everything becomes new again.

I’ll be a bit sad this year. I so enjoyed the yard at my old house. Anyone who follows me on Twitter should remember this. Whether it announcing the hatching of the dove babies or the antics of my Drunk Neighbor. Or just sitting in the back yard under my trees. The bird nests in my bushes with baby bunnies hidden beneath. The squirrel nests that eventually led to frolicking baby squirrels on my porch. I loved watching my heirloom, lavender rose bush just starting to bloom. My lily garden finally emerging and those fucking ants eating them.

I haven’t really dealt with the loss of my home. Because it was so much more than a house with a yard to me. Spring was the most wonderful time there. My yard would come alive. And I loved it. People say “you didn’t really lose that much. At least you’re still alive”, but they don’t realize that the house itself wasn’t what was important. It was the home it represented. The security and stability of it. It was memories, hopes, dreams and traditions.

I still love this season, but I won’t be working out in the yard or watching the babies be born. I won’t be sitting on my porch watching my neighbors in the evening. It won’t be the same at all this year. This year will be the rebirth of me, I think. That’s what this spring will mark. The restart of the beginning of my new life. It’s just Lil’lady and me now. I’ll be cultivating something entirely different this year. I hope I don’t fuck it up.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Sam is still not his real name, guys. []
  2. I’m still trying to decide if it’s grammatically correct. []
  3. I’m probably wrong. Whatever. []

Another short: Night

#amwriting

They sat together by the fire. The sun was just setting in front of them. The end of a long day.

He chuckled. “You were too young for me.”

She rolled her eyes and dared a half smile.

“You were too old for me.”

“Did it matter?”
“Not to me.”

She poked at the fire furiously. The conversation was slow moving, but she really wished it would just stop.

Suddenly his form was dimmer. He was fading. Night had fallen. Still she could feel the presence of others lurking in the shadows behind her. They grew stronger and more angry. She poked at the fire one last time before she stood and turned. Hot air blasted her face, but she did not close her eyes to the heat. No, it was time to face them.

She smiled. “Hello, assholes.”

Her demons smiled back. Until the sun made it’s way back above the hills she was theirs. Let the fun begin

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Today Was a Good Day

I do have some good news, but went off on a tangent here. I didn’t want to mix that up with this. I had a really good day. I didn’t think about him until he was brought up at the end there. Then I was all offended because does anyone really pay attention?

Anyway, I woke up this morning and decided to edit and publish the children’s book my mother wrote when I was a small child. I decided this is the project I need to do. It’s a wonderful story. She told us the story as she wrote it1. I remember sitting on the porch of our house in Columbus and just being amazed. She was a wonderful story-teller when I was young. This story she just happened to write down and flesh out.

We used to beg her to submit it to a publisher, but she refused. She was afraid of rejection. When I was young and trying to write she was insanely jealous. Man… But that was a different woman than the one I’m discussing now. The same mother, but different mindsets. She only had the one copy and treasured it forever. She used to dream of being published – but was too afraid of critics.

Other Sis made bound copies of the book and gave one to each of us2. I want to have it published.

That’s what I was doing today when I should’ve been working. I was copying her book onto my computer and telling everyone all of the wonderful stories my mother used tell us. This project is incredibly therapeutic. Actually, writing by itself is great for me right now. I’m going to rewrite all of her book then illustrate it myself. Then I’ll set to work to getting it edited and published. I don’t know if I even care if I get it published correctly. Just rewriting it is making me feel better. I think this may be my mother’s way of helping me from beyond the grave.

The lady I work with is going to introduce me to a family friend. He’s supposedly doing ok for himself and not bad looking. Also he’s closer to my age3. I was a little irritated by that last part, but I let it slide. I agreed to meet him. I doubt very much that I’ll want to spend much time with him if I even like him at all. Who knows? But I’m not passing up an opportunity just to see. I haven’t so much as flirted with anyone since Sam has been gone. I’m ready for the ego boost.

Then I got home and found my good earrings in my sister’s bedroom. Proof. That’s all I need.

See? A good day. I needed one of those.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Much like JK Rowling and how she came up with Harry Potter. []
  2. She kept the original, of course. []
  3. No, I didn’t want Sam for sex. []

Ghosts in My Room

I was binge watching the last season of Sherlock on Netflix. I love the deduction, so when Sherlock was working his magic I turned and said “Babe, watch this.”

Luna1 sat up and perked her ears.

It was as automatic as breathing right then. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until I turned and saw the dog. It was going to be a good day.

Everyone has a story like that, don’t they? Pitiful.

More than anything else between I miss his friendship. I miss that part. I wish we could go on a cruise and just… if wishes were dollars…right?

