It's going to take a lot more than that to sink this ship...

Unlike the past few days where I have felt some sort of renewal upon the new day marked by the rising sun, today I woke up alone... literally, and emotionally. There was no one next to me to comfort me, and there is no one to truly understand what emotions I'm feeling right now.

The thing is, I think for the past few days I have been in shock. I didn't know what to feel. I thought, "Ok, this happened, it was bad, but you are strong. You can move on from this so easily." And since it happened, I have been constantly surrounding myself with people. Not wanting to be alone. Laughing. Playing in the sun. Cooking. Enjoying all the things I missed at home... but this morning, reality sunk in. I am at home. I'm back to this routine, and I'm finally realizing that I need to deal with my emotions. I can't just laugh away my problems — that's just a temporary relief mechanism of mine.

I have problems. I ignore my emotions a lot. I do this because I think I am strong enough to forget and move on without actually facing the problem. I try to not think about my feelings toward what happened for more than a day or two... and with some of the traumatic things I have been through, that's just not right. I screwed up. I've screwed up my emotions for possibly the rest of my life by not wanting to deal with things the right way... but I don't know what the RIGHT way is. It's probably different for every person... so what is right for me? I think the only reason I have been able to get through any of the things I've been through at all is because of my faith in God.

But what do you do when your entire life changes in a matter of a few unexpected minutes? My soul literally aches, and I want to cry, cry my eyes out... I want to cry, but the tears don't come, which I don't understand. When I cry, I feel so much better afterwards. I feel like it's similar to when you are sick... you want to puke, you feel like puking, but something inside of you doesn't let it happen and you hold it down for as long as you can... then finally, unexpectedly, it all comes shooting out and you've puked, and you feel so much better. I just need to cry, but I can't... and I'm waiting for something to trigger that and let those emotions spill out.

I also don't want to be alone, and I feel so alone right now. So, incredibly alone. And although I am constantly surrounded by all of these people who love me and have been treating me so well, I still somehow feel so terribly lonesome. I feel like I will never be the same person, and I hate that. I want to be the same Erika, because I LOVE the old Erika. I love how trustworthy I was of EVERYONE. I loved how accepting I was, and how much I loved everyone no matter who they were or who they came from. But all people have done my entire life, and especially this past year, is show me that I can't trust...that I have to be so careful, because even the closest of friends will hurt you... even when you are in a situation where you shouldn't have to be in danger, where you should be able to trust the person, he can do things to you that strip you of your innocence and completely turn your life around (in a bad way).

So what can I do? What now? I feel lost. I DON'T KNOW what I can do. I DON'T KNOW what now.

If you don't believe in Christianity, then this might seem rather silly, BUT
If you DO believe in God and the Devil and good and evil and know your Bible, then what gives me faith is this.

Since I was BORN I have been put through obstacles and satan has been trying to bring me down. I was born with a heart murmur and nearly died from other birth complications — and my mother almost died because she was 110 pounds giving birth to a nearly 9 pound baby. Not even two years later, I was diagnosed with spinal meningitis — a killer disease, especially for children. The medicine given is typically a type of penicillin, but I was allergic. The doctors told my mom to be prepared for me to die, and if I did live, I would be blind, deaf and retarded. My mom sat by my caged in hospital bed day and night praying for me, and one day, I was magically cured. To this day, when I check in at that hospital, if there is a nurse who has been working there since 1990, they call me the miracle baby.

My childhood was rather amazing. My family moved around a lot, and I switched schools nearly every year, but this taught me to make friends quickly and that you have to be accepting of everyone if you're going to make it in this world.
My mom hid a lot of things from me and lived with an alcoholic husband for 12 years and going through hell that she says she will never tell me. She doesn't want to scar the image that I have of my father, and she doesn't want to ruin the positive thoughts I have about my childhood.

I was quiet and unassuming. I read books every day. My family was a part of this scary church for a while (that we thankfully got out of)... and within this church they convinced the congregation that it was a SIN for women to wear pants (because it was MENS clothing), we weren't allowed to have a television (not that bad of an idea when I think back on it) and women weren't allowed to cut their hair. This entire "religion" was very belittling to women. I am grateful that my parents were able to cut themselves away from this almost cult... because it's a hard thing to do, and the few people who have ever been in such a situation will tell you that it's not as simple as just not attending a different church (where they actually believe what the Bible says without making up unfounded rules). But that's another blog post for another time.
The point of this whole paragraph is that I was so different as a child. I was so innocent and so intelligent. I was so quiet and so fragile and so mature for such a young child. In second grade, I read all seven books in the Chronicles of Narnia in two weeks.

