She’s Too Intense… And Here’s Why

She’s Too Intense… And Here’s Why

She’s Too Intense…Here’s Why

PT 1 of 4 - Quentin Tarantino and Trust

I’m going to ‘Quentin Tarantino’ this story a little bit. Some of the ending first, then the vague back story… not making any sense, but eventually coming around full circle, in four parts. This is part one. Welcome to my head… Oh yeah, there’s also a playlist at the end. [nervous smile emoji]

My heart was recently broken. I was told I was too intense. I’m too much. I cried my eyes out for weeks you guys, most ladies would in my case. He was pretty special and I thought this dude could be my ‘person’ and save me from the fucked up life experience my ex gave me in 2017. I’ve realized of course, that I need to save myself. I tend to forget sometimes…. all the time (I’m a libra, yo). My healing process has been super abnormal because I refuse to see a counselor. I’m hell-bent on fixing myself, my way. No one tells you how to save yourself. You can see a counselor or find meaningful quotes about life and self growth, which helps, but not in the sense of turning on a switch and shit’s fixed. A quote doesn’t make the flashbacks go away. No one tells you how lonely the journey is either. No one tells you how lonely surviving domestic violence can be. You don’t trust anyone except a few select people that are your support system, but you also don’t want to sound like a broken record and vent all the time (especially two years later). It’s been a weird journey that I’m in the middle of, that’s for sure. I’ve been told by other victims that the memory will be in the back of my head for the rest of my life. It’s a part of me now. I know I’ll eventually move forward, but it will always be there, unfortunately.  

Why am I telling you about all this deep personal crap? Because since 2017 when this went down, many women I am friends with, worked for or just knew as an acquaintance, in confidence, told me their stories. Some of these women had kids. I would have never known if I wasn’t vocal about my story. Not on social media or anything (not like this…), but I reached out to whoever I was close to. It was like, if I told enough of my close friends one of them would wake me up and none of it would be real. But it was very real.

Every domestic violence story I hear makes me sick. Every story on the news, especially the ones with fatalities, makes me sick. And not enough people talk about solutions for domestic violence and mental health in daily conversations. If people ask why I got a divorce, I tell them why. I’m completely fucking honest about it. Speaking about it makes most people feel uncomfortable and inclined to say things like, “I’m so sorry that happened to you, poor thing” (with an annoying “awww” at the end [eye roll emoji]) or “You’re so brave for leaving”… Honestly, what I would prefer to hear is, “That should have never of happened to you and more needs to be done to prevent domestic violence”. I don’t want to be pitied, I know what happened to me is horrible and I’m safe now. I count my blessings everyday and give thanks to Buddha, God, The Universe, and whoever will hear me, that I’m here and breathing. I was lucky. But there are women who have no support system. They have no escape plan and no means or mental capacity, for that matter (PTSD) of supporting themselves or their children when they do leave.

The best way for me to describe my attitude when someone says the shit I don’t need to hear is this bit from George Carlin (same way I felt when my dad died). 

Like, if you really feel for me, then let’s find a solution or at least feel for the women who have kids and nowhere to go… not me. I had a support system and financial support. If I didn’t have that support I would have gone back. There were times where I thought, that’s what I should have done, because of the position he left me in. My world I had built over the last four years was gone and I thought, at times, the easiest thing would be just to take it so I could pay bills. Have some normalcy back. Nothing would ever be normal after that. So think about the women who didn’t have what I did. For me, leaving was relatively easy. My friends and family wouldn’t let him see me and protected me. They helped me with my photoshoots and with bills. They helped with everything. I felt like I wasn’t capable of doing anything for myself for a few months. It was fucked up. What about the women who don’t have that support? Could you imagine what it’s like for them to feel stuck in that situation? 

Point is, I feel like you rarely hear about these kinds of topics. It’s such a taboo. I think the more we talk about domestic violence, the less power these perpetrators have. Think about it. If a dude who beats on his wife or girlfriend or boyfriend (yes, there are men who experience domestic violence as well…) is eavesdropping and hears me talking about what my ex did to me and how I left, there’s a small chance that he’ll second guess his actions and who fucking knows, maybe seek professional help to stop the shit he’s doing. It’s simple… No one wants to be that one person if people aren’t afraid to be vocal about it. Because the signs are there. My best friend knew, my sisters knew, my mom knew… At the beginning, when the verbal abuse and manipulation started, my mom would tell me to be careful and I would say, “Oh he would never do that…” But he did. 

Back to the “end” for a sec– So, I finally started dating last summer. I talked to a couple of guys, but never actually met up with them or let them touch me. I mean… can you blame me? I met this one guy though, through a friend… at a show. I felt like, everything, you guys. Most of all I felt comfortable with him, which is super important to me (obvi). It was a super weird long distance romance and nothing was even close to being official but it quickly got deep. It felt like we both understood each other in ways that other people couldn’t. And then it ended. We don’t need to go into details other than the fact that he said I was too intense. That one sentence broke me for sure, you guys.

Women who have been through what I have, can’t date the same way a woman who has never had those experiences can. That general trust in people is gone. You have to make sure that you’re trusting the right people, that you’re letting in the right people and not a con-artist who tries to suffocate you in the hotel bathroom. 

I’m honest. I don’t beat around the bush. I make mistakes. I don’t lead people on. I care about how my actions make others feel. And I cry when kids and animals get hurt. I give my heart away too easily. I put all my cards on the table. So yeah, I’m intense [middle finger emoji]. And this is why. This life experience that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy is why I’m intense. And I won’t apologize for it. I won’t apologize for protecting myself and being a role model for my nieces and nephews (#shehavingabf #amen).

A few weeks ago, my bestie asked me if I wanted to run in the Tessa 5K, on April 20, with her (420, yeah!). I don’t run, but of course I said yes. Anything for awareness and self love, right?! Also, I think she knew it would help me get out of my heartbreak funk a little. So I’ve been training you guys! I only practice yoga occasionally (like twice a year) and never really work out, so running 3.5 miles isn’t easy for me. But I’m doing it! I try to run on the treadmill at least twice a week (I’ve been busy lately, #betterthannothing). Since I have no stamina, I rely on the flashbacks, the heartbreaks and music to keep running instead of walking or stopping. I get angry and use it, because I’m too intense. #harnesstheinnergoddess 

I’m excited to get my second 5k under my belt and move on or at least a jog, in the right direction. I plan on wearing the shirt I almost lost my life in, which is ironically my Woman’s March shirt (#nothingisacoincidence). There are a few holes in it from that night, but I don’t care about how bad it looks. I keep this shirt and wear it all the time to bed and now to workout in, to remind myself that this shit needs to stop. And I need to do something. Just because I was lucky enough to get out of that situation, some women aren’t. I’m going to wear it for them, as well, on 420 and smoke this 5k (pun intended). #iliveincolorado 

I have two playlist for you! One is sad and slow and for heartbreaks, because my mom always says, “You can’t help the way you feel, whether you’re right or wrong”. The other is for burning those negative calories and promotes that “I’m a badass lady” mentality. 

Again, don’t feel bad for me. But if you feel something, check out the links below. There’s always something someone can do, even if it’s a small something.

SafeHouse Denver


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