'I heard you crying loud, all the way across town."

I have been thinking a lot about certain types of things. Mostly, girls. Girls and the way they operate.  In relationships, I mean. I remember a couple weeks back, I was at the store going grocery shopping with my sister. While I was going through the chip aisle, I couldn't help but overhear a conversation next to me. 

"So I went out on a date with my baaaaaabe the other day," (Yes that's how she said it.) 

"How'd that go?" Her friend asked. 

"It was good, but he was being soooo gay." (I hate Rocky River) "We went to Applebee's for dinner and he told me he's not getting paid until next week so he asked if I could spot the bill. I mean, he's paid for every single meal since we started dating. I'm a girl. I don't have to pay for anything." 

"That's so retarded. And sexist." 

"I know right?" 

And then they flounced off, leaving me totally and completely speechless. It led me to two several conclusions: 

1) SHE'S the one being sexist, thinking that guys HAVE to pay for everything and 

2) Women in this day and age are crying feminism/sexism/misogyny too much. 

Seriously. If I had a TARDIS or any sort of time machine for that matter, I would take today's generation of women through time. WAAAAY back when, where it was LAUGHABLE for women to vote, to have jobs, to do anything other than cook meals, clean, and make babies. 

Are things perfect with women? Definitely not. Just like how racism won't completely go away, women will be struggling as well. 

It honestly disgusts me when women cry out sexism or feminism over trivial issues like paying on a date. Sure, I believe that men should pay on the first date. It's cordial. And I'm a biiiit of a traditionalist but only for the simple things. Maybe even again on the second. MAYBE. But after a while when a certain relationship is established, it's okay for women to pay too. We're working now.  We have jobs and are able to support ourselves. 

I see so many posts on the Internet about things involving women and I see SO many cries of feminism, sexism, misogyny. Even if it's as so far off as "I stepped on a leaf." There will be a bunch of people analyzing it and trying to think of ways to make it seem like women are victims. It's disgusting. A lot of these people on the Internet are like, 14 years old. Nowadays having an Internet friendship with someone twice your age isn't that farfetched. Risky, yet. But becoming more and more common. So when you become friends with these older women, you adopt some of their beliefs. BUT YOU ARE FOURTEEN YEARS OLD. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT FEMINISM IS. 

Actually, writing this entry has already set me up for tomorrow's topic, double standards with women. 

I'm no woman hater. I have female friends. I admire women and how far we have all come in this world. But honestly? Try going back in time and explaining to a woman in the 1920s why you believe something is "feminist". Cut it out. 

With love,

Liv

Song in title: "When I Come Around" - Green Day

"Love love is a verb, love is a doing word. Fearless on my breath."

Companionship vs. Marriage


I'm writing this because of an argument my mom and I got into the other day. We were on a way to a baby shower. My mom basically doesn't support this baby shower at all. It's a shower for my cousin. She's 20 years old and she moved to Florida with her boyfriend. I don't even think they've been dating a year yet but she is pregnant with his child. He is in the services but I don't know if he's on active duty. She was a student but was trying to find work. They have no plans on getting married right now. Shortly after she announced her pregnancy he traded in his car for a motorcycle (???). So a lot of people (aka family) aren't happy with her irresponsibility right now.

My mom and I are on the way to the shower when she said that if either my sister or I got pregnant and we weren't married, she wouldn't throw us a shower. I was kind of understanding, considering the circumstances. If I got pregnant now, I wouldn't feel like I even deserved to have a shower.

However, I posed a question for my mom:

"What if I were in a relationship with a guy for over five years. We loved each other the same way you love dad - more and more each day. We were financially stable, and we knew that we were each others' soul mates. We just didn't want to have a marriage ceremony because we know in our hearts that we already are without the paper and the rings."

Now before I continue, let me just vouch for my mom. I love this woman so much. When I got into my bike accident she was ready and willing to pick me up from Columbus at 2 in the morning. She took me in after my knee injury. And one of the most important things is that she is a VERY tolerant and compassionate woman.

I was shocked when her answer to my question was basically that my boyfriend (or...partner, I guess?) and I would be raising our child under destructive circumstances. They would get made fun of in school for not having parents that are married. We, as parents, wouldn't be taken seriously because we wouldn't be married. That people that have children that aren't properly married are "hillbillies".

I was shocked and even disgusted at what she said. I pointed out to her that it would be the same if a gay couple wanted to adopt a child.

"Oh that's different!" She snapped with a wave of her hand. "They WANT to get married, but can't."

"Really?" I asked. "Do you know every gay couple in the world? Even though it's legal in some states, I highly doubt EVERY gay couple want to get married just like how not every straight couple wants to get married."

"All I'm saying, Olivia, is that society deems it socially acceptable that couples get married."

"That's bullshit. Half of those marriages end in divorce anyway. And lots of married couples end up pregnant by accident, are financially unstable, and still decide to keep the baby despite their ability to pay for it."

"Yes, but that's usually because of the PEOPLE, not because of the 'paper' ((I hate it when people use air quotes in a debate. And she ignored the 2nd part of my sentence.))

"Exactly! So how is it any different than if a couple were together for, say, ten years decided to split? Look at Johnny Depp. He's been with the same woman for over twenty years and they have a couple of beautiful kids they raise very well."

"If Johnny Depp jumped off a bridge, would you do it too?"

"Out of all the things I've said for the past ten minutes, are you really going to pick apart that statement? Are you really going to go there?"

This argument lasted about half of the ride and I finally ended it because I was getting mad. The fact that my mom got so judgmental was upsetting and something I couldn't believe.

Look. I'm a girl. And I'm not going to lie and say that I've never thought about getting married before. I don't have long thought processes in my head about the ceremony, about the dress, about any of those things. I just...wonder. I wonder who I'm going to marry. I wonder how much fun the wedding will be.

But the bottom line is, the point of a wedding is to celebrate your love for someone to the point where you are ready and willing to spend the rest of your life with them. Your everlasting trust. Your willingness to support them throughout every day of your lives. Isn't that what real, true love is without a courthouse, a church, a lavish reception?

Will I get married someday? I hope so. A wedding would be a huge bonus. All in all I just want to be loved. I want to wake up next to the love of my life and have him think, "I am the luckiest man in the world." Does someone need to get married to have that feeling? Absolutely not.

