The Best Christmas Yet

As you get older, the excitement over the Holiday Season tends to wither away as the need to materialize our affection for others grows greater and greater. We buy into the hype of stressing over purchasing the right gift and budgeting until we cry ourselves to sleep, but why? Why do we do this?

I grew up surrounded by very selfless people. My Abuelo Cepero (he passed in 2010...the most amazing man on the face of this earth) was always putting others first, and I never forgot that. At times, it was hard to watch, because I believe there were those who unfortunately took advantage of his giving nature. My mother inherited the selfless gene from him. She goes above and beyond almost to the point of exhaustion. I love you Mom, but you do sometimes take on more than you should! However, I respect and love you so much for this...and this is why:

I'm no different.

I have had numerous people say I'm insane, including Greg and my therapist (jokingly), because I take on so many things voluntarily just in order to help people. I technically have four jobs...only one that I get legitimately paid for...and that one does not give me the satisfaction the others do. I would rather work 55 hours a week doing advocacy work pro-bono than anything else that may pay a decent amount without the ability to help people.

When it comes to materialistic things, as much as I inherited my father's love for new gadgets, gizmos, and instruments....I much more prefer to bless others with gifts above myself. My grandfather would always be trying to help me monetarily during my teen years by offering up a 20-dollar-bill for gas or as he said " 'ahm-BURgers"and every time I would push the money away. Of course he would shove it back at me and get angry if I didn't accept it.

When I first started therapy, I was actually scolded because I refused help in any way. When our insurance switched over to a very high-deductible plan, the only way I could afford therapy without draining our savings, was to accept assistance. I felt horrible that I even had to do that, because yet again, my pride got in the way. I figured "I'm strong enough! I don't need therapy...other people need that money more!"

My therapist just kept reminding me how important it was to continue therapy. Hurting my pride is not as bad as not healing and maybe losing myself in the process.

My marriage is often tricky because with a lot of things my husband and I are both selfless, so we never really speak up when it comes to what we really want. Especially around this time of the year. Greg is usually so busy working that he doesn't have time to go shopping for me, which I don't really care, but then he compensates by letting me just get whatever I want for like half the year. It's silly really. I usually have a lot of time to shop...so I just keep getting him surprises...and then that makes him feel even worse.

This year...is different.

For the first time, I have decided not to let my pride get in the way. This doesn't mean I'm being the opposite and being greedy. I'm just not going to feel bad when people overload me with gifts and love, because I realized, it probably hurts them when I am overwhelmed with gratitude and find it hard to accept their gift. I know with how I love to give, if someone says "this is too much, I can't accept it," it does sting a little.

Once again I have realized you can live in the gray area and not be judged.  You can give and love giving, while enjoying the benefits of receiving as well.  So I vow to be as excited when my son opens up his new ukulele as I will be when I open up mine (even though I already know I'm getting it. THANKS MOM AND DAD!)

This is going to be the best Christmas yet.

On a more serious note, there are gifts I have received that are more rewarding than anything anyone could buy for me:

• One of them is the chance at fighting for my life that my therapist bestowed on me by pushing me, yet validating my every emotion and thought. She has truly been a blessing, regardless of the fact that it takes the work on my part, there are few people who can drill through my shell of stubbornness and she is one of them.
• Another is the amount of new friends that God has blessed me with that have helped me through a transition I am going through at the moment, and have stuck by me and not judged me in the least bit.
• The last, but not least, is for Greg. Ever since a year ago, when I started falling apart, he has become the most supportive person in my life. Even though I can't give him everything he might need, simply because of how I'm wired, he continues to give everything he can to me. I promise you this, had I married ANY other person, they would have left by now. He has never judged. Only loved. Thank you Greg. 

A Letter to My Rapist: One Year Later (Some Sensitive Material)

If you have read any of my posts from April, then you might be familiar with my post titled A Letter to My Rapist: The Reality of a Victim's Rage. The original letter was composed the day I came across my abuser on Facebook, which I never thought I'd have to see his face again, so even though it may not seem as a shock to most, it was a brick thrown at my very soul.

Tomorrow (December 13) is the one-year anniversary of when I saw him, so I decided to write him another letter, just to show how much more empowered I have become. I don't say that to boast, because it isn't something that comes easily, yet it is something that every survivor can and hopefully will achieve in their healing process.

Below is what I had to say:

It has been a year since I saw your face and the earth beneath me shattered. 18 years of bottling up what you did to me became pointless as details pushed into the forefront of my mind. 

I tried so hard to drown your voice...the words constantly reminding me of my worthlessness and endless desire to prove love through sex. You won...but only for a moment. 

Unfortunately for you, I happen to be blessed with people in my life who stepped in before it was too late. I decided almost a year ago it was time to stop letting you dictate my worth and ability to feel love. 

After months of working my ass off in therapy, I finally stopped validating your control. Now, some of those darkest memories are loosening their grip on my persona. 

I am finally me...the person God intended me to be from the day I entered this world: The empowered woman he knew I'd become from the first time you laid on top of me. 

Now, I know what it's like to love without needing to prove it. Can you believe, up until recently, I had no idea how love was SUPPOSED to feel? 

To think, it was you who did that to me...you had that much of a hold on me! 

I never knew the rush of warmth through your chest, legs, toes, cheeks, and eyes when you feel loved. The overwhelming tears of happiness when someone cares for you as much as you care for them. I had no idea what that was because I always jumped straight to sex. 

I am finally experiencing emotions in the way they were meant to be experienced...and with that...I think i can say I am free from you. 

