Everything Is Going To Be Okay
By: Ashlee
Disclaimer: Okay, I know that this is only number three, but do I really have to say this *every* time I write something? So you made these people up, but didn't your mommy ever teach you to share? Donald glares at her and whispers something in her ear. She sits up, her eyes wide Oookay. As I was saying Donald here owns 'em.
Author's Note: Diddy number three, but this ones a little darker. Just so you know, if the idea of child abuse doesn't sit well with you, don't read this! I really don't know much about Mac's childhood and what went on, so if there are some things wrong, please forgive me. There was a lot more to say, but it was hard getting everything in and still having it sound somewhat coherent, so keep in mind this is only a portion of the emotion and hurt that I was attempting to portray. Other than that, dig in!
==
I lay on my couch, Jingo lying next to me, and I stare at the blank television screen while I listen to some music in the background. Matchbox20 I believe. I smile at the song "Push". It might seem weird, but it reminds me a lot of my relationships with men. My father, my first husband…the especially abusive ones. And then there are parts that make me think of Harm, or what I think he might think of me.
It's weird, how some things can affect you so thoroughly and others just pass right by. Take my father's abuse. I don't remember much of it. I do, ironically, remember the first time my dad came at me though...well, I suppose it probably wasn't the first time. Let's just say it was the first one that stuck in my mind. I don't remember the details. I just remember sitting in the corner of my room hiding in the corner, my blanket pulled up around me and him coming at me, his hand raised and the unmistakable look of uncontrolled rage and hate in his eyes. It was at that moment that I realized that he was going to hit me. I spent many a night that way, in the corner hovering after beatings. Crying afterward, alone in the corner because I couldn't cry when he hit me. I cried, not because of the pain, but because I couldn't understand how someone who was supposed to love and protect me could hurt me so bad. Not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. Physical wounds healed, but not the rest.
I remember getting hit, I remember the feeling of betrayal, but over time I managed to make myself cold to it, I forced myself to forget most details. While a blessing it was a curse in disguise. Forgetting, well it affected me, believe me. It made me look for solace in a bottle and made me willing to settle for whatever came my way. He beat down my self esteem to the point that I actually seriously thought that I had deserved every last strike. He made me willing to believe that I deserved it so much that I think I actually sought it out in my husband. It made me emotionally hard because, while I thought that perhaps I deserved it, I still wasn't willing to let them know how much it hurt. The weaker I was, the worse it was.
I recall once, when I was eighteen I believe, I was actually told that I was completely devoid of all human emotion. The idea saddened me, but I thought it was natural, necessary. But all of the forgotten memories, the drunken haze, and pent up emotions all became too much. I nearly killed myself with my alcoholism. I would have been dead at twenty without Uncle Matt. He literally saved my life by sobering me up. Once I had beaten that he suggested I join the army. He said it would boost my confidence and give me the strength, support, and structure that I so desperately needed.
So I went and joined the marines. He was right. Being in the marines did help, but it didn't solve my problems, not all of them anyway. While I was confident I still didn't feel loved, or deserving of it. It wasn't over, not by a long shot. I was still the hard core, emotionally unavailable person, now I just had an excuse. I was a marine. I realize now that in all of my relationships I had to be in control, that is after my husband. I wouldn't let anyone get the upper hand, I wasn't willing to take that risk, and when someone got to close I got rid of them.
Then things started to change once I met Harm, the one man that somehow convinced me to loosen up. Granted it took him a little while, but it worked. The harder I tried to shut myself off the more out of control I felt when I didn't succeed. I think that's been a lot of my problem with our relationship, hell with all of my relationships. I'm worried that the minute I loose control the other person will grab the rains and I'll be the little girl sitting in the corner all over again with no say in where this whole thing is going. But over the last seven years something has been happening. Slowly, ever so slowly, I'm starting to test the waters. Granted, I haven't exactly dove in, but I'm willing to let him get close. He's the first man I have trusted in a long time.
Sometimes I have to wonder what Harm thinks, though. I wonder if he sees me as some sort of damaged good. I sigh. I am so sick of feeling unworthy and unwanted. I'm sick of being disgusted with myself for not leaving, for taking it when I knew better the second time around. I'm sick of feeling guilty about not taking a stand. I hate that I can't control everything and I'm tired of not letting anyone close enough to help. I just want someone to help me, to hold me. Someone who will love me and not betray me by using my love as leverage against me; holding it over me to keep me under control.
