Wednesday, August 23, 2006

the power of one: each of you

I know I am supposed to be on vacation and I debated about posting for today, but while brushing my teeth I had a thought; each of you have had the power of one on me.
Whether it be listening to me rant and rave about something for five seconds to get whatever it is that I need to rant and rave about at the moment off my chest.
Helping with my computer. Sharing a fantasy. Teasing each other. Reading something you've written and feeling the same way about whatever. Sending emails and IM's and such. By commenting on something I've written and saying whatever it was you might have said at that moment that was exactly what I needed to hear. Or simply by being my friend and saying the two words, 'and you?'
Each of you have meant something to me.
Big, small, or simply.

After I wrote this post, The hardest thing I've ever had to be honest about I felt calm the next day. Then....then the day after that the ugliness started.
A few of you picked up on the fact that I was going though something and I appreciate your words. I was, for lack of a better word, sad. Not depressed, just sad. Sad and angry. Very, very angry. Finally, after making myself sit at my computer and type it all out I figured out what was going on. I also finally made a cruicial connection about PTSD and myself all thanks to a very, very simple comment that a fellow blogger made when they shared their story with me. I can not articulate how profound those four letters were for me.

Anyway, angry, funky, sad PG is gone. Truly.

What follows is the post that I wrote explaining how I felt at the time but, I simply couldn't post it after I wrote it all down. No words as to why, I just couldn't. It's a slight ramble, however, as always, it's honest.

