The Awakening: Part Two

Hi everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful Halloween and are ready for the upcoming holiday season!

It's been a few weeks since I've released The Awakening: Part One, I've gotten some really good feedback from more people than I expected to, and it's made me super eager to finally release this second part to the series.

So like I explained in part one, since my awakened moment, I've really been digging deep into my mind to figure out why I've never established my self-worth, and I'm determined to uncover some factors that essentially blinded me from falling in love with myself. This all also led me to take a look at my past relationships- the type of men I fall for, what their traits are, and what exactly was going through my mind when I continued with these abusive relationships.

As I've talked a bunch about before, my biological father was incarcerated when I was 9 years old. I was almost 20 when he was released from prison. This was the start of a huge downfall to my life. Prior to his incarceration, I was what one would consider a "daddy's girl." From him teaching me how to ride my first Honda, the endless rush of adrenaline from riding quads throughout the woods, the trips to Swiss Valley in Michigan where he taught me to ski and snowboard, or when he let me sit on his lap and drive his truck up the driveway at home. I loved the fun and spontaneity personality he possessed. My sister, who is 18 months younger than me, clung onto our mother more than she did our father. I was never "favored," we were both equally loved, however it was easier for my dad and I to spend more time together because of our similar interests.

They say when a tragedy happens in your life, your brain is more prone to misinterpret or forget some details of that event because of our subconscious efforts to cover the pain or emotional distress we experience. For a few years, I only remembered the good moments my dad gave me. I held on to the love that I had for him; but as I grew older, my family (with genuine efforts) started to remind me that this man that I loved so much, was not always as I remembered him. When I remember moments of myself talking about the good man my father was, I realize now that my mom seemed uneasy and bothered at the love I had for him. To my understanding now, it's because she couldn't grasp how I could talk so highly of someone who hurt our family so incredibly much....but my mind simply used a strategy that allowed me to forget the "bad."

Turns out, I had forgotten more of my childhood than what I realized. My adolescent subconscious had tucked away and forgotten so much pain and hurt that I experienced; but after some maturing, my mom and I had started to relive the events that I needed to know.

That time I remember playing hide and seek with my dad in the middle of winter, during freezing temperatures- he had actually locked his wife and two little girls out of the house.

The many women I was introduced to that my dad had been "friends" with- he was actually cheating on my mother.

The day my sister and I were ripped from our mother's hands in our own home- it wasn't to "protective us"- he called CPS on my caretaker.

When I couldn't wake my dad up for the times I knew I needed to take my medication- it wasn't because he was in a deep sleep- he was doing meth.

My mom didn't fall and crack her head open like I was told- my dad threw a glass plate at her, causing 30+ staples to close the wound.

My sister and I were taken to the hospital where our blood was drawn- not for a "normal appointment," but because we had lived in a house that was also our fathers sophisticated meth lab.

A short week after having surgery of my ear canal reconstruction, I was rushed to the hospital with blood gushing from my head because my dad told me it would be okay to jump on the trampoline.

In 5th grade I was accompanied by two police officers while at recess- this was because of the men who were my dads "friends," threatened to kill me.

My mom allowed my sister and I to visit our dad when he went to county jail, just before he was transported to a prison. We talked once a week; the phone calls would then grow farther and farther apart the longer my dad was away. As I lived my teenage years, I honestly didn't give a shit if I talked to my dad or not. I talked to him briefly when he did call, and lied every time I said "I love you." I was hurt and angered for such a long time.

I did make the effort to visit him while he was in prison though.. just once. The moment I walked up to him for the first time in years, he picked me up and hugged me so tightly. We sat down next to each other, he grabbed my hand and didn't let it go the entire visit. I wanted so bad to feel like I once did towards him, but I could never find that love again.

There comes a point after so much time has passed, you're just over it. I was over being angry at my dad for his decisions that caused his absence for 10 years in my life. Too many years had gone by that I used the pain as an excuse to act out. Every softball and volleyball game that he didn't attend, SIX proms that I went to, he was never there to tell me how beautiful I looked, and then threaten the guy that took me to have me home at curfew and not a second after. He missed the part where I got my license and purchased my first car; I had even graduated high school and college; he missed so many important moments of my life.

