Part 3: My Sister Saved My Life

I laid there, awake, yet playing dead. Petrified is as close to a word I can think of to express how I was feeling. I didn't dare move a single fucking flinch. I felt her body relax against mine - was she seriously snuggling me right now?? But in that same unbelievable thought, my whole inner being filled with disgust, came a sense of hope. WAS SHE REALLY FUCKING SNUGGLING ME RIGHT NOW?? Was the beating really over? Was she actually falling asleep?? I laid there, awake, yet playing dead - praying and pleading to a god I hadn't talked to in so long, please let that be the case. Please don't let her hit me again.

Eventually, in what felt like a lifetime, but was probably closer to 15 minutes - I felt her breathing start to slow. She was actually relaxing on top of my lifeless body. What a weird fucking prayer to be answered. Within a few more minutes, I could tell she had fallen asleep. I didn't dare move yet, I had to make sure it was real. If I was pretending to be knocked out, could she be pretending as well? Baiting me to move, just so she could start all over again. I stayed still. After a bit longer, I trusted she was asleep. I was willing it into reality, as I knew I couldn't lay there forever. I moved the tiniest bit I could - testing the authenticity of her state - she stayed still. That made me feel braver, I had to get out of this fucking hotel room. 

What Danielle didn't realize as she threw me onto the bed, was that she had dropped my phone on to it also. As I strategically angled myself away from the shards of glass, it was simultaneously a calculated twist. When my back hit the bed, my phone was hidden under me. I don't give myself credit for this. There were two miracles that happened that night - her not realizing where my phone was in those moments is absolutely one of them. She had quite literally pushed me onto and held me down on top of the single thing in that room that could save my life. 

The seconds felt like hours, as my wife stayed asleep over me. Slowly I moved my arm, just enough to reach my phone that was tucked behind the small of my back. Please don't let her wake up, please don't let her wake up, GOD PLEASE DON'T LET HER WAKE UP. The instant I felt my hand touch the edge of my phone, I let out a breath I didn't even realize I had been holding. I ever so slowly, so carefully and so terrifyingly edged it out from under me. She moved. I froze. I fucked it up. This is it, I thought - get ready for another round. But no, she remained asleep - she pulled me in closer even, holding me tighter. I had one arm able to move - the rest of me pinned down by my abuser. I managed to pull up my text messages - I sent my location to my sister, I said "help, D hit me." 

A slight, yet relevant side story here - I am far from the first person Danielle has abused. I knew the girlfriend she had before she dated me had filed a PFA against her. My sister knew this a well. Yet Danielle's artful manipulation had convinced us both that it wasn't her fault. Through her deployment, as the emotional and mental abuse got worse - my sister and I both began to question Danielle's "truth." There must be more to the story she had shared. The fractions of truth she is able to take and spin into her own narrative, anyone would have believed she was the victim of that story. It turns out, that could not have been farther from the truth....Victoria - I am so so sorry. I believe you now. 

I hit send on my phone, going still again as instantly as I could - just in case she felt me move. The seconds feeling like years as I waited for a response. How long did I lay there? I still am not sure. I moved as lifelessly as I could once more and I text my nephew. Almost instantly my phone vibrated. The relief and pure terror that ensued in that moment was unexplainable. SOMEONE IS TEXTING ME BACK, but fuck please don't let this wake up my wife. My sweet sweet nephew had responded. He was on his way to wake up his mom. A few moments later, she text me too. I gave her the room number we were in. She told me not to move, she was on her way - my sister was on her way, I was going to be okay. I told her there was no way I was moving, I was still pinned down - only one arm free frantically typing with a single finger - the phone laying on the bed, not even in my hand. She told me to hide it away, stay where I was - stay alive. And so I did. I put the phone back under the small of my back, my body once again returning to a lifeless state.

The contradictory feelings sliced me in two, deep emotion pulling me in opposite directions. My sister was on her way, I was going to be okay. Yet how many minutes would it be until she got there? How many lifetimes would I experience in my mind before I heard her at the door? Infinite scenarios running through my head with each passing second. The next one more real than the last. All of them centered around the terrifying reality; Danielle could wake up at any second. I laid there, as paralyzed as humanly possibly. Despite my efforts of restraint, tears spilled out and fell down the sides of my face. Hang on just a little bit longer, I told myself. 

The breath of relief that washed over me when I heard the door open, the sound of my sister's voice sending instant peace to my very core - defies explanation. Words fall short, inadequate to capture the flood of emotion - my sister was here, she was going to save my life. 

End of Part 3.

Part 2: My Wife Beat the Shit Out of Me

If you read Part 1, thank you for sticking around for Part 2. 

I'm going to start this with the same blunt and honest truth - my wife beat the fucking shit out of me. 

Ironically this all went down exactly 365 days from the day we got married. Happy anniversary!! She knew everything that had happened. Even though I had tried to leave more times than I could count. Even though I looked her in the eyes at one point and told her I wasn't in love with her anymore and wanted her to move out...that didn't matter. In fact, she looked me square back in the eyes and told me "no." She wasn't leaving and I wasn't allowed to leave either. I was stuck, I was scared and I didn't know what to do. 