What kept me from being a complete and total introvert was my little brother. We fought like little luchadors without the cool costumes when we were younger... my brother was smart though, he would verbally taunt me and make fun of me so my mother wouldn't even be paying attention... I knew nothing I would say could possibly irritate him in the way he was irritating me, so I would fight back physically. I once threw a D battery at him from across the room, thinking it would hit him in the stomach, or not at all, but it hit him right in the head. I paid for that. Although, thankfully, things are a lot calmer between my me and my brother now. He sends me flowers when bad things happens, and we are there for each other.

My innocence really started to dwindle away when I was 12 and my parents got divorced. I remember the day I knew it was going to happen. It was the first time I had seen my dad drunk. I didn't know exactly what was going on at the time, but when I look back on it now, I understand, and I understand a small part of everything my mom had suffered through for 12 years. My dad was supposed to be watching me and my brother while my mom was running some errands. I remember my dad put us in the back of the truck and said we needed to go to the gas station... the only time my family went to the gas station was when we actually needed gas, so I was a little confused when my dad parked, went inside, and came back out with a small brown paper sack. I asked him what he had gotten, and almost as if he had expected my constant questioning, he pulled out a candy bar for me without ever revealing what else that bag contained. Once we got to the house, my mom called, wondering where we had been, and by the way my dad was talking, she could tell what was going on (that my dad was extremely drunk) and came to the house as quickly as possible. I just remember her grabbing me and my brother and taking us in the car, away from my dad. We came back hours later, and went into the basement with my mom where she made some phone calls. My dad kept yelling my mom's name so angrily, so different from anything I had ever seen before. He kept saying, "Get off the phone. You're always on the phone. Get the fuck off the phone!" I'd never really heard my dad cuss before either. I was seeing a completely different man — a man my mom had somehow hidden from me for my entire life. He busted into the room we were in, slammed the phone away from my mom, hit her and left the room. She picked the phone back up and called the police, and I had to watch as the police took my dad away. My mom then had to go into hiding for a while, while my brother and I stayed at my aunt and uncle's home — worried, afraid and confused.

This all settled down by the end of the summer. My mom was the best thing that ever happened to my dad, and losing her was a reality check for him. The divorce actually caused my time with my dad to be more quality for the next few years.
That summer after my parents got divorced was a strange one. I questioned every innocent thought I had about the world as a child, but still kept faith. My stay at my aunt and uncle's brought me closer to my cousin Joëlle, who had done nothing but treat my like a mutant freak when I was younger... but she decided to accept me, which made me happier than I think she will ever know, because I had always looked up to her and thought she was so cool, no matter how awful she was to me. That summer she was at my house, or I at hers, all the time. We made these stupid ass music videos to songs most 12-year-olds don't even know (The Crying Game by Boy George anyone?). She showed me how to laugh and how to interact with people. Without meaning to, she was the catalyst to me turning from a freaky introvert into an love-able, humorous, crazy (in a good way) extrovert.

By the end of August, my mom had sat us down and told us she was getting married. Little did I know that this would lead to us moving to Omaha to be with this douche bag and having to move the day before Christmas to the unknown... we left from our beautiful childhood mansion on a farm in Roca (Lincoln), to some ranch-style house in a city I thought was stupid and horrible, but would eventually grow to love. I still remember looking at our huge house with the cathedral-like ceilings that night. The house was empty, except for the giant, beautifully lit Christmas tree that my mother said we simply had to leave because we would be having Christmas at her fiancés house and be putting our presents under HIS tree.
I know my mom was trying to do the right thing and give us a better life, but I was confused and hurt.

It took some time to adjust to Omaha life. My mom ended up breaking off her engagement, realizing it was way too soon and that this guy wasn't everything she had thought he was in the beginning. I was broken... I started at Loveland Elementary HALF WAY through 6th grade... do you know what it's like to try to make friend 1/2 way through the last year of elementary school? Practically impossible... but I did it. Mainly with the help of friends that I still have to this very day — Shannon Linehan, Lindsey Mikkelsen and Annie Ashby. Come to think of it, they were there for me in 6th grade, and they have stuck by my side ever since. I am blessed in so many ways, even if I have been through a lot.

