It is my story, I decide when and how it will end

From time to time I feel like I should let the past stay where it is and move on with my life. I do not intentionally dwell on the last year. The way I live my life now is dictated by the final actions of Guy Curtis when he decided that he had gotten all he could from me and wanted out. 

If you feel that I am unjustly fixated on that event, you are correct about the fixation. Each night I go to bed and it does not haunt my dreams. In the morning when I open my eyes it becomes a reality all over again. I use my hands to find my way out of my room, and down the hall to the bathroom. If I turn on the lights too soon I spend most of the day suffering a horrible headache. I have learned to accept this adjustment. I choose to start my day with this small accommodation rather than let my pride get in the way. If I forced myself to function the way I did before then Guy Curtis would control me every day. 

I am not angry any more, I have come to terms with the limitations I live with. I do not feel that I am vindictive. I do not spend any time plotting revenge. I do allow myself the occasional fantasy wherein he is before a judge in handcuffs. When the gavel falls and he is given sentence I am allowed one last look in those previously arrogant eyes. I cannot see him clearly but it is enough for him to know that I did follow through and get justice. 

I have forgiven myself for the mistake of believing his facade. I have shored up the walls around me and patched the cracks that he exploited to further his cause. I no longer allow anyone to be close, to hear my stories or tell me theirs. I have not become self centered, or indifferent. I have allowed myself to be independent and safe. If I tell nothing of myself then I cannot be used against myself. A weakness cannot be found in something unknown.

If the time is taken to realize and slowly determine who and how I am, it can never be said that I misrepresented myself. What is found, what is believed of me...that is someone else's story. The perspective of my reality is colored by the life of everyone who encounters it. I choose what is written on the pages of my life every day. What I do not include, is ultimately forgotten, and if necessary for my survival it just might be you.

Recovery

You are standing on the outside
Of my life...looking in
You aren't sure how it started
Or where it all began
Who said the word or threw the stone
Or swung the stick that broke my bones
You see the smile I allow you
Noticing I don't meet your eyes
This may seem deceitful
What am I trying to hide?
A truth too painful 
Though I survived
You could never reconcile
Like a burn victim I am healing
Each day I am debriding
My deeply wounded soul
Thoughts...memories
Come unbidden, 
Still I let them ebb and flow
Each must follow through its course
From bright beginning
Through each conceivable end
Some days I am stronger
And can let a few more go
Other times they still own me
Making it an effort just to be
There is light on my horizon
There never was before
I let you look upon my smile
Not yet ready to meet your eyes
I am getting better every day
Feeling a strength that is new
Soon to be someone who
No one will recognize

CLV

Painful Thoughts

What are my thoughts. Why does my mind insist on conjuring thoughts about situations and history that I have wanted and tried to forget. I don't hear voices in the classic sense, but my thoughts can be so loud and jumbled they begin to feel like it.

My mind takes me back to the very beginning of my "relationship" with Guy Curtis. Now that I am safe, and know that my only reaction to his return would be to call the police, I keep going through the what if cycle. What if I hadn't allowed him to stay when he came to my room the first time? What if I hadn't been so willing to discuss my past with him? It was the equivalent of loading the "gun" that he used to infiltrate my defenses. 

I was single when he came into my life. I had been for about five years. I was content with my life,  for the most part. I had decided that I would wait for God to bring my "perfect" partner. I had waited. In the beginning we talked, a lot. He spun his web of sorrow, and hard luck and I bought into it. The abandonment by his parents, the loss of his mother while he had been in prison. The story of his crime, of a childhood spent dancing for money. He even told me that he had legally taken a stage name, Michael Whispers. 

I thought I loved him, now I know that I only pitied him, and hoped to offer him a better life. I let him stay in my home to work on his dream to become a professional musician. I have had a weakness for creative people for a very long time. I hoped to facilitate the aspirations of a variety of individuals that needed a place to make music, write poetry and stories, and draw or paint. It started that way and rapidly became a nightmare. 

I wanted to believe that people are inherently good. Do unto others, appreciate what was done for  or given to them. In actuality I have discovered that this is not the case. Appreciation turned into expectation, then disappointment, and finally the basis of determination that I was a fake person. There was no regard for my feelings and no respect for my efforts. 

Those who lived at my house did not support themselves. No matter how often I would try to explain that my expenses increased with each person that wandered in and forgot to leave. It became the goal of these people to take my home for their own purposes. They worked very hard to achieve this goal, to the point of having me arrested and put at the mercy of the judicial system based upon false accusations. 

