6 posts tagged “psychology”

As you have probably noticed, it's been quiet around here lately.

There is no particular reason. I love this blog and I love you guys who read it when I post once in a blue moon, or send me threatening emails to let me know that if I don't post again soon, you'll have my first born.

I'm sorry that I haven't been updating as much. I know "sorry" is a weird thing to say, but I think I'm more so apologizing to myself. I miss writing, and I miss having the time to sit in my PJs and curl up on the couch and write about whatever comes into my frosting filled brain.

Time is always going to be an issue, and I'm trying to figure out a way to work through that.

I'm also busy working through some other stuff. No, no one has died. No, Iain and I are not getting d-i-v-o-r-c-e-d. No, I'm not pregnant. No, I don't hate my job.

In fact, everything is absolutely wonderful.

And that's the problem.

I've spent the past two years on fire. I've been pummeling my way through life, reaching one step, and then seeing how quick it will take me to reach the next. Tomorrow will be the the two year anniversary of the night I emailed Iain for the first time. Thinking back, it seems like such a really fucking long time ago.

Since then, I really have become a writer. I write for a living. Back in California, standing in my syrup covered shoes, and coffee smeared apron, telling people I wanted to write, I only ever heard, "Don't you need a degree for that?"

I've been taking time to heal lately. To slow down. To look around me each and every day and realize where I am, and realize I don't need to just keep my head down and run to the next stage of my life.

I never like to tell people that I'm hurting, or that I'm sad, or that I'm depressed. I don't want people to see me imperfect, or broken. I don't want to hear useless, unsolicited advice. I don't want you to tell me to keep my chin up, or to smile, or ask me if I need a hug.

I ask very few for help. And those who I have asked, have given me more help than I could ever be prepared for.

Slowly, surely, I'm looking forward to each day, again. I'm realizing that I can be down. That I can let myself be down.

I am far from perfect. I just need to get back to a place where I am comfortable being still. My daily challenges have always been to "unclench" and to be "still". These are things I don't really know how to do, but I'm starting to catch myself in moments where I realize that HOLY SHIT I'm still. I'm in the moment. I'm not worrying about a million different things at once.

Depression is a funny thing. For me, it's a private thing that I don't like to glorify or admit. I don't want to write poems about it, or share with you the frightening internal dialog that runs through my mind on my darkest days. That's not me.

In my process of slowing, I really hope to be back in a place where I can write here as often as I'd like to. Maybe I'll be in a place where I can write something other than my emotional diarrhea as soon as tomorrow. Maybe Saturday. Maybe next Friday. I'm not sure.

I guess I just wanted to say that I want to be here and that I miss it.

The British Fashion Council has refused to ban the use of 'Size 0' models in London's Fashion Week.

Instead, they have requested that all designers use "healthy models" ages 16 and over...

(Because clearly fashion designers have a tight grip on what healthy looks like...)

Recently, Brazilian supermodel, Gisele Bundchen, claims that she has never suffered from anorexia because she "had a very strong family base" and that "The parents are responsible, not fashion."

Never mind that in the past month 3 women from Brazil have died from this disease, including 21 year old fashion model Ana Caolina Reston.

Fuck you, Gisele.

I'd say "Fuck You" to the British Fashion Council but I'd doubt they'd hear me as their heads are probably stuffed a toilet regurgitating their Sunday Roasts, or busy snorting coke off of Kate Moss' ribs.

Plus, the owner of Topshop -Sir Phillip Green- has pretty much given a big FUCK YOU to the BFC by taking some fucking responsibility by banning "waif" models:

"We all know what the definition of unhealthy is and we want to try to act correctly, responsibly and without causing a rift. Everyone wants to see people being healthy and we have got lots of good-looking girls who can be a healthy weight and look great."

Now, while it's great that a male owned fashion company is saying it wants to use "healthy" models and their website models don't look shockingly emaciated, they're certainly not exactly screaming,"LOOK I'M HEALTHY! I EAT!"

But still. At least his chickpea sized testicles had enough oomph  to set an good example. Or, if nothing else, a PC PR move.

And Gisele? Oh please. PLEASE.

Look, I'm glad that she had such a sweet, and sugary home life and that her family apparently loved her enough to prevent her from feeling like she needed to starve herself.

What the fuck was that comment supposed to mean?

Does that mean that all those poor girls who feel so disgusted and horrible about themselves that the only way they can cope is to indirectly address their problems by depriving and starving themselves, should blame their parents for not loving them enough, or the "right way"?

Parents have a massive, colossal responsibility to educate, nurture their children. I agree whole heartedly and will thoroughly acknowledge that in a moment...

But PLEASE do not tell me, Gisele, that it is only PARENTS to blame for the GLOBAL issue of poor body image, low self-esteem, and eating disorders amongst young women and girls.

NOT FASHION?

If it's not fashion, than it's not fashion magazines, either, I suppose. It's not ads, or commercials. It's not TV. It's not movies. It's not lingerie catalogues. It's not runway shoes. It's just the parents fault.

Ummmm.....

Remember that whole Parental Advisory thing? Apparently, society, and the government think that certain types of media can be harmful to children, despite having a "strong family base".That sticker means that the music industry, despite it being forced, are still helping out parents by saying "Dude, you may not want your 13 year old son listening to this."

Globally, the film industry admits "Yeah, sure. We'll help a brother out" and rates it's movies, giving parents a heads up that "This gay love scene between 2 sexually frustrated cowboys may not be suitable for your 9 year old."

Holy crap, Gisele. Even TELEVISION agrees that parents, despite loving their children and doing their gosh darndest to raise their kids in a way that would cause them to not want to starve themselves to death, need some help and therefore RATE THEIR TELEVISION SHOWS to guide parents on which programs are appropriate for children.