So to everyone else: If getting married is your thing, then by all means, get married! There had better be an open bar and I had better be either a bridesmaid, or invited.

To all the other couples out there that are in love with their soul mates and have no intention on getting married any time soon, good for you. Don't let what everyone else may or may not think about you get you down. You're in love and you know you're going to be together. Do whatever you want.

With love,
Liv

Song in title: "Teardrop" - Massive Attack 

"Me and my head high and my tears dry, get on without my guy"

The roommate/moving out/Polyamorous relationships


As most of the people reading this already know, I moved to Columbus for about eight months. It was, in most ways, an amazing experience. But of course, for some reason, bad karma tended to hit me out of nowhere. Seriously, can't a girl catch a break?

I dated this guy for a couple months before I ended up moving in with him. I know, I know. This already sounds like a recipe made for disaster.

I had known this guy for a while before we started dating. He was within the circle of friends I was in, but we never really started talking until November of 2010. We were both going through incredibly rough times in our lives. His relationship of 2 years had just ended. The circle of friends I was friends with were all furious with me for an event that had happened the previous week. The guy I was sort of-but-not-really dating at the time "dumped" me a week before an anime convention. I was just hit in the gut multiple times and I felt like nothing was going to get better.

Then this guy came along. He saw I was in distress and seemed to be the only one that cared. We went out a couple of times. He was charming and wonderful and really listened. I thought that things were finally turning around for me.

He "wasn't ready" for an exclusive relationship yet but he claimed to be fascinated with me (that wasn't the exact word he used, I just forgot it so I went with the next best word I could think of).

He took me on this amazing date, to the Kalahari water resort in Sandusky, Ohio. I spent half of my Christmas with him. He was just wonderful and my stupid ass was falling for him fast.

A few weeks after we were dating, he asked me how I felt about a polyamorous relationship. Honestly, I didn't mind at all. One of my closest friends had been in a polyamorous relationships for longer than 5 years (and still going strong). It's one of those things where if there's a lot of communication, trust, and honesty, it can be pulled off. So, I agreed.

It was not long after that, that he started talking to this girl who lived in New York. She, too, agreed to be in a polyamorous relationship, but she had different intentions. She was 34 years old and really was looking for someone to marry, someone to have a family with. The three of us would get along on Skype just fine, but the moment he wasn't around she would be very malicious and competitive. I couldn't take it anymore so I confessed to him the horrible things she would say to me behind his back. He never broke things off with her, but had a talk with her about how important I am to him.

A couple months went by and things were going well for us. I was struggling with my home life. Nothing bad against my family, it's just I was at the point where I was going "Okay, I'm 23 years old, I need to get out of here.", and my parents were going, "Okay, you're 23 years old, what are you still doing here?" I was getting annoyed and hurt by events that would happen at my parents'. I started looking around to see if there were any cheap places around.

It wasn't until around December that my roommate suggested I moved in with him. I was unsure because we weren't dating for very long, but I felt our situation was different as we had known each other before we started dating. Furthermore, I was unsure of what my parents would think. But I asked them what they thought. They, like my friends, thought it was a mistake, but knew that I needed this. So, on January 23rd, we drove down to Columbus and I moved in.

Life was great...for a week. Then Ohayocon happened. Ohayocon is one of the largest anime conventions in the country. I couldn't go the entire weekend because I couldn't afford a room or anything, but I still did my cosplay (female Robin), and roamed around for a few hours.

I know this sounds crazy, but when a relationship is about to go sour, I can feel it. Most of my friends just tell me I'm paranoid and I'm over-analyzing things, but I am always right. However, I tried telling myself that everything was fine.

Since my roommate staffs this convention on top of working at his other job, I knew he would come home tired. I decided to bake him a cake. He came home that weekend and I proudly showed him what he did. He kissed me and told me how sweet I am. I thought, "Maybe I was wrong this time."

Nope. The next day, we were talking and hanging out since he had the day off. He then had to break it to me about this girl he met. Apparently, in the span of 24 hours, he fell in love with her and wanted to be with her. They spent the entire weekend together. He told her of me, and our relationship. She told him she didn't want to be in a polyamorous relationship so he had to think about what he really wanted.

I desperately wanted to be the chosen one for once. But does it ever work that way? No. He ended up choosing her and putting me into one of the most painfully awkward and heartbreaking situations I'd ever been in.

They didn't even give me time for me to get over it. Within a week of them being together, she was already visiting him on a daily basis (She lived in Michigan at the time). A week after learning this, I had to witness them being together. Cuddling and making out in front of me without a care in the world. And it hurt. It hurt a lot.

I still hate everything about them. I hate their relationship. I know it is a horrible thing for me to wish bad on people, but honestly I hope their relationship crumbles and one or both of them goes through the emotional pain they put me through.

I watched as my roommate's attitude turned a complete and total 180 around me. He did not give a flying rat's ass about my feelings or anything.

I forgot to mention in my post about my abusive relationship that I still have lingering effects, including night terrors. One night, while he was on Skype with her, I had a night terror. I stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water but ended up having a bit of an anxiety attack. He ended up abandoning his call to comfort me. After I went back to bed, I overheard him telling her what happened and why it happened. He told her everything from start to finish. I was FURIOUS. I have no problem telling people of my story, but it is my story to tell. I choose whom I tell it to. The fact that he didn't even ask for my permission first or ANYTHING pissed me off. I confronted him about it the next morning. I told him I wasn't comfortable with him telling her of my past. His response? "I don't care. I'm one hundred percent honest with my girlfriends. Diana has had trust issues in the past and I am going to continue telling her things that I feel she should know, especially if it concerns me abandoning her to comfort you."

And that's how I realized I could never call my apartment "home". I soon got kicked out of the bedroom and had to move into the dining room to sleep. The dining room was a small room, where I could barely fit any of my stuff in. There was a nest of spiders living there and I would frequently wake up with bites all around my body.

My roommate continued to be more of a jerk to me. He had no problem throwing me under a bus and it hurt. It hurt a lot. He even went as far as calling me ugly on my birthday in front of my friends.

My one saving grace, aside from the friends that I made down there, was my job. I loved my job more than any other job I had. Target was more of my home than my apartment was and was the reason I didn't pack up and leave back to Cleveland right away. A lot of people at Target knew of my situation and tried to help me out of there. One of my friends, in particular, was possibly going to need a roommate. I checked out her apartment.

