The Blog I’ve been Putting off...

I haven’t written a blog in longer than I can count. It’s not because I don’t want to, but because the last time I did, it didn’t end well. Despite my best intentions, things didn’t go quite as expected (although my last post was fire) I was a bit traumatized so I’ve been hesitant for fear of retaliation from being seen and expressing my truth, (which is a common reoccurrence throughout my life). Right now I’m lying on a beach chair looking out at the Durres Bay in Albania. It’s been a really strange past two weeks. As I’m walking, I recognize landmarks and get déjà vu as I pass places I went previously one year ago, except this time, my life (and me) are drastically different. The last time I was here, I spent the entire month with someone who’d assaulted me during my 1st week. Albanian people really are so hospitable and the respect I have for them goes beyond words. So when I told my friend, she asked, why the hell would you go back to Albania? “I’m surprised you ever wanna step foot in that country again” I told her that my love for this country will never be swayed by what I’ve encountered here and although I have a lot of pain pertaining to Albania I returned because I have unfinished business. I came back to the source of the hurt so I can focus on the healing.

Something odd happened my first week here and even though I suspected Albania would test me, I didn’t know the challenges would roll in as quickly as they did. I decided to make a Tinder because my friend recommended it to meet new people. I put on my account that I was just looking for friends; even in my profile I wrote “platonic only, no romance, not looking for anything sexual please, I just wanna meet new people”. Not knowing anyone in a foreign country where they don’t speak your language is tough and I’m not gonna lie and say I didn’t feel isolated and out of place. The last time I was here it was much easier because I immediately met someone my first week and spent the whole month together with him and his friends. I’d rather hang out with girls than guys, but in America it’s normal for women and men to be friends. I put in my bio that I’m learning Spanish and would love someone to practice with. I received a message from a guy on Instagram in Spanish. He said nothing about me being pretty or sex or anything along those lines but I’m not gonna lie, when I checked out his profile i couldn’t help but notice he was EXACTLY my type; a little bit of swagger, a lot a bit of bad boy vibes. I agreed to get together and the night did not go as planned. I didn’t plan on sleeping with anyone. Really; I hadn’t showered since the night before, I didn’t even shave. I had no make up on. I sincerely was not looking to get laid, but things took a turn for the worse. I told him I was reluctant to be alone together because bad things could happen. He reassured me he’d never do anything malicious to a woman. “Do I look like a rapist to you?” he joked. There came a point in the night when his hands were in my pants, and I tried ripping them off of me, but I wasn’t strong enough. After I begged him to please stop (and he wouldn’t) I eventually gave in and let him finish his business on top of me. I told my friend what happens and she said I was violated. No, it’s not possible, I flatly answered. Not again. I told him yes. I was attracted to him, I was turned on. It felt good. I kissed him back. I cried to my therapist the next after explaining to her how I fawned, how I hated myself for not sticking to my boundaries. I promised myself I wouldn’t fuck someone again unless we’re in a committed relationship. I broke that promise to myself after not even two months.

Last week I went to Tirana, the capital city of Albania. I remember going last year and absolutely hating it. I couldn’t stand it. I never wanted to go back again. All the girls were Instagram models, and never in my life had I felt more insecure. Especially because the person I was in love with said he would only marry a girl if she was Albanian. I could never be enough for him. From their face, to their hair, to their bodies; they were superior and I was inferior. I came home and had about five different consultations lined up with plastic surgeons. I was pleasantly surprised that when I arrived, I was no longer bothered. I was no longer triggered by their perfection. I didn’t stare at them with resentment. I no longer glared with jealousy as they walked in front of me, but instead, I smiled. The wound was no longer activated. Sometimes we feel we’re not healing fast enough. I thought I hadn’t done enough but a year later, I see how much internal progress I’ve made. I see how far I’ve come. While the outside hasn’t changed much, I felt content to be me. Im not cookie cutter. I am unique. I wore my naked face proud and thought about how exhausting it must be to have to look perfect all the time. I really enjoy not wearing make up, without my hair done and sweats on. I did not envy them, but I felt sorry for them; to be pressured into believing sex appeal is the most important thing a woman can offer. How exhausting; what do you do in 20 years when your looks have withered and your beauty is no longer relevant? I may not be gorgeous, but I am extremely proud of the person I have become. I am a truly good person, one of a kind with my quirks, from my flaws, to my big heart and kind soul; none of which can be removed at the end of the day with a makeup wipe or bought with surgery. Also, no shade to them, they are bad bitches for sure; it's just not a lifestyle that suites me and my personal preferences, but you do you, queen.

