Bonnie’s Beach 🏖

My Life. My Experiences. My Love. My Words.

The Dumbest F*cking Person On The Planet…

…was one of my favorites, and I had started to believe it was true even though I knew, deep within the darkest depths of my soul, it was as far from the truth as one could get.

So what would make me even remotely believe that I was stupid, ugly, fat, worthless, frumpy, you name it (those are just the g-rated ones), over beautiful, intelligent, sexy, amazing, talented, and worth someone’s love? After some self-analysis over the past few months, my eyes opened more and more as I was able to answer that question honestly: me. I’m not at all saying everything was my fault, although that had been the stance I had adopted nearly two years ago, but I am just as much to blame as the person who gave me the poisonous words that I’d ingest willingly over and over again. Rather than building a tolerance, I mentally and emotionally cracked until I was so broken, I couldn’t see past the pieces scattered on the floor, creating a circular void in the center where I once stood. For every compliment there was a polar opposite, and the bad far outweighed the good to the point where my brain refused to believe the compliments held any truth whatsoever.

But here’s the kicker: I allowed it, and I had become someone else. Someone who cowered. Someone who triple guessed every decision. Someone who lived with an anxiety that was never there before. Someone I hated. Someone who wasn’t worth a damn thing. Someone who didn’t deserve to waste the precious ozone we all depend on. Someone who thought that changing who they were in order to make someone else happy would actually work. I mean, who would think that altering one’s behavior in order to please someone else would completely backfire? When the things someone loved about you had become annoying and irritating, you assume that action or behavior should be altered so they’re no longer annoying, right? Right??? Those small acts of love, like kissing someone goodbye as they slept when you were leaving for work or calling just to say hi, became sudden outbursts of anger. So those small gestures disappeared one by one as they only garnered a negative and frightening response. The anger turned into yelling. The yelling turned into some of the harshest things you could hear from someone who was supposed to be your life partner. This was the man I was determined to spend the rest of my life with, and I was determined to a fault. We both were. My tunnel vision hid the truth: that I had changed.

Not that there’s anything wrong with change! We change and adapt and grow as we continue our journey through life. But this wasn’t growth. It was adaptation to survive. It was an alteration made to what made me me, and what someone had loved about me, and I was no longer a priority. My schedule was planned around his. Normal things I had been doing for years now seemed to be in the way of what he wanted and what was expected. My gym schedule had to be altered so I would be home immediately after work to start fixing dinner, and soon my gym time disappeared altogether as work became a priority over my health. Hair appointments had to be scheduled by 2pm to meet the same mandate. The same went with doctors appointments. Meeting my girlfriends once or twice a month to grab some food and margaritas happened less and less, until I would make excuses in order to not go at all. Seeing friends and family became a rare occurrence, as they kept me away from the person who wanted my time, and in order to avoid any backlash at home, I became a coward and found excuse after excuse to not see them much at all. Even when I made plans to go out, because he had plans to go out, I would be guilt tripped, called or texted every hour, informed he would be home at a certain time so we would be able to spend the evening together, only to find that I cut my plans short to go home, and his plans had changed to keep him out later. So there I’d be, at home alone, just me and my cats. This was all gradual. It didn’t happen overnight. In the beginning they were small sacrifices for the man I loved, but over time they began to break me down. I was isolated from the people who loved me and would hermit at home to avoid any conflict. I had become weak and fearful of any fights that might stem from his claim that I was disrespecting him. When I did make the rare plans to venture out my phone was glued to my hip so as not to miss a call or text, because if I didn’t answer or respond fast enough, there would be another tongue lashing over the phone and when I got back home.

It wasn’t just verbal abuse, it became mental abuse. I would be shunned and ignored. The silent treatment with a seething side of anger. It was always about respect, and I seemed to be the one doing all the disrespecting. Never mind the name calling and being hung up on. He believed he was justified, because according to him it was all my fault. I didn’t listen. I didn’t follow directions. I ordered the wrong thing at the drive-thru. I didn’t text a response within five minutes. I didn’t answer my phone. These things would “make him think” is how he put it. I was now a liar and couldn’t be trusted. So my phone had to be with me at all times.