I finally became angry instead of overwhelmed and made all of them leave, all but Guy Curtis. He stayed, I thought he cared for me. Ultimately I came to realize that he was the last rat on a sinking ship. When he realized that I would not leave my house as a result of other's behavior he resorted to physical violence. He came and went for about three days after he beat me. I now believe that it was his hope that the beating would send me running to my Mother's home in Minnesota. I did not. I did enter into a fog of fear, denial and sadness.

When he finally realized that I would not leave he stole my car and left for Florida. He has made no effort to contact me since that day. In some respects this is a good thing. It makes me wonder if I would have let him come home and attempt to work through whatever brought the demon in him to the surface. It took me about a month to come out of my haze and become angry. Angry fueled my determination to never again allow anyone to take over my life. 

I will always have physical reminders of that time and specifically that incident. My vision is permanently impaired, I will never be able to drive again. I have scars from serious lacerations, a result of my arm going through a window. I look at his picture now, and all it does is confuse me. 

Still I wonder, why do these thoughts come? I cannot travel back in time and warn myself. I have developed the tools to stand my ground. I can and do say no without a sense of guilt. I do not give explanations for my choices. It is my life, and my rules. Never again will I allow someone else's expectations override my own sense of worth. There is no compromise. It is my life, finally.

Lying and cheating from the point of view of someone that doesn't understand either

Cheaters and liars seem to be everywhere these days. Public figures and in our private lives. I am sure it starts out as small fabrications or deeds. Perhaps even complimentary; "That color is great on you" or "You don't look like you've gained any weight." For some these statements appear to be second nature. Told to avoid hurting someone's feelings. I believe that lying becomes a building process, small lies become easier to tell, eventually causing no inward turmoil. Eventually lying becomes second nature, justified by saving another's feelings. These liars fail to realize that everyone else can see the color isn't right or the weight gained and may not be concerned about sparing someone's feelings. Now your word and opinion appear shallow and at the very least will be cause for suspicion.

It appears to me that this sets up a cycle whereby the liar begins to actively excuse, or attempt to justify their behavior. If they truly do not understand the very nature of and value of truth they will have no reason to change their interactions with family, friends, and the general public. As liars become known and begin to feel alienated they may enter into lying to gain attention or sympathy in order to regain their position within their circle of society. Eventually the liar becomes entangled in their own web. They forget which illness they told what friend they have this week. Grandma may pass away in January, and then again in June. Eventually this social circle may end up "comparing notes." Casual conversation leads to "Did you hear about..." "Wasn't it a shame..."

As the walls of their world begin closing in on them the may begin to struggle and defend their actions and words. For the most part this effort is to no avail. They become the person who "cries wolf" and sooner or later their recounts of dramatic circumstances garner no attention or reaction from anyone. Sadly, misfortune comes to us all at one point or another, when it does truly befall a liar they will be hard pressed to gain a sympathetic ear from anyone that knows them.

The genesis of a cheater is not quite so clear to me. I personally can not understand the point of cheating, whether in a game or a relationship. If the game isn't fun simply for the sake of playing it, if it is only a satisfying undertaking if you win, what then is the point. If you are not satisfied within a personal relationship, on all levels, why would you continue that relationship. Where is the comfort and satisfaction in seeking out the missing pieces with another? Is there not an ever present fear of having this deceit discovered? How can you ever relax and enjoy time shared with either of your partners? I have left more than one relationship because I discovered that the piece that was missing, no matter how insignificant on it's own, was causing a weakness and eventually a collapse of whatever connection I had felt.

I may hurt your feelings by not giving you the answer you are hoping for, however will also not hurt your feelings by giving you a false answer to further my own agenda. I may make you cry, but you will always know that my shoulder is available to cry on.

I am a loyal friend right up until the bitter end. The end may be at your choosing or mine. People do change, it is in our nature. The circumstances of your life, or mine, may cause a change in thought or feeling that no longer fits comfortably between us. Parting ways does not mean that the prior relationship was not valid up until that point. Cherish the good memories, learn from the ones that hurt or made you sad and continue on your journey, as will I.

How I see the 7 rules of life

Making peace with your past is something that does take time. Realizing that you may never get an explanation much less an apology is one of the biggest stumbling blocks. I think it is only natural to be curious if nothing else. What was it I did that brought me/us to this point? If you have been involved with a Narcissistic or Borderline Personality, it is highly probable that you did nothing wrong. You gave your heart and possibly your body to a person that is very comfortable misrepresenting themselves. The way they camouflage their true nature is diabolical.

