Two Years

Last night, I was going through some facebook notes that I had written in the past. Man, I hadn't realized that I had done so many freaking surveys -_-

However, hiding amongst all these pointless questionnaires, there were a couple notes that were very serious. One was about my frustration toward not being able to go to the college I wanted. (This was during the financial battle I was having with the University I'm currently attending.) The other note... was much more serious. I wrote it about two years ago, in the beginning of my senior year in high school. It was my first time publicly acknowledging the issues and problems I had to deal with.

I haven't really realized how much progress I've made (and, at the same time, haven't made) until I read this. I remember writing this, and I remember how I felt. I was a mess at the time. My hold on reality was very weak. I remember being terrified to be writing this all out, yet also knowing that it all needed to be said...

Over the past couple weeks, I've been examining my life, my choices, and myself in general. I've come to the conclusion that a LOT needs to change. And I've already started. I'm trying to dress better, try to make myself more aesthetically pleasing. Not so much to attract attention from the opposite sex as to make me feel better about myself. You see, I act arrogant and bitchy in public but I actually have a very low self-confidence. However, appearing to have no self-esteem gets you nowhere, which is why I act arrogant and bitchy. That's another thing I want to change. Be less arrogant and bitchy, and have more self-confidence.

And another major thing I need to change: I talk WAY too much about sex and sexual violence. I really need to tone it down. I think I'm mostly doing it as a self-defense mechanism, but that just means I need to change mechanisms. I make people uncomfortable and it makes me look kinda twisted and weird (WeirdER, anyway). I need to train my mind not to automatically think about sexual-related stuffs whenever I hear... well, anything. It's become a default and it's NOT a good one.

I also need to tone down cussing. Not so much "never cuss" as "cuss less". Someday it's going to come out at the wrong time and I'm going to regret it.

And what will probably be the hardest thing to change, is for me to get rid of my paranoia and stop freaking out whenever someone touches me unexpectedly. The reason this will be the hardest change is because accomplishing this requires a lot more than just not freaking out and being more trusting. I'll need to start dealing with my past in a healthy and productive manner. I can't just keep locking it away in a box and ignoring it. Someday that box will explode and I won't have any control over it. As horrible as it was, as much as it screwed me up, it's a part of me. If I deny that, then I'm just denying a part of myself. I need to accept it, and meld it with the rest of me and make me a complete person. I will no longer hide in the dark from the monster that's haunted me for three years now.

Of course, I say this now. I bet you anything that in a week's time, I'll be back to where I was. Scared, paranoid, and unable to deal. But that's okay. This ain't going to be a quick fix. This will take months, years for me to sort out. But I'm going to start this now. The right way. By admitting to myself that, yes, it IS a part of me. But more importantly, that what he did was wrong. I am not in the fault here in any way. He took advantage of the fact I was concussed, shorter, and weaker than he was. He is a fucking bastard and I hate him. I hate him for ruining my life, turning me into the scared girl who's resorted to insulting every man's dick she can because she doesn't know how to deal. Who's resorted to trying to make herself appear scary and intimidating so people don't mess with her.

There is one thing he did for me that I'm glad of. If it wasn't for him, I would have never switch schools. And you know what? [Second High School] is infinitely better than [First High School]. I am in a school environment where I feel safe. I've made the best of friends and I wouldn't trade that for anything. Anything.

I am someone worthwhile. I am pretty and I shouldn't feel ashamed to show it.

I am not a whore, Joe. No matter you say, or have said, I am better than you.... you shit-faced bastard.

As I read this last night, I realized many things. First, I realized that I'm not as emotionally turbulent as I was back then. I remember constantly being on edge; I'd scream at the slightest touch and was so paranoid that I spent half my class time in the restrooms.

Second... I have learned to dress better, to make myself look nice. I don't have the bitchy, arrogant attitude anymore. I actually come across as a half-way decent person now.

Third: I don't relate everything to sexual violence anymore. I actually forgot that I used to do that. Because my perception of reality was off, I never stopped thinking about sick, sexual things. Of course, my main problem back then was that I always vocalized my thoughts, not realizing they were inappropriate or that they made other people feel uncomfortable.

Fourth: While this is probably the least significant of my accomplishments since then, I really don't cuss as much as I used to. My cussing nowadays is very mild compared to the language I used back then.

There is one thing in this note that was a lie, and I knew it was a lie as I wrote it. I didn't hate Joe or mean all those negative things I said about him. It was completely forced. I pretended to hate him. I said those things because I knew it was what my friends wanted me to say. I even thought that if I wrote it down, that I'd start to believe it. I believe it intellectually (as intellectual as fucking bastard gets), but even now, I don't emotionally believe the words.

I actually laughed when I read about how I made the "best of friends" at my new school. Less than six months after I wrote this note, they all abandoned me. They said I talked about Joe too much, that I needed to get over myself, that they didn't really care. One of my best friends at the time (who was my emotional rock) said he was tired of have to take care of me, tired of me calling or texting him every day just because I was 'feeling off'. Thank you, Aus. You're the reason I'm still terrified to ask my friends for emotional help.

"This ain't going to be a quick fix. This will take months, years for me to sort out." I found this statement to be particularly interesting. I'm not sure why. What I wrote was completely truthful. It has taken years for me to get this far and I still have a long ways to go. But considering the progress I've made in just a couple of years... I'm suddenly more hopeful that I'm going to be okay in the long run.