As time went on I no longer found joy in anything I used to do. Hiking and going for walks were out of the question, because what if I lost my phone signal? Having my friends and family stop by the house became uncomfortable for everyone as his irritation that they were there was clearly visible, and I began to make excuses for why they couldn’t come over anymore. I became “busy” and unavailable and always had something else I had to do. He and I would make plans to do something together, but we never seemed to do anything at all. Covid definitely helped in this area, because now there was a valid excuse to not do a damn thing. He would spend his time in the garage while I cleaned the house, and then he’d leave to see his friends only to tell me he’d be back for dinner. Then he would let me know he would be late, but we’d still have dinner. Then that would turn into his just picking up something, because he wasn’t sure when he’d be home, and I would just need to fend for myself. This happened more and more, and I was trained to not expect much in the ways of plans. I isolated myself to the confines of a house I cannot wait to move out of. If the house wasn’t clean, he would make some snide comment to me that I was slacking. If I spent too much time cleaning I’d be told the house was fine, and that he didn’t care if it was clean. If he took out the trash, and I failed to put a new bag in the trash can right away, he would accuse me of playing games and being spiteful. All over a trash bag! Dishes in the sink? Obviously my spiteful way to get him to finally do them. When I’d tell him I just hadn’t gotten to them yet, he would wash half of them, pissed off that he had to do any sort of womanly chore, and then retreat to the garage to shun me for the rest of the evening. More and more, the things I said or did or the misread facial expressions became disrespectful to him, and his mood would 180° in the blink of an eye. So the shunning would again commence. Entire days and weekends where he would avoid me at home and wouldn’t speak to me. I was a prisoner in my own house, always worried, always anxious, always knowing there would be a scolding when he would decide to break his silence. What names would he call me this time? How loud was he going to yell? How hard did he plan on slamming a door? How long was he not going to talk to me again? Who was I going to wake up next to in the morning? Was it going to be Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde? I was no longer allowed to contact his family and friends. He no longer accompanied me to family events. We no longer went on dates, and when he said we would, he’d turn it into a couples date with his friends, but then he would end up cancelling. So staying at home doing nothing became our date nights. We used to watch movies together on the weekends. That turned into watching ten minutes of something together until he finished eating what was on his plate to leave me there alone as he went back out to his garage. And these are just some of the small, more pleasant discomforts that became the norm. One time I was yelled at after we went through a drive-thru to get breakfast, and I had asked him if he wanted his sandwich or his hash brown first. I was yelled at and accused of being stupid and not knowing who he was at all. How could I not know he wanted his hash brown first?! I was an idiot. I was dumb. I was useless. I never made that mistake again.