On the day of our 1 year anniversary, she asked me if we could "simply" have a good day. She told me that she just wanted to celebrate the love that we had had and then she didn't care what happened after that. January 10th 2024, she'd let me go if I could just give her that one day. And so, I agreed. In my head, somehow that felt fair. Although we had torn each other to shreds, there was beauty in our love at one point. A sense of true magic. If we were going to go out, why not go out honoring those parts of ourselves, of our love and of our relationship. 

Although she had been sober for two years prior to returning from Kuwait...she started drinking again when she got home. She blamed me for this, of course, as if I had the power to control her sobriety. Sadly, I think she thought I did. That morning she started drinking heavily, which I noticed and commented on quickly. I asked her if she wanted to have a good day like she asked for or if she wanted to black out before we even made it to the hotel...Oh yes, the hotel. We had booked a king corner suite for our anniversary at the Ambassador. It was something she had always wanted to do. And fuck, the room was absolutely breathtaking. Talk about magical. We went to Dave and Busters before and honestly, as odd as it may sound, we had a lot of fun. Or at least I did. Genuine fun. Once we finished up there, we went to the hotel and settled into our ginormous enchanting room. We turned on some Taylor Swift music, got ready and then went to the speakeasy bar in the basement of the hotel for drinks and food. There was a live band that evening. They played "Lover" for us and we danced. We danced and we laughed and I truly thought this was the goodbye she was asking for. The darkness that would ensue after these moments of closure, I could have never seen coming. 

Danielle claims she doesn't remember anything after the bar - an easy cop out for someone that doesn't want to have to own up to their own actions. I, on the other hand, remember every chilling, terrifying second...After we ate and the band was winding down, we went back to the hotel room. It wasn't too late, a bit before midnight. Danielle had continued to drink and by this point was intoxicated - so I told her I was going to get in bed. I plugged my phone in and set it on the nightstand, I poured a glass of wine and set it down next to my phone, looking forward to relaxing with a glass of my favorite red. As I was walking toward the bed...Danielle tackled me from behind. When I say I didn't see what was coming - I truly and quite literally did not see her coming after me. 

She had me face down on the floor, her body straddling mine. She grabbed the back of my head, her hand full of my hair and pounded my head into the floor as hard as she could, over and over and over. I felt the pull of my hair, as some of it was ripped from my scalp. I felt the floor on my forehead. The sting of the rugburn, the instant ache of my brain. Yet still, it took numerous times of my head being pounded into the ground to even start to comprehend what was happening. We were just dancing, now my head was pounding. I could feel the welt rising as it formed on the top of my forehead. I am not sure how many times my head was slammed into the ground, at least a dozen. 

Laying face down, I knew she was stronger than me. There was no way I was getting off that floor by trying to over power her. So, in attempt to soften the blows I pulled my arms up and wrapped them around my head. I was terrified. As my head was slammed toward the floor, it still hurt, but at least my arm was there to absorb part of the impact. For a brief second she stopped. I was hoping it was over, that maybe she came to her senses. But no, she started to punch me as hard as she could in the back of my head. I felt defenseless, well no - I was defenseless. I was face down, doing my best to cover my head with my arms, sobbing and begging her to stop. The tears blinding my eyes, the fear paralyzing my body. 

I didn't fight, I wasn't trying to hurt her back. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted it to stop before the beating rendered me unconscious, or worse - god please don't let it get worse. 

It was in those moments that I began to disassociate, because surely my wife was not beating the fuck out of me right now. I curled my arms tighter around my head, but that only made her fists hit harder. When she eventually let up for a moment, I curled into as small of a ball as I could, trying to disappear. I asked if she was really going to hurt me - it was in that moment, the weight of realization engulfing every part of me...I started to comprehend the fact that I very well might not make it out of this hotel room in one piece. When I braved myself enough to look up I saw her eyes, they had gone black. The Danielle I knew, was gone. She looked back at me, with a dead panned stare, and said "you will have to kill me if you ever want me to stop." 

By some miracle of god, I managed to get to my feet. At this point, I'm in full survival mode - I've already figured out that I am not a fighter, so flight was my next defense...I tried to run. I didn't get two steps past her before she grabbed me and threw me back on the floor, towering over me. Eyes still black. Deadly. Soulless. Piercing and silently screaming the horrifying things my wife was capable of doing. The sensation her eyes sent through me was crippling, the fear immobilizing. 

 At some point she let me to my feet again. My head is swirling, throbbing - from reality and from the concussion forming in my brain. I know I can't fight, I know I can't run...so I went for my phone. I got it off the nightstand - I HAVE MY PHONE, I thought. I'M GOING TO BE OKAY! I dialed 911 as quickly as my fingers would let me. The call went through for about four seconds before she was back. She slammed me into the wall, taking my phone. She instantly hung up the call - the very small sense of hope I had, vanished. Within the blink of an eye, before I could even take a breath of realization...with my phone in her hand, she hit me so hard on the side of the head that my ears started to ring. This is it, I thought. 

But oh no, it didn't stop there. She threw my body against the nightstand. Her strength all encompassing, there was no way I was getting away from her. Not alive anyway. The wine glass, with the red I was so looking forward to sip just not that long ago, went flying into the wall. It shattered, and in that same exact instant - so did I. She pulled up my trembling body and pressed me against the wall. She had a tight grip on my arms, forcing them over my head as she screamed into my face "this is your fault. You made me do this!" 

