I am not strong, but my mask is.

I haven’t written in a while.  I have been very busy, in both a good way and a bad way.  Running around with friends, weekends full of adventures, running and training for several upcoming road races (I am not fast, I am stubborn.)  New group therapy through the VA, which is proving helpful in some spots, but not so helpful for others.  Basically, I have been living my life.

The problem with living ones life though is that often times it is not what we want.

I love meeting new people, I love learning about them, talking to them, figuring them out.  I am a very extroverted introvert sometimes.  My “public” persona however is much different from how I feel a good chunk of the time.  I always try to smile, be upbeat, positive and welcoming.  Who knows how well I actually do while attempting this.  This is the persona that people get to know, and slowly if we stay in each others lives, I let them see the smaller, weaker me.

This can backfire however in the dating world I have noticed.  I present myself as confident, strong, self assured, and certain of where I am proceeding in my life.  For some people this is an instant attraction or a repellant.  I have been described by some as bad ass, amazing, awesome (not trying to brag, just repeating) and I then feel like I have to constantly live up to their descriptions.

On average these compliments, while oftentimes making me uncomfortable, are welcome because I see them for what they are.  Lately however I have been feeling anything but strong. I have been feeling like I am broken, and the glue I have been using to keep myself together for the past several months has stopped working.

Constantly presenting myself as my ideal, what I want the world to see, means that when I fail at maintaining this facade it devastates me, and makes me spiral down into a pit.  When I attempt to do things that people see as easy, normal, and expected of someone like me (socially that is) and I fail at it, I feel farther and farther away from my generation.

Friday I went to a Minnesota Twins game with some friends to celebrate a birthday.  Large crowds and noises cause me some anxiety, but in a controlled environment like a professional sporting event I can ease myself down, knowing that there are hundreds of people around to keep us safe and happy.  I had a couple of drinks, ate some overpriced ball field food, and enjoyed myself with these friends.

My anxiety was under control.  Friday night home games they have fireworks after the game, and since the Twins won I think it was more spectacular.  The fireworks, so close to mortars and explosions, started to ramp my anxiety back up.  We went to a packed bar, where I went to look for another friend.  We met up, hung out for a bit, and I left with him and his friends to hit the next bar.

Now I haven’t been bar hopping since college, I am that awesome.  For those interested, I am 31.  But I was enjoying myself, these new friends I had met were nice, we got along, and I felt safe.  So despite the early warning signs that I was putting myself in a position that I found stressful and dangerous for myself, I kept drinking and enjoying the company of nice people.

By the third bar I was drunk, not black out, not out of control, I could still make decisions.  This bar was packed, crushing up against each other packed, or that is how it felt.  One of the guys took me onto the dance floor, and about 5 minutes later I finally felt the clawing panic manifest itself.  I dropped my beer and ran outside.

Minneapolis does not have the most happening downtown night life, nothing like Chicago or New York, but we play a decent game.  I found a corner, sat down and the panic swallowed me up.  I was coherent enough to call a friend, one who I knew could calm me down and get me somewhere safe.  She did, she was amazing.  She, along with the help of a stranger who relayed my location to her, got me an Uber to take me home.  There was also another women that knelt down and talked to me, ultimately getting me to the car and making sure I was safe.  I cannot fully convey my gratefulness for the strangers, and of course for my friend Andrea.  There was no judgement in very voice while she talked me through the worst of my panic attack.  Only love and understanding.

Upon my return home I did what any drunk, almost incapacitated person would do, I took my dogs out to pee.

Next, I called my sister and left an unintelligible voicemail.

Then, what all good combat medics do, I started my own IV.  I knew I would be hurting in the morning, and I knew this was my best bet at mitigating it.