The UK even has this nifty little thing called the ITCwhich even helps monitor which adverts should be played at certain times; the more 'family friendly' adverts playing during when children are more likely to be watching.

Oh yeah. Even video games have a rating system, as some language, themes, and violent scenes may be too intense for youngins.

So, on the whole, some of the biggest media outlets agree that their music/programs/films/games/advertisements contain content that could possibly be inappropriate and damaging to children.

While all of these sources of media cannot be made, for the most part, to remove this material -freedom of speech, etc- it is their legal, and some would say, social responsibility to warn parents and consumers that it contains such material.

There are absolutely times when parents need to take full responsibility for their children's actions, but choose to blame "the media", instead. (For example, the parents blaming Marilyn Manson for the Columbine murders.)

Globally, parents and consumers alike have agreed there are things in the media that can distort, alter, confuse, and even damage children.

Kids stab each other because they "saw it on Power Rangers". They accidentally shoot someone because they played a violent video game and didn't understand people die. They jump off the roof into a swimming pool and light themselves on fire because Johnny Knoxville did it.

We all cried out, "Where were the parents??!!" and "Why is this crap even on TV?"

It seems those in power are taking responsibility, as I've mentioned above, are trying to limit the amount of inappropriate sex, drugs, violence, and harsh language that children are exposed to.

However, how many girls need to die while trying to achieve the standards of beauty that they have learned from the exact some media outlets?

We have a global issue on our hands.

We have millions, and millions of women and girls all over the world who think they're ugly, and fat, and worthless, and disgusting, and are slowly killing themselves to try to obtain this unobtainable, western, media/fashion created image of "beauty".

Again, I agree that parenting has a HUGE impact on this, but where does this image come from?

OH. Fashion. Fashion Magazines. Movies. TV. Ads. Commercials. Even music.

The ONE issue that no body seems to want to touch, or take responsibility for is their influence on young girl's body image, and self-esteem.

Models, fashion agencies, fashion editors, designers, directors have all defended their use of skinny ass, unrealistic looking women by excusing it the problem away.

Models are just skinny. They're supposed to be, right?

Gisele says, "Everybody knows the standard for models is to be thin."

Right. Well, does everybody also know that in 1998, just 3 years after US television shows were introduced to Fiji, 12 out of 100 girls had bulimia?**

Did you know 70% of all 9 year olds are dieting?

Does everybody know that 90% of all women overestimate their body size by an average of 25%, and that 40% of all women see at least one body part as being 50% larger than it really is.

And WHY is this?

If someone says, "My thighs are big..." They're big compared to...what?

"My legs aren't supposed to look like this."....Why?

"My breasts are too small?"....Small compared to what?

You're "FAT"?....Fat compared to what??

The WHAT and the WHY are the images, the air brushed, starved, entourage created, digitally altered, surgically enhanced, UNREALISTIC, unobtainable, projection of what beauty is supposed to look like that we are bombarded with from every single media outlet across the world.

Our entire basis of what sexy, attractive, beautiful, pretty, hot, cute, and fuckable are, is based on what FASHION and MEDIA tell us it's based on. It always has.

But when is enough, enough?

Are the fashion industries really that disgusting that instead of taking responsibility, they will just pass the blame on bad parenting, and pick money and endorsements and playing nice with designers OVER the health of women?

I believe that the Fashion industry won't take any responsibility for these issues as their situation is a bit more unique than any other media outlet's. It's not as simple as just issuing a ratings system, is it?

What are they going to do? Make a "This magazine may cause images that will negatively influence your daughter's self image and greatly increases her chances of developing an eating disorder" sticker for every issue of Vogue?

That's not going to happen. Therefore the body image and beauty standards of the western world, that are poisoning the rest of the globe, need to CHANGE.

Where is the fucking responsibility?

Why will no one stand up? While will no one change? Why, are these poor, hurting girls allowed to feel ugly, and fat, and disgusting and unloved, and have no one in power speak up and MAKE A CHANGE?!!?

Why is it that 76% of UK women, and 59% of all US women feel that it is hard to feel personally beautiful when confronted with the media's ideals of beauty??

This is beyond the typical bulimic ballerina, the anorexic models, and the workout crazy fashionistas.

This is YOUR DAUGHTER.

This is YOU..

And this is even me.

I do not have an eating disorder..but, I don't think anyone can honestly say that they don't wish they were thinner, or lighter, or bigger busted.

It's not just "Oh the grass is always greener" or "Of course, everyone wants to change something about their body" or "just a woman thing".

Our minds are poisoned with an image of what women are SUPPOSED to be and look like.

How many times have I thought to myself, "My ass shouldn't look like this...I'm not supposed to have cellulite there...No one else has breasts shaped like this, do they?...Are my hips supposed to look like that in jeans?"

It all starts very young.

As young girls, when our bodies are changing and stretching, we're afraid. We're fragile. Is this supposed to be happening this way?

So we look for examples, we look for support, we look for validation that we are beautiful, just as we are.

And it gets to a point that we don't believe our mothers, anymore...They're our MOTHERS, they're SUPPOSED to think we're beautiful!

So, what else is there?

Hello, Media. Hello, Fashion World. Hello EVERY SINGLE MAGAZINE COVER, TV SHOW AND MOVIE.

No one else has hips like mine. No one else seems to have fat on their body like this....

I'm fat.

I don't look like I'm supposed to look. I'm not beautiful. I'm not loveable. I'm not worthy.

I am disgusted and ashamed to admit that growing up I would cry, and cry because I felt fat. The first time I remember thinking I was "too big" was when I was 12, and was just starting to reach puberty. I was embarrassed of my thighs...AT 12.

I remember dieting for the first time at 14...

I had low self esteem, my parents divorce to live with, and depression that either caused, or stemmed from all of this..I've never had an eating disorder...But my body image has been FUCKED UP.