That was the day before my accident. On my way to work, a part to my bike fell apart and stopped the tire. I vaulted over the handlebars and came down on my knee. I knew once I hit the ground, I would be moving back to Cleveland. My thoughts were confirmed when the fire department came to pick me up and they mentioned a dislocated knee. I could never survive this living in Columbus. I have no one to rely on. No family members. I certainly couldn't rely on my roommate. And I knew I'd have to take a leave of absence from work

Now I'm all moved back in Cleveland. Minus leaving my roommate, it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. If any of you are in the situation I was in, whether you've been with the person for a week, or years, try and find a way out. If you have nowhere to go, don't feel like you've failed because you had to move back. Save yourself the emotional abuse, because it just isn't worth it. And for Christs' sake, don't move in with the person you've been dating unless you've been dating for a LONG time.

As far as polyamorous relationships go, this hadn't turned me off from them. It might be years before I'm in one again, but I know they can be done right.

With Love,
Liv

Song in title: "Back to Black" - Amy Winehouse

"You teach me to rise up, to open my eyes up. All these heroes come and go, you're still standing."

My favorite teacher


Ever since I started writing this blog, I've used stories of my past life as ways to help people that may be going through something similar or are struggling in figuring out how to handle a problem.

Last night I asked one of my best friends what he thought of my blog. He said that it's good but it's mostly negative. While this is true, it is also unfortunate. A lot of negative things happened to me in order for me to learn these lessons in life. However, I decided to try and think of a positive story to tell. So far, this is what I've come up with:

This is the story of my favorite teacher in the entire world. He was my English teacher for my freshman and senior year. He was one of the most amazing people I had ever met.

Teachers like him are hard to come by. At my high school a lot of teachers weren't very enthusiastic with the subjects they taught. I found myself unable to really do well in classes where teachers just droned on. If someone had a question, there would a roll of the eyes and/or a heavy laden sigh.

Then there was my English teacher. He was actually hired as a substitute teacher because our actual English teacher got into a nasty car accident. He was only supposed to be a sub for a month. A month turned into three, and then three turned into the rest of the school year. I first started out DESPISING him. I thought he was annoying. A week went by, and I didn't want him to leave. Of course I would get my wish, but never mind that.

He was so passionate about English literature. He bounced around the room as we talked about Shakespeare. He excitedly rambled about Odysseus and Homer. He explained the touching story of Helen Keller in The Miracle Worker. I grew to absolutely adore him. Other students were turned off by his enthusiasm over what he taught.

The world proved to be quite small during parent/teacher conferences. My parents went to his table and he spent the majority of it talking about how good of a student I am, and how I was just as passionate about learning things. Especially when it came down to Shakespeare (what can I say? I am my father's daughter.). But while my English teacher would be talking to my parents he and my dad kept eyeing each other. For the rest of the conference, he and my dad were trying to figure out where it was they had seen each other. As it turned out, they went to high school together. My dad graduated a year before him.

While my dad and my teacher weren't really friends, it established a bit of a closeness between my teacher and I. Nothing inappropriate or anything, but he felt the need to protect me. Because English was my favorite subject and it was thrilling for me to be able to show off my love for it, I got picked on in that class a lot. One afternoon in particular, a student was picking on me so hard that I began to cry. Not openly sobbing, but I had to choke back tears. He noticed this and stopped his lesson to yell at the entire class. He said he would not tolerate such disrespect toward anybody. He was furious. No one ever picked on me again (although I'm sure a ton of shit got talked about behind my back)

I was beyond thrilled when he stayed for the remainder of my high school years. I don't really think he was that thrilled about it since he had technically retired. But he always had his door open for me (and other students as well) even if I wasn't a student of his at the time.

I was SO happy that he was my teacher for my senior year. At that point, he had been teaching at the high school for 4 years. He didn't really care anymore and he was getting fed up with our administration and the way they planned the senior year curricula. We walked in to his class to go over the syllabus. He held up the administration's syllabus and then ripped it in half.

"The school administration, for the 4th quarter, want you to do your research paper, your persuasive essay, AND your persuasive speech at the same time. That's not going to happen, you'd all kill yourselves. So, here's what we're going to do--" and then he gave us his own revised syllabus.

That said, it was no easy year for us. He was quite strict and demanding with us. If students didn't hate him then, they hated him now. Even students that once loved him were showing an obvious disdain for him. But I knew why he was so strict with us. He was trying to make us better students. He was trying to show us that after high school, it wouldn't be any better. He had us write a lot of papers since that's what college would be all about. He pushed us. He pushed us hard but it was for the absolute best. He wasn't doing it to be an asshole. He did it because he cared. He did it because he wanted us to succeed.

Although he didn't go easy on us, he was still the same English teacher. He was the same man that would excitedly talk about Shakespeare so much that he would spittle. He was the same man whose eyes would light up every time a student answered a question correctly. Hell, his eyes would light up if a student ASKED a question.

And here's where my "lesson" comes in. First of all, I think we all need to have that one teacher. We need to have that one teacher that inspires us to do better. That one teacher whose enthusiasm rubs off on us. Those types of teachers should never be taken advantage of. Not only are they really and truly teaching us, but they are enjoying what they teach! I've always found that a teacher that enjoys doing what they do makes someone pay attention a lot more than a teacher who drones on in such a monotonous tone that even Ben Stein himself would fall asleep. The type of teacher that cares about the kind of student you end up being after  you go beyond high school.

If you have a teacher like that, whether it's science, math, English, or history, take advantage of that kind of teacher. Befriend that type of teacher. Don't be afraid of being called a teacher's pet, or a kiss ass or whatever those jerks may say. Teachers like that are really one in a million. I miss my English teacher more than anything in the world, especially now that he's retired for good. If you have a teacher like that, that cares as much as they do, never refuse help from them. Ever.

With love,
Liv

Song in title: "Heroes" - David Cook

"That's me in the spotlight, losing my religion"

Religion


I know it's really hard to believe but I used to be a complete and total prude. Yes, yes, I will let the news sink in for a while. I was this goody two-shoes who thought smoking was the most disgusting thing to do, that drinking was the dumbest thing you could do, and don't even get me STARTED on how I felt abut sex. I followed the rules as best as I could and would cry for HOURS if I ever got in trouble with a teacher. I was just that kid. People would break rules and just shrug it off and say, "I AIN'T EVEN MAD! I AIN'T BOVVERED!" whereas I would over-analyze everything and think of ways to kiss ass to the teacher so they wouldn't be mad at me anymore.

