By the time I was a year old my mom was a single mother. Her entire pregnancy her and my father were fighting. He was in and out of jail, openly cheating on her etc. Once he even locked her out of their house butt naked in the cold.
When I was five my mom and I had to prove how smart I was in order for me to attend regular classes in school.
At seven I was interrogated about my “dads” molesting me solely because they were gay. For the record they never touched me. Ever. Every single time I’ve ever been raped it was by a straight male.
I was called a liar and the woman tried to coerce me into saying what she wanted me to say with leading questions. I didn’t give in and she eventually backed off.
The summer of my eighth birthday I spent nearly a month with my father. I don’t have any pleasant memories from that experience. Not one.
At nine a CPS worker showed up at my house threatening to take me away from my mother because I’d had a screaming fit in Walmart when she didn’t buy me the doll I wanted.
Eleven was when my mom started dating a man who verbally assaulted her every chance he got. He would later rape me multiple times and when I told her about it she didn’t care.
Fourteen, a football player at my high school told me he would score a goal for me. I was a freshman, he was a senior. He made me feel special… and never spoke to me again.
Fifteen, there’s a school dance coming up. “You’re beautiful.” I smiled, “It’s a shame you’re disabled, I’d love to take you out sometime.” He walked off acting as if this was a compliment. I was crushed. I went home and told my mom about it she said, “Well, you’re different boys don’t like different. Be glad he said anything to you at all.”
Sixteen, “It’s a shame you’re disabled. You could have been a model.”
Eighteen, “You’re too pretty. You’re distracting the boys. Cover up.”
Nineteen, “Your SAT scores are WHAT?”
Twenty, I met my ex-husband.
Twenty four, “He’s only giving you attention because you’re in that chair.”
Twenty nine, I left him after his words became scarily familiar to the one’s I’d heard before.
Sometimes I still struggle with my decision to leave him. I know that’s something I shouldn’t admit. Especially knowing this blog will probably be sent to him when our mutual friends see it. But honestly, after being shot down every single time I expressed an opinion or acted like a normal human girl, I was taught to believe this kind of treatment is exactly what I deserve.
I’m coming to realize it isn’t and I don’t have to tolerate it.
I’m starting to demand respect now. I no longer deal with people’s idiotic comments and shallow compliments. If you can’t see who I am beyond what I sit in that’s your fault, not mine. Those who know me love me dearly and they’re all I really need.
Since the divorce I’ve dated a few times. Most of the relationships fizzled out quickly, but recently there’s been one I’m very protective of.
The person I’m with now knows me completely. I’m open and honest with them about every single aspect of my life. They make me feel safe and loved. When we fight I don’t instantly worry they will leave me like I did in other relationships.
I’m confident in our ability as a couple and that’s allowing myself to relax, be present and enjoy it.
I trust them with everything I have and in return they trust me.
You won’t find pictures of us on any of my social media or me discussing the relationship although it is indeed very real. It’s something I am fiercely protective of.
Our relationship is for us, no one else and it’s no one else’s business.
A few of my friends know who I’m with. Most don’t and it will remain that way unless there’s a reason to say something.
I know this person is proud of everything I do and everything I’ve done. They accept my flaws and support me no matter what. They have my back, always. They have my best interest at heart.
They’ve stood by me through the entire process of being in therapy.
Sometimes I’m still amazed I could be this happy in a relationship.
I’m loved by someone who really knows everything about me and it’s an amazing feeling.
I’m finally getting the love I deserve, instead of the love I think I deserve.
My Dissociative Life Blog 