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. My husky []

When she decides to go…

A young woman that Lil Miss knows was beaten by her boyfriend this weekend. Lil Miss is very upset because her friend is doing everything in her power to protect the boyfriend. She didn’t call the police because she didn’t want him going to jail. She didn’t seek medical attention because the nurses and doctors are mandated reporters. She didn’t tell her friends and family right away because she was afraid of what they’d do to the boyfriend. Then she participated in hiding the boyfriend. According to Lil Miss, this girl’s face is demolished. She said that she’s sure the girl’s eye socket is broken. She said:

“Mom, he didn’t even try to hold back.”

The young woman is supposed to go to Las Vegas with Lil Miss this week. Her boyfriend didn’t want her to go. Nagging and pleading didn’t deter her from a couple of days with the girls so… He did this to stop her. Lil Miss says her friend is still going, but I’m skeptical. Her friend got the message: No, you stay home.

I didn’t have to tell her that her friend would ultimately have to determine her own fate. Being in a relationship with a domestic abuser isn’t as simple as folks who’ve never been there seem to think. Especially if the abuse is normalized by family history and attitudes. It takes a serious catalyst to convince a victim to leave her abuser. This girl has already decided this was her fault and she’s already forgiven him. And so will begin the honeymoon period. And ’round and ’round they’ll go.

I was raised around domestic abuse. I honestly believed it was a normal part of life until I was forced into counseling. I believed that no family could be as calm as those mofos showed on tv. My mother regularly got beat in front of us, she and my brother would regularly beat me and then I met men who took the role over from them. My mother encouraged one of my boyfriends to “just beat the shit out of her”. I’ve never been submissive enough to be able to hide these kinds of things like other people I knew1. It’s often been noted by some members of my family that I can “take a hit like a man” – as a point of pride.

I didn’t think anything was wrong until well after Lil Miss was born. Then I learned that people who love each other normally don’t beat each other’s head off a wall. It’s not just a “family matter”2, but a family curse. When our daughters watch the women get beat then the daughters become victims and when our sons see it they become the perpetrators. I didn’t want that for her. I didn’t think I was showing her that this was ok. A seed was planted. The next time he hit me I thought she’d seen it. She was in the house and I thought she was at the top of the stairs3.

That was the last time I stayed in a domestic abuse situation. I went through therapy and even met some people who’d never experienced domestic violence in their lives. I spent 6.5 single as a result. If a man so much as looked at me with the slightest hostility I’d stop messing with him. Flat out. My catalyst to stopping the cycle of violence in my life was thinking that Lil Miss would be next in line. I wanted her to be stronger than me. For me, having boundaries is hard. I feel guilty and wrong so my boundaries are often fluid. Except in this case. I will not tolerate a man hitting me ever again.

But Lil Miss’s friend isn’t in that same frame of mind. She’s got no catalyst except for herself. Lil Miss wants to save her. I admire that. I’m very proud that she’s such a good friend to this young woman. She’s very protective of her friend. She told me “Mom, she’ll never be the same again. He blackened a part of her soul. She’ll always be afraid in the back of her mind. She’ll always blame herself.”

We’ve seen it so many times in our community. I don’t know if she started out relatively normal. From what I understand her mother just advised her to ice her face. I’m guessing she’s didn’t have an easy childhood. I imagine there was trauma growing up and so this is her normal (as it was mine). She has no idea that there are men out there who would rather walk away than hit someone they love. Lil Miss probably won’t be able to get through to her. And she’ll become just another woman who’s given up and pretends to be strong just so they can get out of bed every day.

He will charm her and convince her that he’ll calm down – maybe go to see an anger management counselor. He’ll promise to get better. He really loves her. Until she dares step out of line again. She got the message because she knew not to even seek medical attention even for herself. Lil Miss will continue to try to talk sense into her, until her friend cuts her out of her life. Because her friend loves her man in the only way she even knows how – by becoming what he wants and losing herself. She thinks she deserves it. She thinks that’s how love works. She thinks if she is just more reasonable then it won’t happen again. She knows better as she’s seen it played out in her life by her own people. But she’s hopeful. And that honeymoon period is going to rock her world. Until he does it again and the next honeymoon period is stale and he does it again and the next one after that is even staler… until she’s dead or maimed.

I told Lil Miss the best thing she can do right now is to just be there when her friend finally breaks free. But she’s got to do it herself. Maybe take her around people who have “normal” lives after they’ve left that cycle behind4. I have no idea. I had a combination of counseling and Lil Miss to catapult me away from the man who abused me. I had to choose for myself to get free. Then I called up the troops and away we went.

I hope her friend ends up ok. I’m sad that her friend will never look at love the same again.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. My grandmothers told stories of getting beat too. It’s why my great-grandmother encouraged me to “Never get married. Keep all the bills in your name, Jennifer, and when you’re sick of him kick him out.” []
  2. This was back in the mid-90s. []
  3. She confessed she’d never seen him hit me, but she’d seen the aftermath. []
  4. Not me, thankyouverymuch. I am not ready to help guide someone else when I can’t even manage my own shit. []