It is not your responsibility to present yourself in a manner that pleases others. It is your responsibility to not intentionally injure others, spiritually, mentally or physically. A personality disordered individual does not hesitate to turn circumstances around, making you feel that you have done or said something that is injurious to them. Be very careful, listen to your inner voice. Trust your own judgement. In the book Gaslighting, the Double Whammy, Interrogation and Other Methods of Covert Control in Psychotherapy and Analysis, the late forensic psychiatrist Theodore Dorpat defines gaslighting as a situation in which one individual "attempts to exert control over the feelings, thoughts or activities of another." According to Dorpat, the gaslighting behavior itself is covert — neither "directly hostile" nor "intimidating."

Time will heal, but it is a slow process. The length of a relationship may not necessarily dictate the recovery process or time frame. My actual relationship with Guy Curtis was only a few months long. He found a chink in my armor and exploited it to his benefit. It has been almost a year since he beat me, stole my car, and left state. I have finally forgiven myself for not "knowing" better. There are physical issues that will never heal. My spirit is stronger everyday as is my dedication to keeping myself safe.

My life is my own, every single second of it has contributed to making me the woman I am today. Good ones, bad ones, terrifying and sad ones. I do my best to not judge others based on my initial contact. Everyone, including myself, can have a bad day. I do not take anyone at face value either. My friends and I say that I have retired my cape. It is no longer my job to save the world. Obviously I wasn't very good at it in the first place.

I have determined that concern and worry are not necessarily one in the same. For me worry is an almost constant state of mind. I dedicate so much energy to trying to find the "best" outcome for everyone involved, that I am not able to concentrate on the most basic of decisions for my own good. Concern, again for me, is a passing state of mind. I care about my friends and family, when one of them genuinely suffers, it brings a sympathetic statement or gesture from me. It is a transient thought process, and once I have determined and taken the appropriate action the thought is gone. This has not always been my nature, but I have worked on adapting this attitude and find it makes my life much simpler.

I no longer "count" on the good nature of others. I have realized that the majority of people I have known were more than willing to accept anything and everything I had to offer, and felt no obligation in return. The expectation is what caused me to feel let down, foolish, and often very hurt. I have learned to say no, it is not possible for me to be hurt by another's poor memory when I am in need of help, if I have done nothing that should garner reciprocation. This not only makes my life easier, I am no longer concerned with being responsible for others comfort, and this in turn allows me to dedicate much more time and energy to my own.

Recent events have shown me that my issues are actually very small in the grand scheme of things. I have not been shot, caught in an explosion, lost a family member to senseless violence. I have a nice house, a wonderful man, my health for the most part, and I have made it a point to look for a positive in every circumstance I encounter. Some of them are actually pretty ridiculous but I hang on to them for the next dark day. For example: My mother has been a huge help to me financially and emotionally. Last year, shortly after Guy Curtis left I was in my basement doing laundry. There is a routine to this process, and I varied it just a bit. I set the time on the dryer and pushed the button...nothing...I checked the outlet and the plug was solidly in place. I looked up at the sky and sent out a silent prayer. I looked down at my feet to consider my options and realized that I had not closed the dryer door. I chuckled, closed the door, hit the button and ta da, I had fixed the dryer. That one simple victory led to many other tiny ones. To me they were a great part of my healing process. 

Maybe not all of these seven rules are new to you. I was aware of most of them in theory, but did not put them into practice for myself until last year. My life is so much simpler, and with the removal of the weeds from the garden of my spirit, I have made room for some amazing flowers to bloom.

I finally want what I deserve, and will accept no less

Do you remember what you were looking for? Your dreams, your plans for the future, your mate or spouse. 

I do, I wanted a large house with plenty of space for art and music. I wanted to fill my life with positive creative energy. I was blessed with a house, a nice house, by my parents. I felt that I should share my blessings with others. There are so many who have nothing. I opened my heart and my home to pretty much any one of my daughter's friends that needed a place to stay.

There were expectations, I wanted a small amount of money to help defray the added expense of having others in my home. I also expected them to help pay for their groceries, if not actual cash or food stamps at the very least I expected them to go to local food banks once a week or so. I wanted them to pick up after themselves at the very least, and help out with general household chores. In exchange they had internet, telephone, cable TV with just about all the channels, a washing machine and dryer, a fully functional kitchen, and a warm dry place to sleep. I thought this was a reasonable expectation. At first the energy they brought was positive and fun...