Now, I did somethings at this point that I am not proud of.  I called my mom, who luckily was awake, but I hung up on her when my sister called back.  I was so ashamed and embarassed by my behavior and reactions, that I ended up turning my phone off, and lying on the floor crying, precious saline dripping (actually flowing quite quickly) into my veins.  It was only after about 20 minutes that I realized that I had hung up on my mother, and she was probably worried.  I called her back, turns out she was moments away from calling the Minneapolis police so they could do a wellness check on me.  I have to admit, I could have used one if I hadn’t called my mom back.

I wasn’t suicidal, I have been lucky in that I have never felt the urge to take my own life.  I consider that a gift.  I do however often have the urge to inflict pain on myself, something to bring me back to reality.  I want to hurt physically when I cannot handle the emotional pain.  I had the strong desire to punch one of our brick walls, breaking my hand, just to feel something.  I didn’t.

I got off the phone with my mom, exchanged some texts with my sister who wisely advised me to drink some water, cuddle with our dogs, and watch some Supernatural.  This is what I did.

I woke up the next morning feeling not hungover, thank you saline!  I did however have a very nice black eye.  I don’t remember what happened to get that injury, and my best bet is that I caught an elbow running out of the bar.

Everyone experiences shame, and regret, and anger at their actions at some point in their life.  I am incredibly ashamed of how I reacted to the situation.  I am angry that I cannot go out and enjoy drinking with friends without the incredibly real fear of completely freaking out and getting hurt, or hurting others.  I do not feel regret over this though.

Prior to all of this happening the guy friend I specifically went to meet had been singing my praise, about how awesome I was, how I was a combat medic, how cool and hardcore.  This made my episode feel so much worse.  Clearly, I am not the person he sees me as.

It would be very easy for me to have a pity party, and let me tell you, I am having one.  Saturday was pathetic, Sunday and Monday were tolerable, today I lost it at work.

There was an event I was going to go to tonight, discussing an amazing book about women in combat.  There were some people coming though that I could not face with a black eye.  I was so embarrassed, and I just could not remove the thought from my head that they were going to spend the whole time judging who I was, and how I acted.  I left the office in tears, almost hysterical again, when I thought of how pathetic I would appear to these people.

Now, I have very little to no evidence that they would have been anything but concerned and supportive.  The brain is a powerful thing, it can make you believe anything in the face of actual evidence. So I skipped the event, spent an hour crying in a downtown park, and just continued my pathetic streak.

So what have I learned?

Nothing, yet.  Too close to the incident. Still to ashamed of what happened, no matter how bad ass people tell me my black eye is.

I am also incredibly disappointed in myself.  I feel as if I am not sure who the real me is.  The person I project to those around me?  Probably to a degree.  I know I am always confident in my medic skills, skills as a soldier, I am a compassionate and caring person.  I am smart, in shape, surrounded by people who love me.  I am to a degree that person everyone gets to meet right away.

I am also a broken shell of a person.  Someone that wakes up nightly covered in sweat, panting in fear.  I am so petrified of being hurt, physically and emotionally, that I cancel most of the dates I arrange, because it is easier than taking the chance. Loud noises kill me, screaming children will make me shut down for hours, if not a whole day.  I am medicated and have been in therapy on and off for almost 3 years.  The men I am interested in, the men I want to date and get to know, and hopefully one day fall in love, are also the men I don’t talk to or go on dates with because I am 99.95% certain that when they learn about the weaker part of me, will run, or worse pity me.

Now, I know that there are no such things as absolutes, so I know I do not have to be either my super strong mask, or my weaker shattered self.  I know that I am a combination of those two, and many more, aspects of my personality.  I know I am not alone in these feelings, and fears, and emotional pain.  That brings a great comfort to me, because just knowing you are not alone can help get rid of so much despair.

I want to find a partner (romantic, I have a really good number of close friends) who I can be my vulnerable, broken self it.  I am terrified that my mask is all they want to see, and when they see the deeper, more broken me, they run away.  If I am honest with myself I know that this is a burden.  PTSD, depression, anxiety, long term health effects of war, these are not things that should be handled lightly, and I would never want to ask someone to help me take them on.  I would never want to burden another human being with these issues.

