(no subject)
Last night was my first real day of Victoria's Secret, though I did help change the TO store over to holiday 1 merchandise on Sunday, and let me tell you -- I HAD NO IDEA HANGING UP PANTIES WAS SO DIFFICULT! I seriously spent 10 minutes on one pair. It was ridiculous. Panties were not meant to be hung up.
Yesterday was exciting. I learned things from how to fit bra sizes to how to apply lipstick to how to administer the famous 'victoria's secret hand massage' to how to deal with disgruntled hispanic women who signed up for the angel's card and now think that you are personally out to destroy their credit. I also got to try on 18 different bras, and discovered that I am a 34 D. Tis a slight surprise, I've been wearing 36 C.
Oh, and the Ipex. AMAZING! Ich liebe es! Complete support, and still looks hottttt.
I felt very sharp indeed in my all-black number and pointed high-heels. I felt like a woman in charge, like an affair with a married man was certainly in the works but that I would not get emotionally involved because that's the kind of upright feminist bitch I am! I am also a lawyer and possibly an axe murderer.
Oh, and I ran into Matt V. at work. He works there too. W E I R D. Was not expecting that. I suppose it fits for the hillarious sketch comedy show that is my life.
I have been thinking about Daniel a lot since Saturday. I guess I'm trying to resolve my negative feelings, and I guess I've been meaning to all along, but it hurt to much so I'd always push it down or aside. But Saturday brought it out, and for a whole day I couldn't sleep and all I could think about was this terrible dread that I felt in my chest.
Then reading his emails, seemingly so pleasant. Seemingly so above human emotion but still compassionate enough to talk to me.
Then the scene I'm doing with Tyler from 'Closer'. I chose this scene because it would be challenging for Tyler, and because it was so real to me. The conversation in this scene was almost identical to several real ones with Daniel.
And when Tyler calls me a "fucked up whore" at the end of the scene, every time I wince. Every time I almost cry, but don't. I get very quiet, and after trying to snap myself out of it, ask him if he wants to run the scene again.
These things, making Daniel more real to me than he's been in months and months. Almost a year. Instead of just a vague feeling that I try to suppress that takes over my chest.
I've tried many times to forgive him, to stop hating him. I realized a few days ago that I was going about it the wrong way. I had to realize why it was right to forgive him instead of forcing it on myself. So I tried and tried to think of him compassionately, but couldn't. Then it snapped in place, and I remembered something that was now just the faintest whisper, but was once so strong.
That everybody hurts.
It sounds so simple to you, perhaps. But thinking like this, reminding me, brought a sense of real pity to Daniel. And my hate lessened. My fear did not. But I began, in a very small way, to fall through that soft down of understanding that I hadn't TRULY visited in so long.
I know why.
I just figured it out.
When I was with him, I would do that, forgive and understand him to no ends. This is what held me to him. I thought I could endure whatever pain he gave me, because his happiness was more important, because I understood why he hurt.
I did this over and over and over and over and over
And what once was his morally valiant thing to do, began to be my "You're so stupid Vanessa. Why do you do it?" And when I began to doubt I got weaker. And then one day, I broke.
I remember it well, the actual breaking at least.
I was on my bed, talking to him on the phone. He was in Texas. By this time I was in adult school, but very weary. I remember this overwhelming feeling of weakness. It was daytime. I was crying.
I don't remember the words, the words that were once so familiar because it was the dance we would always go through. I don't remember now because so many things are a blur from this time. Perhaps I subconsciously made myself forget, or perhaps my body just couldn't handle these things. But none the less, he had reached the point of the argument, after yelling at me, when he wanted to be babied and nurtured.
I remember at these times my body did not even want to move. I felt dead, with absolutely no will to go on. I begged him to not make me do this. He would not relent. I knew in my heart and I told him that if I did it now, I would not be able to do it again. It would be the last, I would finally be broken.
He did not believe me.
So I closed my eyes, and was silent for a few moments. Then I spoke to him softly. "Baby..." And made him feel better about what he had said to me or whatever I did.
After that there was no more of that. After that I went on medication and stopped talking to him and started treating him worse. When he would yell at me now, I wouldn't take it. For the first time, I started to yell back. And I would throw things and break things, until I just hated him. I loved him out of habit, out of my need to have someone, out of familiarity. I thought and sincerely believed that if I really left him, I wouldn't have anything. But I hardened myself then.
It's been very frustrating to me over the past year that I have not been as compassionate or understanding as I was. I have tried to bring it on, day after day, to pull it out of me, but could never find it.
I guess I understand now that it takes a long time to achieve it. Even though I want to so badly.
So I haven't thought about Daniel with hate since a few days ago, though I have thought about him. I try to remember good times, good things about him. It's very hard. But I try. I have to keep trying until I can live my life with Daniel just being another name of my past instead of this malignant force that hurts every time he's brought up.
I didn't write all this for anybody. I feel guilty every time I write about Daniel because I feel like people roll their eyes when they read about him. I feel like you've heard enough. But this journal is my own, and though you've heard more than enough, I still must resolve these feelings. So I can be free and beautiful and happy again. I don't want to be hard and callous. I don't want to hate.