I'm rambling.

Anyway, I grew up in a semi-religious family. I'm not talking fire and brimstone religious, but my mom grew up Catholic and went to church regularly. My dad grew up Protestant and did the same thing. From the time I was about 7 years old until the time I was about 14 I would go to church regularly. I attended Sunday school and I was pretty much "that kid". I paid close attention to what my Sunday school teachers would say. I'd read along in our kids Bible until I knew everything forwards and backwards. Every time a teacher asked me a question I knew the answer right away.

I had my confirmation at 14. A couple years after, the church we regularly attended was starting to fall apart. People were turning against our Pastor because they didn't like her. My parents personally loved her. There was a meeting we had to attend about her and it ended up being a full out bash fest. My parents decided to leave once they found out they fired her via voice mail while she was on vacation.

My parents tried finding a church with a good youth group since the one at our old church was seriously lacking. It took a couple years to find one, but we did. At that point, I wondered why even bothering trying to fit in with the youth group. I was a senior in high school and these people basically grew up together. I was already shy and awkward and didn't really fit in that well. But the pastor at our church LOVED me and I him. He just had one of those faces where when you talked to him about anything, you could SEE him listening. He was great.

But I was slowly starting to lose my faith. I don't know if it was just because we were out of a church for so long, or if I was just bitter. I was going through so much in that time. My mom always told me that God had a plan.  So, he planned for me to get bullied all throughout school? He planned to put a hideous tumor on my face?  He planned for me to be the happiest I'd ever been with my first boyfriend only to take that away? He put me in an abusive relationship? This is his plan for me? Why does He hate me so much then?

The more my mom said that he had a plan, the more I hated Him. Well, no, not hated. But I grew a disdain for Him.

Furthermore, it pissed me off when I went to that private school. Every time I passed a test, passed a project, and even when I "graduated" the 8th grade, my teachers would give all the credit to God. "God made you pass your test!"  "God made your project good!"  "God made you graduate!"

Really? Did God whisper me the answers to my test? No. I studied all night long. Did God help me glue shit to a tri-board? Nope. That was me. Did God make me graduate? No, my hard work and dedication made me graduate. I was increasingly getting annoyed. God was stealing my thunder! (So to speak.)

There is so much hate in this world. You've got the Westboro Baptist Church who protest funerals and other things in the name of God. I know that these people are nuts, but people buy into it. People hate on the LGBTQ community and cite the Bible as the reason. I have a statement for you: The Bible has been edited so many times by various people.

When this country was formed, there was a separation between church and state and now those lines are becoming blurred. There are people in our government that are making their decisions based on their own religious beliefs. Politicians, especially those running for President, use their beliefs as a way to get into primaries.

I'll let you in on a secret, though. While I do consider myself an agnostic (borderline atheist), I kind of wish I had my religion back. I don't really know why. I can respect the "normal" religious people out there; just as long as they don't shove their opinions down my throat, I can be open-minded to their views and hope they can do the same with me. But I've always liked the idea of having something or someone to believe in. I still pray sometimes. I just don't know what or whom I'm praying to. I do believe in Heaven, though. What I'm not sure of, is why. I don't know if it's because I truly believe that is God's kingdom or if it just a way for me to hope that there is life beyond death and that I can be reunited with my long deceased relatives.

I'm not one of those agnostics/atheists  that can't tolerate being friends with a religious person. I AM friends with people that regularly attend church and are one with God. That is totally and completely fine. Ignorance goes both ways. Christians can be ignorant towards atheists, and atheists can be just as ignorant towards Christians. As long as you can tolerate my beliefs, I will tolerate yours.

I don't know what life has in store for me. I don't know if I'm going to end up believing again. Maybe someday. Christian, atheist, agnostic, polygamist, we should all love each other and be kind to one another. That is what the God I grew up with taught us.

With Love,
Liv

Song in title: "Losing my Religion" - R.E.M.

"If you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me."

Abusive Relationships/Edik


This story is no easy story to tell, and it's not exactly the most pleasant. Be careful when reading this. It is a disturbing story and one that takes me a lot of cajones to write. It's very graphic, with lots of swearing and evil names being used. You have been warned.

I met Edik through my roommate in college, my freshman year. She had met this guy on Facebook that was going to hook us up to all the parties (Meanwhile, I'm thinking, greeeeeeat. Since I was a totally different girl then than I am now).

Our first night as roommates, we went down to this dude's dorm. We were going to some frat party but we were waiting for his roommate to show up. When he did, I kind of smacked my roommate which was my way of going, "GIIIIIIIIIIIRL." This average height, muscular, Patrick Swayze look-a-like walks in the room. I had stars in my eyes. But then the sod actually opened up his mouth. Automatically I was put off so I was a little "meh"about him.

We go to this party. Guys, this is my first party ever so you can only imagine how overwhelmed I felt when we stepped through those fraternity doors. I was walking with this dude's roommate. Automatically, I distance myself from everyone. He joins me and I tell him it's my first party. He spends the majority of the party taking care of me and making sure I'm not getting hit on.

Guys, I'm really bored at this party, okay? The music sucked, the beer sucked (curse you, Natty Light!), and I was surrounded by testosterone, wanting to get laid. I wanted to go back to my dorm and read. I soon got my wish. My roommate tugged me off the couch and said we had to go. That guy that we were with was quite publicly drunk and making an ass out of himself so we had to go. I couldn't find the roommate to thank him for taking care of me so I just left.

A few weeks later, I found him on Facebook and sent him a message thanking him for helping me out. We ended up spending the entire day chatting on AIM. He invited me to another party. I was a little unsure but I decided to live a little and go.

I should have realized he was shady when I saw 2 other girls with him. I would learn a week later that he was trying to decide between the three of us but he decided to "choose" me because I was the most aggressive out of the 3 of them. Thanks, asshole.

