I was never a boy-crazy girl. I didn't plan my wedding, name my children or doodle Mrs. Tori ____ on my notebooks. I didn't really notice boys like the other girls did... and maybe part of it was that I wasn't really noticed by boys. Even when I started to turn their heads, I still just didn't really notice. I "dated" a little, in the sense that I talked on the phone and passed notes but it never crossed my mind that any boy I'd met would end up part of my forever.
But eventually I started getting the hang of the dating thing. I held hands with a couple of boys and I got my first kiss quite by surprise when I was 15. I began to see their intrigue and I promptly removed myself from every situation which I felt could turn into more than I was willing to give. And I wasn't willing to give anything.
The first boy I ever fell for took me by surprise. I didn't think I really caught his eye at the party, but when a mutual friend called to tell me he was adamant that he see me again, well... I let it get me. This cool, cute, fun, older and very sought after guy wanted ME?! Wow. Just. Wow.
So we went on a date and this began my first actual relationship. And we had fun. We would hang out together watching tv or blowing bubbles or listening to music. He took me to movies and to the prom... and it never crossed my mind that he would ever hurt me.
So when he coaxed me to find a way to come to this college party his friends were having, I lied to my dad and went. Two hours away and every mile filling me with dread, I realized I had made a huge mistake. I didn't drink, I definitely didn't do drugs and I wanted to go home more than I had ever wanted before. But when you're the 16 year old girl accompanying the 20 year old guy to his friends' soiree? You grin and bear it. So I did for a while. But the illicit behavior got to me and I exiled myself to the truck. And that's where he found me, him completely wasted on everything he had taken and me unable to stop him.
Nineteen years and a grown daughter later, I can finally come to terms with the reality that this event scarred me on a level I never saw coming. It made me cold to romantic love. Because, you see, the only person I had fallen for let me shatter on the ground. Then he left the pieces laying there, never understanding how they broke in the first place. It's been nineteen years and I will die before he acknowledges his offense.
I have known for a while that I allowed terrible men to treat me horribly because I felt like I deserved to be punished for just being who I am. I have known that I settled for men I had no intention of loving because I felt they couldn't hurt me - I was wrong, by the way. But it hasn't been until recently that I have really accepted that I actually shut down a long time ago. It wasn't the act itself. That left me feeling dirty, ashamed and like I deserved every bad thing that could possibly happen to me. No, it was the betrayal. The fact that someone who I loved and who was supposed to love me could inflict such unspeakable pain, horror and shame on me. That they could take something so precious without a second thought. And that they must have never really loved me at all.
And how could I have been so blind? So stupid? So foolish? How could I be as smart as I think I am and still be taken for a fool?
I don't know that it's a fear of loving someone or being loved that keeps my heart hardened to the possibility of a real loving relationship... I think it's the fear of being played for a fool. Sometimes betrayal hurts more than loneliness. There's never a guarantee that anything will work out. And there are still a lot of people out there just itching for the chance to see me in a jester cap.
I was broken a long time ago and it's taken me more than most people could even comprehend to even like myself at all, let alone feel as though I deserve good things in life. But I am a beautiful mosaic of life lessons and failures, laced with love and hope and bound together by optimism and determination. I may still be working on breaking through my own barriers, but I'm getting there.
I know my heart works because it hurts sometimes. Maybe I'll figure out how to bypass the shutdown, maybe I won't. But I needed to be honest with myself about the origin so that maybe it will no longer hold any power over my heart. Not every man hurts the woman who loves him. And I'm finally starting to believe that men are capable of love, too... also something that I'm almost ashamed to admit I never realized. I was always under the impression that love is weakness and only women are weak emotionally. The reality is, those who love are the strong ones.
It's time that I give myself the strength to rise above the hurt, the fear, the betrayal and the misconception that I'm not worthy of a happily ever after.
I don't usually make new year's resolutions... but perhaps I should saunter into 2018 without the baggage from 1998. I'm at least going to try.
