Is This What You Wanted?

I am angry.

I cried today.

I am very angry.

I am disappointed in some.

I am grateful to others.

I am FURIOUS.

But I will get over this.

I sat on a bathroom floor and cried today.

The Upside of Having Trolls ***UPDATED***

Things have gotten so laughable for me in the last 12 hours.  What once might have lead me to days of tears, self-doubt, and loads of self-hatred, I no longer find upsetting.  Instead, I have spent the better part of today reveling in the fact that I no longer care about the opinions of fake people.

I love and respect the opinions of my friends, whom I know by name.  I do not respect people who care to advise or castigate me from the shadows like Deep Throat.

It's funny that all this hullabaloo has come up.  And I actually have My Trolls to thank for this.

See, my rankings and ratings in search engines have skyrocketing in the last 12 hours.  The more times individuals visit my page, the higher my ranking in Google.  So each time someone has commented "anonymously" or not, Google congratulates me and rewards me with a higher standing. 

All the key words that have been used over and over and over again are now likely to be pulled up as results if someone were to search for "liar, slander, malicious, lies."  See, once I mentioned Dr. House, MD briefly in a post.  As a result, if someone types "dr. house" into Google, they land on my blog.

Weird?  Yes.  But that is the beauty of algorithms.


***UPDATED***
 I have decided, as it is my right as this is my own fucking blog, that I am removing all of the "Anonymous" comments and those many of those comments that my dear, good friends made on behalf of my defense.  

I changed some settings around for a bit, so anonymous commenter are not allowed and for a while, I will be moderating my comments section because really, this is not why I chose to write.  

So in short, fuck off trolls, get a life, and I'll write.  But seriously, what good are you doing by reporting back to my ex?  

Hypocrisy, Thy Name is Anonymous

Anyone who REALLY knows me is aware that I am always open to correction.  I may not like having my faults pointed out, but I usually have the humility to accept criticism where and when it is due.  A real friendship in my eyes, is one where you can lovingly approach another about a fault/character flaw/bad habit and in true justice and sincerity point out the error of one's ways.

It's like that crappy, whiny song The Fray did several years ago.  If you really care about someone who is doing things that are bad for them, you run the risk of losing that friendship.  But a deep, abiding friendship between two people can usually help each other walk on a better path of life.

 Oh, The Fray, how I hate your whiny Gray's Anatomy theme song.  My ears bleed.

I had a dear, long-time friend call me today and voice some concern about the hurt and anger that I still carry around from the loss of my almost marriage.  And I do admit it is a HUGE fault of mine that I should work on.  I can accept her just criticism of me because she has spoken these words to me out of love and concern for me.

What I CAN NOT STAND FOR THE LIFE OF ME are those who dare offer council to me when they have done absofuckinglutly nothing for my life.  These people are called trolls.

And I had a troll post a message to me on my previous post WHY.  I raged for a few minutes then realized the absurdity of it all.

So this is what I had to say.  After all, these writings are my own fucking diatribes.  I'm not forcing a gun to anyone's head to read my drivel.  I am not emailing it back to ANY of my exes.  And of the people who read this blog, many do not know my ex fiancee.  So I can only conclude that the person who sent me this note is someone who I haven't spoken to in 4 years, but makes it their disgusting duty to read up on my life and report back to my ex.

• Anonymous, all I have to say to you is that since you lack the courage to give me your name (though I have a feeling who this is) I do not owe you any explanation. In the past 4 years, that is one thousand four hundred sixty days, you have not called me, nor written, nor text, or even sent up smoke signals, save for this and two comments on a previous blog.
  
  Quiet simply, you are a coward and you like to stir the pot. Why do you feel it is your duty to read what I write and then report it back to my ex? If he has had an issue with me writing, than it is his duty to ask me to cease and desist. If I were asked by him to no longer talk about the demise of our relationship, then I would do so. So far, I haven't heard anything.
  
  Also, if you actually read my blog, there is no way that I have ever insinuated that my ex fiancee was the man who was responsible for raping me.
  
  Lastly, and I'll be done here, the words "COUPLES COUNSELING" were N....E....V....E....R brought up.
  
  Oh, and one more thing, since this is MY blog and the internet is a public forum, this conversation is now fodder for my next post. So in a way, thank you for giving me a reason to write tonight.
  
  And I was so afraid that I was going to have writers block. 

 And in case this wasn't already apparent, I'll make this clear:

• Yes, I still bear the hurt that comes with being left at the alter, four days prior to my wedding.
• Yes, I still bear the hurt that comes with losing about forty "friends" in one fell swoop.  It's sad that of all those who claimed to be my friend, only two people of that former pool of "friends" bothered to call me.  I wrote letters and made calls to all those friends within hours of the end of my engagement and NOT ONE SINGLE FUCKING PERSON had the decency to call or write back.
• Am I a lot farther on in my healing than I was four years ago?  Yes.  Of course I am.  It was four fucking years ago.  And when I occasionally mention what happened, it's typically in reference to me learning to over come my fears.  Things well up in my head, and like a tea pot, I have to let some steam out.  But once again, this is my own fucking blog.

So now that I have blown off my steam, lest my readers, friends, or trolls think that I am an unhappy person, here's an awesome, hysterical video.  This will help wipe away the blood dripping from your ears, if you happened to listen to the crappy Fray song. 

PS- Troll, fuck off.  I'm a writer.  I write. 

Right In The Feelers

Over the past 24 hours I have been bombarded with so many messages of love and support that I can't process everything.  I can't believe so many people have reached out to me with words of comfort.

A friend messaged me, cautioning that I might have some triggers or flashback pop up because of Lord Douche Bag's comment, which I initially brushed off.  But around lunch time I was getting upset because I realized the sheer enormity of awfulness of what he said.

I am so thankful to each and everyone of you who have offered to take care of LDB, however I won't take up your offers for vengeance.  The most fitting punishment is that he has to live with himself, a worm-eaten, rotten, hollow shell of his former self.

I can't write anything more, because I'll cry.  Mostly tears of gratitude.  So I'll leave you with this to laugh at.  I hope my little brother will forgive me for posting this.

You Can Go Home, But You'll Sometimes Find Assholes There

Went back to my Alma Mater for homecoming yesterday.  It's been 9 years since I graduated, leaving behind the tiny college I called home for four years. Four long years of debates in the class room, thousands of hours procrastinating writing papers, and scrubbing toilets to pay for my tuition.

Got all dolled up in my Red Dress of Courage.  It has been 8 years since I saw many of these people, almost 7 years since I gave birth to my son.  I needed something to make me feel wonderful, proud of myself, and all the achievements I have made in the last 9 years of my life.  

Was asked by a former classmate if I enjoyed being raped. 

Was too shocked to come up with a good reply, but wish I had retorted, "Of course, why do you think I'm dressed like this?"

I noticed many nasty glances and pointed fingers but didn't care.  Was ignored by people who were my friends when I was engaged but who didn't even bother to call when my fiancee left me at the alter.

I went for me.  I went to prove that I could go back there and not be ashamed of who I am, of the path my life has taken.  I'm not ashamed of my blue hair, of my views on the world, of the fact that I write openly about my rape, struggles with depression and anxiety, or the fears that run around my head.

I went because I am so my bigger than all the nonsense that use to keep me down.

And for all that I say with a smile on my face, I might not be the best Catholic out there, but at least I'm not a hypocrite.  And I can live and strive to do better than that.