The change came subtly...I would wake up in the morning and find a sink full of dirty dishes, packages on the counters, dirty pans still on the stove top. Then things that I intended to use to cook a meal came up used for midnight snacks. Ultimately I fixed dinner and by the time I was able to get to my own plate there was nothing left, and it was unfair for me to become upset. I stopped cooking dinners and that got me the cold shoulder. 

Laundry began to stack up in my laundry room and eventually spilled out into the rest of the basement. Clothes that were washed became lost in among clothes that were waiting to be washed and all had to be washed again and again and again. Clothes in the washing machine were forgotten until I wanted to wash my own and was assaulted by the moldy smell when I lifted the lid. Again it was unfair of me to become upset by these events. 

Pop cans, pop bottles, dirty dishes, garbage, cigarette packs, overflowing ashtrays began to litter every corner of my home. I finally spoke up, loudly and clearly and they scattered like roaches when the kitchen light gets turned on. Each of them full of venom and stories about what an awful person I was. You wouldn't believe.....

Three times this happened, the last time being the worst. That group almost won, they had me drug through criminal courts, and ultimately the last rat on their sinking ship almost cost me my life. But I had wanted this, I wanted to share my home, I wanted others to be able to enjoy the abundance I had been blessed with.

It has been a year now since my nightmare began. It is almost over, in 10 months I will be returning to my home. Only one person will be sharing it with me and he waits for me, turning our home, for it is now ours, into an amazing place. Rooms dedicated to art, and music, paintings on the walls, repairs to the damage done by the countless people that came through.

Now I am determined to have what I deserve. I deserve to say no, just because I want to. I deserve to have my home and not share any of it with anyone that I don't want to. That does not make me greedy or selfish, it makes me wise and deserving of a safe place to lay my head at night. I deserve to know what will be awaiting me when my feet hit the floor in the morning. I deserve to find ice cream in my freezer, coffee in my cupboard and his amazing smile just because I am there. I deserve my efforts to be appreciated and not to become the yardstick by which the depth and sincerity of my love are measured. 

I have not forgotten what I wanted, but have\

Stressed or Distressed

My dog is at the vet right now. He is having a relatively serious operation to repair a torn ligament in his hind leg. I am concerned, and I suppose on a certain level I am stressed. However, the dog is at the vet and not hobbling around the house, this is cause for relief. My Mother was able and willing to cover the bill for the procedure. This is also a relief, particularly since the dog tried to eat one of her cats shortly after we got here.  I don't really believe that was his intent, but Mom still has her suspicions.
Since he is my fur baby and I do love my animals, I am concerned. I do not believe that I am distressed. I think the difference between stress and distress, for myself at least, is the ability to see the positive aspects of a stressful situation.
I have found them in strange places and under the worst of circumstances. When Guy Curtis beat me in July of last year it was a horribly traumatic experience, and for the first month I was incredibly distressed. I lied to family and friends out of some bizarre need to protect his reputation. His sister in law happens to be the niece of one of my very best friends. I did not want to cause undo harm to any relationships outside of my own. I spent a lot of time and energy trying to reach him in an effort to save him from himself. Not only did he beat me, and I mean beat me like a man, he stole my car to make his get away to Florida.
As I came out of the haze of denial anger began to replace the hurt and sense of loss as well as the cold fear.
I finally sought medical treatment for my injuries and found out that my black eye had irreparably damaged the muscle that controls the function of my pupil. This was distressing and I was referred to an ophthalmologist for further testing and diagnosis.
While this process was ongoing it was discovered that I had glaucoma in both of my eyes. This discovery became the thing that turned my distress into simply stress. Had I not seen the ophthalmologist the glaucoma may have gone unnoticed until it became a serious issue.
I am not an overly optimistic person, I think of myself as a realist. I hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and if I am lucky I land somewhere in the middle of the circumstances that present themselves.
My stolen car became my focus more so than the beating. I pursued and posted and did my best on my own to determine where it was and how to get it back. Michigan required I wait 30 days before they would file the necessary reports to render it a stolen vehicle rather than a simple domestic issue. Months went by and I had no word about the car. When I did finally hear about it's location I was completely surprised to find out it was in excellent condition. Guy Curtis had managed to trade it in at a dealership in Florida, who then sold it to an auto auction in Gainesville, Florida who in turn sold it to a dealership in Valdosta, Georgia. No one had bothered to try and transfer the title until the dealership sold the vehicle to a customer, at which point the title came back stolen.
I argued and fought and became distressed because I felt that I was being put off by the people that I needed to help me. I recruited my son, who is much more level headed than I am to take over the negotiations. My ultimate hope had become a return of the vehicle to me so that I could give it to my son. I can no longer drive  because of my vision issues. Unfortunately the best resolution we could get was a cash settlement from an insurance agency representing the auction, I believe. The distress abated, all was over and the outcome was actually much better than I thought it would be. I landed in the middle.
I understand that there are authorities looking for Guy Curtis on fraud charges in Florida as well as Georgia. Since it is somehow felt that this issue could have been considered a domestic issue I have discovered that there is a statute of limitations on domestic assault in Michigan that gives me five years to file my complaint. I have chosen to utilize that waiting period, at least a part of it, to regain my strength, physically and emotionally. As I continue to process more criminal charges come to mind. In all honesty, completely out of a need for some form of closure, I want to be in the courtroom when the judge brings the gavel down. I believe that will be the final page in this horrific chapter of my life.
Back to my dog, Bubba Moose came through his surgery just fine. The injury was repaired in a timely fashion and did not create a bigger issue for him. In this instant I have landed a little closer to the best possible outcome instead of in the middle.