From the corner of my eye, I could see the glimmering shards of glass. Every part of me pleading that she wouldn't throw me into them. I can't fight, I can't run, I can't call for help - but in this moment I have to get the fuck away from the glass!! I angled my body in the opposite direction. I knew she was going to over power me again. I knew she needed that sensation of control. With my body angled in a different direction, she forcefully pushed me onto the bed. As sad as it sounds, I was relieved - it was at least softer than the floor that my head had so repeatedly been pounded into just minutes ago.

With me pinned down, she crawled on top of me. Forcing my body down with more strength every time I tried to move. I pleaded to her more times than I can count. Begging through the catch in my throat and the tears in my eyes for her to please just let me go. It was a desperate and futile request, I knew she would not. So my brain went back into survival mode. I thought to myself, okay Kristi - you can't fight, you can't run, she's taken your phone - what now? What's our next line of defense, how do you stay alive? The only thing I could think of was to scream. So I SCREAMED, I screamed as loud as I could - my throat instantly growing rasp from the few times I got out the word "HELP!" But it was no use, Danielle was covering my mouth with her hands as quickly as it had opened - restricting me from making any sound. No one had heard me, no one was coming. I was going to die in this hotel room. 

You can't fight, you can't run, you can't call for help, you can't scream - what's left? The literal only thing I could think to do next was play dead. I truly went limp. My body was lifeless. My breathing slowed, I closed my eyes and all I could think was don't fucking move. Do not give any sign to her that you are still conscious. She continued to yell in my face. She shook my head from side to side, screaming at me to wake up. She lifted my arms and dropped them back toward the bed, they thudded down on the comforter like a pound of lifeless bricks. There was no way I was giving her any sign of life in my body. I can't fight, I can't run, I can't call for help, I can't scream - but I sure as fuck can play dead.

I sit here, even now, uncertainty within me like a shadow haunting my thoughts. Did Danielle believe she had knocked me unconscious? Did she think I was dead? I will never know. What I do know, is that what she did next not only sends shivers down my spine, it slices through my very core. It was as if reality itself had fractured - this can't be real, right? In the realization that I was not going to come to, Danielle did not get worried. She did not try to get help. She did not panic or try to revive me. Instead she curled her body over mine. The intent clear; I would not move without her knowing. And then, unbelievably, atop her seemingly lifeless wife - she fucking fell asleep.

End of Part 2.

Part 1: I Cheated On My Wife

I am going start this out with the bluntest truth that I have.... Yes, I cheated on my wife. 

 Now, if you'd like to hear the rest of the story please continue to read... 

 In October of 2021 I saw her profile on tinder. I looked it over, I read it over...I sent it to friends. I was hesitant to swipe - my brain swirls now with the thoughts of "You should have known better then." But how could I? Tinder is a meaningless app, right? So, I did swipe right. Within literal minutes she was messaging me. It felt good. To be so quickly appreciated. We kicked it off so easily. We both loved Taylor Swift, we by some crazy serindipitous happentance had both commissioned a one of a kind drawing of Taylor from the exact same artist in Wichita. It felt like fate, like the stars had aligned. Maybe tinder wasn't so meaningless after all? 

....Yet still I was hesitant to trust. Scared - as my past had taught me to be protective. Yet slowly, Danielle broke down those walls. She wrote me a letter once, telling me she'd build the wall with me. She told me she'd stand on the other side, helping lay the bricks if that's what I needed. She made me feel seen. She made me feel safe. She made me feel heard. It was nothing short of magic. And that's how the next few months went. Blissful. Magical. Full of love and laughter. 

However, that facade was not able to be sustained. I broke up with Danielle in June of 2022. 

Danielle's insecurities started taking over. She was co-dependent, half a person without me. She didn't just want me, she needed me. It was a heavy burden to carry on a good day, until eventually the weight pressed so insistently - I had to put it down. I wasn't allowed to be me. I felt suffocated in her presence. And so, I broke up with her. I felt confident in the decision at the time, strong even. I have a history of letting people and relationships go to far. I'm forgiving to a fault. I've played the doormat role far more times than I'd like to admit. I thought to myself - wow - you got out before you were destroyed. That was a first for me, I thought I had grown. 

 In that same month I broke up with Danielle, my best friend at the time also moved states. Not like the next state over - she moved to Florida. I've had enough friends move out of state to know what that meant. I lost the two most important people in my life in the matter of three weeks. I was devastated, depressed. I hated my job at the time. It was draining, toxic and abusive. I didn't feel I had many places to turn and so I didn't. I reclused. I read a countless number of books, I watched a countless number of movies and tv shows - to this day, that was the time in my life that I was more like the shell of a person than I have ever experienced. It was sad. It was lonely - and I wanted out. It was dark. It was heavy. Possibly even heavier than Danielle, so....I let her back in. 