I'm just now learning to love myself, and love my body. Really love my body. To look in the mirror and instead of saying "I know I'm pretty, but I just have these floppy bits..."  to just look, and like what I see without beating myself up over some aspect of my appearance that isn't as it "should be".

I am learning to appreciate my own REAL BEAUTY.

And this brings me to Dove's Campaign for Real Beauty.

I am so grateful, moved even, that finally...Finally we have people out there who are willing to DO SOMETHING about this horrible psychological epidemic that is killing young women all over the world.

A company that puts beautiful, gorgeous, real women out in the open.

Tattooed, scared, curvy, "imperfect" women who are real. And gorgeous....And that can help lift the shame.

Lift the shame that we all feel for not looking like the "ideal women" should.

I feel that there are hardly any causes greater than the need to improve the self-esteem, self-worth, and mental health of young women out there than this.

What reason do we have to not be passionate and proactive about this?

The depression, self-esteem issues, eating disorders, and psychological disorders that so many girls and women suffer from do not just develop from thin air.

I firmly believe young girls and boys desperately need their parents to set a positive standard for them. They need to feel loved, and nurtured, and intelligent, beautiful, unique, and worthy of love.

Dove is launching a program/workshop in the UK called "Body Talk" to "help young girls (and boys) understand and deal with feelings about their physical appearance, and learn how 'ideal' images of beauty are created".

They also emphasize the importance of positive role models for young women, and that they need positive self-esteem boosts BEFORE it ever occurs to them to think otherwise...

They even have a "Mums and Daughters" booklet that answers questions and gives advice to Mums (or other parental figures) on how to handle tough situations regarding self-esteem and body image, and also gives advice on how to set a postive example and encourage their daughter's self-esteem.

There are extreme cases where mothers or parents have been very harsh critics, negative, and sometimes deadly influences on their daughter's self-esteem.

Parents need to realize that their daughter is or will very soon be faced with these negative influences on their body image.

We need our parents. We need our mothers, we need other women to reach out to us BEFORE it ever crosses our mind that we need to be thin or big breasted or tiny to be worthy of love. We need to complimented, and receive attention for things other than just 'looking good' or being 'thin and pretty'.

I believe a lot of mothers need help on how to deal with their daughter's self-esteem, as many mothers (or parental figures) have/are still suffering from poor body image, and low self-esteem.

Real beauty...

Doesn't that just sound good?

Isn't it nice to say "curvy" and not have it be social code for "fat"? Curvy is beautiful, curves are beautiful.

We need to embrace health. As a society, I don't think we understand what "healthy" even means any more.

We're afraid of fat, we're afraid of eating fat...You're either a health freak, or a couch potato....

Where is the happy medium between being obese, anorexic, and being miserable that we our bodies are not how we think they should look?

The entire world needs to relearn what the world "healthy" really means.

And we need to open our eyes, and look at the real world, and discover that real, tangible beauty is all around....

I'm not condemning those who are thin and beautiful.

There are so many beautiful girls that are just naturally thin and tall. Just like there are many, many beautiful girls who are shorter that 5'8 and weigh plenty more than 115lbs.

 I'm not saying that  those of us, like myself, who are struggling with their body image must be ignorant or suffer from an eating disorder...We're trying to learn how to be healthy, and have a healthy body image.

We need to learn and acknowledge that we can still be BEAUTIFUL even despite having gained weight, or going up a jeans size...as long as you're HEALTHY.

Whoever said that healthy wasn't having any fat on your body? Having a perfectly toned ass?

Healthy doesn't mean that you're lean and trim. Healthy doesn't mean THIN.

At my thinnest, I was also my most unhealthy.

 I was smoking, barely eating, barely sleeping, and living off of taco bell quesedillas, espresso, tea, and day old Starbucks pastries.

Healthy is beautiful. Happy is beautiful.

There is nothing wrong with being "bigger" as long as your health is not in serious risk, and you are HAPPY.

There is nothing wrong with being curvy. Or having a "muffin top", or cellulite, or stretch marks, or wonky tits.

Just look at Tyra Banks.

She's been criticized for gaining 30lbs since she stopped modelling. She's being called fat.

TYRA BANKS is being called FAT.

She is an ambitious, beautiful, intelligent woman who is NOT fat. She is curvy, she is not emaciated, she does not have a perfect stomach, or a perfect face, or a size 6 ass....

She is a real beauty. A real woman. SHE is a woman to look up to and idolize.

This subject is huge, and complex, and upsetting. To get out all of my feelings on this subject, I would probably have to write for a year without stopping. (I have wireless, that may be possible..)

The Dove videos, you've probably already seen them...but please watch them again.

There are moments where I just want to weep...because they're just real. They're honest.

I cannot preach about how to feel better about yourself, as I am a women who is still learning.

I can only share what I've learned.

But this is the most important journey of my life. To truly love and be confident with my mind and body...There is no greater journey, really.

Before we can cleanse the world of stereotypes and prejudices, and unobtainable body images, we first need to cleanse ourselves.

I'm starting with me.

May you do the same...and so on, and so forth.

 

**All statistics can be found on Dove's Campaign For Real Beauty website.

Alright. So I've been tagged by Idle, LeendaDLL & TheBitterLinguist...

 I'm more of a "hide & seek" girl, but I shall play a long this once.

Well, kind of. But only because this little "5 things" quiz plays right into the next post I had in the works, so we'll retitle it the:

"5 things or more you probably didn't know about me that I will indirectly explain in the following post".

I say that counts.

So, you may have noticed I write a lot about the stupid things that girls do.

**everyone rolls eyes and groans**

The stupidity of women/girls in relationships and in their general behavior makes me want to pull out my hair. It drives me fucking nuts.

 For fuck sake, I've pretty much based an entire blog on analysing and picking apart idiotic behavior.