And maybe that is the root, and basis of my mask.  It is a protective presentation, not just for me, but its my way of protecting those around me from having to deal with everything I have become saddled with.

To be honest, I am going to protect myself, and those who want to be with me, right into a lifetime of loneliness.  I just wish I had the courage, the skills, and the strength to stop this path.

Set Backs and Triggers

I was all set to write about the midterm elections, and what they mean for me as a women, etc.  I was researching the ballot initiatives that had passed or failed, the candidates that had been elected, and the potential ramifications to women’s rights.  I was excited to write a post about one of my favorite topics, politics.  Then I got a series of messages from someone on OKCupid, a dating website that is free and similar to match.com and eharmony.com, and my entire week was derailed.

I have been on OKCupid for about 3 years now.  Not really a lucky site for me, I haven’t gotten so much as a date out of it, but I keep it around more out of laziness then anything else.  I do not reply often, if I have no interest in the gentlemen who has messaged me I don’t reply, it is my personal preference.  This man that was messaging me reinforced to me why I don’t reply often.

His message started well enough, I will excerpt parts of it, not the whole thing, and I will try not to provide any identifying features, because I don’t want to give him a platform.  He gives a brief description of his job, his home, his pets, and his goals on the website.  Long term, committed, monogamous relationships.  He also stated that he did not believe I would write back, probably hasn’t gotten a lot of responses on the site.  I feel his pain, I have sent dozens of messages off and never gotten a response.  So far, so good.  These are also things I am looking for.  He ends his message with the following 3 questions:

1. do you smoke
2 Have you ever cheated on a significant other
3. Were you absolutely devastated when your last relationship ended ?

The first question is valid, though covered in my profile that I am an avid non smoker.  The other two I found very invasive.  The questions of cheating and heartbreak are things that should be discussed at one point in a relationship I believe, though not in an initial email on a dating website.  I know that there are going to be people out there that find nothing wrong with these questions, and if you would have answered them that is fine.  I found them inappropriate for an initial conversation, I found them upsetting frankly.

My first thought when reading these was, “This man has clearly been hurt in the past.”  While I do not know this for sure, that was my reaction.  I was very put off by the questions.  I took a look at his profile and considered his message and decided that this was not a man I wanted to get to know better.  I also decided to give him the curtsey of a reply, and a bit of an explanation.  Below is a portion of my response.

I wanted to give you the curtsey of responding and not just leaving you hanging, as I know how that feels most of the time.
I looked at your profile, and you seem like a wonderful man, however I don’t think you are quite what I am looking for in a partner.
I was very put off by your questions, for me they are invasive (except the smoking one) and not information I want to just give to people that I don’t know. Those last two are none of your business at this point, and while I understand that you probably have been hurt in the past, it doesn’t give you license to ask invasive questions right off the bat.

I ended by wishing him good luck.  Some of you reading this might find it bitchy, or unnecessarily rude and pointed.  While that was not my intention, I can see that interpretation.  I can see how he might take this response poorly.  Honestly, I never expected a response in a million years (exaggeration is fun!)  I certainly did not expect that the conversation would go from cordial, to overtly violent in a short period of time.

I sent my reply on Saturday, while I was at drill in Wisconsin, which means I was exhausted and probably a slight bit cranky and frustrated with whatever situation I found myself in.  I didn’t give it any thought.  Till Monday, when waiting for a conference call at work I checked my email and found a response.  I read it, and was immediately shocked by the response, which I am including in its entirety below.

My questions are evasive what can you explain how so ?

I am quite amazed that you feel those questions are invasive as no body has ever said that to me before. Obviously you must have some sort of reservations about opening up to people.

Why do you feel that you may not be what I am looking for in a partner or vise versa?