I didn't realize that I was sitting in the corner of the living room, curled up in a ball like I used to do when I was a child, I didn't notice the tears streaming down my face in an endless steam, and I never heard the knock on the door. 'Mac." The voice is quiet and hesitant, it startles me and I look up to see the only man who has received my trust in the last seventeen years. "Mac, are you okay?" He asks, sitting on the floor next to me.
I don't say anything, I just stay curled up in my little safe haven, tighter than before, instinctively retreating from his touch. I don't remember anyone ever acting this nice to me when I was in this state, no man that was ever a significant part of my life. All the other ones had gotten upset and had either hit me or yelled at me. But Harm, he didn't do what I feared. He didn't get mad, he didn't yell. He looked at me, his eyes full of concern and sympathy. He gently reached out an unsure hand and wrapped it around my shoulders. I didn't withdraw, but I was still unsure, the thoughts of my father running through my head. Slowly he pulled me over to him and pulled my still body in its fetal position between his legs and hugged me close. He rocked me gently, not saying anything. As a leaned up against him I suddenly realized that this was the one man that I could count on to never hurt me. It was going to take some time, a lot of talking, but I knew Harm would help me heal. I smile slightly as I lean into him and fall asleep, content and sure that everything is going to be okay.
==
This is the song mentioned in the story, and one that I find very fitting to Mac's situation:
Push by Matchbox20
she said I don't know if I've ever been good enough
I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in
and I don't know if I've ever been really loved
by a hand that's touched me, well I feel like something's gonna give
and I'm a little bit angry, well
this ain't over, no not here, not while I still need you around
you don't owe me, we might change
yeah we just might feel good
(chorus)
I wanna push you around, I will, I will
I wanna push you down, I will, I will
I wanna take you for granted,
I wanna take you for granted I will
she said I don't know why you ever would lie to me
like I'm a little untrusting when I think that the truth is gonna hurt ya
and I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me
you couldn't stand to be near me
when my face don't seem to want to shine
cuz it's a little bit dirty well
don't just stand there, say nice things to me
I've been cheated I've been wronged,
and you you don't know me, I can't change
I won't do anything at all
(chorus)
oh but don't bowl me over
just wait a minute well it kinda fell apart, things get so crazy, crazy
don't rush this baby, don't rush this baby
(chorus)
By: Ashlee
Disclaimer: Okay, I know that this is only number three, but do I really have to say this *every* time I write something? So you made these people up, but didn't your mommy ever teach you to share? Donald glares at her and whispers something in her ear. She sits up, her eyes wide Oookay. As I was saying Donald here owns 'em.
Author's Note: Diddy number three, but this ones a little darker. Just so you know, if the idea of child abuse doesn't sit well with you, don't read this! I really don't know much about Mac's childhood and what went on, so if there are some things wrong, please forgive me. There was a lot more to say, but it was hard getting everything in and still having it sound somewhat coherent, so keep in mind this is only a portion of the emotion and hurt that I was attempting to portray. Other than that, dig in!
==
I lay on my couch, Jingo lying next to me, and I stare at the blank television screen while I listen to some music in the background. Matchbox20 I believe. I smile at the song "Push". It might seem weird, but it reminds me a lot of my relationships with men. My father, my first husband…the especially abusive ones. And then there are parts that make me think of Harm, or what I think he might think of me.
It's weird, how some things can affect you so thoroughly and others just pass right by. Take my father's abuse. I don't remember much of it. I do, ironically, remember the first time my dad came at me though...well, I suppose it probably wasn't the first time. Let's just say it was the first one that stuck in my mind. I don't remember the details. I just remember sitting in the corner of my room hiding in the corner, my blanket pulled up around me and him coming at me, his hand raised and the unmistakable look of uncontrolled rage and hate in his eyes. It was at that moment that I realized that he was going to hit me. I spent many a night that way, in the corner hovering after beatings. Crying afterward, alone in the corner because I couldn't cry when he hit me. I cried, not because of the pain, but because I couldn't understand how someone who was supposed to love and protect me could hurt me so bad. Not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. Physical wounds healed, but not the rest.
I remember getting hit, I remember the feeling of betrayal, but over time I managed to make myself cold to it, I forced myself to forget most details. While a blessing it was a curse in disguise. Forgetting, well it affected me, believe me. It made me look for solace in a bottle and made me willing to settle for whatever came my way. He beat down my self esteem to the point that I actually seriously thought that I had deserved every last strike. He made me willing to believe that I deserved it so much that I think I actually sought it out in my husband. It made me emotionally hard because, while I thought that perhaps I deserved it, I still wasn't willing to let them know how much it hurt. The weaker I was, the worse it was.
