The Men of My Life: Reprise
CW: sexual assault
Almost two years ago, I wrote about the men of my life.
I wrote about how a priest told me I was pretty in a confessional booth at age 11.
I wrote about how I was assaulted in a car in my driveway at age 15.
I wrote about how I was raped at 21.
Later on, I touched on how I was sexually abused by a neighbor at age 7.
I wrote about catcalling and slut shaming and how most of my friends & family members have endured the roughness that is the business of being a woman in today's world. (Men, I understand and empathize with the struggles you face... but for all intents & purposes, this post is geared at the women).
These stories were meant for various purposes, but mainly to help me heal, and to in turn maybe help someone else heal, too.
"The Men of My Life" started as a blog post. And then from there, it became a book idea. And from there, the last two years have consisted of writing and writing about each male who has had a profound impact on my life in some way, good or bad. Each woman has her own collection of the men of her life, too. And she will know those exact men the minute she reads these words. The men who abused her, the men who broke her heart, the men who mended it, the men who reminded her of the good in this world, the men who surprised her, the men who gave her hope again. She will know all of them and recite their names in her head and not only will she think of them, she will likely rank them, in order of the most hope given to the least hope given.
Today, you will not see that list. But you will receive a general analysis of what I consider to be a string of profound luck in the realm of the men I've known in the last couple of years of my life, but particularly the last 9-12 months.
There have been additional men in the last two years who have done all that I've listed -- gave me hope, made me feel less, surprised me, and one in particular -- he had a lack of courage so profound he didn't know what to do with it. And because of that, he broke my heart, stomped on my feelings, he left me out to dry, he made me the bad guy. I capitalize on him because in my last reflection of the men of my life, he had a pretty decent track record. He was one of the greats I mentioned. And you know, I think I would still classify him as one of the great ones. Because I think cowards can be great for teaching you what love is not. There's a miracle in every man, even him.
When I think now of the great men of my life, I think of the obvious: my brilliant father, my brothers, my sweet nephews and uncles and cousins. But I also think greatly of the men who immediately followed the aforementioned man above. I think of the men who were there in the months of August 2018 to now. I think of the men who treated me with more love and respect than I thought I deserved at the time. I think of the men who took me on real dates, who never stopped trying to make me feel important, who allowed me to be me, even if it wasn't the best version. Even if I was just figuring it out, slings & arrows, flying by the seat of my pants.
I think of those men everyday because I am so indebted to them. I think of the ones who flew me across the country to spend a weekend with them at a music festival. I think of the ones who let me sob at concerts and by bonfires to them. I think of the ones who were probably in just as bad of a place as I was, if not worse, yet still remembered my favorite flowers and wine and delivered them to my work. I think of the men who wrote me letters to open when I was having a bad day as I moved across the country. I think of the men who flew to New York to see me. I think of the men who I can call in the middle of the night if I need anything, and they always answer. I think of the men who went on trips with me and fought with me and even whilst fighting, made me feel loved and respected. I think of the men who have loved me despite my quirks and tendencies, and I think a lot of the men who loved me because of them. I think of the men who have repeatedly listened to my story -- really listened -- and shown me nothing but empathy and kindness. I think of the men who have respected me, have shown me love in their own ways, and have given me the chance to be myself, even if that version came with tendencies that they didn't sign up for.
These men, they have proven to be reason to keep looking. They have proven to be the reason for me to believe that there is so much good left in this world, if we have the heart to be open to it. They have shown me what it means to be a real man, with feelings they weren't afraid to express and emotions they've openly shared. They have proven to be reason enough for me to know that next time, I will have a clear and honest idea about what love is, and reason enough for me to know I'd walk away because my understanding of what love isn't is so profoundly clear.
These men have opened my heart to the possibility that love can cure it all, and perhaps, that it maybe really is the only thing that can. Understanding what you deserve and receiving the treatment to prove it is sometimes all it takes to mend a heart that's been broken. Most of these men had such a perfect time & place in my life; for that, I'm grateful. There was not a single man I encountered in the last year who didn't teach me something important in preparation for whatever love is next. I know whoever that is will be grateful for these men, too.
The men of my life have all had a purpose. They have all meant something to me in their own ways. They have all taught me something I did not know prior. They have all shown me either what love was, or what love was not. And I'm so damned thankful to know the difference.