Something I've learned that is remarkably vital to self-love and growth, is the act of forgiveness. After almost 14 years, I still have not truly forgiven him, I've only become un-bothered by the tragedy, and its only caused such a painful void. Forgiveness is needed to move forward and start anew. Its the beginning of a fresh start. It allows us to not only accept what is, and to make peace with our life. A study conducted (link provided below) shows that forgiveness, does in fact, have a positive impact on our mental health.

I can never fully exemplify in words what this void that I have feels like, because my emotions are far too powerful for any letters to express the altitudes of emotion, however I want you all to know, it feels like a constant depletion. A father, who is half of what made you, should cherish his creation (you). He should look to the future with an eternal promise to care for you and guide you, as you will be carrying on his legacy. He should protect and serve you for his whole life, he should support and provide such an unconditional love that is unique to only you. He's a role model and your rock for your whole life. The only man who is forever, who is there from start to finish, is nonexistent in my life. It's like half of my whole world chose to only give me a small portion of his love, because I wasn't worthy of it all. He chose everything besides me, and its left such an empty space within me, which later would lead myself to try and fill through other relationships.

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I was 13 when I had my first real relationship. He was two years older than me and we were together for a little over 2 years. He had come from a broken home. His parents never seemed to care where he was or what he was doing. He never had money (I paid for every date we went on, and bought him expensive gifts for almost every holiday and birthday.) He didn't really have any ambition to do better for himself, he wasn't phased by not having a job, or even not having dinner on the table. My mom never allowed me to go to his house because of the "home" life that he had. She also monitored us closely when we spent time together. After a year of being together, we took each other's virginity; in which what seemed to be the highlight of relationship thereafter. I began to lie more than I ever have while in this relationship. I lied to my mom about everything I did. I also started to astray from my family. I created a world that I only allowed him in. When I reflect about this time in my life, I can conclude I did these things for a couple reasons. One, I filled the void I had; and two, was my age. Once sex was involved, the overwhelming extremes of emotion was simply too complex for me to understand at that age, thus, leading to the confusion between love and lust. Since he was my first real boyfriend, I didn't know what I lacked until I felt something I've never felt. I also didn't give up on fixing him because of how broken my dad had been. (Again, childhood experiences play a huge role into how we act in relationships.)

My next relationship was when I was 15. I met a guy from a different town who was 3 years older than me. He met my mom, and she ended up liking him. However, he had been on probation and still was a little bit of a bad boy. We were getting high at least once a week. One night I found myself having a rush of adrenaline as blue and red sirens instructed us to pull over. The scent had been way too strong to go unnoticed; he was taken to jail, and because I was underage, the officer sat me in the back of his car and took me somewhere far worse than jail.... right to my moms doorstep. I remember that awful feeling once again when I was given no choice but to stop seeing him. Because he was older, he was more of a protector to me. Instead of a game of "I don't care, what do you want to do," he made the decision for our plans that night. I liked the feeling of someone taking charge.

Did you guys know I was engaged at the age of 16? I had been a freshman dating a senior in high school. He was actually one of the nicest boyfriends that I've had. The only predicament that I found myself in, was how serious he had been in spending the rest of his life with me. I fell attached to him very quick, and in such a short amount of time. Quickly enough to find myself saying goodbye as he had left for basic training; he made an oath to serve in the Army- and I was okay with this, however, little did I know what the hell I was actually getting myself into at the age of 16. We had one phone call once a week for almost 16 weeks. I flew out to watch him graduate from basic training and waited for him to come home in just two short weeks. Before he was scheduled to leave for another 10 weeks of training, we promised to love each other forever.... and he put a ring on it...It only took 5 weeks for me to admit that I was, in fact, not ready at all for this type of commitment. Before his training was up, we had stopped all communication and have not talked since.

After I moved to Bluffton, I drove to Michigan often to see this guy I had hung out with a few times prior to moving. I was 17 and he was 21. I found myself "needing" him when we started to get intimate. To say this was all a vicious act of lustful desire is an understatement. The emotional attachment that formed in me is almost disgusting to reflect back on. He was also broken. His family were very kind church people, who didn't even allow their son to sleep on the living room floor while I slept on the couch. He didn't have a job, he was in college but had later dropped out. He smoked spice often and had a car that could barely run. I gave him gas money anytime I wanted him to come see me. More than a few times when I drove 2 hours to see him, he wouldn't return my texts or calls when I was almost to his house. He would leave me driving around for hours waiting on him to respond. Our arguments would turn into something that I needed to change, or how I was the one at fault. Once it ended, even years after we split, he reached out to me a few times, expecting me to fall captive like I always did. I deleted him off all social media and never responded. Once I had someone else in my life to replace him, the lust that once consumed me, disappeared so quick.

