Dear You,

I have decided to be an adult about this and own up to my hang ups.  I don't expect you to do the same, but here it goes...

Number 1 made me feel as if having sex was something to be scared about - as if it were something that needed to be given a lot of thought beforehand.  We couldn't have sex unless we bought condoms first because he instilled a worry in me that he would get me pregnant.  That money was wasted and we were left with a box of untouched condoms.  Every.  Fucking.  Time.  Number 1 made me feel as if I were a chore.  He would lose a job, have no money to see me, and expect me to drop everything and use my own money (working a job that did not allow me vacation days) to come see him.  On my trip that his FRIEND helped me afford, he bought our dinner.  He later told me in the car that because he bought the dinner, he was no longer going to give me any money to help with my $400+ plane ticket (something I didn't even fucking know he wanted to help with in the first place - he probably didn't and just wanted me to feel bad).  He did not teach me how to date.  He taught me to be fearful.  He made me think that maybe my vagina was fucking broken.  He made me scared.  He set up something I keep falling for to this day - broke dudes who don't offer to pay.  Broke dudes with no fucking ambition or plans for the future.

Number 1 told me he wanted to have children with me.  One night in bed, he touched my stomach and commented on how one day a baby would fucking be in there.  Number 1 told me he wanted to marry me.  I almost moved for him.  In the end, all of this was bullshit.  In the end, he told me he didn't want to have children with me - or anyone.  In the end, he didn't show up again. 

The last time Number 1 and I had sex, he was so scared of cumming inside me, (what we ALWAYS DID) he stopped the sex completely.  He negated both of our pleasure over this unsupported FEAR of getting me fucking pregnant.  I would not have kept your child even if it had happened.  I want you to know that.  But in the end, I got into the shower with you, showing that I was okay with this treatment.  You never gave me pleasure.  Ever.  And you taught me to be scared of trying to give it to anyone else. 

___________________

Number 2 hurt me the most and for nearly all of 5 and a half years we were actually together.

But before he did that, he got me off.  He made me feel like maybe I wasn't broken and maybe I could explore a sexual side with men.  But I was spoiled our whole relationship and was taken care of physically whereas he did not seem to desire anything more.  This fucked me up the most now that it's over, but at the time I was just happy to be with him - to finally feel that connection - to think I was safe. 

Number 2 only wanted me on my good days.  Number 2 didn't want to sit down and truly understand what was happening with my brain when I was stuck with it 24/7.  Number 2 taught me that my heart could break over and over.  He was another man who continued to lose jobs and have no money and expect me to pay for myself (and sometimes him) all the time.  Number 2 was also ambitionless and unable to see past his own face when it came to the future.  Number 2 was too fucking old to be trapped in this mentality. 

Number 2 made me feel uneasy about my body.  He was not the first and unfortunately will not be the last, but he did a number on me.  He thought taking out his own insecurities on the person he claimed to love the most was okay.  He did not know how to love me, or himself. 

Number 2 was a lot of things, but in the end he was another disappointment. 

______________________

Needless to say, I'm afraid of what is out there.  I'm afraid of what is wanted (or expected) from me in the bedroom.  I don't know how to please you, and a part of me feels so hurt by the past that I have no fucking desire TO please you. 

I don't know what it's like to have any power in my romantic relationships.  Whatever I gather in the beginning is cast aside the moment we start talking.  I become putty in their fucking hands.  They mold me and I turn and twist in compliance.  I let myself get set up for disappointment because that is ALL I fucking know.  I let myself get wrapped up with emotionally unavailable men because that's ALL I fucking know.  I keep doing the same shit and expecting different results.  A part of me is sick of this mentality and sick of knowing the end result before it even happens, but the other part of me is comforted by the routine - by knowing how it's going to go.  It's familiar.  It feeds into my nostalgic soul. 

There may only be 5 of you right now, but there are countless other men who have led me to the place I'm in now.  I'm continuously disgusted in them and myself when I look back on how our meetings went and how I acted.  But I'm telling you right now that I see myself continuing to act on this.  Until I find my voice with men and stop feeling so fucking guilty asking for what I want (from anyone), this is a cycle I will keep finding myself in.  I'm owning that too.  The fact that the damage instilled in me is still with me.  I'll vow to myself to begin working on it, but I'll be playing this game for a little while later.