What shocks me the most about the response was his expectation that I owed him any kind of explanation that went beyond, “I am sorry, I am not interested in you.”  This is a man I have not met, have only communicated with once, and never gave him any indication that there was the possibility of a meeting or relationship.  He writes back demanding an explanation.  So, I provided him one, in my unique Shannon way.

I don’t have to explain to you why I am not interested in you, you are not entitled to a justification beyond “I am not interested in you.”
As for your questions, I feel they are invasive. And yes, I do have problems opening up to strangers I have met on the Internet.

Yes, I am now intending to come off as a bitch because at this point he has given me no reason to be polite to him anymore.  He is entitled to nothing, I owe him nothing, and I told him that.  His response left me shaken, upset, and scared.  Again, it is printed below in its entirety.  I have added some bold for emphasis.

I would classify you as bitchy and reclusive

I just asked simple questions, and how people get to know one another is by conversation and asking one another questions.

The reason people email one another on this stupid website is to learn about the other person, to see if they are compatible to meet in person. I am not sure that you understand that concept. I think that you will perhaps respond to the email of a man you find attractive but, most of the time you ignore messages, or give bitchy answers as you have done with me.

Maybe you will stay single for a very long time…. Maybe a semi truck will skid off the road this evening at destroy your car. … hope you get arrested

Let’s be honest, I have no idea why he wants the semi to destroy my car, and then I get arrested.  The room full of lawyers I work with also found this odd.

Background on me.  Yes, I have trouble trusting men.  12 years in the military, two deployments, I am a sexual assault statistic.  I am one of the thousands of women that have been assaulted by a fellow service member, and I am one of the thousands that did not report it because of the very real negative ramifications on my career, I choose to stay silent.  So when a man comes at me demanding anything from me I am not willing to give, as has happened so often in the past, and so often ended with violent words or actions, I am going to be more cautious.

I could write down a detailed list of why this man was not a good fit for me, why he did not have the attributes I am looking for in a partner, but the point is I don’t have to explain to anybody why I am not interested in him, himself included.  I am under no moral, legal or ethical obligation to justify why I don’t want to share intimate information with a stranger.  I don’t have to explain to him the pain of being betrayed by those you have sworn to protect and save in a war zone.  I don’t have to give him bullet points and a Power Point presentation on why we would not work out well in the long run.  It is not a fundamental right of his.

He clearly thinks it is; his reaction to my refusal to give him the information he wanted, and the explanation he wanted was to wish pain, death and arrest (seriously?) on my person.  His reaction was violence.

My reaction to this, fear.  Object fear.  Bone chilling, fear.  I was able to get through yesterday fine.  Focusing on work, the weather, and getting to know some new people in my office.  Today, the more I thought about it, the more I dwelled on the reality of what his response meant, the more I shut down.  I went to a place, emotionally, that I haven’t been in months.  Even now as I write this blog post, even now as I try to put into words what his response has done to me, I am shaking.  Words, from a stranger, have the power to do this to me.  This pisses me off.  How dare this man have this much control over my entire life right now.  How dare he.

I did the only thing I could do in the situation, I reported the aggressive message to OKCupid, and blocked him on the website.  I never replied once the responses got violent, I would not continue to engage him.  I also am now faced with the hurdles of working my way back to a place of safety and trust in my environment.  I need to work on feeling safe in my home, work and city again.  This is a struggle women and men who have been victims of assault and harassment have every day.  How do we walk around feeling safe in our skin and our lives when people like this are right around the corner, messaging us on dating websites, or catcalling us on the street.

I am not going to begin to speculate what has happened in this man’s life that gave him the impression that this behavior was appropriate, or acceptable, or anything other than abhorrent.  He will suffer no ill effects from our brief interaction, where as I will be carrying this man around with me for the rest of my life.  He has now joined the growing list of men who have made me feel unsafe, used, abused and like less of a human being.  Maybe he should put that as a skill on his OKCupid profile, it seems to be one he excels at.