So we go to this dumb party. They had beer pong set up so we decided to play. We won, highfived, then kissed. All in that order. Then there was more kissing. Then we watched movies in my dorm room. Yes, we actually watched the movies. He wanted to stay the night but I turned him down. Oh, by the way, in case you're wondering, my roommate was in Akron for the weekend visiting her friend.

The next morning we had lunch and an hour after that we were in a relationship. Just like that. It was a piss poor decision but part of me still wasn't over my first relationship. I was lonely.

It started off really great. Don't they all? He was supersweet and always made me feel good about myself. I should have realized something was wrong when he came between my roommate and I. My roommate still felt like something wasn't quite right and she did not want to be around when he was. We got into a huge fight and I ended up moving into another dorm room.

The abuse started off as verbal, a few months after we started dating. He started calling me a cunt, a bitch, worthless, etc. We would fight often. He would never let me go anywhere alone. At one point, he would go to class with me. Yes, class. He didn't take my theatre major seriously and he'd either wait outside or he'd get me to ask the professors if he could watch in on a lesson.

I was totally and completely clueless but I didn't want him to let him go. He could say and do these awful things, but then he'd be so charming. It was ridiculous.

There was one other thing: He was addicted to going to parties. Every Thursday and Saturday was some new party. He wanted to drag me along to go to them but I grew tired of the party scene. Did he care? No. I'd go to these parties and then skip classes. Pretty soon, I wound up on Academic Probation. We'd fight all the time and I was increasingly stressed with my schoolwork because I knew I had to pull through this.

Fall semester ended. I went home for a couple months. I believe I saw him once. It was perfect and we barely fought. I figure things would change for the better and that it was just a phase.

Spring semester began. This is when I suddenly realized, "Oh...shit." I took a sociology class and befriended 3 people there. 2 girls and a boy. It didn't take me long to develop a crush on the boy. Crushes are harmless, right? But I kept my mouth shut. If Edik ever found out that I had a crush on someone else...I don't even want to think about what would happen. The four of us (Edik not included until later) would sometimes grab lunch or coffee, go over notes, and talk. The more I hung around with this other guy the more I liked him. I think the group already knew that something was wrong. They said nothing because I kept convincing them I was fine. They didn't intervene though. Looking back on it now, I kind of wish they had.

Soon we were having lunches and coffee dates together quite often and Edik grew suspicious. He started attending these get togethers with me. He was very possessive and obviously threatened by the guy in the group I liked. Even though I knew I would never do anything like that, he didn't know that and obviously didn't trust me.

Okay. So this is where it gets disturbing and if any family members are reading this, stop (that probably didn't work, did it?).

Edik was obsessed with sex. He was obsessed with wanting to be one I lose my virginity to. I was in no position to have sex. I was stressed with school and I was gaining weight and losing all my ambition and drive. He'd keep pestering me about it, though. I'd keep telling him I don't think I'm ready. He was fine with that for a while, but he was getting impatient. I mean we were dating in September! It was February and we weren't having sex yet! That is YEARS to guys like him.

He just kept badgering me and he wouldn't stop. I'd hold my ground.

One night I woke up in the middle of the night. He was on top of me, and his hands were on the waistline of my pajama pants. I asked him what he was doing. He realized that he was caught. He jumped off of me and went back to sleep. The next morning, I asked what was going on, and he said he just had a dream about me and that was all.

Scary stuff, isn't it? What's scarier is that I believed him and continued to be with him. The rest of the year went by and then it was summer. Our fights were getting worse and worse. Since we couldn't be together always, we had to be on the phone. All day. And during most of those conversations we'd fight. We'd fight when I visited him or he'd visit me.

August came and I started my sophomore year. I was determined to get myself out of the academic mess I let myself get into. Edik was in rare form.

The physical abuse started in September. We got into a fight about my family. Edik was always criticizing my parents' parenting, and the fact that they were always struggling financially. This was what we fought about. He just kept ragging on them and I wanted him to stop. He wouldn't. He blocked the door so that I couldn't leave my own room. I didn't know what else to do and I felt trapped as he kept trash talking them all while keeping me hostage in my own room. So...I smacked him. He reacted instantaneously. He took a fistful of my hair, and yanked me to the floor with it.

"DON'T YOU EVER TOUCH ME LIKE THAT AGAIN, YOU FUCKING CUNT. YOU HEAR ME?"

The door knocked. He grabbed me by the arm picked me up, and fixed my hair, suddenly sweet again. I answered the door. It was the RA. She wanted to know if everything was okay. I forced a smile and said it was, but she saw right through me. She ended up calling the police. While we were waiting, Edik looked at me and said, "You're going to take the blame for this otherwise I'll fuck you up even worse." I just nodded my head. When the police officers came, we told our stories. They were impressed at how I willingly admitted everything was my fault and decided not to proceed any further. They suggested that we spend some time apart.

The sad part was, I didn't know how to do that. I didn't know how to not be around him. So did I listen to them? Nope. I went back to him and he hugged me tight to him and told me he'd never do that to me again.

He did much worse. I'm not going to sit here and say I was completely innocent in this. I provoked him a lot. I would hit him or scratch at him too. But most of those times it was in self-defense. He would bite, hit, smack, pull at my hair, and kick. Even forced me on his bed and held me by the neck with his foot. I didn't know how to get out of this, but I knew that I had to soon.

I befriended a bunch of freshmen in my dorm. They were great girls and I don't know where I'd be without them. They weren't that fond of Edik at all because they were smart. They knew I was smart too which is why they thought I was awesome. We hung out a lot and Edik suddenly was not amused with the fact that I was gaining more confidence. I liked myself a lot more when I wasn't around him.

Our 1 year anniversary happened in September. I bought us Russian promise rings because he was adopted from Russia. We ended up getting into a fight that day.

He never went to class because he felt like since he went to Kent for free (his dad used to work there), he could goof off and fuck up as much as possible. He soon became involved with an interactive web site called IMVU. It's basically the poor person's Second Life. He got involved with the web site and skipped class, finals included. He'd be up all night playing. I was concerned with him not going to class but he'd just get pissed and call me another name or something. Anyway, on our one year we got into a fight. I left the room to take a nap. When I woke up I was over it, so I went to go wrap my arms around him. He was on the computer, on IMVU, and was asking some girl for nude pictures, then explained about our fight. I was furious and stormed out. He came after me and apologized.