I have been putting off posting this post. I just simply haven’t wanted to. I don’t know why, I just haven’t. Maybe part of it is that I feel I have shared so much, broken down so many walls that I had made sure were so strong and reinforced for so long, that this feels like another wall that I am breaking down and I don’t know if I have it in me. Don’t worry; this isn’t another Debbie Downer post or some big revelation or anything like that. Well, it is for me, but, anyway.
Ever since I posted about my rapes I haven’t felt like me. My moods have been all weird, I’ve felt withdrawn and the perpetually perky girl cannot be found no matter how I try to coax and prod her, she wasn’t showing her smiley face. Apparently I’ve also started talking in the third person.
I am pissy and sad. I’m not necessarily angry, but I have certainly been mad a few days. I’m not depressed, but the thought of the quiet pillow-top comfort of my bed is very appealing. I found everyone and everything annoying and irritating and I can’t figure out why. I am sad. SAD and I want the sadness to end.
Is it the fucktards that tried to tear me down after my post? I find them and their words so ironic. I mean, here I am being honest. Honest about my past and all the ugly details about it. I am finally ready to tell my tale-uninterrupted- and I had two men trying to tear me apart. Is that what is causing this? I just can’t imagine something so asinine causing these feelings. Can’t be that.
So, damn it! Snap out of it already.
I don’t do sad well. I don’t do pissy well. I don’t do depressed or angry well either. Really, if it’s not perky and optimistic with a slight cynical edge, I'm not doing it well. I don’t do vulnerable well. I don’t show my emotions well, either. I truly am the perpetually perky girl and not in some pathetically sad way either. You know, laughing on the outside, dying on the inside. No, I really am that happy all the time. I’ve seen the flip side. I’ve been deep within the cold quiet lovely comfort of a deep dark depression and understood the joys of wanting to stay there. I’ve been the angry girl. The girl who is pissed off at the world and everything and anything in her way. I’ve been the angsty girl with the dyed black hair wearing too much black eyeliner. Honestly, the perpetually perky girl is so much more fun. I’ve been the pessimist who is filled with cynicism and anger. Optimistic with an edge of cynicism is so much better.
Slowly, after my post I had little epiphanies. Here, there, and everywhere I had little light bulbs going off of, “Oh, huh, that’s why I do that, that’s why I reacted that way, that’s what that was about.” All over the place. While I was brushing my teeth. While I was fixing dinner, dancing in my car, slowly drifting off to sleep at night. A bunch of dots were being connected and I have to tell you, I was a little unnerved by it. They weren’t huge or earth shattering or in any way that could be consider monotonous to anyone other than to myself.
Then, after having a pep talk with myself for the 900th time in three weeks of, “Jesus, snap out of it!” Because I couldn’t take the sadness anymore. I couldn’t take the pissiness anymore. It occurred to me. I figured out what it was. I had died. A little bit, a huge part of me, the part of me who needs to be surrounded by walls and had spent half my life building up those walls and hiding behind secrets that I was afraid someone would find out and judge me over, had been told. I told my secrets. I told my past. The secret keeper was gone. My story was out there and I felt naked. I felt vulnerable. Those fucktards came and attacked my character and my defenses were down. I couldn’t believe two people could be so, for lack of a better more powerful word, mean, hateful. But, this isn’t about them. I’m not giving them anymore typing time.
So, I’ve been experiencing a death. I know how hokey that sounds. Believe me, I know how hokey that sounds. But, truly that’s what has been going on. A death. I’m trying to figure me out. I’m trying to figure out me all over again.
The girl at 17 had her innocence ripped away from her and I was mourning her. The girl of 23 no longer felt safe in her own apartment and experienced serious PTSD. Thanks to a friend who mentioned PTSD, it occurred to me that that was what that was all about. I wasn’t going crazy those feelings were all real.
I’ve lost interest in just about any and everything that I use to have interest in. Writing? No, not really. I’ve tried to write several things, but I think it is screamingly apparent that my posts aren’t what they were. My creative edge is gone. Was my secret the secret to my creativity? Were walls my alcohol for creativity? I don’t know. God, I hope not. I seriously doubt it.
I’ve seriously thought about deleting this blog. I don’t really care about it anymore. But, ultimately I don’t want to delete the blog. And maybe by posting this post that I don’t want to post it will come back to me. Maybe. Hopefully.
Then I got to thinking about secrets and secret identities. I have a super- not-so- secret, secret identity and not so secret location. My name is, Party Girl. I have no desire to share who or where I am. Although I thought about it in the last couple weeks. You know, and then delete the blog after the not so big reveal. Then I thought about all of you. Some of you have a secret identity and a secret location. Some have a secret name, but not a location, only a few of you have a real name with a real location. So, are we all hiding from something? Are we all trying to protect something? It is for job purposes? For me, yes. Is it for the blog stalkers and not wanting to be found and for safety? Is it because we can? So we can say exactly what we want to whoever we want and not worry about the outcome and who sees or reads it because you don’t really know who we are therefore it’s safe?
One thing I find fascinating about this whole blog thing is that, except for a few of you, I have no idea what you look like or what your real name is and in some way I am crushing on each and every one of you. It’s in a different way with each of you and in a different way with each post. Sometimes it’s because of what you write about and it hit a nerve. Sometimes it’s because you say and tell me exactly what I need to here and be told. Sometimes it’s because we are talking about sex and so my mind goes straight into the gutter and stays there for the rest of the day. Sometimes it’s because I think we are kindred sprits cut from the same cloth and if we lived anywhere close to each other a pint would be share probably way too frequently. Sometimes it’s because you make me laugh when I need one the most. Or you’ve helped me in someway when I’ve needed help. It’s something different each and everyday. But each and every one of you has made an impact on me and I think about you all throughout my day.
So where am I going with this? Although I no longer seem to be in my funk, I am still going through something and I am still trying to work through it. The creativeness isn’t here. I’m trying to make it be here, but it’s not. I need to take sometime for myself. I really need a vacation, but that’s not possible. I don’t get paid time off and I just added another class to my schedule, so five classes, forty hours a week doesn’t allow for time off. Maybe after I post this I will feel a huge weight lifted and I will be back to my old self right after, I don’t know. I just now this is one more thing that I am being honest about and well, I’ve always been extremely honest, however, I am not use to peaking over and tearing down my walls. It’s all very new and a little uncomfortable for me.

Update: A few months later: Peaking over the walls isn't so bad. Brick by brick the wall has been coming down. It's providing a nice view.


gone said...

I really do believe that many of those who blog are in some kind of personal pain or turmoil. The faceless confessional of blogging is ideal for releasing poisons that have blurred are own realities.
What you have gone through is horrendous and if I could I would smash through the protective screen of anonymity and hold you long enough for you to know that there is at least one soul on this planet who sincerely cares about you.
Never surrender you spirit because subhumans invaded your life and left their toxic shadow at your door. You are an articulate, intelligent person who has suffered more than most can imagine; you deserve to be happy.

puerileuwaite said...

