I owe myself the biggest apology for putting up with what I didn’t deserve.

I blame myself and no one else. I allowed it to happen therefore it is my fault. You see…

… you don’t have to wait for someone to treat you bad repeatedly. All it takes is once, and if they get away with it that once if they know they can treat you like that, then it sets the pattern for the future.

Are you familiar with the story of the frog in a pot of boiling water? That and those occasional good times that make you doubt if you are overreacting giving you the feeling that things are not so bad after all and a glimpse of hope that maybe someday it would actually get better.

But of course, it won’t!

And whose fault is that?

Mine!

One’s dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered.

Thank God for that.

I might have been abused, used, humiliated and insulted but my core is whole, undamaged and untouched. My integrity and dignity are intact. I’m still the same person I was. Only wiser, stronger, sober.

And the nightmares…

They come less and less frequent these days.

Perhaps someday it will stop altogether.

But I am not looking forward to that.

It’s okay as it is.

I know now that no one can hurt me unless I allowed it.

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just another day in paradise

Every day it is always the same sad story.

  • No, there is no boogey guy hanging outside your bedroom door waiting for you to fall asleep so he can attack you when you are unaware and most vulnerable.
  • No, there is no Ju-On under your bed, in the closet or behind doors either.
  • No, it’s impossible for a dead body to end up in your tub and miraculously comes to life the moment you sit on the loo to pee.
  • No, ghost of dead mother cannot travel from one continent to the next to visit you and her corpse will not materialize in bed in one of the guest rooms.
  • No, Danny Glick is not hanging outside your bedroom window suspended in the air; he’s safely back in Salem’s Lot.
  • And oh, all those funny noises you are hearing… they are not arach-bots slowly climbing up inside the pipes on their way to your bedroom to smother you while you are sleeping. It’s just the radiators, the boiler, the stairs that are settling in because of the difference in temperature. Houses make noises, it’s perfectly normal.
  • The scratching sounds are birds’ feet in the rain gutter. And the knocking on the roof is another bird trying to crack a nut against the outside wall of the chimney.

It’s true. You have seen it yourself, didn’t you?

  • No, bad guys will not single out your house upon given times to do their unspeakable deeds simply because you live there all alone. They will not break in and override the alarm installation to torture you for fun simply because they can.
  • No, they will not jump over two sets of fences to catch you by surprise while you are gardening and hurt you for no reason at all.
  • There is nobody in the garage either, or in the utility room, or in your dressing. And if the curtains are not drawn and you accidentally put on the lights inside… there is no psycho stalker watching your house monitoring your every move. Your house is supposed to be your haven.
  • You supposed to feel safe in there not outside in the streets or public places like you always wanted to believe. Stop it! Just stop it! For your own good please do. What will happen will happen anyway. No use worrying about it. You believe in destiny, don’t you? You know that life is pre-destined and there is nothing you can do about it. You will arrive at your destiny no matter what. You can detour, you can choose to do it the hard way or the easy way, but arrive there you will. So, why not just put your faith in God and enjoy the ride.

These things I keep telling myself every day. Sometimes it works, oftentimes not…

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Reply To Writing 101: Your Personality On The Page

unlock the mind

I don’t want to be repetitive but as I mentioned before, I have this unnamed phobia of being left alone in the house; any house. And because I mostly work from home, I often find myself in this dreaded situation. The moment the door closes, I instantly panic! The scenarios of all horror/thriller books and movies I have ever read and seen come marching in my consciousness in rapid succession. If I run out of written and filmed ideas, I conjure up some myself and believe you me; I’m pretty good in that. Being a first row spectator all my life, my characters are so vivid and real I believe them with all my heart. My mother said I always have an over active imagination. I wonder if that is a compliment or an insult.

Because of my condition, I rarely sleep. Pills don’t work their magic on me. I tried herbal teas as well, warm baths sauna swimming hiking massage sex, all to no avail. One time out of desperation, I tried to combine all of them at once. Never again! Too much stimulation. (btw I was writing this in bed after I swallowed two sleeping pills and with no decent sleep for the last 3 consecutive days) I never talk about my condition to anyone. The reason for this is I don’t know how to tell my story without sounding hysterically funny. Seems I have this gift of downplaying my emotion and laughing at myself. So, I shut up and suffer in silence.

I’ve been to a psychiatrist. Once. The first and last time I reach out to seek help. He accused me of having third world mentality and luxury problems, whatever that means. Needless to say I never repeat the visit. I don’t want to end up with more trauma than what I already have. Besides, I can rationalize or guess diagnose more or less what I am suffering from. I think the right term is PTSD. Only mine is never been “post” to be a syndrome. But how the hell I know, I’m not an expert.

Sometimes, I’m willingly calling myself paranoid, when having just another day in paradise episode. It meant to be a joke but it hurts! Only I refused to admit it. But the truth is it governs my life, and my self-imposed solitude doesn’t help much either. Another thing is I just acquired a physical condition that keeps me in bed at times on ends. Great exercise for my over-active imagination, lying immovable in bed, all alone.  Probably that’s why I’m blogging (is it the right term?) to lessen the mental (or is it emotional?) pain.

Well, I’m  going to stop right here because I have an inkling that I’m spitting gibberish. I just hope that I’m coherent enough to be understood…

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Reply To Writing 101: Unlock the Mind

Reply To Daily Prompt: Howl At The moon