I missed her, I was still in love with her. I never wanted our relationship to end. I believed in the Danielle that I knew Danielle wanted to be. The tricky part was - she's a two sided coin. You never know what you're going to get. It's quite literally a coin toss from day to day, hour to hour, moment to moment. Yet, I still believed in the good that did and still does live within her. I gave it another chance. I told myself if I went back, I wasn't leaving....and so, long story short - we got married. Quickly, quietly and absolutely in a way that was very perfectly "us." Nothing else mattered. We didn't need a big wedding, we didn't need a party, we just needed each other. And honestly, it was absolutely beautiful. It was love in its purest form. No show for everyone else, no putting on a face. It was simple, easy.... and once again, it was nothing short of magic. 

Within weeks of getting married Danielle was deployed to Kuwait, for most of the 2023. She would be gone 10 months of the first 12 months of our marriage. But I was not worried. I wasn't just all in, I was diving headfirst into the deep end in love with this woman. I felt proud to be married to her. I felt proud to support her and stay strong and love her through her deployment. Loyalty was no question for me....but it was for her. She let insecurities seep in. As soon as she got out of the country something shifted. She changed. The magic I knew was gone. Not only gone, but turned into a dark endless cloud of doubt, blame and disbelief. I tried to reassure her, I tried to prove myself, I tried and I tried and I tried and I fucking tried some more. But no matter my efforts, my genuine love and support - I was met with questions, accusations and distrust. I started to lose myself under the magnifying glass of her relentless stare. Her narratives soon consumed my mind....maybe I am what she says I am? Could I be capable of being the monster she so often accuses me of? Then in the next thought, I told myself NO! Your love is strong and pure. You are loyal and trustworthy...just stay strong and eventually, god please tell me eventually, she will see it too. But the questions and accusations persisted. I started not being able to keep up. The whiplash was harsh and fast, disorienting. And just when I thought I was safe, when there was nothing left she could pick apart or blame me for, another blow came. I'd go to dinner with my brother and that was unacceptable. My dog would sit on my lap during our facetime, and she'd get jealous he was taking attention away from the phone call. I would want to have lunch or dinner with a friend and holy fuck - that was definitely out of the question. And when she really ran out of things to complain about - it was my fingernails...they were too long. My house decor was not to her liking. There was even a time I was standing in my kitchen on a facetime, and she asked me why I was in my kitchen. I stood there, utterly dumbfounded - I quite literally could not even stand in my own house without something being questioned. For the record, I was dog sitting my nephew puppy, Oliver. The night before when we talked he was in the facetime too much and it made her upset. I was standing in the kitchen in attempt to please her, to keep the dog out of the frame. Riddle me this; when sitting is wrong, and standing is wrong, and everything is...wrong, what are you supposed to do? I started to lose hope. 

This went on.....for far too long. 

Until I started to actually lose it, I will 113% admit and own that. More days than not I felt absolutely insane. Stuck in the asylum created by my wife. Danielle started fights so much and so often, that I started fighting back. If that is what she wanted, or hell even needed, then fine. I will buck up and fight. I would like to take a moment to point out the fact that before I met Danielle - I could count on 1 hand how many times I had raised my voice at another human being in my whole entire life. Screaming and fighting is NOT me. And it's a me I hope I never meet again. But god damn, Danielle brought it out in me. I've lost count now, how many times I yelled at her. I hated myself. I hated how I treated her. I hated the things I said - but I was desperate. It got to a point that I didn't even feel like I was fighting against Danielle, it started to feel more like I was fighting for me. And fuck....if you knew the war I went through to find me, you'd understand why I fought so hard to keep it. And while I still hate how everything happened, I will never apologize for standing up for myself. Danielle can be a beautiful person, truly. However, any partner that threatens your existence, that makes you feel like a pile of fucking shit - just for being who you are, that is not a partner. And, that is precisely what I started to see. I tried to plead, to explain, to make it make sense to her. I recall telling her once that I didn't want a parent, I wanted a partner. But she just couldn’t get it. The sad thing is that a lifelong partner is what she wants the most in the world, yet it's the one thing she can't allow herself to have. Self-fulfilling prophecy as some would say. Borderline personality, some would say. Inexcusable and inexplainable childhood trauma could be a reason. Self-sabotage. Insecurity. Triggers. Projection. Blame. Rage. Sadness. Anger. The emotions are endless, and honestly not the point - because at the end of the day nothing, NOTHING, excuses physical abuse.

So yes, I cheated on my wife. 

After months and months of being torn down, accused, constantly questioned, insistently controlled, stalked, harassed, manipulated and gaslighted - she finally broke me. I am not innocent in this story. I regret the better portion of trying so desperately to love this woman. To show her the safety and home that I know she has always longed for and wanted. I broke a vow. I will own that. I will process that. I will not lie or hide behind twisted truths, this is my story...and if I'm going to tell it, how cowardly would it be to only tell half of the truth.