I recall once, when I was eighteen I believe, I was actually told that I was completely devoid of all human emotion. The idea saddened me, but I thought it was natural, necessary. But all of the forgotten memories, the drunken haze, and pent up emotions all became too much. I nearly killed myself with my alcoholism. I would have been dead at twenty without Uncle Matt. He literally saved my life by sobering me up. Once I had beaten that he suggested I join the army. He said it would boost my confidence and give me the strength, support, and structure that I so desperately needed.
So I went and joined the marines. He was right. Being in the marines did help, but it didn't solve my problems, not all of them anyway. While I was confident I still didn't feel loved, or deserving of it. It wasn't over, not by a long shot. I was still the hard core, emotionally unavailable person, now I just had an excuse. I was a marine. I realize now that in all of my relationships I had to be in control, that is after my husband. I wouldn't let anyone get the upper hand, I wasn't willing to take that risk, and when someone got to close I got rid of them.
Then things started to change once I met Harm, the one man that somehow convinced me to loosen up. Granted it took him a little while, but it worked. The harder I tried to shut myself off the more out of control I felt when I didn't succeed. I think that's been a lot of my problem with our relationship, hell with all of my relationships. I'm worried that the minute I loose control the other person will grab the rains and I'll be the little girl sitting in the corner all over again with no say in where this whole thing is going. But over the last seven years something has been happening. Slowly, ever so slowly, I'm starting to test the waters. Granted, I haven't exactly dove in, but I'm willing to let him get close. He's the first man I have trusted in a long time.
Sometimes I have to wonder what Harm thinks, though. I wonder if he sees me as some sort of damaged good. I sigh. I am so sick of feeling unworthy and unwanted. I'm sick of being disgusted with myself for not leaving, for taking it when I knew better the second time around. I'm sick of feeling guilty about not taking a stand. I hate that I can't control everything and I'm tired of not letting anyone close enough to help. I just want someone to help me, to hold me. Someone who will love me and not betray me by using my love as leverage against me; holding it over me to keep me under control.
I didn't realize that I was sitting in the corner of the living room, curled up in a ball like I used to do when I was a child, I didn't notice the tears streaming down my face in an endless steam, and I never heard the knock on the door. 'Mac." The voice is quiet and hesitant, it startles me and I look up to see the only man who has received my trust in the last seventeen years. "Mac, are you okay?" He asks, sitting on the floor next to me.
I don't say anything, I just stay curled up in my little safe haven, tighter than before, instinctively retreating from his touch. I don't remember anyone ever acting this nice to me when I was in this state, no man that was ever a significant part of my life. All the other ones had gotten upset and had either hit me or yelled at me. But Harm, he didn't do what I feared. He didn't get mad, he didn't yell. He looked at me, his eyes full of concern and sympathy. He gently reached out an unsure hand and wrapped it around my shoulders. I didn't withdraw, but I was still unsure, the thoughts of my father running through my head. Slowly he pulled me over to him and pulled my still body in its fetal position between his legs and hugged me close. He rocked me gently, not saying anything. As a leaned up against him I suddenly realized that this was the one man that I could count on to never hurt me. It was going to take some time, a lot of talking, but I knew Harm would help me heal. I smile slightly as I lean into him and fall asleep, content and sure that everything is going to be okay.
==
This is the song mentioned in the story, and one that I find very fitting to Mac's situation:
Push by Matchbox20
she said I don't know if I've ever been good enough
I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in
and I don't know if I've ever been really loved
by a hand that's touched me, well I feel like something's gonna give
and I'm a little bit angry, well
this ain't over, no not here, not while I still need you around
you don't owe me, we might change
yeah we just might feel good
(chorus)
I wanna push you around, I will, I will
I wanna push you down, I will, I will
I wanna take you for granted,
I wanna take you for granted I will
she said I don't know why you ever would lie to me
like I'm a little untrusting when I think that the truth is gonna hurt ya
and I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me
you couldn't stand to be near me
when my face don't seem to want to shine
cuz it's a little bit dirty well
don't just stand there, say nice things to me
I've been cheated I've been wronged,
and you you don't know me, I can't change
I won't do anything at all
(chorus)
oh but don't bowl me over
just wait a minute well it kinda fell apart, things get so crazy, crazy
don't rush this baby, don't rush this baby
(chorus)