Over the course of a year it became worse. The yelling was louder. The cut downs became cruel and even more hurtful. The more I tried to change who I was to avoid those moments, the more pathetic I became. I was too easy a target, and I took it, and I cried. I would have anxiety attacks at home, while grocery shopping, even picking up dinner, because what if I forgot something? What if I ordered the wrong thing? What if I messed something up or did something wrong? I would try not to cry in public as these thoughts rushed to the forefront of my mind, and the anxiety would build and build. I learned to swallow it down, put on a fake face, and get whatever I needed to get done quickly. I was a coward. I didn’t have the strength to stand up for myself or fight back. I always just let it happen. I let him speak to me as if I was a piece of trash, and he would be sure to tell me I was. I allowed it. So when I finally did begin to fight back and return his words, the intensity increased, but I was tired of just taking it. I was tired of being the bigger person and not stooping to name calling or potentially saying things that can never be taken back. That was a lesson I had learned years before, and I had become very good at keeping my mouth shut, and I absolutely hate fighting, because it doesn’t solve a fucking thing. Words spoken in anger are not words of truth, but if repeated enough they become a lie you believe. They are meant to cut and slice and stab and draw blood, and boy could they. But I was tired of being the one bleeding out every time, and I let my words fly. Saying cruel words even in defense didn’t make me feel better. They made me feel even weaker, because now I was becoming angry. If I wasn’t allowed to cry or be sad anymore I concluded that the only logically, acceptable response was to be angry and mad. That was the response I was always receiving, so why couldn’t I do the same? But I learned anger is very difficult to control. No matter how loud I yelled back or how many cruel things I could shoot back in defense, it would only build and build until I wanted to throw things. I wanted to break things. I want to put my fists through walls. I wanted to scream. I wanted to explode. But I’m not that type of person. I would think of the consequences and keep the anger inside. I became salty and unhappy with everything. My sarcasm and cynicism became relentless. This in turn made him even more angry, and it became a vicious cycle of fights and cut downs and being apart. I turned my anger onto myself in the form of not giving a shit. I would relentlessly pick at my face and body. I stopped giving a shit about what I ate. I would avoid calls from friends or family. I hated my job. I hated my house. I hated my life. Worst of all, I hated me. I believed it was all my fault. If I could just fix me everything would be better, but I didn’t love or even like myself enough to fix anything. I was angry and hurt, and it showed. I looked at photos from two years earlier, and I could no longer recognize the face I saw in the mirror everyday. I had aged. I looked tired, sad, and ugly. The poison was doing its work, and I kept drinking it. Vial after vial, I would drink it all and feel even more empty. Even my not giving a shit was a lie I’d tell myself, because I knew I cared too much. I knew what I was doing to myself. I knew! My self-destructive behavior had more control than I wanted to admit, so I would cry and be angry. I was an absolute mess. If I didn’t love myself, how on earth could I love anyone else? What sort of example was I to my daughter? How could I possibly teach her to love herself and be strong when I was so weak?

The past four months have been extremely difficult. This was supposed to be a time of joy and celebration. Instead it was ripped apart by all this anger, and my anger had become resentment. Once you hit that stage, it’s hard to go back to what was before in order to forgive and trust and love and heal. It is the final boss at the end of the game, and I had come to meet it face to face, and I was destined to lose. The extreme lows were followed by extreme highs. I was exhausted and confused and lost. Any positives were quickly washed out by negatives, to the point that was all I heard and believed anymore. I was trash. I was a stupid bitch, a dumb cow, fat and ugly, a sexual turnoff, a crack whore, frumpy, a dumbass, and I was told to shut the fuck up repeatedly and hung up on. I believed it all at this point. I would try not to cry as this poison was shoved down my throat and into my heart. I was broken. I had no fight left to give, and the poison had me believing that life would be better for everyone if I just wasn’t around anymore. Not that I’d ever actually go through with that at all, but those dark thoughts crept within the shadows of my mind, whispering sweet, sour nothings in my ear, inviting me to play along. As I mentioned in the very beginning, the darkest depths of my soul had something deep within. It was keeping something safe and hidden until I was ready to acknowledge it.

I was ready…

-Bonnie

If you have read all the way to this point, I’m sure you have grasped the situation I am writing about. Only my closest family and friends have been kept in the know of what my life has become over the past couple years, and believe me, they don’t even know the half of it. I only write about it now, because this is a type of therapy for me. It is a form of release and a way to help me reflect and heal myself moving forward. I will not share everything. The moments I do share are lite versions of the worst of it all, but they are enough, and I can only hope that my writing about my own experiences might help someone else. As natural as it is to pick a side, this is not meant to bash my now ex boyfriend. We still love each other. We had hurt each other immensely, and we knew we were toxic for one another, and we would have continued hurting each other if it wasn’t put to a dead stop. Things have been said that will never be forgotten, but now I have the ability to truly grow and find myself again. There’s a girl I knew four years ago. She was in love and happy and radiant, and I am determined to find her again. She may not shine as brightly as she once did, but I’ll pull her back into the light, and I will continue writing about my journey of self-healing and discovery as I learn to love myself again. If you want to leave a comment, all I ask is that it’s a positive one. Please do not bash someone else. This space is mine to share with you, and I need it to be a healing one. 💙