In that, I refuse to allow the other half of my story to fade in obscurity, concealed by Danielle's web of deceit. My wife was absolutely abusive. Emotionally, mentally, and eventually physically. She is truly so gracefully artful in what she does, it would almost be awe inspiring if it wasn't so fucked up. She is so good in fact, that I almost started to believe her fabricated beliefs about me myself. How she'd take fractions of truth and twist them into a narrative that suited her victim mentality so eloquently, I almost felt insane to question it. I felt so small, so useless, so terrible. Still, in those moments, when Danielle would ask me what I wanted...my reply every time was simply to let me love you. Accept good, accept that I am here, accept that this is a safe place to not be so defensive and protective and accusatory. To not have to question every single fucking thing that I do. For fuck sake PLEASE just let me love you. But, that wasn't enough. Me being there wasn't enough. Me passing her many many deliberately planned tests was not enough. She never trusted me, because she's never trusted anything. I very very very sadly can say, I do not even think she can trust herself...I pity her for this. There is so much good locked up behind her brokenness. But when you are unwilling to look in the mirror - queue Taylor Swift - "I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror, it must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero." And yet louder, "IT'S ME HI, I'M THE PROBLEM IT'S ME!!" I hope for Danielle's sake, one day she sees this. One day, she can look in the mirror and truly love the person staring back at her.

ANYWAY, she won, I suppose...she broke me – round of applause. I am resilient and mother fucking strong, yet her darkness ultimately overpowered me. Day after day, I carried the weight of her on my back like a burdensome rain cloud, desperately striving to validate myself. To prove to her that there are good people in this world, worthy of trust...only to realize that was a narrative I never had a chance of being granted in the first place. And so, she triumphed in her personal war. She molded me into the very monster she treated me as – relentless and unyielding. She believed I was the villain of her story, and so I became it. 

End of part 1.

Eyes Closed

I have always found beauty in music. Lyrics obviously are important, and I find so much depth behind writing. But the vibration of sound, that is what speaks to the soul. There are not many songs I hear for the first time and connect to, but when I do - it is magic. Ed Sheeran released a song today called "Eyes Closed" and it may be one of the most tragically heartbreaking beautiful songs I have ever heard. When I listened to it this morning, I was moved to tears. And when that happens with music, poems, expression of words - I like to dive in. If you have not listend to the song, I urge you to. But I would also suggest listening to it with the music video, which I will include at the end of this blog. It is gut wrenching, it is powerful, it is beautiful, it is authentically human. The way he is able to convey so many feelings in just over three minutes is beyond me. It's a talent I wish I possesed. But I tend to be a bit more long winded ;) The origin of the song was meant to be about a break up. However, in the midst of writing it, his frined passed away from drug and alcohol abuse. This changed the meanging for Ed, and he decided to dedicate this song to his friend. What I find the most powerful in his writing is that it captures the esseance of grief. Of all kinds. It conveys the depth of mourning, heartbreak and utter sadness. It puts into words what so many find hard to describe. When you feel paralized by tradgedy, lost and alone...but the world keeps moving on all the same. The vidoe starts with him in a car, crashing and submerging into water. And I don't want to miscontrue Ed's artistic expression....but the beginning of that video feels very powerful to me. It sets the tone of the song and the emotion. To me it conveys times in people's lives, that they feel so overwhelmed by grief that they are literally drowning in it. They can't catch their breath, or get their head above water. The hurt is too consuming. And then he goes into a bar alone. Symbolizing the isaolation we feel when we are grieving. How diabilitating and distraught that feeling can be. How alone and overwhelming our thoughts can be. We convince ourselves that no one is there. No one but the monster of depression. We can't even open our eyes to the world we are presented with, and so...we dance with our closed. We move through life half alive. We go into survival mode. The gravity of grief can be too much to open your eyes to. I honestly really enjoyed the Blue Monster in this video. It gave physical appearance to what sadness feels like. Its big, its engulfing, it fills the room - yet many times it's the elephant in the room. It's there, but no one wants to talk about, to look at it, to adress it. Which is why we end up feeling so alone to begin with. It follows you. It's always there. Taking up space. In your body, in your mind. It hovers and makes you feel cold. I hovers and makes you feel alone. It hovers and reminds you how much this world just really fucking sucks. It sits with you, it follows you, it sleeps with you, it wakes up with you. It's always there. Hovering. Remidning. Haunting. This song and music video touched me. I think Ed did an incredibly amazing job at portraying grief. Portaying mourning. Portraying sadness. Portaying depression. Portraying overwhelmness. Portraying life and hurt and trying to just survive. I also found artistry in the beat of the song. It starts slower, but the beat picks up. If the words weren't so incredibly gut wrenching, the music could be happy. And I think this was on purpose. I think it goes to show that - even when your world completely stops, when it falls apart and you can barely breathe, when you are drowning and feeling alone and just trying to get your head above water - life goes on. The world still spins. Others do not slow down. I think this is another reason grief feels so lonely. It's mind blowing when your personal world is completely shattered - yet no one seems to notice? How does the entire world not stop when yours does? It's complex and frustratinga and even beautiful in a way. Because no matter how maddening it is, part of life is that it does go on. But in that, there is hope to heal. I think my very favorite part of this video is the ending. The big blue monster, that I view as grief/depression/anxiety/all of the above, continues to follow him. Through the whole video, he tries to avoid it. He drinks. He literally closes his eyes because the world as it is isn't bareable to see. But at the end, he looks his monster in the eyes. He faces his fear, his depression, his sadness. And as soon as he's ready to look at the truth, at the reality and gravity of his greif, the monster disappears. Phew....this vidoe and song might be one of the only ones that have made me feel like tragedy, sadness, depression and mourning can be portrayed in such a beautiful way. It touched my soul, truly. It captured emotions I have felt in so many different situations. Death, loss of people who are still living, trauma, depression - but ultimately, healing. Toward the end of the video we also see other "monsters" that Ed doesn't seem to give any sort of attention to. I think this is symbolic of the fact that we all have our own demons, our own monsters - and just because you can't look at someone and see the demons they possess or are living with, that doesn't make them any less real. I am a bit of a slow processor, so I'd imagine if this song already stirred up enough emotion to write about it - the gravity of it will continue to sink in. But I hope in sharing my thoughts that others are able to find healing and hope beyond their hurt. The blue monster is a bitch. Its consuming, overwhelming, and encompassing. It's heavy. It can make you isolate yourelf or make you feel alone (even when that is not true) - but don't let it win. Look your big blue monster straight in the face and tell it to fuck off. I hope you find the strength to open your eyes - there is beauty beyond the pain.