I stayed with him 2 months after that. The turning point in our relationship was when we went out to blockbuster to return a movie. It was cold, and rainy. I didn't even want to go. I was sick and I just wanted to rest so I could be up for class. But he made me go by myself initially. I was upset but I left. He ended up trailing after me and we got into a fight. He got so upset with me that he came at me and put his hands around my neck. He began squeezing. That was it. I was going to die in a Blockbuster parking lot. I suddenly mustered a bunch of strength and kicked him in the balls before running off. I stayed with my friends that night.

 He ended up dropping out of the semester. I finally had breathing room. I was able to go out with my friends and not feel worried about having to watch what I say or do. He would still call me when I would be studying for finals. We'd argue, fight, only I had the strength to hang up on him.

I wasn't able to get myself out of academic probation but I raised my GPA a significant amount. I still felt good about it, and went home.

Let me stay that I tried to break up with him a bunch of times. But he'd say that it wasn't over until HE said it was over. He'd still call my home. I knew something had to be done. I ended up breaking up with him 3 days before Christmas over the phone. He screamed at me for hours then demanded to talk to my mom. My mom, being the wonderful person she is, endured Edik blaming this all on her. About how she tainted my view on him. He screamed himself hoarse and then asked to speak to me again. My mom gave me the phone. He was crying, but I didn't care at this point. I ended it once and for all.

Shortly after that, we discussed our options. I decided to leave Kent. I didn't feel comfortable being there by myself without any protection whatsoever. I didn't press charges because I just wanted everything to be done. He didn't. He ended up getting a hold of me and asking if I could go to his place and discuss this. Guess what? His place is 2 hours away. I could just see him crashing his car with me in it. I said no. My decision was final. And that was that.

I am so sorry for how long-winded this story was. Let me tell you something, girls and yes, boys. Don't feel like you're weak because you can't get out of an abusive relationship. Don't be ashamed that you were a statistic. While people may feel it's your fault that  you didn't get out of it sooner, it is not your fault. It's so easy for an outsider to look at someone being so obviously mistreated and ask themselves how they can put up with that. I've lived it, I've felt it. For me, it was my overwhelming fear of being alone. It's a different story for everyone. And you really DO feel like it will get better. That the bruises will stop forming, that the name-calling will stop, and you can just be a happy couple. It's the fact that you WANT to believe it'll end that keeps you from leaving them. Stay strong. If you are being abused, go get help. talk to someone. I kept this bottled up for a long time. Talk to someone you feel won't judge you. Just take care of yourself.

With Love,
Liv

Song in title: "Fucking Perfect" - Pink

"I think I'll try defying gravity. And you can't pull me down."

Cyber bullying


If my readers haven't noticed by now, the title of my blog posts are lyrics of songs. I'm going to edit the rest of my posts and put the title of the song at the bottom. Just in case anyone was interested in checking the song out.

Anyway, today's topic is about cyber bullying. I was debating on including cyber bullying with my bullying post but decided no for a couple reasons: 1) My bullying post was already getting long enough.  2) Cyber bullying is a completely different issue altogether.

I've been cyber bullied a lot. In my bullying post I talked about how I went to a party under the guise that I was welcome. The entire thing was set up on-line which should have been a clue right there, but I was one naive child.

Don't get me wrong. I love the Internet. I love Facebook, Tumblr, Stumbleupon, lolcats, and a whoooole bunch of other stuff. My time on-line has brought me some good times. It's led me to some good relationships (romantically and platonically), and led me to some very bad ones.

The Internet can be a very unsafe place to be, yet you never really realize that until it's too late. You read all these stories about meeting on the Internet going wrong but you never think that it could happen to you. Thankfully, I've never had a bad experience with meeting someone on-line in person.

I HAVE had a lot of bad online experiences, though. Thankfully no stalkers (well at least not ones that stalked me in person).

Let me start off by saying this - people that bully you on the Internet have only one thing in common with "real life" bullies. They could care less about your feelings. Only on-line, they take it to the highest extremes. Because there is no face, no one to really look at, they feel like they have the upper hand. They also do it keeping themselves somewhat anonymous. They'll push it to the highest limit and they feed themselves off of the power they feel they have.

The only time I felt where my life was truly at stake was about a year ago when I joined a LiveJournal community. They stalked my every move after they kicked me out (over some trivial stuff, but whatever). It wouldn't stop. It happens even now. They found ALL of my information. It scared me because some of these girls even had my number. It was a huge wake up call for me and the time I spent on the Internet. You always have to be careful because you're not only jeopardizing yourself, but your loved ones as well.

Cyber bullying and harassment is getting to be a huge issue nowadays. You hear all these stories about people killing themselves over peoples' harsh words. People nowadays aren't afraid of telling someone that they're worthless, that they're nothing and that they deserve to die. You never know what kind of person you're saying that to. People like that LOVE to go after not just the LGBT community, but also after people who struggle with bipolar disorder, and depression.

If you are being harassed on the Internet, do not feel like you can't talk to someone, especially the police. This problem is becoming more and more of an occurrence. Don't feel ashamed. But if you feel like you are in danger from someone who is threatening you - do as much as you can to free yourself from the problem. Talk to the police. Talk to your parents. Make every social networking service you use private. Take extra precaution, and for God's sake, please, please be careful about who you give your information out to. You are not alone in this. There are tons of people in the world that are going through what you go through.

I wish there was more I could say about this but I'm trying to keep my personal experience from this as vague as possible. Just take care of yourself. Please.

With Love,
Liv

Song used in the title: "Defying Gravity" - Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth, "Wicked"

"I may be weak but I'm never defeated and I'll keep believing in clouds with that sweet silver lining,"

First Love/First Heartbreak


I didn't have my first real boyfriend until I was 17 years old. During my high school years, I was involved in a Harry Potter RPG web site (yes, I am a nerd.). I made close friends with a girl there who lived in North Carolina at the time.

One night she invited me to an MSN group chat between me, her, and her best male friend. I instantly felt awkward and a little bit out of place so I was mostly quiet.I didn't really think I was that interesting and I ducked out of the conversation really quick. A few minutes after that, my friend told me that he wanted my e-mail. I didn't really understand why, but hey, what the hell?

For the next couple of weeks we would spend hours on MSN talking. Then we started talking on the phone. There was an obvious attraction and I was falling fast. I think we both were, but a long distance relationship was out of the question. I wanted to be with him so bad, and he with me.

