Fate or Coincidence

I found him first, and then he found me

Two worlds collided, the reason unseen

He’d call it coincidence, and I’d call fate

Whatever reason we met for our date

He led with his mind and I, with my heart

Yet there was chemistry right from the start

He’d meet every argument with research and fact

I relied on instinct, prone to overreact

He knew what he wanted, and I was unsure

He’s filled with confidence, where I’m insecure

His life, like his home, is uncluttered and clean

For me it’s been complicated, a sight best left unseen

For him, everything sits in its chosen place

Yet my cluttered life I still struggle to face

He gave me everything, and I threw it away

A few bad decisions I regret to this day

He’ll never forgive me, I’m not sure he should

I’d still beg on my knees if I thought that he would

It’s hard to imagine how things could be

If I’d never betrayed him, or if he’d never met me

There’s no going back, as much as I’ve tried

My life feels so empty, I’ve no tears left to cry

Still life goes on, at least so they say

One step, then another, I’ll soon find my way

Lies

2F21B6A0-B8E1-4838-847E-08EA2C29462F.jpegEvery time I sit down to write, I think about this blog. Its name, “My Little-Known Truth”, speaks to me in more ways than the journey you started following years ago. I think that’s why I stopped writing here. When my life took a turn, when the focus was no longer on that side of me, it felt like this was not the place to be putting down my thoughts.

The reality, my reality, is that no one really knows my truth, because I’ve rarely let anyone know the real me. I don’t think I really knew me until a few short months ago. It’s hard waking up one day to realize you’ve been lying to everyone. Literally everyone, including yourself.

I’ve led a segmented life for as long as I can remember. When I interact with my family it’s in groups, because no one can get along, no one wants to come together. My friends don’t know my family, only the stories I’ve told them. I have different groups of friends, none of whom know anyone outside their group.

Even with my relationships I’ve kept things with them separate from everything else. It takes a certain length of time before I’ll introduce them to friends, another length of time before I’ll subject them to the disaster that is my family. Generally speaking this is fine, but sometimes it’s an issue especially when they think it’s because I’m holding back.

The truth is I am holding back. Its been like that forever. If I look and try to find the why, now it’s clear. I’ve been living a series of lies, each segment of my life will see a part of me, but no one sees the whole. I tell people what they want to hear, I do the things they want to do, and I pretend to be the person they want me to be, because it’s easier and safer than being me.

So, who am I? I am a broken woman from an abusive home. Outside of that I’m not quite sure.

As a child I would spend hours, days, months, years, pretending that I was one of the characters in the stories I wrote. I convinced myself that I looked different, came from a different place, with different parents and a different life. So much so that I can remember looking in the mirror and being surprised to see the girl reflected there.

My mom switched my last name several times. Legally I had one name, but she would use her own last name when she talked about me or registered me in things like school or extra circular activities. At eight, a year after she married my step-father, they used his name for me at school and outside of it, but it was never legally mine. In twelfth grade, the school forced them to change it back to my legal name or I wouldn’t graduate. That was the start of my lies, one that continued into my early twenties when I took my god parents name (not legally), because it was a way to escape my unhappy story.

I’ve pretended for so long that the things that happened to me didn’t. For many situations I’ve got myself convinced that what I remember isn’t real, that it didn’t happen. It did. I’ve hid mistakes I’ve made and told half truths about them to a few people, but never the real story because the truth is fucked up…really fucked up.

I feel the need to tell the truth. I think it’s a part of fixing the things inside me that make it hard to be a good partner, a strong woman, and an effective employee. So, although the tone of this will change, I will still be writing things that are connected to what I’ve written in the past. I plan on posting some of my stories, and some other pieces of my life. This is no longer going to be about one piece of me, but all sides.

They say that people want to read about the journey. So, this is my journey, my story, my truth, unabridged and in all it’s fucked up glory. I hope you’ll stay, I hope you’ll walk the journey with me. Most of all, I hope that something in here resonates with you; because that’s the piece that connects us. Everyone has different struggles, but we all struggle, and sometimes all we need to know is that someone else out there is struggling too.

Until we meet in real life, you can call me Cordelia.

 

Tuesday’s Food For Thought….Self Sabotage

Today’s post did not come easily to me, last night my grandmother passed away and since then, I’ve been a little consumed by my grief and a little self pity. A few unsettling things have been rolling around in my head, I’ve been dealing with a lot of guilt from my past, a lot of hard memories and a lot of old ideas about myself and my family.

I spent tonight wallowing in my misery, eating cookies and watching sappy movies, thinking about love and life and family.  Then my topic hit me, how many of us let old ideas, misconceptions about ourselves, or fears of other people guide the way we live our lives? How many of us self sabotage, and let our pasts affect and sometimes ruin our futures?

I’m guilty of this, in every aspect of my life. I struggle to succeed at work because I remember a time that I felt like a failure. I struggle to maintain my relationships with my family because bad memories are so much easier to hold onto than good ones. I ruin relationships because deep down I don’t think I’m worth the kind of person I would like to have in my life.

I know this isn’t necessarily a post about submission, or really about domination, but I’ve read a few blogs by some people who really seem to feel like I did today. It felt like something I need to say, not just for them, but for me as well.

A few years ago I was talking to my sister about struggling with life. I told her that every day we wake up we choose to take one of two roads, the road that leads us to the life we want to live or the road that looks familiar, the one that takes us to comfortable places that we remember. On the first path we are faced with the constant fear of the unknown. We will fumble along the way, we may get lost and have to find a way back, its hard but eventually we will end up where we wanted to be. The second path is definitely easier, it looks safer because it’s lined with familiar faces, feelings and ideas about life, the universe, and everything, but often times it leads us to a place where we repeat the same mistakes we’ve already made or those made by our parents.

Every day we have that choice, and every day it’s up to us to ensure that we are making the right choice for who we are and who we want to be. I know all too well how easy it is to live in this self pitying state, how easy it is to turn to someone for validation of who I am and who I would like to be, but that’s not who I choose to be.

Yes I am a submissive, and that is a huge part of who I am, but I am not defined only by the man I choose to give myself to. I am not a weak woman floating from one wrong man to another. I am not incompetent at my job. I am not the failure I seem to think that others see me as. I am capable, I am compassionate, I am loving, I am worthy, and I have chosen this life.

I will wake up tomorrow knowing that my life choices up to this point have not been made in vain. Every bad relationship, every clumsy career move has brought me to this place in my life, and although it is not without it’s struggles it’s a pretty good place. I will wake up tomorrow grateful for the small blessings in my life, a roof over my head, food in my refrigerator, the health and well being of the people I love.

I will greet the world unafraid of what it might bring my way because the truth is, whatever greets me, good or bad, I can handle.

My goal in life is not to merely survive. I will thrive.