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Be Like Sausage…

As I sit outside on my back porch, drinking my hot toddy while watching my fat cat attempt to catch the June bugs that are beginning to come out, I get to enjoy the warm evening air and the chance to think a bit. It’s true, what they say, life is a precious gift. It’s definitely not something I want to waste, but I also know I have spent many wasteful moments. I guess it’s part of the learning process, and you’re never done learning. I don’t want to be at the end of my days longing for all the wasted time. All those wasted hours that I could have been doing something more than what I did.

I love those infectious people with the unquenchable thirst for adventure and living. You know the ones. They always seem to have energy and go go go every day, and you wonder how they do it. I know I do! I wish I had that energy! That unfulfilled yearning to do everything possible! The want to constantly be on the move. Hell! Even the capability of being constantly on the move. How do they do it? They make it look so easy. So fluid. So natural. Like there’s no other way to be alive. I wish I had that passion and that drive and that ambition. How does one go about getting those things?

There are plenty of motivators out there in the world. There are people whose callings in life are helping others with finding theirs. There are places that inspire greatness. There are experiences that excite the soul to be more. To become more. And yet, how do we even run across these things? We’ll use me as an example. Here goes. So, I love to make people happy. I love seeing and being the cause for people to smile and laugh and for a second, forget whatever makes them unhappy. But that’s not my job. I don’t do that for a living. Part of what I enjoy about my job is that I get the opportunity to make the people I work with smile and laugh from time to time. But that can take work too. There are days when I am far far far, extremely fucking far from my usual, sunshiny self. There are days when I can’t even bring myself to smile, and those days make me feel even more terrible. Because, like I mentioned, I love making other people laugh and smile. And yes. I know I can’t be happy ALL the damn time, but it’s so defeating when I can’t even muster a smile for myself.

So how do these people do it? Are they just that good at hiding any emotion other than happiness? Are they seriously like this EVERY SINGLE DAY?! You hear that happiness is a choice. I mean, I’ve read it somewhere. It is. Definitely. But it’s a hard choice to make every day upon waking. There has to be a conscious effort, right? Sometimes the universe can throw some serious shit your way! Sometimes it feels impossible to be happy. But you know what? That’s ok. We don’t have to be happy ALL the fucking time. We are human. We can have bad days. It doesn’t make it any easier for those of us who would much rather be happy, but we are allowed to be imperfect and mopey and blah.

OK. I’ll stop there, because now it just sounds like I’m on some crazy, emotional rant about being human. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m tired of having to work at being happy. It’s not that I’m unhappy. I truly am happy! Just some days are so much easier than others. And there’s got to be a secret. Those go go go people have to have something figured out, and I just wish I knew what it was. Sometimes I wish I was like my cat Sausage. She’s a cat. I know. But I could learn a couple things from her. She’s fat and yet still active, and she couldn’t care less that she’s a tad grande. She lets her true intelligence shine through, and she may poop on the floor, but does she care what I think? Nope. Sausage does NOT care about the opinions of others! She definitely enjoys her cat food, but she will only eat solid white albacore tuna as a treat! So she obviously eats fine and indulges from time to time. I think I have that one down! Yay! Let’s see, what else. She sticks close to her family and does her best to “protect” us when an unknown comes to the door. By protect I mean she growls. Like actually growls. That is the extent of her guardcat status though. Because she runs away as soon as she sees the unknown. At least she lets me know when someone is walking up to the door. I mean, that’s pretty cool. She proves her loyalty and love to me every day. She may not cuddle with me, but she’s always there. She waits for me outside the shower. She lays at my feet at night. She lays at my feet on the couch. She hangs out near the kitchen when I cook. I mean. Such a simple life. Not a worry in the world! Well, ok. One worry. If the food bowl shows any sign of bowl at the bottom it’s panic mode time.