Call the repairman

Yesterday I mentioned my puppy, well here he is, all 100+ pounds of him. My children are grown and out in the world so he is my best distraction from the reality around me. 
I have dealt with agoraphobia and generalized anxiety, among other things, for years. Over the last year it seemed to me that each time I tried to open up to the world outside my door, either to step out myself, or let someone else in, it only justified my fears. There is nothing in the world that I can not live without. If I could buy groceries on line and have them delivered without paying an exorbitant convenience fee I probably would.
Today as I write this I am sitting in my Mother's den. It is a safe place in a beautiful home. I am here as part of a legal settlement resulting from the nightmares that infected my home and my life last year about this time. I will be here until next February. Each day I become aware of little things that indicate that I am getting a little stronger. Last night her very nice expensive high efficiency washer threw out an error code, of course with my clothes being the load that it crapped out on. 
Not even 3 months ago this would have given rise to a full on panic attack. It isn't my washing machine, I didn't do anything wrong but it still died on my load of clothes, I can't afford to replace it, I already owe her so much more than I can ever repay....etc etc etc. However, last night I simply told Mom what happened, attempted to start the load again and got the same error code again. I began a methodical search for the manual that goes with the washer, and found it. Looked up the error code and showed it to her. It indicated that we were going to need to call a repairman. The surprising thing is that all of this occurred without a hint of tears, sweats, nausea, shakes or any of the other symptoms of panic. 
When all was said and done, as I sat down to resume working on a baby blanket it occurred to me that nothing had happened. No freak out, not even a hidden rush of anxiety. Pretty good stuff, I even mentioned it to Mom and she agreed that it was a good event and definitely indicated that my recovery is in progress.

I awoke today, that was a good start. In the last year I have learned to cherish even the smallest of victories. It has been a year of change, some horrific and some absolutely wonderful. As they come to mind I will share them, most of them anyway.
Today however is all about my dog, Bubba Moose. 100 pounds of bull mastiff mix. My fur baby. Friday we were playing with a ball in Mom's living room and he came up lame. I thought he had sprained his foot. Today we saw the vet, like mama like dog. Nothing done halfway. He has torn a ligament in his knee. He is scheduled for surgery on Wednesday. 
Now for the humor in the event. Not so very long ago my younger brother slipped in an icy parking lot in Wyoming and if I remember correctly tore the tendons attached to his knee cap.
Today was a horrible day in America, particularly at the Boston Marathon. For me it triggered some intense recall, from 9/11. That day was a major changing point in the life I led. I was not there, and did not know directly anyone who was killed or injured on that awful day. However, the man that I was living with at the time was a long haul truck driver. He was supposed to be in the immediate area, I remember asking him to take photographs if he could. 
I was at work when the news of the towers came across our radios. I went home for lunch that day, something I never did. I began frantically dialing the phone, first his cell, then the qualcom in his truck, then the dispatch office for his company. Nothing...not good or bad news...just nothing, for three incredibly long days. Finally he called to let me know he was fine. Fact of the matter being that he had a mechanical issue and had been delayed for repairs. Thank you God. I could feel my strength leave me, first my body then my mind began to give way. 
I utilized my employers emergency counseling service and was directed to check in at my local hospital for a 72 hour psyche evaluation. I never did go back to work. 
Today took me back and I felt so badly for friends and family who are now in that terrible holding pattern awaiting news of their loved ones.