Square One... Again

To the boys who want hookups, but also to talk about their feelings
To the boys who text you constantly, forging a connection
To the boys who make you weak in the knees for reasons you honestly cannot identify
To the boys who have ex-sized voids they're trying to fill by using Tinder to trick vulnerable women into attempting to fill that void before they realize it's impossible and cast you aside
To the boys who take advantage of you IN your happy place and then fuck it all up and leave you crying during the encore of one of your favorite bands
To the boys who cause swollen eyes and puffy faces from tears
To the boys who know the damage they do and think an "I'm so sorry" will hold up as they do it again
To the boys who are doing it again at this very moment to another unsuspecting girl
To the boys who are making me lose my faith in all of this
To the boys who will never see me the way I wish to be seen
To the boys who will continue to hurt me
To the boys I will continue to let hurt me

Tag Yourself: I'm Eye Bags From Exhaustion, a Constant Racing Heart, and Painful Anxiety

I Can't Fall Asleep Because: 

• I'm seeing a concert tonight 
• I've been obsessing over it for weeks
• I'm dying to know what will be on the setlist... which I have also tracked obsessively.
• Do I know as many lyrics as I want to? I love to sing along at shows and honestly, I feel like a shitty fan when I claim to love a band and don't know all the lyrics BUT there are bands I have listened to for YEARS and not memorized full albums of.  Jesus, Sarah.  You aren't going to lose any street cred (you never had any to begin with) 
• I can't decide what to wear
• Should I wear lipstick?
• If I wear a dress with tights will I look overdressed?
• What if it's too warm? Will I then look dumb?
• I have to keep in mind that the venue is near the water so I can't wear anything too short because of the wind.
• I am seeing a boy there
• I want to look relaxed - so do I not wear a dress and tights with lippy? I know this doesn't matter but my brain doesn't care right now 
• Does he like me?
• It's going to be hilarious for him to see me in my happy place with all my stupid dancing and yelling 
• Maybe he will hate it (and fuck him if he does - my brain is on board for that at least)
• What if the night ends and nothing happens between us?
• BUT what if something does?  What if all I can think about is him sliding between my legs? 
• But what if he isn't thinking about that at all (which is VALID - I would just be sad)
• What if I never really know what he wants from us? (okay, I could ask but it will be out third time hanging out and we've already fucked - does that mean more? No? Word.)
• What if I just want him to hear certain lines from the songs and realize they make him think of me?  (to be fair - I would think this of any dude I'm interested in because it's sweet)
• YO I just realized I have never been to a concert with a dude I'm interested in before.  Wait.  Once when I was like 16 and then gigs with my ex but we were established.  Okay, maybe there's a few more - shit, there are.  OKAY first time in like 10 years going to a show with a dude I'm interested in.  Glad we got that sorted out and typed out our whole thinking process on it.  
• Shit sucks. 
• I am still unemployed 
• I have no routine which is FUCKING me UP so HARD
• I'm not sure my new meds are working and I can't talk to my psych about it
• Or MAYBE they aren't working because I'm taking them at different times each day or not at all if it's past 2 PM?
• My brain.  I finally feel my eyes getting heavier, but will my brain shut off enough for me to fall asleep? 
• I'm honestly scared to try.  The idea of laying in bed even longer with sleep not coming to me sounds horrible.  And what will I do?  Play on my phone even longer?  I have been so attached to it - like it's there to fill some void in the shitstorm that my life feels like right now. 
• Fuck, I forgot to email the woman who interviewed me yesterday - DO THIS IN THE MORNING, SARAH
• I have also neglected emailing HR from my old job about my benefits.  Maybe do this next week?  You should... but you don't want to hear if someone can't help you. 

August 22, 2018

Today I wanted to be invisible.  This is something I have tried on at various times throughout my life.

At 9, it showed up in the form of wanting to end my life if I could not look like Britney Spears.  Despite the love I received as a child, that nagging voice telling me my body wasn't right stuck around until it became so loud it nearly consumed me.

That voice stayed and showed up at the most inconvenient times (as it does).  One of the most memorable was in 2010 when I went through a mild eating disorder.  The stress and anxiety I felt during a huge life change propelled me to act on strange impulses.  The choices I made at that time continue to affect me, and I believe they always will.