Soul Child

 I recently got a massage, with the goal of releasing. I knew my body was holding tension I needed to let go of. I've had a hard couple months, and truth be told, my body shut down. In all definitions of the word, I was a shell. I couldn't feel or process. I couldn't socialize. I did what I needed to do, which was work and not much outside of that. Music was too much to my ears, TV was too much to my brain, leaving my house was too much...everything. My grand adventure that weekend was leaving my house long enough to have a stranger rub my body and hopefully make me feel better. That was it.  

 I told the masseuse what I was there for. That I wanted to concentrate more on what my body needed to let go of. I wasn't there for the purpose of feeling relaxed for an hour, I was ready to feel like I had ran a marathon by the end. Thankfully, she listened. And she went for it. I trusted my body to tell her what it needed and she dug deep into the parts of me that were holding the most. Even with her elbows digging deep into my muscles, I could still feel myself holding on. To what, I wasn't sure, but I could FEEL it - in my whole being. Holding tension, holding emotion, holding tight - to something. 

 I took deep breaths and told myself, it's okay. You're safe here. You have shut the world out and stopped feeling, but in this moment you are safe. You can feel and you can release and you can let go. Of all the things that made you stop feeling in the first place. 

 This is what I expected. I expected to feel and let go of my relationship that just ended. I expected a surge of sadness and comprehension to hit me from this. I also expected a great sorrow to hit from my best friend moving away recently. The person that joined me in almost every single step of my journey into finding me. That one I knew I hadn't felt through yet - and I was ready. To feel it all. So, I started taking deep breaths and said to myself - "Kristi, it's okay to let go." I took many deep breaths, exhaling each one with these words. But what I experienced in letting myself lower that guard was not what I expected. 

 As soon as I allowed myself to relax into what my body needed, as soon I let myself start listening to me, I saw a vision. Well, vision may be exaggerative, I am still not sure what it was - but vision is as close to the human language as I can put it into words. It was like a flash of a scene, just long enough to stay burned in my memory. What I saw was a small child, she called to me. I knew she was around four years old - I am not sure why I knew this, I just did. And before confusion could hit on who this young child was, blurry and a little far away, it was in that same breath that I knew she was me. I recognized her in a way that again I cannot explain with words. But we were one. Two, yet one. And as I breathed in to release and let go, repeating this to myself like a mantra - breathe, release and let go - it was in one of my deepest breaths that I realized I was holding on to things I didn't even know were inside of me. 

 This sweet precious little four year old. I feel so much love, compassion and protectiveness for her. She saved me. She learned how to survive in a world full of hurt incomprehensible to a child that young. She built up walls of protection, a fortress around me, to keep me safe. She shut down my brain, my emotions, my being - because that is what she had to do to live. She protected me. She got me here. And it was in this moment, lying face down on a massage table that I realized...oh sweet sweet girl, I don't need you anymore. You did your job. You were the only way I knew how to survive, but not anymore. You made me strong. You helped me into the woman I am today. But sweet girl, I have learned. I have put so much work into myself. I have learned how to love these broken pieces, these pieces of you and of me that I don't even believe or see as broken anymore. I am okay, I release you. Breathe, release and let go. 

 Now, let me also say - this was a lot to feel on a massage table. And in that quick amount of time, I wasn't even sure what happened. I came home and I wept. I wept, and I thought to myself "Why are you crying? What are you even crying for?" I wasn't sure. I wasn't really sure for days. I knew I wasn't crazy because it felt too real, too close to my heart, too much like I was really seeing myself to just dismiss it. Even so, I wasn't sure who I could tell about this experience or if I even should? I don't even know what this means yet, how do I put this into words? Even if I wanted to share, how the hell do I put this into words?? But I decided to brave it, and I shared anyway. Without words formed, without understanding what happened, I just let myself speak. From the depth inside of me, from the deepest parts of me that this little girl had made into a home. As I recounted the experience to my counselor his eyes went soft, almost as if they were speaking. Almost as if they were saying, "I am proud of you." Like I found something that most people do not. As I ended my recollection of this encounter, I don't know why or maybe I do - but I said, "I'm not sure if I am making sense, I don't even know what I am saying?!" And he looked back at me, square in the eye and said, "Oh, but I do." I broke past a barrier deeper than most people allow themselves to go. I allowed me, to speak to me. The trust I have in myself has grown so much, that she - the little broken girl inside of me - was able to to find her voice too. And truth be told, it was a small moment. One I could have dismissed and thought nothing about. A fraction of a moment that life gives you - to listen, or to retreat. I didn't have to give mind or pay attention to this quick appearance that she made. But I will tell you this, I have retreated for far too many years of my life not to listen. This tiny version of myself, I gave her full stage. 