I had dated yet another guy who came from a broken home. His mother was an addict and his father had been in an out of jail/prison. He barely worked; for almost a year of our relationship he had been unemployed with a car that barely ran (weird how alike these people are, right?) He also dropped out of college and settled for a life living in a small town with his mother and a few other family members. Before we were "official" he was aware how often I partied and how I lived my life, and it never seemed to bother him until we were "actually in a relationship." When I wanted to go do something, he suddenly wanted to stop drinking and "become better." He often became angered towards me when I was out late with friends. The pictures I posted were no longer "sexy," but now were a "cry for attention." He became controlling over my life, and I let him. I remember becoming concerned over if he would approve or not. Anytime I wanted to go out and party, I would be "disgusting," but when he wanted to drink, there wasn't any issue.

You know that saying that goes something like "you tend to date your dad." The more I compare the alike attributes throughout my relationships, the more this quote makes sense to me. Every relationship that I've had, from my very first love, to the last, most toxic breakup, has been with (in psychological terms) an abuser. Because that was what my dad was.

I did tell you guys this blog is written using a psychological analysis approach, right?

After doing some research, I've come up with my own definition of an abuser. This is someone who purposely inhibits your individual growth in any aspect pertaining to your emotional, physical, spiritual, or psychological well-being.

I've started a viscous attraction and cycle to people who exhibit or possess qualities similar to the very first male I've ever loved.

I tend to find appeal in men who show dominance (I just discovered this reasoning as I had analyzed my awakening.) I seek the approval from a man. I easily fall captive to someone who provides a protective nature and sense of security. I'm easily manipulated by charming words. And the most painful habit of all- I give way too many chances. I've been trying to understand the reasoning behind this curse, and I think it's because I've never seen my mom walk away from someone who hurt her. Some psychological studies have proven that the most influential factor of how we pursue future relationships comes from what we see as children. If a mother is willing to tolerate any type of abuse or neglect, her child tends to form the same tolerance. For boys, if they have a father who degrade or mistreat a woman, they tend to develop the mindset of "what a man should be like."

A psychological legend, Freud, coined these acts as "repetition compulsion," meaning whatever we see in our childhood, we are compelled to repeat.

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So since my awakening, I've asked myself a few questions: where the hell did I go wrong, why did this start, and why I have fallen in love with my abusers. Although I had been so thrown off by what I've come to realize about myself, it had ignited such a fiery motive to understand the root of it all.

I've have concluded that I have been drawn towards broken people, or someone who I thought I could fix. I wanted to feel a sense of accomplishment from it, a sense of worth. I've dated men who possess traits that resembled a father figure. I changed little things about me to obtain their approval, and allowed them to tell me what I could or couldn't do, I allowed my life to be consumed by the little worth that I felt, and held onto it for as long as I could. I had felt (subconsciously) unworthy of a fatherly love, which is why I tried to seek a "worthiness" from what was absent in my life, rather that allowing myself to determine that.

I stayed in relationships knowing I hadn't been fully happy, or knowing this relationship is toxic, because of the influence of my mother and her tolerance for abuse. I never established self-worth because I searched for happiness elsewhere starting at such a young age; and honestly, I'm still unsure if I had been even searching for happiness, I was just searching for someone to replace what I was missing.

So a lot of you may still be questioning the "love" I felt, or the reason I stayed in general, when it comes to my relationships. There's this thing called Stockholm syndrome coined by Nils Bejerot that explains the psychological reasoning for all of this actually. It's explained when a victim of abuse identifies and attaches, or bonds, positively with their abuser. The link is below if you would like to understand this phenomenon more in depth. In The Awakening Part One, I also talked about empaths and narcissists, and the emotional attachment between the two, in which I've used to try and explain the subconscious components of my feelings and actions.

