Value Yourself

Lesson learned after a history of trauma.

Trigger warning: this post contains descriptions of rape and domestic abuse.

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Recently, I was watching a movie with my loving husband, Ken. There was a scene in the movie where a man is speeding down a winding, country road. In the seat next to him is his wife, pleading with him to slow down. He does the opposite and speeds faster. He laughs while his wife screams in fear.

I felt her fear. I mean I FELT her fear. A decades old memory rose to the surface. I remembered sitting in that passenger seat pleading with David, my first partner, to slow down. Like the man in the movie, he also sped faster, and yelled at me for grabbing hold of the armrest on the door and stiffening my legs.

The year before I met David, at 17 years old, I was fucked for the first time. I was on a “date” with a man in his 30’s. He encouraged me to drink far too much alcohol and I finally passed out. The next thing I remember is looking up at him, feeling the weight of him on my body, and the pain from his horse cock ramming in and out of my ass. When he finally released his hold on me, I went to the bathroom and touched my hole. I looked at my fingers; they were covered in blood. I blamed myself for decades, but now I can say out loud, “I was raped.”

I met David shortly after my 18th birthday. He was 28. Despite his subsequent abuse, his lack of interest in anal sex was a comfort to me. It wasn’t until 15 years later that I finally left him. A gay cousin of mine shared his observation with me, “you married your father.” It was so obvious, but until then, I hadn’t connected the dots! David was treating me the way my father treated my mother…and restaurant servers…and me throughout my childhood. When I was in the 5th grade, I remember telling a group of other kids that I wished I’d never been born. Those kind of dark thoughts followed me over the years. It’s in check now with the help of medication.

One night, not too long after that revelation, David pushed me up against the kitchen counter, put his face close to mine, and said something so disturbing I won’t write it here. It was the final straw. I remember saying to myself in that moment, “Robert, you are a 33 year old man and you will not let another man treat you this way ever again.” I moved out days later.

My current husband, Ken, saw my reaction to the scene in the movie. He watched me get up and go to my office where I started bawling, then he came in to comfort me. Later, we talked about it and he noted how much I’ve grown. Over the years he’s watched me tolerate less and less while asserting myself more.

I was in my first professional job for ten years. I was treated very well and was promoted multiple times. I know how it feels to be valued.

Fast forward to a job I held from 2016 to 2022. After years of putting up with unprofessional, ill-equipped supervisors and managers, I was treated so poorly on my last day that it triggered me, just as the scene in the movie did. I lost all control, but I didn’t cry. Instead, I LOUDLY cursed them out (to myself in my office), sent a farewell email to HR, put my personal belongings in my car, and drove away. I finally recognized that I was in an abusive relationship and decided to take care of myself.

In 2023, I gave another shot at a “day job.” I did not feel valued. I terminated that relationship this past March after less than one and a half years. Sadly, all the work I put into the bachelor’s in nursing and master’s in adult learning have not led to the happiness in the workplace that I experienced in my first job.

I am back to doing massage work. It is something that has consistently given me great satisfaction since earning my certifications in 2005. Clients value my work and me. I can feel it. If a client ever makes me feel “less than,” I terminate the business relationship immediately. I’m in total control.

I’m quick to end any relationship, personal or business, as soon as I get “that” feeling. The other day, I arrived at a restaurant on time to meet with a potential content collaborator to get acquainted and plan a scene. Just before I got a table, he sent me a text message saying that he would be 15 minutes late. There was no apology or explanation. I replied, “I’m taking off.” He did not value my time. He did not value ME. There will not be a second chance.

I value myself and I am surrounded only by people who do the same. My life is better for it.

Pampering my husband Ken with a well deserved massage.

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