In 8th grade, I fell in love. I know that sounds stupid to a lot of people. but I dated this person from the end of 8th grade until I broke up with him in 11th grade, and I loved him from nearly the beginning of 8th grade until ... well ... there will always be a place for him in my heart. But I didn't completely get over that break-up until the end of senior year. There were a lot of things with this relationship that I went through that I never told anyone... and it traumatized me and I am still scarred... but this person still means a lot to me and I don't want to say anything to make him look bad, or hurt anyone's feelings.

While I was dealing with all of the baggage from that relationship, my dad was slowly dying of cancer. While I was working 40 hours a week, an editor on the newspaper, in band (for some of this time... i quit), french club pres (vice prez? no one knows at this point), key club, service learning council. MLK committee, and a million other things... while being in 9 classes (realize that is about 30+ hours of class a week) nearly all of which were AP and honors courses... and somehow managing to get a 4.0 GPA or very near that every single semester.... I look back and wonder how I did it? Since dad was an hour away, I never got to see him nearly as much as I wanted to. When he died, my world shattered again... and I still haven't completely recovered from that, nor have I recovered from the guilt I have for not spending every waking moment with him when I found out he was going to die.

After that I got involved in a lot of crap I wish I never would have... started my first year of college, started living on my own, and taking on all the responsibilities of an adult in an overwhelmingly short period of time... and that was ok...
But I got introduced, (again by people I TRUSTED), into a scene that ruined my dad and a million other people in my family with drinking and pot, and I have been struggling with that a LOT... although it was a lot worse my first semester of college. By second semester I was calming down, at least with the pot, and only drinking maybe one night a weekend, sometimes not even that... I did have some crazy parties... but I don't regret those. They were fun, and I met a lot of people. I do regret that a lot of these people AGAIN and AGAIN broke my trust by stealing things from me and being disrespectful, but I still continued trusting and believing that deep down all people want to do is good... but so many things point to the opposite of that.

Thankfully, I had my Bible study girls to help keep me on track throughout all of this, and without them and the grace of God, I feel like I very well could be dead right now.

During this school I also let my guard down. I let myself feel some things for people that I shouldn't have let happen. I still don't know if I regret that or not. Maybe I never will know what the right thing to do was. But I'm still pathetically dealing with that, although said problem doesn't even really feel like I problem for me anymore with everything else that has been going on lately... and I guess it was never a problem, because I knew the only solution and the only possible outcome the entire time. What an idiot.

And there have been so many other horrible problems I have dealt with, but I just can't bring myself to say them because it brings the faults of other people to light. Some of the other problems I brought up, were so much worse and so much more complicated than I showed as well, but I don't want to hurt other people and I don't want to make them look foolish, so I won't.

But this summer, I went away to Mexico to just get away from EVERYTHING. I left a lot of emotional CRAP back in the United States, and going away to Mexico was just another way I had of ignoring my problems... and this time... it actually worked. I was having the time of my life. I learned so much Spanish, I made so many friends, I learned about another culture and way of life and learned SO MUCH...

But I had my trust broken again by a stranger. A cab driver. Although, people have told me that they wouldn't share this information and that I should be careful, they are NOT me. I think people should know, and I think people should be careful. And anyone with the same problem as me — being TOO trustworthy — reads this and can learn, then let them learn.

I was taken to an isolated part of Mexico, raped, beaten and robbed and I really don't know how I didn't die... By the grace of God, I made it across six lanes of interstate traffic and 1/2 way up a mountain to a hotel where I somehow, all in Spanish, voiced what had happened to me. I spent two days of hell and tears and illness dealing with this....

And this is why I feel so lost and abandoned and alone right now. I have been dealing with a roller coaster of emotions, and one day I will feel completely different than I do the next.

I am heartbroken...and this time, I don't know if I have the strength to pick up the pieces and compose myself. But I have to. I am strong. And since i was born, evil has been trying to break me, and the way I view this from my Christian perspective, is that if it is worth working this hard to destroy me, but that God has constantly kept me safe, then God must have some really freaking awesome plans for me life... and that I have to stay strong and trust that God will take me where he wants me to go and that I will be an amazing person and accomplish everything he wants and do so much good in this world.... hopefully enough good to somewhat make up for all the evil there is.... I want to show people that even though there are so many bad, hurtful, evil things, that there is so much to this world — so, so, so many beautiful things and so many things worth living for.

No matter how many times you have been hurt and heartbroken or near death, there is always something to live for. There is something new to be learned every day. And there are beautiful things that come out of even the darkest situations — and I hope that my life is a living testimony to that.