But seriously. I should be more like Sausage. Why worry about what others think? Why worry about anything more than if I have food and water and love? Basic necessities for all creatures. We humans just found ways to make it more and more complicated. I need to be more grateful for the things I have. For the limited time I have. For moments I shouldn’t have to worry about wasting, because they weren’t wasted. For the rare love that happens in life as a second chance. For the smiles I see on other people’s faces and the ones out in mine. Maybe that’s the secret. Until I know for sure I’ll just have to see what happens next and not waste my time. Until next time! 😉

-Bonnie 💙

Sausage. Be like her. 😊

She’s squishy!

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Been Distant…

So, as usual, I haven’t taken the time to write anything new, and I figured why not take a couple of minutes to say that I am still alive.  It’s funny reading my last post, as it claims I miss living in my car among some other things.  

Gotta admit…

…life is funny as shit!

A few things in my life have changed since that last post. For starters, I only have two cats.  Sadly I had to put my sweet Cali down. I had never had to put a pet to sleep before, and I cried like a baby.  You know, you think to yourself and wonder wtf is wrong with me. Why am I acting like this?  It’s just a cat!  But no matter how much I tried to dismiss my own feelings as being stupid, the waterworks and heartbreak kept coming. Truth is, she really was part of my little family at home, and I miss her everyday.  Going into work the next day was difficult, because you can hold yourself together, but here’s the kicker, until someone mentions and acknowledges your loss.  Why is that?  I might need to do some research, because I am curious, because it seems sympathy and empathy from others forces you to feel those emotions all over again.  The tearing up, the lump in the throat, the knowing that the water levels are at the rim and about to pour over, and you know you have to walk away or let them see you cry.  A couple people got to see me cry.  At work. And I am NOT a fan of crying at work.  It usually only happens when I am super pissed the fuck off.  That is rare though.  You don’t want to see me angry and crying. For one it’s just not right, and two it’s a sign that my magma levels are on the verge of exploding in your face. 

Moving on…

I got to have my mini-me ALL of Christmas break, minus a couple days, and it was AWESOME!!!!!!  I love my Madi!  She is growing up to be such an amazing young lady, and she makes me so proud!  We didn’t have an exciting winter break, because I had to work a few days in there, and we didn’t go out of town or anything, but we still had fun!  She made out like a bandit, as usual, and she even got a new recurve bow for Christmas ( my man’s idea!).  We did some target practice, celebrated three different Christmases and a New Year, and we got the chance to relax a bit here and there.  She got to spend some time with family and went to the Armed Forces game with a friend.  All in all it was a blast!  It was nice to get to spend actually quality time with my daughter and chat about life and watch movies and stay up late and sleep in in the morning.  We didn’t get a skate in, but we did start running after the New Year.  My legs hurt for a week!  Sadly I had to get back to work, and she had to get back to school.  Besides, it’s winter guard season!!!!

Ready for a big update?

Well, you don’t really have a choice…

My man asked me to move in with him!  This is scary!  And exciting!  And I had to ask if he was sure (this has been a sensitive topic).  And I am excited! And frightened!  But most of all excited!!!  There’s just so much to do though!  Most guys aren’t super organized, we ladies know this.  Lord knows I love to be organized, but then reality takes over (ok, laziness), and then everything just becomes organized chaos.  I mean, I know where things are.  I think.  Where the hell did I put that…

So yeah!  Moving in!  Huge step!  Lots of stuff to throw away and move and organize and donate!  So.  Much.  Crap.  Got my old bed out of storage and set it up at his house over the weekend.  I plan to go through stuff and grab a couple things from storage this weekend. Maybe pack some stuff up I don’t use right now. We shall see.  I’m just trying my best to not procrastinate.  I’ll let you know how that goes.  

