Mixed Up

I don't even know how to start this blog. I've been through the wringer the past three months and it's just so tiring and exhaustive. I mean, when does it stop?

In May, when I was at my lowest possible point (which one would have to be, to attempt suicide), I was abandoned by the one person who swore they would always be there. I was having flashbacks and panic attacks daily. I was having black-outs and I was in therapy, working so hard to figure out how my past was affecting my present.

As anyone with any knowledge of or experience in PTSD knows, a perceived threat, elicits a strong response that is rooted in the pain or fear of the past. It's lightning quick. It's processed through the amygdala in the brain as a threat and the PTSD sufferer responds accordingly. For me, the responses varied usually either rage or pain but always rooted in fear.

After I was gossiped about and people were told my private business I was so humiliated and I became terrified to go anywhere. Even to the store. Even to the mailbox. And I needed a friend so bad. Ironically, I kept turning to him and he kept triggering, knowing he was doing it...knowing it was killing me.

In a PTSD crisis, every emotion is amplified and I begged and begged for compassion, but got none. I have PTSD mostly as a result of abuse from men - many men - and he quickly became an enormous trigger for me because he would say or do something nice, but then he would say or do something cruel - the same mixed messages my father gave me when he would vacillate between beatings and punishments, and molestation. I tried explaining this to him in an effort to - again - beg him to stop, but to no avail.

I got to the point where I was gagging every time I heard his footsteps, because I was so triggered. Eventually it escalated to vomiting, just from the overwhelm. At that time, I had nobody. Nobody I trusted. The only person who said she was my friend, was going out with him so I had no reason to trust her. And none of "our friends" ever once called or messaged me to see if  I was okay. Yesterday, I deleted most of them from my friend's list, trying to feel safe, trying to eliminate any connection to this person who hurt me so badly.

People come and go in your life - I know many have in mine - and this is my story and when people come and go in my life, they become a part of my story. When they inject themselves - in either good or bad ways - they are a part of my story.

For the past month, I have been blessed to have my best friend in the world - Bill - come help me. Although I have others - Cindy, Hannah, Howie, Ron (in the background) - who help as much as they can, Bill came and nursed me through some pretty horrific breakdowns. This is what I needed from the beginning - from "him" - someone who would help me and genuinely care about what I was going through. Someone willing to hold my hair when I vomited from sheer nerves. Someone who would wipe my tears or give me kleenex; someone who would take me places - anywhere - just randomly, to get me out of the house; someone who truly cared.

Bill has been a God send and has proven to be my absolute best friend, my right arm, my shoulder to cry on. He's been awakened in the middle of the night by crying and gagging and never once complained. Just asked if I was okay, turned on the light, lit me a cigarette and rubbed my back while I went through my painful attacks. Not a single time when I trembled went by, that he didn't hold me until the trembling subsided.

All of these symptoms have been exacerbated by the cruelty of others. And I am not claiming to be an angel, but I will say I tried my best - tried to make people understand, only to be misunderstood and judged. I'm not surprised by this.

Anyway, Bill left today........

He left for Illinois. This on top of a very difficult evening wherein I was forced to contact the police over all the BS going on.

Last night was supposed to be a sort of farewell party for Bill - although it certainly was no picnic. I cried a lot, shook a lot, plus had an anxiety attack in the middle of it all over other things going on. Couldn't eat the food we made. Just couldn't stomach it.

The thought of losing my best friend, the thought of not having someone here to help me through my attacks, frightens the shit out of me and I can't see what the future looks like.

One thing I have learned, though, is that Bill was always my best friend. Even through my relationship with "him" Bill was there - always. And when he got here, it was as if no time had passed at all. Same old Bill. Genuine, authentic, loving, giving, caring. He gave more to me in this past month, than I've gotten in the past five years from everyone I met and knew for the past five years, combined. In one month, he showed me more attention, affection, compassion and concern than anyone, ever.

I believe some people are simply incapable of that kind of depth. I've met them. I've lived among them. In a way, I suppose it's good that I had my own ...call it judgment, ratified. I learned that all the things I feared about the "thems" in the world, are true. And then some.

And I also learned who and what a true friend is. Anyone who knows him, is fortunate. He is the epitome of a good man, good friend, and good human being.

We both sobbed as he left today, even though eventually he'll be back. But one thing I know is this: Bill will always be my best friend. I miss him terribly.