PG, that was a wonderful post. One to which my comment can never do proper justice.

We blog for many different reasons. One reason that I do it is for an escape from the occasional shittiness of reality into a humorous alternate universe. I also do it because I DO find kindred spirits that I'd likely never meet any other way.

Some do it to find out things about themselves. I do it for this reason as well. But one thing that I haven't yet had the courage for is explore the pain from my past, and address my own demons. And I likely never will, at least not on a public blog.

I can never say that I know what you're going through. As a man, that would be an ignorant and arrogant statement for me to make.

But I do know that you have sacrificed a great deal to get *this* close to your goal. And I do know that when I've arrived at similar thresholds in my life and career, on a semi-conscious level I've done my best to sabotage it. Attempting to convince myself that I'm not worthy. That it's a facade, not an acheivement.

So what have I historically done? I've dredged up every single fucking demon I could locate from the past. Every instance of disappointment, hurt and betrayal. Anything to make myself feel like shit so that external forces aren't obligated to chime in.

Well, I am tired of doing that to myself. These demons aren't real. We make them real. Your reality is your MIND, PG. Not your past. Nothing and no one owns you if it/they don't have control over your thought processes.

Was Oskar Schindler a philandering war profiteer? Or a wonderful humanitarian? Are we permanent victims because of brief traumas from our pasts? Or are we driven, successful adults who are beacons for others because of the empathy and understanding that we now possess?

You have a wonderful future ahead of you. Rewire yourself to fully embrace it. The past no longer exists unless you allow it to. Tell your demons to fuck off. Every day, if necessary. That's what I do.

One of my favorite book titles (even though I haven't read the actual book yet) is "The Lives of John Lennon". Note that it's "lives". Plural. You are on the verge of living your next life.

Also, there's an awesome quote that I love, though I struggle to remember who first said it:
"There's the life we live, and then there's the life we learn with." That's 2-separate lives.

You do what you need to do with your blog. Even though I'm relatively new, already I've contemplated starting a different blog for the more serious shit that I've been tempted to get off of my chest. Maybe you could do the same. I dunno. However I'd miss you if you ever left. So don't!

puerileuwaite said...

BTW, Cooper, you are a sharp cookie. You leave GREAT comments. (I'm serious.)

Pyrhonik said...

I appreciate your honesty. Always. And, through these few months that I have visited your blog, a sense of your perky spirit has developed. With that has been the ups and downs of your turmoil, not trapped in words until now. This is a sweet post in many ways. I feel humbled by your acknowledgement and I wish so much to see your eyes with mine and to embrace you in the hug of a kindred soul. The best part is these words you've written surround all that has been toxious to you with strength and clarity. Powerful elements of a person which serve well to move forward. Cuz, happy or sad, life creeps ahead one moment at a time. And we choose how that moment is spent. ((((Hugs)))) to you from my corner of the blogsphere. My identity is hidden for work reasons and personal reasons. Often this anonymity prevents sharing experiences, and that is one downside I wish that I could change.


El-Phil said...

bonjour madame,
you know i think i only had to read the first post from i know i dont know wtf hes going on about and i dont want to ruffle any feathers but fuck me sideways.i think some people too many people talk utter bollox.disguising what they mean by trying to sound all intellecftual and deep.say it like it is.nobody likes a smart arse.and whats all this about toxic shadows?????????????
ive only just started this blogging thing,mainly to relieve the boredom of being out here in shitty afghanistan,im a soldier in the british army.i wont even try and kid anyone that im being a hero living life on the edge because in all honesty my job is poo here.i sit in an office doin pretty much fuck all.occasuionally we get rocket attacks conmin in but that about it.i cringe every time here another soldiers been killed which is happenin all to often at the moment,im in the army but i dont feel like a soldier,not now not doing this,the guys going out on the ground are fuckin heroes and i listen to people here thinkin theyre fuckin rambo.theyve never left camp.
i was in iraq 3 years ago and that was different that was pretty scary,but here its a holiday camp,for the lucky ones.

i dont rerally know why i just told you all that.
i just wanted to say i hate it when peole talk bollock and then i just went on aoutomat and babbled like a fucker.
anyway i think you sound pretty cool and you say it like it is,i think.anyway check out my blog its in its early stages or if you wanna e-mail you can get me on

best wishes from a stranger

Karl said...