I'm not just a judgemental wench that thinks she knows everything because she has a Psychology degree.

(Because I don't. I ain't got no proper skoolin'.)

And I don't think I'm a relationship expert or "know men" because I own all the seasons of Sex and the City have read He's Just Not That Into You, or am married.

I don't just observe these behaviors and let them get me all up in a tizzy because I just "don't understand" them.

It goes back to the whole childish "takes one to know one" comeback.

Idiotic, self destructive, blind, foolish, naive female behavior, urks me to my very core because I used to be the dumbest smart girl in the world.

Okay, maybe not the world, but certainly in my apartment complex.

I used to be a cell phone checking, Myspace hacking, paranoid, jealous, insecure, naive, blinded by "love" TWAT.

Or, very much like some of you out there, I assume.

Look, I know why you're making excuses for your boyfriend. Why you're unhappy. Why you feel that way. Why you're always fighting. Why you pretend. Why you lie. Why you want to stay with him. Why you check his phone. Why you check his Myspace. I understand why you hate it when his Ex calls. I understand even MORE why you pretend it's not that big of a deal. I understand why you beat yourself up over it. Why you pass it off as you being "jealous",

I was in an incredibly unhealthy, psychologically destructive relationship for over 2 years. I let myself be lied to, cheated on, passive aggressively manipulated and lead on. I let my personal progress to better my physical and mental health be sabotaged.

I was THIS CLOSE to letting this life that I write about, and this love that I have found NEVER HAPPEN.

The behavior and excuses and stupidity that I cannot stand, used to be my way of thought, and way of life.

Now, being on the 'not so stupid' side of that and being in a truly healthy, loving relationship not only with myself, but with my partner...It disgusts me how complacent and foolish other women/girls are with their mental stability, heart, and body in relationships.

Why is "being psycho and jealous" so ACCEPTED by us?

Acting like a crazy ass? It's okay! Your BFF feels the same way. "Dude, I'm totally psycho, too!" so you just brush it off. You're justified acting that way. Jealousy is normal. You're just insecure. "I just need to get over it, and then we'll be perfect."

Um, you couldn't be more wrong.

Well, yes, you're wrong and really need to stop torturing yourself and exhausting your precious energy by being a double agent with your boyfriend...However, you're not just "insecure" or "being psycho".

There's a reason behind all of that.

And the fact that you're crying all the time, fighting, and acting like god damn Sidney Bristow and checking your lover's cell phone the minute he steps into the shower should be a RED FUCKING FLAG to you.

RED FLAG. RED FLAG. RED FUCKING FLAG.

That's not normal. That's not healthy.

Look, we all know what I'm talking about. And it's one thing to Google his Ex's name or refer to her as "The Life Sucking Vortex of Death"...It's completely different to be hacking into his Myspace account while he's at working or ripping open his cell phone bill the minute it comes in the mail, comparing dates and times he said he was "at lunch" or at his best friend's house.

Yeah. Again, RED FLAG.

..So....

Basically, I was in a relationship for over 2 years with this guy named, uh, we'll call him Spencer. (Because I hate that name.) I loved him. I had a promise ring. We moved in together after 3 months. He bought me a dog. My family seemed to really like him. We talked about getting married. His friends all loved me.

This is what everything appeared to be like, and these are the reasons I thought we would be together forever and ever.

The reality was...

Spencer had cheated on every single one of his girlfriends, and had a very slutty, concerning past. When we met he still had a girlfriend, and I was his excuse for finally dumping her. He refused to stop talking to her until a year and a half into our relationship. The entire time we were together, he still talked to the girl he had cheated on his ex with, and refused to stop. Flat out REFUSED. Even after I saw a text from him to her that said "Why didn't it work out between us?"

 Never mind all of the other girls that were just "his friends" that he had either gone out with, slept with, or at one point had a crush on.

He never wanted to go out, and lived on the Xbox. I'd sit for hours and hours alone while he'd play games online, or read, or play Halo. He'd secretly text and always make a phone call if I took a nap or went out. He'd check out and stare at waitresses and other women directly in front of me and claim, "What, I'm a guy?!" or "Oh, I thought I knew her from somewhere."

And that brings us to the other problem. Spencer was a sex addict.

That doesn't mean that he had a really high sex drive, liked to have sex a lot, or was just a very sexual person. The BBC gives a pretty good explanation of it: "A sex addict feels compelled to seek out and engage in sexual behaviour, in spite of the problems it may cause in their personal, social and work lives."

In Spencer's case, this manifested in a number of ways, but mainly in his addiction to Internet Pornography.

Before I go any further, I just want to clarify that I'm not writing this to damage Spencer. There are only a few people who may even know who I'm talking about, but, I write this because I hope it might help someone else.

When I went through this, I was very alienated, and very, very alone until I got help for myself....and even then, I didn't tell my therapist for 5 months about this problem that I was dealing with because it was that embarrassing, and that difficult to speak out.

Plus, this is not really talked about.

It's been on Dr.Phil once.

There are many religious websites reaching out to sex addicts, claiming they can help them find Jesus and cleanse them of the "sin and shame".

There are books about sex addicts, that only briefly touch on addiction to Internet porn.

Maybe things have changed in the past couple years....But when I was going through this, I didn't get any support.

So. He was addicted to Internet pornography and refused, and even lied about getting help.

His sexual addiction problems, along with many other problems, were the main reason for his inability to stay faithful to any one of his girlfriends.

His favorite line upon breaking up is always, "You're the only girl I never cheated on."

Oh. Then I guess I must be super special, huh? "Special" enough to believe that crock of shit.

It was also the reason he couldn't cut ties with girls he had inappropriate relationships with, because that would be getting rid of a potential fuck buddy, or sexual escapade, or source of flirtatious banter.