Even still, societal programming is REAL. In Tirana, I made my way to a beauty clinic to ask if anything could be done to fix my face. The lady looked at me in amazement and refused to touch my face with filler which I took it as a compliment because there’s no shortage of it here. It made me see how real body dysmorphia is. Later that night, I was walking in the street to take myself out on a solo date. I was minding my own business when this guy came up to me. I’ve gotten used to it at this point. I don’t know if it’s because they think I’m a prostitute because of my tattoos but it’s perplexing because compared to the girls here, I look like a slug. Every 50 meters someone stops to pay me a compliment or ask me out. I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or scared, but more than anything, I was annoyed. I was irritated because people make the assumption that since I’m not from here, I’m easy. Frustrated because all these people come up to me saying how great I look but instead of being happy, I ask myself… if I’m so desirable, then why don’t the people I love, love me back? If I’m so pretty then why does the person I choose never choose me in return? If I’m so good then why am I so lonely? Constantly used, ghosted, discarded? If I'm so nice, then why am I still single at 30? I felt emotionally charged and dehumanized in the worst possible way.

Attention can be isolating because while everyone notices my outside, no one cares to know me on the inside, (unless it's my pussy). The more external validation I receive, the more invisible I become, the smaller that I feel. Three days ago I deleted my Instagram so I can limit the people who can access me. I recognize I need to be more selective with whom I give my energy to. Being selective was never something I figured I had the right to be. I just felt privileged enough that someone would want to talk to me, so even if I wasn’t interested, I felt lucky to be wanted. When we start to see our value, we are more selective with who we give our time to. I remind myself that just because a guy buys me dinner doesn’t mean that he deserves my body. Just because he picks me up in his car doesn’t make me obligated to have sex with him. Just because a guy does something nice for me doesn’t mean I owe him anything. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, this concept blows my mind and is something I need to continuously reinforce. It’s so etched in my mind that everyone has hidden motives, I don’t have the right to say no, I’m not allowed to have boundaries. I need to obey others and be a “good” girl. I can’t receive just because. I know it’s not true and is a continual practice I’ll need to keep working on.

The other night I was talking to someone in my family. They were telling me about someone in their life that continues to hurt them and how they want them to see the truth. They were talking about how they hope this person will come to their senses and see the damage they’ve done. This used to be me not long ago and still is to an extent because my people pleasing tendencies are strong. This idea that if only we are enough, someone will change. If we were lovable, worthy and important, then someone would fix themselves for us. I tried and tirelessly failed at working to get people to see my value until it dawned on me that life doesn’t work like that. I’ve morphed, molded and changed myself to be everything I thought someone would want but despite my effort the person I longed for still wouldn’t invest in or commit to me. I felt like a failure, but I’m here to tell you that no amount of love, no amount of being a good person or going out of you way for someone will rescue them from themselves. Someone else’s healing journey is not personal to us or in our control. We don’t have the power to give someone the capacity for self awareness. It took me countless heartbreaks to give up the idea that I am responsible for another person’s view of me. If we don’t take people at face value and accept them for who they are, we’re fighting a battle we’ll never win. We harm ourselves trying to get them to treat us properly when they don’t have the ability. We either remove them from our life or create space and boundaries to protect our energy. I’m not saying it still doesn’t hurt, but at least we know where we stand, instead of placing the responsibility on us. Instead of pleading to change them, change your view.

I don’t know what the next several weeks hold. I know that for right now, I’m not going out of my way to meet anyone. I’m concentrating on protecting my inner child. While speaking with my counselor last night, I told her that something is really wrong with me because even though that guy made me feel taken advantage of (a common pattern in my life), I still wanted to see him. “I’ve been horny as hell since it happened and im convinced I would feel better if I could properly fuck the shit out of him one more time.” “What is it about him you want more of?” She prompted. “I just want to be in his arms. It felt so reassuring to have his hand on my thigh, embracing me in public, like I was being shown off. I felt like he was proud to be seen with me, which is something that I haven’t experienced at all. With guys I was dating, I wasn’t allowed to meet their friends. Their families couldn’t know about me. They wouldn’t post me on social media. I felt like an embarrassment. I felt they were ashamed and I needed to be hidden. I’ve felt so degraded that when someone does the bare minimum, it seems they’re offering the world (when in reality it should be standard). “It's not about him or the ones who came before, she replied. You’re hungry for love because you’re starved of it. All you want is to receive affection, something you never received as a child.” Bingo! The truth can set us free but it can also smack us dead in the face.