I will never forget, and never stop fighting for those who have been violated like I was, but I'm done giving you any bit of power. 

I hope one day you will look back and realize that you created an empowering survivor, not a victim. 

Tomorrow is the actual one-year date from when I started falling apart from seeing you. I thought I would be a wreck this weekend, and wallow in my past misery. Instead, I choose to spent it with people who make me feel loved. I get to hangout with someone who makes me smile, and has proven to me that all emotions are beautiful...that I can love and be loved...that I am beautiful despite your invalidation. These are the type of people I have in my life now. These are the people that matter. 

I hope those of you who have been with me from the beginning see how important self-care really is through my healing process. If you know anyone who is struggling, be sure to push them in the right direction, because they need you. If you have any questions feel free to inbox me on my Facebook page here.

Oh, Hey! I'm a Normal Person...

I have experienced so many emotions in the past week, I don't even know where to begin. Well...I guess from the beginning?

So Thanksgiving was amazing, and for the first time ever, I actually sat and enjoyed the food. I didn't think about calories, or stress, or anything that could hinder me from soaking in the glorious feast in front of me. BUT SEE...I have two Thanksgivings. One at my mom's...and the next day at my dad's. 

I ate so much.

No, you don't even understand....

In any case, I didn't think too much of it until I decided to weigh myself late last week. 

BAD IDEA! BAD BAD BAD IDEA....

I cried.

Granted, it wasn't like I had reverted back to my pre-running self. I hadn't even put on inches per say...and yes! I know the number means absolutely nothing....trust me. It doesn't matter though, because all it takes is just that hint of doubt...oh not to mention being a hormonal maniac once a month, to throw me over the edge.

That lasted about two days. Then I got over myself because I happen to have a mother who says cool things like "It's easier to maintain than obtain." So I just cracked the whip and started being strict with myself again.

I know, who cares about all this right? Well I do! Because, when I am running and balancing my diet, I'm pretty darn happy.

Okay, that was explaining my first cry of the week. That cry was a self-pity cry. The second cry was more, "Holy cow...all the feels in the world crashing down and my heart is exploding" kind of cry.

I don't really know how to break down why I even started to bawl like a baby on the couch while texting a friend, eating Fruit Loops...and watching Greg play his XBOX other than the fact that a close friend of mine was overly sweet in her text....and I lost it? I think that whole once a month hormonal thing may have gotten in the way again. 

Why am I telling these silly stories when I typically am talking about serious stuff? Because I'm here to remind you that I have a lot of normalcy in my life too. We are all human. We laugh, we cry (even over post-Thanksgiving flub and mushy texts from friends). Emotions are one the most beautiful things that God gave us. 

I normally hated experiencing any type of difficult emotion, and frankly JOY was not an emotion at the top of my list. However, for the first time in my life....I think I have reached a point of elation. I love who God has made me, no matter what the circumstances are. I love the people he has thrown into my life. My heart has never been so full of love...it's pretty awesome.

This time of the year is so majestic isn't it?

Accepting the Gray

I have gone through quite a few exposure sessions, and up until last week I was appreciating the process. I was letting my emotions shine through, which is typically something I find difficult to do when discussing my own experience considering I have learned to compartmentalize so well.  I thought letting that happen was okay.

Apparently, I was wrong.

Supposedly, because my emotions were heightened, due to me trying to get in touch with my younger self, it was actually deterring from the goal of exposure: To be able to gain control over your emotions when revisiting thoughts of trauma. This means that when I have a rather intense flashback or nightmare I can stay grounded and be able to pass through it without an issue.

You see, even if through my exposure sessions, I was still letting my "little girl" out, it has improved my overall status tremendously. Regardless of being a bit raw the day of exposure sessions, I have not had as many intrusive thoughts or nightmares since beginning PET. I'd say that is progress.

Yet, according to my therapist, I really wasn't making progress because my emotional state was still the same while going through those iconic scenes in detail, no matter how many times I went through them. Well, I'm sorry, but I would prefer not to be a robot when discussing my experience, especially when it took me so long to let those emotions come out!

I was asked to go through my story like I was reading the newspaper...I wasn't too happy about that. I'm not entirely sure why, because I do understand the whole theory behind it...but it just seemed detached to me. Almost as if, going through it that way, invalidated it somehow. I know that my thoughts don't make any sense because it isn't as if being hysterical is necessarily appropriate when discussing a trauma, but neither is sounding like a reporter. UNLESS you are discussing something in third person.

I compartmentalize all the time through my work at the YWCA and just in general when it comes to Sexual Assault. If I wasn't able to do that, I'd be a mess. However, part of the reason I became the way that I am (having Borderline) is because I shut off my emotions for so long.

Don't get me wrong, my therapist isn't telling me on a scale of 1-10 (with 10 being absolutely hysterical or dissociative) to be like at a 0 or 1...She isn't telling me to have no emotion during these sessions. Yet, when she told me to read it like a reporter, that is what it sounded like to me. I have trouble finding a healthy balance.

Let me explain.

To me, you either have an emotional reaction to something or you don't. To have a semi-emotional reaction is new to me. Like to be able to cry, while also being strong, is not entirely something I learned how to do. Being at a 5 or 6 on the emotional scale seems weird to me. I'm either on or off...black or white.

I suppose me being upset over this whole thing is just realizing that I have to learn to be more human and accept that it is okay to be strong while showing emotion, even negative emotions. I am determined to start accepting the gray in my life. I believe I already have, I just haven't realized it till this past week.