We are only as sick as our secrets.
I share a lot. I realize my way of processing and moving through difficult situations and experiences is not everyone’s cuppa. That is so cool. Don’t read my stuff, unfollow, block. My journey is my own, just as yours is yours.
Over the past year, there has been some trauma in my life. And I have written about it. And I have posted about it. And I have caught some serious shit and ugliness from the allegedly ex-women in his life. I’m a fucking crazy bitch. I’m toxic. I’m mean.
Talking about trauma is the best way to get through it. I will not apologize for being sober, being honest, and being brave.
So many women feel shame when a partner lies, cheats, and behaves in an abhorrent manner. Myself included. It is embarrassing to find out that you’re a back up who is kept in the rotation for the sole purpose of being a place filler when the first choice is not available.
It is gut-wrenching to find out that every word, every action, every expression of love and adoration was false.
This man plays with women’s bodies and minds with no regard for the consequences. He asked an ex whom he knew was unstable and hung up on him “to fuck” a week before her suicide. This woman happened to be a friend of mine for over 20 years, and I knew her, her family, and her damaged relationship with Jeff. His only anger is directed towards her family for not allowing him at her funeral.
The embarrassment and shame are his. Not mine.
I write and express in order to move through the trauma.
I STILL have hope for him, for me, for his family and former and future women. My belief in the healing and all-encompassing power of the atonement keeps a glimmer of hope alive.
I am shining my little light in the dark and cobwebby places in my life and soul. That’s the only way to clean, clear, and heal.
Light and Love,