I'm sorry to say that the base of our relationship started off with a lie. It was my fault and it was me channeling my inner 13 year old again. But it was a low move I pulled and was probably, on top of other things, the reason our relationship crumbled. But he fell in love with me and wanted to give a long distance relationship a try. I was so happy. I'd babble to my parents about him constantly. I wanted to meet him more than anything. We devised a plan. It was his junior prom in April. He wanted me to be his date. It was February at the time. It gave us 2 months to convince our parents. That's exactly what I did. My parents were very skeptical. I mean this not only was some random dude I met on the Internet, but he lived in North Carolina. How was this going to work?

After tons of begging, pleading, and getting our moms to talk on the phone, our parents finally conceded. I was in absolute shock. 2 days before his prom, April 7th, 2005, we piled into a car and drove to North Carolina.

We met for the first time at a Japanese Hibachi restaurant on April 8th. He saw me right away, picked me up from the floor and hugged me. Our families got on incredibly well. I didn't want to leave him but knew tomorrow would be another day.

At the hotel I met a few of his friends whom expressed interest in meeting me. I'm still friends with some of them to this day and absolutely adore them.

Prom was amazing. We met hours before and went to the beach to collect seashells and hang out. He wanted to kiss me, but figured it'd be a bad idea since our parents were around. But when we got into our limo, I received my very first kiss. Actually that entire limo ride was just us kissing, ha. But we were 2 kids in love and we didn't care.

At the actual prom I...tried to dance? That part of me hasn't changed much. I can't dance to save my life. It went by quickly and soon I found myself standing in front of my hotel room with him, crying, because I was leaving the next morning.

We saw each other a few more times after that: In the summer at Atlantic Beach, October for my homecoming, December for his birthday, and then in April during his spring break.

We had plans for our future. You know how young love goes. It's your first love and you're going to be together forever. You start looking at wedding dresses, and all of this other shit that you believe will happen because you're in high school and everything is butterflies and unicorns shitting rainbows. You are so caught up in it you forget about the c word: College. What word were you thinking of, potty mouth?

Him going to college in Ohio was out of the question. His parents were concerned that if he went to school in Ohio that I'd be a distraction. So he applied for schools in Pennsylvania. He got denied to those schools and was accepted into Georgia Tech. I had a feeling that shortly after that our relationship would come to an end.

I didn't want to believe it because we were stronger than that. But unfortunately my fears were correct. He broke up with me mid-May, a week before my prom.

I can't even begin to tell you all the weeks I spent sobbing. Naivete kicked in again and I thought maybe if I cried, pleaded, and told him how much I loved him, he'd change his mind. That doesn't work. That just pisses them off.

I'm admitting this now when I couldn't all those years back: I was a crazy bitch during that break up. Holy shit. No wonder we don't talk to each other anymore. I took the break-up hard, to say the least. I wish I could tell him how sorry I am. I don't think he'd believe me, even now.

Everyone's experiences with their first love are different. But  given what we had, it was a great experience. Always hold on to those years, if you want to cherish them. You really don't forget your first love (even if you want to). I'm not going to front. If your relationship with your first love was as full of love as mine was, it'll be incredibly difficult to get over. There will be lots of tears. Your friends might get sick of you crying about it all the time. Your family will feel helpless because after all the endless shopping sprees (thanks, mom!) and consoling, it's like they feel they won't be able to do anything.

It's okay to cry. Cry for as long as you want to. I HATED when people told me months later for me to quit it. You know what? They're your emotions and yours alone. If you're sad, cry. If you're angry, punch as many pillows as you can. Beat the shit out of as many zombies as you want to (video games. Please don't beat the shit out of a real zombie.) Eventually, all of that sadness and anger will fade. You will roll out of bed one day, look at your puffy eyes in the mirror and slowly start over. Once you do that, you're on the right track. It takes a while. It may take a shorter while for others who aren't as sensitive as I was. But it'll happen. And you know what? You'll be a better person for it.

With love,
Liv

Song lyric in title: "Sweet Silver Lining" - Kate Voegele

"You can be a winner, but you got to keep the faith."

Bullying/Depression


I was bullied throughout most of my childhood. From the time I started first grade, until even a bit during my college years. Even after all of these years I wonder why. It doesn't really matter to me anymore, but it's just always something I had wondered.

I basically grew up in Suburbia. Pre-dominantly Catholic, pre-dominantly white, and pre-dominantly wealthy. I remember one of the first trips my dad made to the high school. I forgot why, but it was shortly after we moved from another suburb in Cleveland. My dad got home and one of the first things he said to my mom were, "They're all Stepford wives!"

I was nervous starting first grade. I was the New Kid and I wasn't sure how I was going to be received. All of my fears basically came true. For the next 12 years I'd be the one to get picked on.

I don't know if it was because of my face. I was born with a hemangioma; a benign tumor that took up a good chunk of my face. By the time I was in first grade, I had had my surgery. The doctors didn't remove all of it, though. They removed the growth tissue and explained to my parents that it would be best to wait until I was older, to wait until my tissue had matured before removing the rest of it. So while my tumor wouldn't grow back, there was still a scar that occupied my face. That scar would be the bane of my existence for most of my years. Oh, who am I kidding, it still kind of is, but I choose not to let it get to me anymore.

Anyway, so here's this new kid that comes in with an oddly deformed face. (Okay, NOW I'm being melodramatic.) I think that was the first thing these brats kids went for, on top of fresh meat. All throughout elementary school and intermediate school (grades 3-5) I was called "Scarface", "bones", "boneface", etc. I was deemed ugly. All for what? Fragments of a tumor?

But soon they found other things to tease me about. Don't get me wrong, I've always been grateful that I grew up in a very safe town. It's the kind of town that you can go walking around at midnight and not feel unsafe. However, if you didn't have a house by the lake, if your parents weren't doctors, lawyers, or working a high-end job of a bank, you were nothing. I didn't live in a house by the lake. My parents don't have any of those professions. Because I was not wealthy by any means, I got teased for that.

Eventually things just accumulated. Toss in the fact that I was supersensitive, that would REALLY get them going. I would try to get a tougher skin but it was easier said than done. I showed vulnerability really quick. I thought maybe if I cried, maybe if I pleaded, the kids would take pity on me and they would stop. Oh, naivete. How I don't miss you.