He couldn't help but stare at women because MY GOD. There were tits and ass in his view, so it must be looked at. And it's not just "I'm just looking"...It was "I'm looking, and I'm also wondering what she'd be like in bed."

There is a difference between this, and a healthy, normal way of looking at other women. This alone did not make him a sex addict. Just like occasionally looking at porn can be healthy and normal. But his habits with it were very, very unhealthy and destructive.

At first it didn't bother me. It was fine. He was a guy. Guys do that.

However, I started checking his computer more and more, because I noticed that EVERY time I'd use his computer to check my mail, "hotXXXMILFS" popped up right along side "hotmail.com"....

I started noticing that every time we were apart, even every HOUR we were apart he would be looking at porn.

Even right before I would come over.

So, I told him it made me uncomfortable, especially when our sex life was so, um, quiet.

So he said he'd do it less often.

Less often....

It got to the point where the "less often" would be every single morning, while I was at the grocery store, while I was at work, or WHILE I WAS IN THE SHOWER.

I FLIPPED OUT the day he didn't have time to come see me at my work before he left for the day, because he had spent 2 hours looking at porn.

I had become a detective. A crazed, obsessed, psycho detective that knew every way to check what he'd been looking at. What time. What he said he was doing.

I told him it needed to stop....And it seemed to....But mostly because I stopped checking.

But then I found out he'd just been using Netscape instead of Internet Explorer for the past 3 months.

I would cancel plans with friends just so I could be home by the time he was home. I would leave my mom's house to be there the minute he walked in the door. I would lie to switch my work schedule around just so I could be home, babysitting, making sure he didn't "fuck up" and look at porn. If we did have to be apart, I couldn't think about anything else. I'd text him just to make sure he wasn't too preoccupied to text me back. The panic and anxiety I felt leaving him home by himself was crippling.

Who was he talking to? What was he doing? Was he looking at porn? Wacking off? Talking to his ex? Is he even really at home???

I tried being patient. I tried not getting mad at him. I tried yelling at him. I tried sobbing. I tried not looking...But....

I was always the bad guy. I was always a "snoop" or he felt like he was "being spied on in my own home".

And he was. But I wasn't wrong.

I was wrong for staying and making everything be okay at all costs just so I could still be with him...

But HE was WRONG.

Add on top of this disturbing addiction everything I had mentioned above....Me constantly checking his cell phone to find messages from his ex girlfriends and ex mistresses..."I miss you" or "How are you Sweetheart?"...Add on top of that we didn't have a sex life...Add on top of that I felt ugly, and fat, and insecure, and insane, and jealous, and CRAZY because it would always, ALWAYS make me out to the be the snoopy, insecure, jealous girlfriend who was feeling the way I did for NO REASON.

"WHY DON'T YOU TRUST ME??'

Every. Single. Day. I would throw myself into a whirlwind of guilt, and depression, and self doubt, and shame...And then try to pick myself back up again and be a loving, forgiving, proper girlfriend.

By this time my depression (that I didn't really know I suffered from) had caused me to call a therapist. I had never been to therapy, but knew that I needed help.

 I felt empty. I felt insane, because of Spencer's passive aggressive manipulation, addiction, and lies.

At this time, I didn't know about sexual addiction. I didn't know all I do now, about psychology and my depression, and or even about myself.

After about 5 months of therapy, I opened up and explained how my relationship was REALLY. The porn, the texts, the confusion, and the blame....

I didn't want to tell my therapist for so long, because I knew she would "make me" break up with him....

I already knew it. I already knew, deep down, that it would never work. And that I wasn't wrong or crazy...

But god I wanted to get married. I wanted to live happily ever after with our dog. I just wanted him to love me back.
I wanted him to love me enough to stop talking to those girls. Love me enough to stop with the porn, and find me attractive enough to sleep with.

Love me. Make me worthy of your love. Why am I not good enough for that?

....And for the whole 2 years that we were together that I had it completely wrong.

He wasn't worthy enough for my love.

I confronted him one night, and said that if he had a problem. He was addicted to porn. And if he didn't get help.

That I would leave.

Amazingly, he said that he would go. He would go to therapy to get help.

I was relieved, and was so pleased that everything could be perfect, now. I was so surprised that he had agreed, and so easily understood that he needed to get help.

He even put the books on sexual addiction in his car, and said that he would read them on his lunch breaks.

The next day he made an appointment, and said that he had found a male doctor that would see him, and talk to him about it.

He went to the appointment one day while I was at work.

He went to his next appointment "on his way to work".

He said the doctor was really nice, and that they talked about his mom's control issues and that his therapist was going on vacation for three weeks and couldn't see him again until he got back.

After three weeks, Spencer didn't think he needed to go back because he got "control" of everything.

It never occurred to me that he was lying. Or that I never knew the name of his doctor. Or where the office was. Or what time his appointments were..

During the next 4 months of my own therapy, I had learned how blind I had been. How self destructive, and horrible I had been to MYSELF.

It got to the point where I realized that Spencer "not being able to keep the dog in the bedroom" long enough for her to leave me alone while I was in the living room trying to do yoga (as part of de-stressing and lifting my depression) wasn't just him being lazy. It was just one of the many ways he tried to subconsciously sabotage me getting better.

Because all the while I was going to the gym to heighten my endorphins and feel better about my body, and started to feel less depressed...I started to question him.

I was getting better....And me getting better, meant that I could see beyond his bullshit.

Cate not sick, meant Cate no longer ignoring the fact that your texting your "friend from work" while we're "on a date".

I realized I couldn't have the person who was supposed to "love me for the rest of my life" refuse to STOP talking to his ex mistress. Or make me feel horrible and disgusting for being upset that he had one of his ex girlfriend's bras hidden in our closet.

Realizing all of the lies and sabotage is very shocking. Once you SEE and SMELL and WAKE UP from the dozy, dramatic coma that is an unhealthy relationship...you realize and can see just how ugly everything really was.