 Here is what I think I've processed in these last few days. This is the first time, since I've come into my knowing that I've felt deep deep hurt, gut wrenching loss. My body's natural reaction is full fledged survival mode. I know no in between. I return right back to what that little girl had to do to help me survive. I shut down. My brain shuts down. My emotions shut down. I am a walking dead person. I felt that this last month. But, when I decided to let myself breathe - I realized, I am okay. Like actually really okay. I have built a very very solid foundation in me, so strong - that she is now who I can fall back on. I don't need my four year old self to protect me anymore. I got this. I found myself telling this tiny survival mode version of me - breathe, release, and let go - you are free now. 

 But let me tell you, I have gotten very unexpectedly emotional about this. Like wait a goddamn second - THIS IS HOW I SURVIVED!!! HELLO!!! WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I GIVE THIS ME UP???? I am as protective of her, as she is of me. But I think this is what I am realizing - the feeling of "you can let go" I was having on that massage table, wasn't leaving this little girl forever, it was releasing her. My sweet sweet four year old self - you served your time. You got me here. You are why I am here. Now it is your turn. I am letting you go in the sense that you are no longer hostage here. You are not stuck in this body to protect. You are free, my sweet sweet girl. You are free to be a kid. You are free to have fun. You are free to love. I think my overwhelming emotions of meeting this little girl, is that I feel so sorry for her that she sacrificed herself to save me. She gave up living to survive, so that I could one day be free. I feel her hurt to the very depths of my soul, because it is also my own. I mourn for her. 

But please listen to me now, my soul child - run, run wild. You are free! YOU ARE FREE! We both are. And in this freedom, I am not loosing you. I am locking hands with you and realizing that this - THIS - is how it was always supposed to be. 

No one really knows what the fuck they are doing anyway

     I have spent so many year of my life, so many moments and thoughts and valuable time - which you can't get back by the way - trying to figure out how to figure out this ever intriguing thing called life. And after almost 32 years on this earth, searching and fighting like hell to figure all this out, do you want to know what conclusion I've come to? The "secret to life" as some would say. My professional opinion is that none of us actually know what the fuck we are doing. 

    If you know me or if you talk to me for more than a few minutes, I am sure Glennon Doyle's name will come up along with her book Untamed. And I am sure you will hear me say it changed my life - because well, it did. I learned and continue to learn many many things from this wise woman who is bold enough to share her truth and be vulnerable to the world. Listen people, I barely know how to be vulnerable with myself, better yet the world. Her strength and bravery are truly inspiring. But I think one of the biggest things I have learned this year, greatly inspired by Glennon, is to stop freaking living for other people. 

    Here's her wild concept, that I am borrowing and sharing now. Take everything you know, everything you THINK that you know. Take it all. Family. Religion. Morals. Gender roles. YOUR roles. World concepts. Indoctrination. What you were taught. What you were told to believe. And throw it all out. ALL OF IT. Every way people have told you how to live, how to act, how to look. The idea of good or bad. Right or wrong. There are so many things in life we are taught to perceive as good or as bad - but who fucking says so? Who defined what is right or wrong for ME? Who else should truly even have the right to? Take every single one of these thoughts and literally throw it the fuck out. Now, imagine this - standing, alone. Somewhere open, the wind blowing. Not too much, just enough to hold these things up as an offering and let the wind carry it far far away from you. You are left standing, for the first time in your life, complete alone. Not in the derogatory connotation that the world has attached to this word, but in the incredibly empowering sense of truly getting to see yourself for the first time. 

    Okay, are you there? Alone with yourself. Now...start asking questions, hard questions. How many of the the beliefs you have, are really yours? How many things that you so whole heartedly believe, might not actually sit well with your gut? If there is no right or wrong, and you get to make the rules - what are they? Do you even know? I can tell you I sure didn't. I have been through a wild ride of recreation this year and when I started this journey I realized I knew NOTHING. Like literally wasn't even sure what being Kristi meant. Mostly because I had never really asked myself. I took what the world viewed "right" and just accepted it. If that's what people say, if thats what your parents say, if thats what the church says - it has to be right, right? 

    Well remember what I said - no one really knows what the fuck they are doing anyway, so why the hell am I listening to them? AND WHO THE HELL IS THEM!!!! So, instead of continuing to look outward for how I should live my life, I shifted. I started asking myself more questions about who I really was. What I really believed. But the most important part is that for the first time in my life, I actually started letting MYSELF answer them. Slowly, question after question, discovery after discovery, truth after truth - I started to get to know me. And you know what? I think I am pretty fucking cool. And it turns out, I have a lot of thoughts. A lot of my own thoughts. A year ago, I would have never been able to say that. I would have talked myself down, beaten myself up. I would have gone over every reason why I wasn't good enough, why I never would be. But for what? Who was I answering to? Who was I trying so desperately hard to live up to? The crazy thing is, I'm not even sure. 