Like I've stated before, I knew this wasn't what love was. I knew that there was no way this was as good as it got. I also knew that I didn't deserve to be pushed around, or told who I was and wasn't allowed to hangout with; I genuinely knew I didn't deserve it, but I didn't know I was worth it.

In addition to the psychological theories that explain the "love" for my abusers, I've discovered yet another reasoning that helped to understand why I felt the way I have- it's simply the wicked captivity of the desire we call lust. It's a visionless pathway to destruction. It causes irrational behavior that leads us to desert our worth.

I've read that lust is constructed by something called implicit memory; which is also referred to as unconscious (automatic) memory. "Implicit memory uses past experiences to remember things without thinking about them." It's implemented by past experiences. Implicit memory forms by early attachment (emotional bond that forms between an infant and a caregiver), which later becomes an influence to what we become attracted to (interests, hobbies, etc.) an how we exhibit certain behavior. This is the explanation for where it all began. Little do we realize, until we've honestly explored ourselves, how connected our adulthood and childhood actually are. "We are a certain way because we were knocked off a more fulfilling trajectory years ago by a primal wound."

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Everything that I just wrote about in this series had literally come to me within a day, and I had spent weeks after analyzing and sorting through these thoughts and moments of understanding. I was living in a world blinded by myself..

So I saved this last part for the end because it's basically an uncertainty that I have, and something I keep going back and forth in my head about. The next paragraph is a few different thoughts that I haven't quite found the answer to yet-

This void that I've had my whole life, has stemmed from one event that I had been angered by for some years, and eventually as time passed, I just got over it....so I thought...

Not having someone to call "dad" no longer phased me, I had a mother who stepped up and played both roles, and I was okay with that. The kicker here- what made me so blind to this void, is when my (now) step father chose to spend the rest of his life with my mom, and love my sister and I as his own. It took me 3 long years to even accept this new man into mothers life. I hated him because he wasn't my dad. I was not going to allow someone who I'm unfamiliar with to come into my life and "play dad." BUT, with time and patience, he proved himself to me. He proved to me that he would never take the place of my biological father, but promised to love me as if he had been. He proved that my sister and I would no longer have to suffer from seeing our mother hurt. After he proved himself, he became the missing component in my life, he became my father.

So why would I continue to fill a void if I've found what I had been missing?

This is what doesn't make sense to me. Is the absentee father the real reason I feel incomplete; because it doesn't make sense to continue my relationships the same way I always have, if I thought there was no void. I thought because I wasn't bothered by it, and because of having a father figure, that this "daddy issue" had faded away.

Or is there something so much deeper... a problem that I'm still unaware of, and have no idea how to uncover it that is the true reason for my void.

I plan on starting therapy to help expand my thoughts in hope's to answer my questions. I have been leaning towards psychotherapy, in which techniques using an approach with EMDR are used. EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing. Essentially, it's tapping into our subconscious. During REM sleep, our body heals itself; however things like trauma, PTSD, or other difficult emotions, can manage to get "stuck" in our memory, which results in a feeling of fear, pain, stress, etc. With a tap on your leg or arm, we can actually stimulate our brain and target those memories that cause us negative emotions, which would allow us to begin the healing process.

So anyway, I really hoped you guys enjoyed this one. If anyone has any advice or a recommendation on how to get over this mental battle, feel free to message me- you can even do so anonymously on my website. Below are a list of some websites that can help elaborate on the psychology aspects that I briefly mentioned. AND, I want to get you guys eager to read what's coming next! It's been almost 3 months since this has all happened to me, during the past 3 months I've been writing down the steps I've taken to move forward from my last relationship, and the beginning of this journey of loving every part of ME. I've also been beginning to conduct a blog solely focused on my abusers. It describes each of them as a person, my theory on why they are the way they are, and how each relationship possesses a unique form of abuse that I fell captive to.

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read!

Xoxo

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https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/23311908.2016.1153817

https://chaynpakistan.org/my-health/stockholm-syndrome-do-you-still-love-and-miss-your-abuser/

https://www.goodtherapy.org/blog/why-stockholm-syndrome-happens-and-how-to-help-0926184

https://www.theschooloflife.com/thebookoflife/how-a-messed-up-childhood-affects-you-in-adulthood/