But it’s scary, right?  I haven’t been on this particular end of things.   Normally it’s someone moves in with me, not me moving in with them.  And even though there is a slightly frightening aspect to it, I couldn’t be more optimistic and thrilled!  I love this man. He’s difficult and moody and stubborn, but I love him.  He is kind and loving and understanding. He shares and supports and helps.  We have plenty of life to go through, and infinite experiences to share together, and I have never looked forward to that before as I do now. I told him that I think we are just two people how have been hurt too many times before and sick of crappy people.  I think the universe finally got tired of torturing us and had us meet.   Yay!!!

There’s a lot more that has happened, but I think I’ll leave you with that; full of hope and love and excitement and a touch of fear.  

And I’ll be out of my apartment by March 1st.  So if anyone wants to help me pack, come on over.  I have alcohols!  And food! 😉

Love,

Bonnie 
I miss my sweet Calikins…  😔


Birthday breakfast!!!!  It’s very close to Christmas!  

My dad and second mom got me tickets to see Trans Siberian Orchestra for my birthday!  My man had to work, so I got to take the mini!!!!

She was just trying the bow out at this point.  We went and bought it for her while she was preoccupied.  😁

She Robin Hooded it the next time we went to go practice!  

Even I got some practice time in with my new bow!  Love it!!!

Pretty much how I felt after celebrating three Thanksgivings and three Christmases and my birthday and New Year!  Holy cow!  That’s Sausage btw.  I love my fat cat!  Yes!  I know it’s unhealthy!  Stop body shaming my cat!

So fat…     Little sausage casing…  😂😂

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I Feel Like Writing A Bit…

So I am chillin in the car. Just thinking. My stomach is making random noises like something out of an aliens movie. The wind is blowing as a Texas cold front continues to drop our spring-like temps back into winter reality. Although a Texas winter is like spring to the North. I am not apologetic about this. I like not having to step outside into weather that hurts my face. It’s nice! No negative thirties here! Woohoo!!! So 😛

I have so much randomness going through my head. Especially since stupid Valentines Day is fast approaching. It’s stupid, because I’m single. Not that I am really in a place in my life to start a relationship, but the thought is always nice. Can’t really bust out with a, “Hey baby. Why don’t you come back to my place?” Hahaha!!! Yeah! Like guys living with their parents aren’t a turn off!!! But you know, just because I’m not relationship worthy at the moment doesn’t mean that I don’t like to be hit on. I mean, really? And I’m sorry, but creepy, stalker guys that live in windowless vans don’t count! Oh sure we could share car living tips, but I will not be seeing what that shag carpet looks like in the inside. Nope! I will not get in your van thinking I’m helping you as you load a couch into it and push me to the back. I refuse to be a dress!!!!!!

Seriously though. This is where my self confidence thinks, wtf? I don’t need anyone else’s approval, but then again I do. It’s flattering when people are nice and hold open a door or they smile or say or start s conversation. But it’s so rare for me anymore. Am I ugly? I don’t think I am. I mean, I’m very far from Miss Texas pretty, but I don’t look like that chick from A League Of Their Own either. You know the one!!! Am I intimidating? I don’t really see it. I’m always smiling and trying to keep my body language open, but obviously I am doing it all wrong. Maybe I come off as a but stand-offish? Maybe guys don’t like women who can take care of themselves? Maybe I’m too tall? Maybe I’m too fat? Maybe maybe maybe!!!!!!! It’s enough to drive somebody insane!!! Hit on me dammit!!!!! Say hi! Use a GD pick up line you got off a gum wrapper! Anything!!!!

I need sleep. I’ll just be dreaming of an adventure I’ll most likely go on alone…

-B

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