As promised; a story from the past.. (this is hard to start, I've tried three different times but don't know where to begin.. eh)
In high school I was a cheerleader (stop laughing, now.) I had a "type" which really meant that I dated football players, and hung out with other cheerleaders (and BQ, but that's another story entirely). Then I met The Ex. He was not my "type" he was shy and artistic and so sweet. We really connected. I didn't know then that I was bipolar, but the intense connection I thought I felt to him might have been a product of mania. Anyhow, things were ok for a long while, intense, but I just thought I was really in love. We'd get into these heated fights, and eventually he started calling me some really nasty names, I made excuses: "I just make him so mad" "I shouldn't have said (fill in the blank)" etc. etc. By the time college rolled around though, I was having second thoughts. There was a big part of me that wanted to know what else was out there, he was pretty much my first everything. So I broke things off. It was a relief, he'd grown possessive, and my dad was sick with prostate cancer so I was stressed out already, it seemed better to go into college with a clean slate. He wasn't happy about it, but he took it pretty well. The weekend before we moved into our dorms I went to a leadership conference that my school sponsored, seemed like an amazing opportunity to meet people and make friends. On the first night there was drinking, having only ever been drunk a few times by this time, I declined. The second night I was talked into having a few drinks, which turned into double shots of vodka. I guess I didn't really know how drunk I was, inexperienced drinkers have trouble with that sort of thing, y'know? I was talking to this guy (who was so cute) and a couple of other people when the hotel security came by. They said that if we weren't quiet they would call the real police. The guy (the cute one) said to our group that he thought we should go back to someone's room and chill so we didn't get into trouble. He suggested his room since he didn't have a roommate. Somehow, the other people never came to his room. We were alone. We kissed, and kind of started fooling around. When he tried to remove some object of clothing (I can't remember which) I said no, I said I didn't want to have sex because I'd just broken up with someone. I remember him being sort of pushy about it. Then I don't remember anything at all. Until I woke up, and he was having sex with me. My body felt heavy and I was having trouble moving, so I said I didn't want to again. He said he thought I'd like it, and that I should try harder. As the moments passed I became alarmingly sober. I realized he wasn't wearing a condom. I begged him at this point not to come in me. I suppose I should be thankful that he obliged. As soon as he got off me I got straight into the shower feeling more horrible and ashamed than I ever have in my life. When I got out and dressed I just sat on the bed, in shock. He sat down next to me as if nothing was wrong, he said he thought we'd be really good friends. When I left his room I had no idea what to do, so I just went back to my room and tried to sleep. I was sickened by my own reflection the next morning. We left the conference to move straight into our dorms. When I saw my parents I felt so dirty, I don't know why, but I was so ashamed. I knew what had happened was wrong, but I felt so responsible. After they left I called the one person I knew would understand, The Ex, and asked him to come over. When he got there he could tell something was wrong, and asked what had happened. When I told him his face grew angry. He looked away from me, out the window, for a moment. I begged him to say something, he didn't. I begged him to hold me, and he spun around, and grabbed me by my wrists so that our faces were very close. He spit in my face. He yelled "I will never hold you again, you disgust me you slut." Then he pushed me back on the floor and left. In the next few months I isolated myself from everyone, instead of making friends in my dorm I stayed in my room. The only time I left was when The Ex wanted to see me, these sessions usually consisted of us having sex, then him saying that if I'd really been raped I wouldn't want to have sex. Then he'd call me a slut again, as many ways as he knew how. I let him, I felt so ashamed of what had happened that I felt that I needed to be punished. I hid what was happening from my mama, something that must have taken an enormous amount of energy given how close we are, I didn't want her to have any more to deal with since my dad was sick. I became a slut, I slept with people I didn't even remotely like, and I'd give just about anyone a blow job. Just to try to make sex real. It never was, when I had sex my mind just.... detached. Then, one night I met E. I was on my way to a frat party with a couple of girls, one of them wanted to stop by another frat first to say hi to a friend. I was reluctant, but agreed to go because I thought her friend was cool. We met up with him and he made us a few drinks and we went on the balcony to smoke a cigarette. From the balcony at this particular frat house you can see into the billiards room below. I spotted a guy that I'd never seen at this frat before and pointed him out to T (the girl's friend). T claimed him as his roommate, and said that he'd recently broken up with someone so he was going out again. This guy was gorgeous. Tall, built, looked kind of like a combo of Brad Pitt's strong jaw and cheekbones with Matt Damon's friendly eyes and smile, with strawberry blonde hair. I had to meet him. So, since the other girls were caught up talking to T I slipped downstairs and walked through the billiards room, said hi to a couple of the guys in there I already knew. Then I looked at him straight in the eyes, he was smiling, big. He strode across the room and took my hand "Hi, I'm E, what's your name?" I could barely get my name out. We chatted for the whole evening, the other party forgotten. In the end we started dating, and I fell so in love with this charming boy from Boston. I latched on to him so hard. He taught me how to have sex and stay in the moment, with him. He promised me over and over when I cried that things would be ok. He convinced me to tell my mama what had happened so I'd have more support. He held my hand so tightly during one of the darkest periods of my life. Things don't always stay the same, and as things do when one person has a mental illness that isn't being treated things spiraled downward eventually. No matter what EVER happens between us though, nothing could change that first, perfect moment when he smiled at me like I was worth something.
Thanks for sticking with me, it was real therapy to get this out. I haven't looked at this situation for a long time because it hurts so badly. There are so many things that have happened in the last three years that are awful. This probably won't be the last "past" story, but I'll probably wait awhile for that one. Hug'n'kisses-- Etoile.