For example, I never went out with my friends. So, one night, right before our 2 year anniversary I went out to one of my friend's barbecues. I brought Starbucks ice cream and got all dolled up for a night with the girls.

Then, 2 hours into the BBQ I check my phone, and I have 10 missed calls from Spencer.

He was at the pet hospital with Bug, because she "somehow got into something" and mysteriously wouldn't stop throwing up.

Now, in retrospect, I wonder what the fuck must have happened to my poor, 12 week old puppy to have let her get so sick she had to be taken to the pet hospital and be pumped with liquids just so she didn't get dehydrated.

I hate to think the worst. I hate to think he was "preoccupied" and let her get into something....or that she was allowed to get into something so that I would have to come home....

Spencer had an awful childhood, and troubled adolescence. He had demons that were larger than mine.

And the worst part, is that he didn't even acknowledge it.

He picked his fear of therapy and getting better, over me.

I screamed and sobbed and yelled until I was so exhausted I couldn't yell any more for a week straight.

I would plead, "Don't you realize that I will walk out of here? That I will take our dog and leave? That you will LOSE ME if you do not suck it up and go get some help for yourself???"

He said he was was too scared. He wasn't ready to get better.

The choices were to either stay with him, and be his therapist, and deal with his bullshit...Or leave.

And so, one afternoon, after having my first panic attack in my therapist's office, I came home and said that I was leaving...

The first thing out of his mouth was, "You mean I have to be alone?"

...Which pretty much summed up why he was with me, I guess. It was better than being alone.

But, it turned out he wasn't exactly alone. He had already started a relationship with a woman 11 years older than him. A woman he worked with. A woman I had met, and was always so nice to me. A woman I was, strangely, always suspicious of.

"...You're really the only girl I've never cheated on."

Sure.

...So.

While I have aquired quite a bit of knowledge in the psychological, emotional, and relationship departments through a slightly more unique way than most...The point is, that I have been there.

That is why these red flags seem so much more obvious to me.

That is why I am so enraged by these "stupid girls" and even girls I know that come to me and ask for relationship advice, and then don't even fucking listen to me.

It's so difficult for me to be a good listener, and not preach at both men and women who talk to me about their troubled relationships, yet don't want to hear the honest truth.

I just wish women would dig deeper, and examine WHY they're checking their boyfriend's phone/Myspace/email, and not be so afraid of breaking up and WAKING UP.

I don't hate these GVs, and women, friends,and men who are still blinded to the truths of unhealthy relationships, as that would make me no better than preachy, judgemental "Christians" who hate simply because they know that they're "right" and you're "wrong".

I just feel for them. I feel for myself when I think of all of the rage, and misery I put myself through almost 3 years ago.

This is a huge part of why I care so much about "women's issues" and topics about women in relationships.

I've been in relationship hell. I've been emotionally abused.

And I've gotten out. And grown. And blossomed.

I'm not a therapist. I'm not "Dear Abby".

I've just lived it

.

Two Thousand and Six.

You kicked my ass. In a good way. You kicked it all the way to England, all over downtown LA, and then back to England again.

You gave me good sex, travel, and a bunch of different cocktails I'd never tasted before. (Hello WooWoo.)

I quit smoking with you, ate duck, Thai, and Curry for the first time.

(And it is because of this, 2006, that you have also helped me fit into a UK size 12, and showed me what I would look like with a full, plump ass. It was fun at first, but really, couldn't you have taken it with you when you left last night?)

You gave me a Kingdom, and the Eleventh of January.

I became a writer this year, a real one, because I finally let myself be one.

In 2006, my bank account was empty by July 3. I have made the least amount of money I've ever made since I've been able to work, and haven't been unemployed for so long since I was a student.

So, while I cannot lie and say I'd like to stay here forever, you'll go down as the best year yet.

By Christmas, I thought I had had enough lessons, and tests to call the year complete.

I have lost many people this year. None to death, but our friendships and relationships have died.

I have said goodbye, well, okay...I've said FUCK OFF to enough people this year, I'm sure I've set a "Getting Rid of Those in Your Life Who Are Worthless and Incredibly Stupid" record somewhere. Although, I've probably set it for the UK, and they'd strip me of my title because I'm a measly immigrant who is not worthy.

I've had to grow some big kahuna balls. Big, leathery ones that are built to endure long, Transatlantic flights, English Winters, and the disapproval of many English Women, Bay Area Yuppy Family Members, and Girls That Want To Throw Me A Hindu.

They've done me well, these balls. I've done a lot this year. And in return I get them regularly waxed, and buffed.

However, this past week I feel I need to get them bronzed or encrusted in Swarovski Crystals....

I've said goodbye to my dad.

He is alive, in California...probably at work, or maybe down at the gym. Or maybe spending time with his current girlfriend...I'm not sure.

I never really wanted to talk about my relationship with my dad, on here. Or anywhere. I always said if I did write a book, I would leave him out.

But, I don't see how I can just not mention it. It's like showing only a fraction of a "Before" picture and expecting the "After" to be appreciated and understood.

So, my dad.

My dad, is not a parent. He is a "parent", but title and definition, but a real farther and responsible adult, he is not.

My parents have been divorced for almost nine years.

In those nine years, I learned to see my parents as human.

As human beings who sometimes falter. Who make mistakes. Who love, Who get their heartbroken. Who fall.

And my dad, has fallen more times that he has chosen to get up.

He has chosen to be angry and resentful, more times than he has tried to be an hopeful.

And he has been an adult with no sense of parental responsibility, who has let his children suffer from his lack of effort towards being a father, a dad, and a protector and provider of his family...no matter what a "family" looks like.

When my parents got divorced, I always remember watching the movie Mrs.Doubtfire, where Robin Williams would do anything, and everything, just to be with his children.