Thanks for sharing this. I'm glad you found a path to recovery. And for the record, I'm crushing on you myself.

Party Girl said...

Cooper: I agree. I think many of us simply need an outlet and this is a safe one for us. I know I have ersonally come across some blogs were it was pretty clear all they wanted and were doing was writing to get their emotions out. Comments were not welcomed or wanted.

I had one blog before this. It started out as a way for to write and practice my thoughts and writing. It turned into a journal for me to complain to while I was going though a hard time last summer. After the trouble was over, it was deleted. This one started out as a way for me to ask and answer sex questions. Obviously it has turned into something more of which, I am thankful.
..and yes, P, is right. You do have some very insightful comments.

P: Your comments always have relevance. Thanks for always stopping by and shareing them.

Ah, sabotage. I know it well. I've finally am getting to the point in my life where it isn't such a familiar technique or tool for me to use in my everday.

Demons are ugly little creatures. I am probably one of the most introspective people you could ever meet (ot blog with) so I know mine well and I excercise them out of me regularly.
Angry, depressed, sad obviously these emotions happen. Obviously sometimes they come out of nowhere. I try to not let them linger for anytime.

I know longer want to delete the blog. I am no longer in a big 'fuck you world' state of mind. Thank god.
I plan to be keeping the blog and all of you, like it or not, around for a very long time. I'm curious to see where this whole blog thing and friendships I have developed goes.
I've changed so much since I've started this blog, not even a year ago, yet, I can't wait to see where it leads me.

as for you and you blog, if you need to or want to do a blog just for yourself I say go for it. I find writing is where my creative outlet and edge are without it I would be a completly different person. If you do go somewhere else, please, let me know where it is.

Py: Thank you for seeing and hearing my voice though my writing.
Life is a roller coaster not a merry-go-round and thank god for that. Merry-go-rounds make you sick and dizzy, same thing all the time day after day. I would much rather have the ups and downs of life any day.

Hugs, back to you.

El-Phil: Hey, thanks for stopping and sharing. Blogs are a good dumping ground to get it all out. I hope you find yours cathartic.

Karl: Ah, honey, I'm crushing on you too!
It's been a long road of denial. Denial is being washed away. With denial being washed away comes clarity and realizations. It's strangely wonderful.

I don't know if I made it clear in the post or not, but the PTSD was after the second rape, although I am sure there was plenty with the first one as well, it stopped when I was in my late twenties.
I honestly, truly felt at the time, that I was going insane. I knew...I knew..I wasn't, I did, but christ, I wish I could articulate what it was like at the time to be scared inside my own home. No, not scared, terrified, and not know what the hell was going on and not feeling comfortable enough to tell anyone, because what the hell, I didn't even know.

Obviously I got through it, however, having a word to go with it and finally having something click and realize, 'oh, I wasn't crazy. It was real?' Well, yeah. I mean, talk about a revelation.

JustTerry said...


I hope you find yourself, and the self you find is the happy perky PG. I want you to be happy, I want you to feel comfortable and safe. we all hide behind our sort of semi kinda secret identities and I know how important they can be. Call me selfish but hell I look forward to reading your blog and have even been known to steal peeks at it while i should of been working just to see if you worte anything new.

AeroAangel said...

....and you now become one of the bravest women i've never met. Breaking down our own internal walls, i think, is the most difficult thing to do...but once they're gone, don't you feel so much better? just sayin'

THE DUKE said...

Peeking over the wall isn't the hard part - it's the commitment to jump over it. I'm struggling with jumping over too. Thought about posting about it...just can't find the right words.

Party Girl said...

Justterry: Wasting time at work all due to little 'ol me? Ah, shucks.

No, really, I appreciate the words and I do plan to be around awhile. I mean who else is going to dispell useless trivia???? That's right, me.

Aero: Bravest woman you've never met? I'll take it. I think there are probably many, many braver than me that you have met. Yourself included.

Duke: Jumping over? Jesus, I don't need my heart to skip beats like that. I think my blood pressure just went up 152 points.
To me, the steps I've taken, just in the last year or so, do feel like I've jumped. Jumped about the length of the Great Wall of China.
Jumping over the moon is next.

When you do find the words I look forward to reading them.