But then came the brain shit - the miswirings I had no idea I was dealing with until 2010-2012.  This was a continuation of what I had been going through my whole life, but now it was amplified and diagnosable.

This now plays a part in my wanting to hide.  It is why I will disappear from some friends' lives for undisclosed amounts of time and why my moods can be a shit storm and come out of nowhere.  Through the constant battle in my brain, I am still having to deal with this.  When I get dressed, when I leave the house on my own, when I eat, when I go anywhere where I have to take up space.

Today was one of those days.  I have felt like an open wound all day - exposed and vulnerable to infection.  Getting dressed hurt.  I found myself second guessing my whole outfit, which was composed of things I love.  The print felt too loud, the way I tied my shirt on the side felt like I was trying too hard - who do I think I am?  I looked at myself from the front side, back, in every mirror a few times before I decided I could not play this game with my brain today.  Going out into the public alone can be very difficult for me.  I find myself worrying that everyone is looking at me and can see what a hard time I've having.  Vulnerability.

These days are hard - most days are hard.  The internal struggle with my brain feels neverending.  I have not formulated an exact science on how to take care of or even handle myself on these days.  There are temporary vices I'll take part in.  But like my mood swings, I feel that the pendulum eventually swings back and I am again at square 1, not knowing what the next day will bring.

These Are the Boys You Let Into Your Bed, Your Car, and Your Heart

Let me begin by saying how honored I am to have been chosen from the hundreds of girls your clammy finger swipes through on any given day.  I’m so glad there was something in my profile that spoke to you on some level – I’m sure that’s what it was.  And what was I chosen for?  You don’t know, do you?

I was not some prize to be won, because you knew exactly what you were doing.  I was a deer, lined up perfectly in your scope. You had me before you even knew what to do with me.  The rope was in your arsenal, ready to tie me down (unfortunately this has not **actually** happened yet) and then insist we go back to my place instead of yours because,  “My roommates are weird when other people come over.”  I was not something to be casted and put on display – to be proud of.

You took the time to get inside my head.  You got to KNOW me.  As someone new to this game, even I knew this was not how hookups work.  My head naturally began to think that maybe this could be something more.  So you got what you wanted, and I yearned for something in return.  And when you left, those thoughts stayed and at times made me feel desperate.  What if it’s me?  What do I have to do to keep your attention?

One of you thought this made you a rare find.  Yes, you just wanted to fuck (a point you would not say outright until after we had stopped seeing each other) but it was more than that because you actually seemed to care about me as a human being.  You wanted to have your cake and eat it too (something you weren’t even that great at).  You told me this did NOT make you a “fuck boy” because you maintained contact and genuinely cared.  Well, Gold. Fucking. Star, dude.  Congrats on being able to sleep better at night thinking you’ve done a ~good~.  What’s funny is that this made you more of a “fuck boy.”  This did not make you a token good guy.

The “good guy” trope is something I have heard before.  My father repeated it a lot after he cheated on my mom the final time.  He told us that despite everything, he’s still a “good guy” and wanted my sister and I to see him as such.  I still don’t know how to look my father in the face and tell him that that doesn’t matter.  Your actions speak louder than this bullshit drivel.  And if you were such a “good guy,” you wouldn’t have continued to do this.  And though I may love my father to pieces, it’s a selfish fucking response.  People are going through this shit every day at the hands of others who think head games are okay as long as it appears the other person isn’t hurting.  You do this by getting to know us, getting us off first (one guy actually told me he knows about the female orgasm deficit – I let him stay the night), and connecting with us on our favorite things. 

Am I more pissed at you all, or myself for continuing to make these shitty decisions?  Why are the fuck boys – the ones I sleep with – the ones I end up developing feelings for?  The worst part of everything is that I know how to work on this.  Stricter boundaries would help immensely and help my heart from continuously getting hurt.  When will I begin putting that into action?

A part of me continues to defend you.  Maybe you’re just stupid.  Maybe you’re busy and that’s why you haven’t replied to any flirty text I’ve sent.  Maybe it’s me!  Maybe I am the problemmmmmmm.  But honestly, maybe I am.  I think something in me was broken by my ex and the way the ex before him handled everything in the bedroom.  I have never been held up to mean anything more, so maybe I don’t want to.  Maybe something in my subconscious is sabotaging myself on purpose.