I Being I

My Name is Cristina D. Johnson.

When have I been "I"?

When I posted "Coming Out," I was being I...I was being "real" and goddamn it was scary, especially posting it on my facebook, going public to so many people I hadn't shared with and had, in fact, deliberately hidden from.

Today I was talking to Bill (a long-time, trusted friend) about the past five years of my life because I've given it a lot of thought. I suppose it even started before then - when I moved to Connecticut.

I had the intention of making a better life for myself and my son (and also my daughter at the time, but it ended up not working out that way). I was afraid of this...place. These people. Upper Crust Society - the "them" that I'd always feared and been ashamed to be around, and also held some contempt for. But somewhere inside, I wanted to be that. I wanted to be more than I always had been.

I didn't want to live in the ghetto anymore. I didn't want to be poor and broken anymore and throughout my life, I ran and ran - always running (I can't tell you how many places I've lived in or how many places I've gone to) but I was always running. I didn't know it at the time, of course, but I know it now.

Then I came here and I was still running...still running from all the darkness inside, the truth....the shadows that followed me with the promise of torment.

Then I met "him" and I thought, okay...this is my change. This is where I really take a step up and move further up and beyond. And BOY was I really running then, but in my mind, there was no way my demons could catch me if I were with him. No way because life would be different. He was more cultured (I believed) and he was more educated and intelligent and would help me escape my ugly. I could hide in his world.

And I did - for a long time.

So I was talking to Bill about this - about how I used to be, before I met "him" and how different I became. How I got sucked into this world - his world - and slowly became someone I didn't want to be and have never been: someone who judged others. I became exactly what I'd always abhorred in humanity...exactly what makes it feel like an "us versus them" world. I would sit around the picnic or dinner table and, at first, just listen - listen to others talk about people (poor, gay, drug addicts, etc) with little or no conscience or compassion.

But slowly, trying to be this "better" that I'd been seeking (whatever "better" is), I became one of those among them who, albeit not quite as much, fell prey to the gossip.

I didn't like it and I don't like it now. I am not that kind of person and never have been (although my blogs of recent could be argued otherwise, however I do not view them that way - I view them as opening up and sharing my pain and my heartache and they're certainly not "gossip" but, rather, my experiences).

"Yeah you used to get mad at people when they talked about others," Bill said to me. "It used to irritate you."

"Yeah it did," I recalled.

That's because I was one of those people that "upper crusters" talk about. So...

When have I been "I"? I certainly wasn't free to be "me" when I was among "the enemy" - those whom I'd heard bashing the poor, gay, different, etc. I was not free to be "me" because I was afraid to show myself.

I was, though, myself at one point: When I became vulnerable and weak; when I opened up; when I shared; when I was afraid; when I was open and honest about my past to everyone I know and have known for these past five years. When I gave him my trust and was vulnerable...terrifyingly so. It was the first time ever in my life. That was when I was "I".

It is so terrifying to put it out there, oh God you can't imagine.

I have a tendency to tell people something - some detail or part of my abuse or something about the effects of it - and then immediately push them away because I am afraid I've said too much.

Well it's the same way with this blog - with Coming Out. I was scared for three days of what people were going to say to and/or about me and for three days, I was severely affected. I was truly shocked when people - even family members that I hadn't talked to in decades - came out and encouraged me. Friends contacted me and shared with me. My therapist was proud of me, as were Bill and Cindy and my beloved Aunt Neen. It even inspired others (from a different site, as well as my online protege' to do the same - to come out and share their names).

So for a few days, I got to experience "I" - the real "I" that I've neglected all these years and the one that I've run away from my whole life. With every blog I write, I dig deeper into the "me" that I've never had the luxury of knowing and for every message, text, phone call, or letter, I feel more and more empowered, encouraged, supported and accepted.

I know there are people out there gossiping - I lived it and it's rife here.

But I won't live it anymore. That's not me. That's just the tiny pieces of a little girl who has spent her entire life trying to be "better" or "right" enough to be loved who just keeps trying to do everything she can to fit in.

It's much more satisfying to be accepted for the real "I" that I am - as terrifying as it is to be so exposed to people whose character I've come to know...to communities that are burdened by judgment, and don't even know it.

Thank you to those who have reached out to me, despite the ugliness I feel inside. I struggle a lot and know it's a long road, but your support and encouragement truly gives me hope and strength.