I think it's at the end, where custody is taken away from him, that he looks at the judge and says, "But they're my kids...They're my air, without them...I can't breathe."

Sure, I didn't expect my Dad to cross-dress and pretend to be our nanny (like we ever had nannies growing up...) but just...

I always wanted to be Daddy's Little Girl.

We used to sing together. When I was 7, he played guitar while I sang Sunrise, Sunset at my Aunt and Uncle's Wedding.

I used to want to be a country singer, and he'd play the guitar while I butchered many Shania Twain and Patsy Cline songs, with my preteen voice.

I used to think I got my sense of humor from him, my voice...More than just my nose and my cheeks.

But he never let me be a Little Girl...

I was given the weight of the discontent he felt with himself, and his life, and with me, simply because I did not worship him.

I saw his mistakes. I saw his anger, his immaturity, his lack of responsibility. But worst of all, I saw his lack of interest in taking care of me.

All I ever wanted from him was effort...For him to try.

For me to be worthy of an unconditional love. For me to be enough, just the way I was, and for him to want to be a better father, and man to himself.

I wanted him to call me everyday, and to maybe want us two weekends in a row. Maybe he'd stop by one of my softball practices and surprise me.

The older I got, the more decisions I wanted to make for myself, the worse of a daughter I became in his eyes. I never did enough to prove that I loved him. I never called enough for him to believe that I was happy to be his daughter...Or that I missed him. 

I never showed enough appreciation for the "sacrifices he made" as a parent.

I was always guilty. Always wrong. Always lacking something.

I wanted to see him less and less, for every time I did see him I was on eggshells, trying to not piss him off, have him bring up my mom, or tell us how "down" he was feeling lately.

I don't want to go through every story of pain, or emotional abuse, the times he'd hang up on me, or leave me crying...

I don't want to write about the Christmases I had to legally spend with him, crying myself to sleep because I knew my mom was home on Christmas alone, and I just wanted to be with her.

I don't want to dwell in his anger. The fear I felt when he lost his temper. The constant guilt I was made to feel that he was alone.

I cannot describe my anger and disgust with the fact that he was unemployed for over a year, because he was too scared to look for another job.  The back pay in child support that he still owes.

I am disgusted at his lack or respect for his role as an adult. The lack of respect he has for himself.

The lack of respect he has his role as a father.

I have step father, who in the past 3 years in my life has shown me what it means to be a father. He may not be perfect, and didn't raise me. But he has provided me with love, and security when I needed it. He is always there, and has been there whenever I've needed him. He is there, when I do not need anything, but simply want to watch TV with him and have a beer. He has healed and taken care of my mother, and is a good husband. My sister and him do not get along perfectly, but he has given her support in ways I don't' think she can quite grasp yet, at her young, selfish age.  

That is more than my father has given me....because he has made the unconscious decision to revel in his own dispair, fear, and depression.

He doesn't have house for us to visit him in, as he blames his ex-girlfriend (who was like second mom to us) for breaking up with him and taking away money, that was never his.

He has not accepted responsibility for us, or more specifically the mistakes he has made with me.

My dad is a narcissit, and suffers from depressive disorders...

Once I finally learned (from my own therapist) what a narcisstic parent is, and that there is such a thing as emotional abuse, and that I'm a victim of my dad's emotional abuse..... I had to make a choice.

I've known for the past 2 years, that I would eventually have to break whatever ties I had with him.

The only way for the pain, disappointment, and hurt to go away, would be to kill  whatever hope I had that he would change.

Whatever glimmer of expectation that kept me going back to him, I had to suffocate and let die.

I could either go through my life, pretending, and expecting that one day, he will love me unconditionally. That he would be responsible, and apologize for the hurt...the tears, the disappointment, and the guilt he has caused me...And then be dropped over and over by him.

I needed to learn he would never catch me. He would never cushion my fall.

I barely saw him last year, which was my own decision. A decision he didn't fight.

I saw him 4 times before I left this past April. I called him when I got to England...a call that was never returned.

An eCard on my birthday. Promises of "care packages" he'd send me, once he had enough cash.

Nevermind the fact he could call us for free on Skype.

 Nevermind wanting to know our address and spending the $2 it would take to send me a real letter. 

I got silence from June to October.

A belated birthday card when I saw him for 2 hours in October, with $150 to make up for the silence, and a "So, are you marrying him beacuse you love him, or just to stay in the country" when I told him I was getting married.

Then, on December 27 I got an email...Asking what he's done for me to ignore him.

He claimed he lost my email address over the Summer.

"What have I done?" he said.

While I have known that this day would come, the day where I would lay it out for him, where I would give him a golden opportunity to walk away or apologize and get his act together and realize that he will lose his daughter if he doesn't accept responsibility and fucking WAKE UP.

I say and tell everyone that I was afraid to tell him why I was upset with him all these years because I didn't want to hurt him.

That I didn't want him to get more depressed, and possibly kill himself. That I was afraid the thought that he has been such an awful father would break him, and the thought that he hurt his daughter, his little girl so badly would cause him the greatest pain...And I didn't want to cause him pain.

But really,I knew that this wouldn't happen...

I knew that he could never accept responsiblity or aplogize, and take blame.

And how could I handle that? How could  you handle that?

The fear I felt, was the fear of hurting myself with my own expectations.

...So, I wrote him back, a day later. Basically explaining all of the disappointment, anger, hurt, and pain that he has caused and inflicted over the past 21 years, but especially the 9 that has half assed as a human being.

I did not hold back, as I had nothing to lose.

I'm telling you all of this now, because I really don't have anything to lose, do I? And this is all very sad. Very, very sad. Because, you are my Dad. My father who doesn't really know how to be a parent. And that hurts, it hurts me more than it could ever hurt you.
 
