The Policy

This is a blog that I should’ve written in the very beginning.  Not only to show the people reading it the purpose of what I’m trying to do, but to remind myself why I started this.  I called it The Stage is Yours as a way of giving people an outlet to anonymously remove those things in their lives that were holding them back. Free of judgment and prying eyes. But upon doing that, I stepped aside and took it away from myself. I stopped putting in effort to remove the things that were holding ME back. That isn’t fair to myself and it certainly isn’t fair to those of you that have so beautifully shared yourselves.  So I’d like to take this opportunity to pull the curtain back and do what all of you have done.  Take charge of my life and attempt to pick up the pieces.

I am a liar.  I have made up stories about myself and my life in an attempt to make myself seem better than I am. Lying to me is a compulsion. I am addicted to it. Small things and large things have all been effected by this addiction.  I am so caught up wanting everyone to like me that I modify who I am to suit individual needs. Or what I thought they would need.  This has left a giant hole in me. A hole that I tried to fill with alcohol and drugs and the attention of people that I didn’t truly know. I used people to make myself feel better. And for a time it would work, but it never lasted.

I have a wonderful woman in my life. Someone who never looked at me with judging eyes and never wanted me to be anything more than who I am. But I’ve lied to her as well.  I still sought out the attention of others. I still filled that hole inside me with drugs and alcohol. And now I stand here and could potentially lose everything. My wife, my family, all of it. This is what lying has done. This is what it will do to you.  She told me to put up or shut up. She told me that she doesn’t trust me anymore. I’m afraid, I’m terrified. More so than I’ve ever been in my entire life. This is what lying has done to me and the people I care about.  Maybe it’s time I told myself to put up or shut up. Lying shouldn’t be this easy. We teach our children that it’s wrong to lie. I was raised to believe that the truth was the most important thing. So put up or shut up. I don’t want to wake up a year from now and not have her here, not hear the laughter of my child. I don’t want to die with regrets.

Like any addict, this isn’t going to be easy. I’ll have to force myself on a daily basis to live the way I know I should live. To be honest, both with myself and with her. I’m going to have to attempt to rebuild her trust in me. I don’t know if I can do it. But I know for the first time in my life I have to try. I give up too easily on everything. And after a while, when you live like that, people and things will give up on you. I know that it’ll take time for the truth to be believed as well. When all you spew are lies, the truth sounds exactly the same.

Put up or shut up. Stop talking about who you want to be and be it. Stop standing on the side lines and waiting for things to happen. Make them happen. Stop lying and tell the truth to yourself and to those you love the most. Stop giving yourself to people that you don’t really know. Stop hurting people. Stop making excuses and fucking change.

Every Day

I've never been able to talk about what has happened to me. A few times I have tried to reach out but chickened out at the last second. My family doesn't know. My friends don't know. They may never know...

When I was 15 I met a boy who thought I was amazing. We met in January and the following month was my sweet 16. At my sweet sixteen party he decided to give me his present. He wanted sex. I wouldn't do it and he punched me in the stomach. He abused me in some way shape or form every time we saw each other after that. He was rough with me in every way possible. His father even verbally abused me. Nobody ever knew what happened and its still hard to talk about. When he finally dumped me I was truly broken. I was scared and ashamed. Worst of all I thought it was all my fault. 

A year later I was looking to feel something. Anything. I got involved with this guy and his friend took us behind the cemetery so we could be alone. I was in the backseat when his friend jumped in the car and started to kiss me. I tried to fight him off and yelled for help. I heard the guy I was supposed to be with laughing. When they were both done with me they took me home. I showered till the water was ice cold. I told my best friend and she said I was lying. She liked one of the guys and told me that "he wouldn't do that". A part of me died. 

There are 2 years of my life that I don't remember after that day. I was depressed, defiant. The one time I asked for help I was rejected. I had been destroyed. Slowly I was able to bury the memories of what happened and I tried to join the world again.

Some years later when all of my memories were buried deep and I was out in the world acting like I could function, I went out to a local bar with some co-workers. One of them invited their brother and we seemed to really hit it off. 

I only remember bits and pieces of that night. I don't know how we got to my car. I don't know how it happened. I tried to stop him but I was in a fog. I couldn't move. I was pinned down. I was half naked. I was saying no. It was the only thing I could say. I started to shake my head back and forth. He stopped because I started to throw up. After he left two girls were walking through the parking lot and saw me hanging out of the car half naked. The police were called.  I was taken to the hospital. 

The detective who took me, because I refused an ambulance, was so supportive and tried to help me. He knew what happened even if I couldn't talk about it. There was a counselor from the VAP (Victim Assistance Program) that tried to help me work through it but I just wasn't able to talk about what happened in my car. 

I felt like I failed. I thought I deserved it. I was ashamed. I didn't know how to tell anybody that I had been drunk, probably drugged, and that my friend's brother had attacked me in my own car. I had to drive that car. The counselor told me to get rid of it but I couldn't afford to. I couldn't look at my co-worker so I transferred to a different branch. I buried it deep. It took me almost 7 years to get my life back.

Today I am with a man that knows nothing of my past. If he asks me, I will do my best to tell him about it. We have been together for a year and a half and he has never raised a hand to me. He has never even raised his voice to me. He talks to me. He is affectionate and makes me happy. He talks about a future. He talks about our wedding. He talks about our children. For the first time in my life I feel safe. My boyfriend may not know about my past but he is the one person that has helped me heal. I love him. He's not perfect but he makes me laugh. He is supportive and makes me want to be a better person.

Even though I'm in a good place right now...I'm still scared. I'm still ashamed. I feel like I may have deserved it. All of it. I hate myself. How can he love me? How can anybody love me? I'm safe if they don't know. 

I'm still working through everything that has happened. BUT...

Every day I wake up. Every day I take a deep breath before I start my day. Every day I ask for the strength to make it through. Every day I tell my boyfriend that I love him. Every day he tells me he loves me. Every day I heal a little bit...