In high school I was a cheerleader (stop laughing, now.) I had a "type" which really meant that I dated football players, and hung out with other cheerleaders (and BQ, but that's another story entirely). Then I met The Ex. He was not my "type" he was shy and artistic and so sweet. We really connected. I didn't know then that I was bipolar, but the intense connection I thought I felt to him might have been a product of mania. Anyhow, things were ok for a long while, intense, but I just thought I was really in love. We'd get into these heated fights, and eventually he started calling me some really nasty names, I made excuses: "I just make him so mad" "I shouldn't have said (fill in the blank)" etc. etc. By the time college rolled around though, I was having second thoughts. There was a big part of me that wanted to know what else was out there, he was pretty much my first everything. So I broke things off. It was a relief, he'd grown possessive, and my dad was sick with prostate cancer so I was stressed out already, it seemed better to go into college with a clean slate. He wasn't happy about it, but he took it pretty well. The weekend before we moved into our dorms I went to a leadership conference that my school sponsored, seemed like an amazing opportunity to meet people and make friends. On the first night there was drinking, having only ever been drunk a few times by this time, I declined. The second night I was talked into having a few drinks, which turned into double shots of vodka. I guess I didn't really know how drunk I was, inexperienced drinkers have trouble with that sort of thing, y'know? I was talking to this guy (who was so cute) and a couple of other people when the hotel security came by. They said that if we weren't quiet they would call the real police. The guy (the cute one) said to our group that he thought we should go back to someone's room and chill so we didn't get into trouble. He suggested his room since he didn't have a roommate. Somehow, the other people never came to his room. We were alone. We kissed, and kind of started fooling around. When he tried to remove some object of clothing (I can't remember which) I said no, I said I didn't want to have sex because I'd just broken up with someone. I remember him being sort of pushy about it. Then I don't remember anything at all. Until I woke up, and he was having sex with me. My body felt heavy and I was having trouble moving, so I said I didn't want to again. He said he thought I'd like it, and that I should try harder. As the moments passed I became alarmingly sober. I realized he wasn't wearing a condom. I begged him at this point not to come in me. I suppose I should be thankful that he obliged. As soon as he got off me I got straight into the shower feeling more horrible and ashamed than I ever have in my life. When I got out and dressed I just sat on the bed, in shock. He sat down next to me as if nothing was wrong, he said he thought we'd be really good friends. When I left his room I had no idea what to do, so I just went back to my room and tried to sleep. I was sickened by my own reflection the next morning. We left the conference to move straight into our dorms. When I saw my parents I felt so dirty, I don't know why, but I was so ashamed. I knew what had happened was wrong, but I felt so responsible. After they left I called the one person I knew would understand, The Ex, and asked him to come over. When he got there he could tell something was wrong, and asked what had happened. When I told him his face grew angry. He looked away from me, out the window, for a moment. I begged him to say something, he didn't. I begged him to hold me, and he spun around, and grabbed me by my wrists so that our faces were very close. He spit in my face. He yelled "I will never hold you again, you disgust me you slut." Then he pushed me back on the floor and left. In the next few months I isolated myself from everyone, instead of making friends in my dorm I stayed in my room. The only time I left was when The Ex wanted to see me, these sessions usually consisted of us having sex, then him saying that if I'd really been raped I wouldn't want to have sex. Then he'd call me a slut again, as many ways as he knew how. I let him, I felt so ashamed of what had happened that I felt that I needed to be punished. I hid what was happening from my mama, something that must have taken an enormous amount of energy given how close we are, I didn't want her to have any more to deal with since my dad was sick. I became a slut, I slept with people I didn't even remotely like, and I'd give just about anyone a blow job. Just to try to make sex real. It never was, when I had sex my mind just.... detached. Then, one night I met E. I was on my way to a frat party with a couple of girls, one of them wanted to stop by another frat first to say hi to a friend. I was reluctant, but agreed to go because I thought her friend was cool. We met up with him and he made us a few drinks and we went on the balcony to smoke a cigarette. From the balcony at this particular frat house you can see into the billiards room below. I spotted a guy that I'd never seen at this frat before and pointed him out to T (the girl's friend). T claimed him as his roommate, and said that he'd recently broken up with someone so he was going out again. This guy was gorgeous. Tall, built, looked kind of like a combo of Brad Pitt's strong jaw and cheekbones with Matt Damon's friendly eyes and smile, with strawberry blonde hair. I had to meet him. So, since the other girls were caught up talking to T I slipped downstairs and walked through the billiards room, said hi to a couple of the guys in there I already knew. Then I looked at him straight in the eyes, he was smiling, big. He strode across the room and took my hand "Hi, I'm E, what's your name?" I could barely get my name out. We chatted for the whole evening, the other party forgotten. In the end we started dating, and I fell so in love with this charming boy from Boston. I latched on to him so hard. He taught me how to have sex and stay in the moment, with him. He promised me over and over when I cried that things would be ok. He convinced me to tell my mama what had happened so I'd have more support. He held my hand so tightly during one of the darkest periods of my life. Things don't always stay the same, and as things do when one person has a mental illness that isn't being treated things spiraled downward eventually. No matter what EVER happens between us though, nothing could change that first, perfect moment when he smiled at me like I was worth something.
Thanks for sticking with me, it was real therapy to get this out. I haven't looked at this situation for a long time because it hurts so badly. There are so many things that have happened in the last three years that are awful. This probably won't be the last "past" story, but I'll probably wait awhile for that one. Hug'n'kisses-- Etoile.
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