If I can get over this, then I'm sure I will be able to love anybody.
Yesterday was exciting. I learned things from how to fit bra sizes to how to apply lipstick to how to administer the famous 'victoria's secret hand massage' to how to deal with disgruntled hispanic women who signed up for the angel's card and now think that you are personally out to destroy their credit. I also got to try on 18 different bras, and discovered that I am a 34 D. Tis a slight surprise, I've been wearing 36 C.
Oh, and the Ipex. AMAZING! Ich liebe es! Complete support, and still looks hottttt.
I felt very sharp indeed in my all-black number and pointed high-heels. I felt like a woman in charge, like an affair with a married man was certainly in the works but that I would not get emotionally involved because that's the kind of upright feminist bitch I am! I am also a lawyer and possibly an axe murderer.
Oh, and I ran into Matt V. at work. He works there too. W E I R D. Was not expecting that. I suppose it fits for the hillarious sketch comedy show that is my life.
I have been thinking about Daniel a lot since Saturday. I guess I'm trying to resolve my negative feelings, and I guess I've been meaning to all along, but it hurt to much so I'd always push it down or aside. But Saturday brought it out, and for a whole day I couldn't sleep and all I could think about was this terrible dread that I felt in my chest.
Then reading his emails, seemingly so pleasant. Seemingly so above human emotion but still compassionate enough to talk to me.
Then the scene I'm doing with Tyler from 'Closer'. I chose this scene because it would be challenging for Tyler, and because it was so real to me. The conversation in this scene was almost identical to several real ones with Daniel.
And when Tyler calls me a "fucked up whore" at the end of the scene, every time I wince. Every time I almost cry, but don't. I get very quiet, and after trying to snap myself out of it, ask him if he wants to run the scene again.
These things, making Daniel more real to me than he's been in months and months. Almost a year. Instead of just a vague feeling that I try to suppress that takes over my chest.
I've tried many times to forgive him, to stop hating him. I realized a few days ago that I was going about it the wrong way. I had to realize why it was right to forgive him instead of forcing it on myself. So I tried and tried to think of him compassionately, but couldn't. Then it snapped in place, and I remembered something that was now just the faintest whisper, but was once so strong.
That everybody hurts.
It sounds so simple to you, perhaps. But thinking like this, reminding me, brought a sense of real pity to Daniel. And my hate lessened. My fear did not. But I began, in a very small way, to fall through that soft down of understanding that I hadn't TRULY visited in so long.
I know why.
I just figured it out.
When I was with him, I would do that, forgive and understand him to no ends. This is what held me to him. I thought I could endure whatever pain he gave me, because his happiness was more important, because I understood why he hurt.
I did this over and over and over and over and over
And what once was his morally valiant thing to do, began to be my "You're so stupid Vanessa. Why do you do it?" And when I began to doubt I got weaker. And then one day, I broke.
I remember it well, the actual breaking at least.
I was on my bed, talking to him on the phone. He was in Texas. By this time I was in adult school, but very weary. I remember this overwhelming feeling of weakness. It was daytime. I was crying.
I don't remember the words, the words that were once so familiar because it was the dance we would always go through. I don't remember now because so many things are a blur from this time. Perhaps I subconsciously made myself forget, or perhaps my body just couldn't handle these things. But none the less, he had reached the point of the argument, after yelling at me, when he wanted to be babied and nurtured.
I remember at these times my body did not even want to move. I felt dead, with absolutely no will to go on. I begged him to not make me do this. He would not relent. I knew in my heart and I told him that if I did it now, I would not be able to do it again. It would be the last, I would finally be broken.
He did not believe me.
So I closed my eyes, and was silent for a few moments. Then I spoke to him softly. "Baby..." And made him feel better about what he had said to me or whatever I did.
After that there was no more of that. After that I went on medication and stopped talking to him and started treating him worse. When he would yell at me now, I wouldn't take it. For the first time, I started to yell back. And I would throw things and break things, until I just hated him. I loved him out of habit, out of my need to have someone, out of familiarity. I thought and sincerely believed that if I really left him, I wouldn't have anything. But I hardened myself then.
It's been very frustrating to me over the past year that I have not been as compassionate or understanding as I was. I have tried to bring it on, day after day, to pull it out of me, but could never find it.
I guess I understand now that it takes a long time to achieve it. Even though I want to so badly.
So I haven't thought about Daniel with hate since a few days ago, though I have thought about him. I try to remember good times, good things about him. It's very hard. But I try. I have to keep trying until I can live my life with Daniel just being another name of my past instead of this malignant force that hurts every time he's brought up.
I didn't write all this for anybody. I feel guilty every time I write about Daniel because I feel like people roll their eyes when they read about him. I feel like you've heard enough. But this journal is my own, and though you've heard more than enough, I still must resolve these feelings. So I can be free and beautiful and happy again. I don't want to be hard and callous. I don't want to hate.
If I can get over this, then I'm sure I will be able to love anybody.