As I was walking to grab a coffee with my friend on my last day in Barcelona, I caught this guy staring into my soul. No really, he was looking at me in a way no one ever had and I didn’t know if I should be concerned, so I shouted at him. What are you looking at!!!??? His friends took it as an opportunity to come up and talk to me. It didn’t take long to discover they were Italian and one of them asked for my Instagram (I should just wear my handle on my back at this point). Later on the metro, I received a friend request from the tall man with the intense stare, and we started talking. He asked me if I was Shqip because he saw my necklace of the Albanian flag. He was Shqiptare so, naturally, I was intruiged, PLUS he seemed modest and sweet. The more we talked, the more genuine and innocent he appeared. My radar isn't the best (if you can't tell at this point), but his intentions felt sincere, so I reluctantly gave him my number and we’ve been talking everyday since. I was telling my friend about this, and she mentioned I have an angel and a devil on my shoulder. She said on one hand, I have an emotionally unavailable Albanian offering me inconsistency, booty calls and crumbs while the other emotionally available Albanian is looking for a serious relationship and can give me the entire loaf. I'll admit, as someone who grew up in an unpredictable environment, chaos and mystery are sexy to me, while stability and security feel pretty boring. I'm aware now is a great time to practice breaking my destructive, self sabotaging patterns that prevent me from finding true intimacy with a loving partner. To end our old dynamics, we must act differently than we would have in the past. For me, I can keep pursuing the player and chasing the aloof fuck boy or I can find someone who shows up, is dependable and reciprocates. It all boils down to what we feel worthy of receiving and what we think we deserve. Although I feel ambivalent to get involved with anyone, my therapist encouraged me to only go on one hour coffee dates during the DAY and no longer go on romantic dates at night. When I feel ready to open that can of worms again, I'll try to take her advice. I’ve been spending a lot of time with myself; getting to know and dive into those shadow parts I often try to hide. To befriend the wounds I’m ashamed of which continue to attract abusive people, the side of me that makes the same mistakes over & over again. I still feel frustrated, but I’m trying to have more compassion to forgive and meet it with empathy.

I was meditating yesterday when I started bawling. I had a cathartic release because I remembered that while I was so busy overlooking peoples flaws, they were busy pointing out mine. I offered them unconditional love, and they offered me nothing in return. In the end, I ultimately got rejected, abandoned and scarred. I started crying because all I wanted was an apology from these people. All I asked was for them to acknowledge their wrongdoing and feel sorry for the way they treated me. Sometimes it's not what was said that stings the most, but the lack of what wasn't. I know the apologies will never come. While it burns, it’s also liberating to know that just because they won’t affirm my feelings, it doesn't make them any less valid. Just because someone won't admit they fucked up, doesn't mean what happened to you isn't real.

As much as I adore Europe, and love calling it home, I’ve been feeling pulled to return to the USA to be with family and reset. Next month, I’m planning to go to a place in Italy where I’ve never been (and know nobody) for one month. Purposefully placing myself in uncomfortable situations and stepping outside my comfort zone daily has allowed me to grow exponentially from an extremely shy person who couldn’t make eye contact without shaking to someone who can talk to every stranger in the street about anything. Navigating my way solo has equipped me with the confidence to care for myself and reminds me I am capable of meeting my own needs, which is especially empowering when my whole life I’ve been filled with nothing but self doubt. I still don’t have the answers. I am nowhere near perfect or healed. I have a lot more work that needs to be done. I still fall back into old patterns and traps from my ego. Many more weeds need to be pulled. An abundance of new beliefs still need to be planted. I will continue to show up for myself and do this work no matter where I’m at in the world. Next month I turn 30; I'm not gonna lie and say I don’t fear getting older, but one thing I find a lot of comfort in is the amount of peace I feel as the years pass. I am less consumed by with others think and more concerned with what I think of myself. I want to end this by encouraging you to celebrate your small wins. Often times in the moment, we can’t see how far we’ve come until enough time passes but I promise you no matter how small the action, if it comes from a place of self-love, your future self will thank you.