I forgive you. I forgive that you don't know how do do this.
 
But, I'm choosing not to live with that hurt anymore.

In return, I got back excuses. Excuses, and more excuses. He addressed every financial issues, and claims he DID pay every single month of child support (there are many,many  court papers that say otherwise) and that I will never understand the sacrifice he made for me, and that I cannot talk to him about what it means to be a father, until I am a parent.

...I am a CHILD.

I AM YOUR CHILD!

I can tell you everything about what it is like to have a father that will not allow his daughter to just simply be loved.

I do NOT NEED TO BE A PARENT to understand unconditional love.

I am a daughter. I am YOUR daughter. I am a sister.

I will soon be a wife.

One day I will be a mother.

And YOU will not be there for any of it.

I am walking myself down the aisle.

 My children will never know that pain. That anger, and the bitter disappoinemtn that I was forced to feel.

I will never have a daughter that isn't allowed to be Daddy's Little Girl.

I will never have a son, that knows the pain of disappointment when his Father is not at his baseball games. 

So do not tell me that I cannot speak of parenting to the man that claims to be my father.

 I have lost my father, because I have given him up.

I do not know if I love him. I do not know if I truely forgive him.

And that is my burden, now. My burden is dealing with his absence, which will be far less painful than dealing with his presence.

What I do know, is that I feel ligther.

The question of "Will he...?" has been answered. The answer is "Never".

And I am strong enough to face a future without the comfort of my expectations.

I have the edgy, sharp honesty of reality to hold onto..While it is less comforting, at least I know it is real.

....And so now, a new year.

I am getting married.

I have cut myself loose from the thorned vines that have held me to my abuse, and disappointing past.

And now we move forward.

Always forward, always up...

And always strong.

Never mind the past pain.

I know how to love unconditionally...

And have learned what it's like to be loved unconditionally.

And from now on, that is all that matters.

"So many years have gone by
Always strong, tried not to cry
Never felt like I needed any man
To comfort me in life
But I'm all made up today
A veil upon my face
But no father stands beside me
To give this bride away"
.

 

 **The first time I heard this song, I started bawling in the car like the lead actress in a Lifetime movie. It is beautiful. And speaks the things I am sometimes afraid to say.... 

 

Why change?

I have met a number of people, through stories or in my personal life, that are panic stricken at the thought of change.

Changing their job, car, marriage status, relationship, mental health, or

even their cell phone company.

Change is the inevitable.

Even if you do not change yourself, the world around you will keep evolving, with or without you.

You can be stuck in a time warp of your own creation.

The relationships and friendships you have formed, can and will dissolve in the wake of your stagnant refusal to change.

It's heartbreaking for those around you. And eventually, the heartbreak turns to anger..And unfortunately, those who you have neglected may not be able to change their own anger, to forgiveness.

I've said that, "People never change".

However, there are the remarkable, courageous people that do, and can.

But on the contrary, there are far too many people who do not recognize the fact that they have a problem. They are not aware enough of themself and their behavior to recognize that they are poisoning their life, and those that love them.

They collapse in fear at the thought of analyzing their life, and emotions.

But what sickens me are the people who KNOW what their problem is,or at least that there is a problem and yet refuse to do anything about it.

What excuse do you have besides selfish fear?

If you know, and acknowledge that there is a problem...How can you suffer behind the words, "I can't."

You can, you just won't.

Confucius say, "Courage is not the absence of fear, but the mastery of fear."

And abso-fucking-lutely.

No one is fearless. But there are those that have the balls enough to drag their life out of the hole they have dug so many years ago, and go, 'Fuck this, I need help."

There is nothing wrong with getting help with your problems, if you posses the courage and intention to do whatever you can to attain change, and create a shift in your life.

It is a slow process. But every morning that you wake up, and there is even one thing to put a smile on your face...is worth it.

...So why change?

Change for yourself. For those who believe in and love you. Change to LIVE. Change because you deserve a life of evolution, growth, and passion.

But if you are so scared, and so "comfortable" in your safe existence where you can control everything and everyone around you...Fine. Just don't expect the world to pause with you. It will keep going...Just don't ask for sympathy as it passes you by.

You made your bed... So snuggle up, shut up, and sleep in it.

 

 

Single.

I've written before about my frustrations with the "single world", and why so many women turn into complete fucking idiots when they're dating.

It breaks my heart when I talk/email women I know who just can't wrap their minds around why they are so unhappy and "so confused!".

But what ignites my rage is when these women KNOW that they're with the wrong guy and can see the red flags beating them over the head and yet still sigh, and say,

"Well, I think it's worth it to keep trying."

or

"I just can't break up with him."

I cringe, cringe, CRINGE when I walk through the "Popular Psychology" section at Waterstones and see all the "But I Just Want to get Married!!!" books.

Today, I was planning on having a good laugh when I saw a link to watch a video about a book called How To Avoid Marrying A Jerk.

I watched the video and aside from the goober host who's trying to strangle her audience with enthusiasm and

'charm'...it's really interesting.

I went on to Dr. John Van Epp's website (the author) and couldn't believe what a fucking smart guy he is.

I even read through the excerpt of the book, and was blown away by HOW MUCH SENSE he makes.

I was really expecting him to be a douche bag and make me so angry I'd throw my laptop out the window, but he IS SO RIGHT.

He talks about WHAT defines a jerk, and how to identify the traits of a Jerk, and -like most psychology books- gives real life examples from his patients' relationships.

While I was reading, I just kept nodding and going, "Yes...Uh-huh....Yup. Yup. THANK YOU!"

 I hope that every single woman who is rushing to get married stops herself,  puts down that Modern Bride magazine (stops crying) and picks up this book, instead. 

If I had read this a few years back, I would have been the smartest, most relationship savvy 18 year old in all the land.

I want to hug this man and feed him cake.