Open heart, with backbone.
Almost two years ago, I wrote about the men of my life.
I wrote about how a priest told me I was pretty in a confessional booth at age 11.
I wrote about how I was assaulted in a car in my driveway at age 15.
I wrote about how I was raped at 21.
Later on, I touched on how I was sexually abused by a neighbor at age 7.
I wrote about catcalling and slut shaming and how most of my friends & family members have endured the roughness that is the business of being a woman in today's world. (Men, I understand and empathize with the struggles you face... but for all intents & purposes, this post is geared at the women).
These stories were meant for various purposes, but mainly to help me heal, and to in turn maybe help someone else heal, too.
"The Men of My Life" started as a blog post. And then from there, it became a book idea. And from there, the last two years have consisted of writing and writing about each male who has had a profound impact on my life in some way, good or bad. Each woman has her own collection of the men of her life, too. And she will know those exact men the minute she reads these words. The men who abused her, the men who broke her heart, the men who mended it, the men who reminded her of the good in this world, the men who surprised her, the men who gave her hope again. She will know all of them and recite their names in her head and not only will she think of them, she will likely rank them, in order of the most hope given to the least hope given.
Today, you will not see that list. But you will receive a general analysis of what I consider to be a string of profound luck in the realm of the men I've known in the last couple of years of my life, but particularly the last 9-12 months.
There have been additional men in the last two years who have done all that I've listed -- gave me hope, made me feel less, surprised me, and one in particular -- he had a lack of courage so profound he didn't know what to do with it. And because of that, he broke my heart, stomped on my feelings, he left me out to dry, he made me the bad guy. I capitalize on him because in my last reflection of the men of my life, he had a pretty decent track record. He was one of the greats I mentioned. And you know, I think I would still classify him as one of the great ones. Because I think cowards can be great for teaching you what love is not. There's a miracle in every man, even him.
When I think now of the great men of my life, I think of the obvious: my brilliant father, my brothers, my sweet nephews and uncles and cousins. But I also think greatly of the men who immediately followed the aforementioned man above. I think of the men who were there in the months of August 2018 to now. I think of the men who treated me with more love and respect than I thought I deserved at the time. I think of the men who took me on real dates, who never stopped trying to make me feel important, who allowed me to be me, even if it wasn't the best version. Even if I was just figuring it out, slings & arrows, flying by the seat of my pants.
I think of those men everyday because I am so indebted to them. I think of the ones who flew me across the country to spend a weekend with them at a music festival. I think of the ones who let me sob at concerts and by bonfires to them. I think of the ones who were probably in just as bad of a place as I was, if not worse, yet still remembered my favorite flowers and wine and delivered them to my work. I think of the men who wrote me letters to open when I was having a bad day as I moved across the country. I think of the men who flew to New York to see me. I think of the men who I can call in the middle of the night if I need anything, and they always answer. I think of the men who went on trips with me and fought with me and even whilst fighting, made me feel loved and respected. I think of the men who have loved me despite my quirks and tendencies, and I think a lot of the men who loved me because of them. I think of the men who have repeatedly listened to my story -- really listened -- and shown me nothing but empathy and kindness. I think of the men who have respected me, have shown me love in their own ways, and have given me the chance to be myself, even if that version came with tendencies that they didn't sign up for.
These men, they have proven to be reason to keep looking. They have proven to be the reason for me to believe that there is so much good left in this world, if we have the heart to be open to it. They have shown me what it means to be a real man, with feelings they weren't afraid to express and emotions they've openly shared. They have proven to be reason enough for me to know that next time, I will have a clear and honest idea about what love is, and reason enough for me to know I'd walk away because my understanding of what love isn't is so profoundly clear.
These men have opened my heart to the possibility that love can cure it all, and perhaps, that it maybe really is the only thing that can. Understanding what you deserve and receiving the treatment to prove it is sometimes all it takes to mend a heart that's been broken. Most of these men had such a perfect time & place in my life; for that, I'm grateful. There was not a single man I encountered in the last year who didn't teach me something important in preparation for whatever love is next. I know whoever that is will be grateful for these men, too.
The men of my life have all had a purpose. They have all meant something to me in their own ways. They have all taught me something I did not know prior. They have all shown me either what love was, or what love was not. And I'm so damned thankful to know the difference.
Open heart, with backbone.
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