    Glennon's idea of living a life untamed isn't being wild and crazy and breaking rules just to break them. The heart of the concept is to find you. It's returning to and/or continuing to discover your truest and most authentic self. The world is always going to have an idea of who you should be. My challenge to you is to tell the world to fuck off. Sit with yourself, ask the hard questions and listen - I promise you there is a voice in there. Glennon calls it your inner Knowing. I call it my gut. You may call it something different. Hell, you may even want to name it. But please, take the time to sit, center your inner being - and let her talk. I learned that mine is pretty darn intuitive, smart and right for ME pretty much every freakin time. It's funny how much you know about you, when you simply start letting YOU speak! 

    This year has been incredible. I have challenged more thoughts and concepts and ideas than I ever thought possible. I have pressed boundaries and asked questions and discovered so much. And now, after almost 32 years on this earth - I am finally starting to live. 

 

Kristi Clark is Completely Fine

     I got done reading Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine and immediately had the urge to write. 

    Eleanor is complex character, a by-product of her past. She learned how to survive by blocking things out and listening to the negative influences in her life. Not believing herself worthy. Worthy of happiness. Worthy of friendship. Worthy of closeness. Worthy of love. Worthy of even human touch. She lived her life drowned by numbing agents of abusive relationships and vodka, shut off to world. Listening to the negative voice inside her head telling her she wasn't good enough. 

    I connected with this character in so many ways because I too, lived a life closed off. Closed off from connection. Closed off from trust. Closed of from feelings. Closed of from, well - kind of everything in general really. What's kind of crazy about this world, is that you can live that way and still seem fine. Completely fine, actually. You can go through day after day on auto-pilot and no one even notices, because you're still doing all the things that you're "supposed to do." Most people will even view you has happy or successful. But no one actually sees the darkness that consumes you from the inside. No one really knows your story. No one but you and the negative voice in your head, and that's a dangerous place to live. 

    I am not sure if all people have a negative inner voice and truthfully I hope that not to be the case. But I can with absolute certainty tell you that I do, or at least did. It brought me down on a daily basis, making me believe that despite the success I had accomplished in life, somehow that wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough. I would never be good enough. I lived every day of my life with this voice inside my head, despite the positive or optimistic outlooks I tried so hard to have. To the point, that I just started to simply accept that I would never feel good enough ever again. 

    I love the complexity of this book, because it portrays the incredibly deep and lasting affects that an emotionally and verbally abusive relationship can have. It doesn't just haunt you when you are around the person abusing you. In fact, sometimes it haunts you the most when you are not. This voice becomes so engrained, so believed...it begins to take on a form so real, that  you actually start to believe it as your own. This is another dangerous place to be. This is the place when you lose yourself and give way to the negativity that nags at you every second of every day. 

    It's not a fun way to live. Eleanor and I can definitely attest to that. It's dark there. It's lonely there. But the only thing more unfathomable than getting yourself out of that dark and lonely place, is believing that you deserve to. This voice comes in different forms. Sometimes quiet in the back of your head, nagging. Sometimes forefront in your face, screaming. But it's always there reminding you of all the reasons you are not worthy. 

    This is a little dark, but the beauty of this book, and the beauty of life - is that we actually have the power to control the narrative. I'm not saying that it's easy. It takes hard work and time and patience with yourself. It takes counseling and learning who you are. It takes facing your fears and worst of all - it takes the willingness to be open and vulnerable. You have to shine light on those dark and traumatic pieces you've stored away and stifled for so long. 

    But here is the cool part - sometimes when you do that, you realize they weren't even yours to carry. When your vulnerability is down, and you allow yourself to look at YOU, that is when your narrative shifts. That is when you can start to take control. When you have been hurt on such a deep emotional level, the thought of opening up old wounds or opening yourself up to new ones - sounds absolutely 100% completely repulsive. Trust me, I get that. But when I faced my demons head on, when I decided to tell that negative voice in my head to shut the fuck up - I looked it straight in the face and guess what I saw? I didn't see me at all. I saw my ex-husband. The years of emotional trauma I lived through had created it's own voice and narrative inside my head. I was physically with my ex-husband a total of five years, but I lived with him for eight. My mind got contorted by all the comments he made about me, that eventually they became facts I believed myself. With every remark he made, day after day - it slowly chipped away at my inner being so much, that there wasn't much left of Kristi at all. 

  There's a quote in the book that says, "fire test gold, as adversity tests the brave." I've had my fair share of adversity, but emotional abuse is a whole different level. It can mind fuck you so bad, that you actually start to treat yourself the way your abuser did without even noticing it. Man, what a freaking powerful book this is. I lived with Eleanor as I read this book. I felt her lows and empathized her rock bottoms. I celebrated her epiphanies....until I finally cried with her in triumph. It doesn't take believing you are brave to overcome. Sometimes, it simply takes a step - just one step in the right direction. Then another step. And another. Then one more. And before you even realize it you are walking with a little momentum, back toward life. Back to truth. Back toward YOU. 

    So, thank you Eleanor, for letting me walk with you. Thank you for helping me open up and shine some light on the emotional abuse I had stored away. Thank you for helping me realize that this type of abuse is REAL and important to talk about. And thank you to the author, Gail Honeyman, for bringing such a beautifully tragic complex character to life. Eleanor Oliphant really is completely fine, and so am I.