I never really had any friends until high school. I was established as not just unpopular, but repulsive. If I had a crush on ANY guy at school, word would spread quick. Their reactions would vary between a disgusted laugh to even bursting into tears.

If you cared a lot about your reputation (which was a huge issue where I live), you were not friends with me. It would be considered social suicide.

Middle school was the worst. The absolute worst. By the time I hit seventh grade, kids were in rare form. I would go to Friday Night Skate, and people would be bribed to couple skate with me. Same thing with dances. I'd come home from school quite often in tears. It broke my parents' heart. They would talk to the guidance counselors. The guidance counselors did nothing, in fear that they would get in trouble with the powerful parents with money. My guidance counselor for 7th grade, Mrs. Newman, had a conference with my parents and the parents of a child who was especially mean to me. They were filthy rich and Mrs. Newman said point-blank to my parents, that me being bullied was my fault. That was the last straw. They went to my principal, Dr. Root, and pleaded with him to transfer me to a different counselor. He said something that shocked my parents: that he would be more than happy to take care of me. Every Friday afternoon then on, I would go to his office at lunch. He would either order a pizza or have one of his assistants pick up soup and sandwiches at a local deli, and we would hang out and I would unload all my problems. He was a huge help to me and I don't think he'll ever know how much he meant to me.

Of course in 7th grade I WAS to blame for some of my bullying. I started up a lie where I met one of my favorite celebrities. I thought if I made this story up, people would see how cool I am. Oh, no. Not at all. My peers would ask me questions. I thought they were genuinely interested. Nope, they were just mocking. It was supposed to be one lie, but I went overboard and it just spread a wildfire. Of course one of the teachers called my parents to see if I was telling the truth. Spoiler alert: I wasn't. I had to announce to a lot of people that I lied. Well, then the teasing just went full-blast. I was teased for everything. My hair, the originality of my name, the music I listened to, the books I read, the fact that I read at ALL, the fact that I enjoyed writing.

My parents were worried about me so they took me to a therapist. I was diagnosed with depression. My therapist then told my parents of another school in Cleveland. They looked into it but were unsure, since it was a private school and would have to pay tuition.

The final decision came when I was invited to go to a party in 7th grade. Someone posed as a popular guy in school and said they enjoyed to see me there. I was so excited. I bought a new bathing suit and went to this party. My mom took me there but was smart enough to stay behind and make sure that everything was okay. It wasn't. It was all a prank. When I showed up, I got laughed out of the apartment complex. That was the first time I saw my mom's heart break. When I ran back into the car sobbing uncontrollably. Shortly after that I was enrolled into this other school.

The settings weren't as safe as my current town. It was almost ghetto Cleveland so I had to be careful. But, I had friends there. Not a lot - I still got teased, but I was just relieved I had friends. Eighth grade went by and I decided I was going to go back to my school district.

By then, kids had grown up, or at least somewhat. I still got teased but not nearly as bad as before. And in time, I was able to wean myself from the anti-depressants. Joining marching band helped too. I befriended a couple seniors that looked out for me. By sophomore year, I had a group of friends.

Senior year hit. By that time, most of the people I went to school with just either ignored me or actually matured. I remember an event called Challenge Day, where a few students came up to me beside themselves crying for all their wrongdoings for me. I will never forget that day for as long as I live and how much of an impact it had.

Some kids never grow up. Some peers of mine found the Youtube of a web series I was doing at the time. They laughed at it and were prepared to make video responses and mocking me. It pissed me off and upset me. But here's where this all kicks in, kiddos:

To anyone that is struggling with getting bullied/battling depression: Nothing. Is. Wrong. With. You. If you are getting bullied it means that someone else's lives are so pathetic, that they think so low of themselves, that they have to take it out on someone else. They make themselves feel better for making someone else feel like shit. I promise you, there is nothing wrong with you. You keep being you. You may not feel it at the time, but you are strong and a wonderful human being. Kids will eventually see it. It may take a while, but it is so worth it. And if you have depression, do not think there's something wrong with you. Depression isn't uncommon. Don't think you're above treatment. I promise, it will get better.

With love,
Liv

Song lyric in title: "Keep the Faith" - Michael Jackson

...cause I'm having a good time, having a good time.

I'm not really sure why I started one of these things. I know I'm probably never going to update it and this will be the only post you will ever see. But I have had a desire to write lately. I'd much rather choose a blogging site over my Facebook or my Tumblr.

So this will be my introductory post.

For those of you that don't know me, hi. My name is Olivia. You are free to call me Liv.

I reside in Cleveland, Ohio with my mom, dad, my younger sister and brother, and my 2 cats.

I recently moved back in with my parents after living in Columbus for eight months. I had no choice in the matter, I got into a bike accident and needed to be taken care of.

I am 24 years old, look like I'm 15, and have a childlike heart. I'm one of the nicest people you will ever meet, unless you do something to piss me off. I'm usually very forgiving but if you do something horrible enough, chances are you won't get that chance.

Unfortunately, I do not have a significant other...yet. I'm working on it, but my primary focus is getting my leg better which is going to be one of the main focuses on my blog.

As my blog title surmises, I am a huge fan of Queen. The blog title was partly inspired by the song, and just about my attitude.

Life continues to be sneaky and mysterious. I never know what's going to happen to me anymore. I don't mean that in a negative way, it's just that crazy thing called life. I never expected to come back to Cleveland after getting into a potentially life-threatening accident, but here I am.

It all started last April. This girl right here used to hide behind her computer all day. Mind you...I still do that, but if there's an opportunity to go out, I will. That wasn't always the case. And in just that night, everything changed for the better. Fast forward almost a year and a half later. I have totally and completely changed for the better. I have confidence. I have strength. Most important, after a vicious game of hide and seek, I finally found y self-worth. I learned to grow into myself and embrace my beauty, inner and outer.

This blog is going to be a story. My story. I want to talk about my past and my present. Maybe delve into what I want my future to turn into. I want to use this blog as a way for people to understand that life can be hard. It can be a fickle bitch and make you feel like you can't go on anymore. But I reassure you, you can. I'll prove it to you.

With Love,
Liv

Song lyric in title: "Don't Stop Me Now" - Queen