Facing the Music ~ Caution: Extreme subject

I wrote this in one quick venting session with the intent to post it and forget it. However, once it was done, I debated on posting it. Who would get angry? Who would run away from me? Who would tell me that I’m just trying to get sympathy? Basically, all the questions were about what other people would think and none were focused on my need to let it out. I was so worried about keeping a good face to the world. Playing a part to make other people happy. Nothing that focused on my needs. But I’ve come to the realization, I don’t care. I need to say it publicly, and no one needs to read it.

This is not a “happy” post. It’s even horribly composed. This is a post of release and self help. However, because it is me, and I know I will likely talk myself out of it, I have set this to auto post. By the time it posts, I will have forgotten it is being posted. So I will be able to say what I need to say, without the stress of remembering I’m going to say it. I do not encourage people who are faint of heart, ideals, or don’t like to see the dark side of the world we live in to read this. This is a healing post for me. Something to help me get where I need to be.

If you continue reading, just know, you have been warned…


I only have one goal this year. To learn how to validate myself. I still feel very unworthy of everything. I don’t know how to… find my own value.

A childhood of abuses, neglect, and a constant rain of comments designed to make me feel less than worthy set me up for a life of misery. I was never good enough. Never worth the time. Always messing up another’s plans. In the way. The cause for the adults around me to be angry, frustrated and aroused.

I remember very clearly being told I wasn’t smart enough to graduate high-school. I remember being told I would be lucky to be accepted to college. I remember being told it was my fault for coming home that drove him to rape me every day. I remember being told, it wasn’t his fault for raping me, beating me or strangling me. It was my inability to accept his position of authority that hurt me. I remember being pulled out of track with only the State meet left because he thought I told a lie. I remember being told it was my fault my friends were sexually assaulted because I should know better than to have friends. I remember my friends no longer being allowed to come to my home, and me no longer being able to go to theirs. I remember hiding in my closet when he got home and being dragged out, beat and raped and having him yell at me it was my fault for struggling. I remember running away and being picked up at the school bus stop on the way to school. I remember what happened that day because I didn’t make it to school. My mother went to work. My sister went to school. I bled. I remember the day I saw him rape her and how he blamed her pain on my inability to submit peacefully to him. I remember how I nearly died the day I fought back. I remember how the authorities let him control the investigation. I remember how the psychologist said I should forgive him because he is a decorated war veteran. I remember how he manipulated my world and blamed me for his troubles. I remember how his family sided with him against me. I remember being told I was not worthy of living for destroying a family. It was my fault we were not a happy family.

I remember falling in love with my best friend. He had a girlfriend so I stayed silent. Two years later he was free and I was his rebound. I was more in love with him than he could be with me. When he broke my heart a few weeks later, it was cold and cruel. His circle blamed me for falling for someone on the rebound. I was too honest with him. I should have known better. I wasn’t what he needed or wanted.

This made me perfect prey for my ex-husband. I was a conquest to him. A vaginal virgin ripe for deflowering. A woman with a strong passion, able to fund his exploits. He did so many things in the beginning that allowed me to fall for someone I should never have. As time went on, I found myself doing more and more for him and lying to his family and friends about how much he contributed or helped. Of course, I was too deep to see any of this. I was still living in the imaginary world of bliss that a man had found me worthy of spending time with. Looking back now, I can see how delusional I was. I didn’t know anything about love. I’d never known it. I still don’t. It’s not surprising my ex husband was able to get away with destroying my sense of self worth. I didn’t have a strong sense of it, when I met him. If I had, I would have thrown him out the first time I felt something was wrong. Instead, I tried to change myself to be what he wanted.

I agreed to move to another state when I didn’t want. I fought hard and struggled to do EVERYTHING for the move. I moved us. He did nothing but take a plane ticket and live where I placed us. He didn’t help close up the house in Hawai`i, or really even set up the new place in Oregon. Three months later when I followed him, he was was angry at me for showing up. He wanted to be alone longer. He complained that the apartment began to look like someone else lived there. He didn’t like seeing my shoes by the door. He put up a pornographic calendar and laughed at me when I didn’t like it. However, I was still in the mode of trying to keep him happy, so I let it go.

I found a great job and began the process of rebuilding our lives. Under protest, I used part of my 401(k) to purchase us a brand new car. Again, I did all the work to get it for us and make sure it fit his requirements. Six months after arriving in Oregon, I was pregnant. It was a shock. I distinctly remember the moment, I realized I was pregnant. I’d long ago found him unattractive, so sex was a rare activity. In truth, I never enjoyed it with him and still don’t know why people seem to crave it so much. It just seemed… messy and useless.

My pregnancy was terrible. I was sick the majority of the time. I had bleeding the entire time. My husband harassed me about being a wimp, since lot’s of women have babies and don’t seem to have any problems. He was an expert, apparently. I tried to act like everything was normal, but I couldn’t. Then things started to get scary. I found myself sleeping on the floor more than once so that he could sleep in the bed. My doctor was concerned about my health and started noticing signs of domestic abuse. At every appointment she asked me if I was a victim of domestic abuse, and every time, I told her no. I didn’t understand that I was. I could be. I’d already gone through all of that. It couldn’t happen again. But it was.

When I realized the danger my daughter and I were in and what exactly was happening, I slowly began the process of accepting that my world was messed up. Even full understanding of the what had happened, didn’t make the exit an easy decision. But I did leave. I left him with as much haste as I could safely do. I never mentioned the affair I discovered that he started before I was pregnant with another woman 13 years younger than me with an 8 year old daughter. Truthfully, I didn’t care by that point. I didn’t want him and she was getting what she deserved. Again, I gave him everything he wanted in the divorce. All the liquid assets, including the car, furniture and whatever else struck his fancy. I didn’t want anything but my daughter and the cats.

And then I ran. Physically and mentally. I moved us away and began the rebuild. Physically, we are very well. Mentally, I am just now learning what I need. The realization of the things that I had gone through. The acceptance of my part in them as well as the release of the guilt for that which was not may fault, is finally beginning.

I can now be constructively angry and let the pain go. I now understand how I was able to be taken advantage of so easily. I now understand the delusions I let myself believe and the lies and cover ups I did to fool the rest of the world into believing that all was good with me. I am finally facing the music for my part in what has transpired in my life. And I’m also finally showing the mirror back to those who will never look in one. My father. My ex-husband. My ex-best-friend. I don’t expect them to look in it, but I’m not going to hold their share of my pain anymore. Maybe I’m outing people who had hoped to stay hidden. I don’t really care anymore. But it is time to face the music. For everyone.


About Supovadea

Single Mom, Certified Rocket Scientist & Aerospace Engineer, Private Pilot, Amazon, Dancer, Writer, Eternal Optimist, Survivor, Dreamer, 2,910 NM ENE of where I belong.
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