I decided I didn't have room to write this in the comments field forum to address yesterday's post.
This is where I guess I will expose some things many people may not know about the topics most will not discuss, address, or acknowledge...especially cops. This comes from the cop side of me...
We are never victims. We make our own choices.
We, as cops, aren't allowed to be depressed, sad, or grieve. Don't give me any bullshit that you don't feel that way or that isn't true. Think about it. Think about what type of person you want out there battling evil and bad guys.
We are supposed to be stoic all the time. This pressure comes from ourselves and society. Don't even fool yourself that you don't expect cops to conduct themselves a certain way. It is what I lived with from the public, friends, and family. I have a tough family and I am grateful for that. No weenies allowed.
As cops, we adjust to our environment...i.e.: we can't be crying over that 4 year old that just got shot...we can't mourn out loud over an 11 year old suicidal victim, we can't be sad about a car crash that just took out a family. We have a job to do. I have emulated this behavior many times to the point where it shuts off emotions. It is a scary point of reality when you look at yourself as a robot. It's a survival mechanism.
There are also times where it breaks through, but it doesn't last long. Maybe you walk over to the edge of a scene and pray quietly. Maybe you have dirt in your eyes you wipe away after you drive home to your safe family. It can be good and it can be destructive. Do I dwell on it? No. Does it consume me? Absolutely not.
I also have an entirely different view of death based upon my Christian values and how I deal with it in life. Case in point...I have noticed back home that some people still dwell on friend's deaths by making their memory almost a shrine, to a point it disturbs me. For example, pictures in a collage, candles as a daily ritual next to their picture, always going to their grave, Facebook memorials with current posts every day, constantly crying over a person even after years of their absence, and never letting the person rest in peace. One wife was criticized because she chose to take down her husband's Facebook page. She later got engaged and remarried. Her first husband's family and friends were upset. They created a shrine...their own private page. They write messages to the dead man every day, stating it isn't right, not fair, miss him, love him, etc. Maybe it's OK. Maybe it's their way of coping. It's not the ordinary grieving. It's the not letting go grieving. It's also hard to explain without sounding like a callused bitch. I don't want to be remembered like that. Celebrate me, move on.
To say I have no emotions is a lie. I am very compassionate and my heart is too open, thus my problem in my personal relationships. It is selective in process which has separated my "cop heart-Fargo heart" from my "Kathryn-heart".
I still get sentimental about my dad's death. It isn't to a point where I shut off life for a day or break down. I decided long ago to plant a tree every year on his birthday. It's a happy celebration. However, I don't get sad about my grandmother. I remember the good. She lived a long and successful life. I think about my uncle and his struggle with Alzheimer's, but he is remembered as a wonderful person. I don't dwell on my friend who lost her short life to cancer. Actually, all these people I speak of led a great life while they were here on earth. On the other hand, I can't fathom losing a child. I watched my aunt and uncle shut down when they lost their son. I don't know if that would be the thing to break me to shutting off the world or going into deep depression. My depression is short. Everyone has it. Each person deals with death or loss or life problems in their own way.
I really haven't cried much over my second divorce. It is true I am lonely, but that is to be expected when you are single. It could also attributed to my daughter being with her father for the summer and the house is quiet.
Do I think about running out there and hunting down a man? Hell no. It is also nice to be able to decompress and get my head right. (Yes, I know...if that is even possible) I do that by being busy, reading, working, hobbies, working out.
Now here is where I sound like "the Black Widow" who can't keep a husband and thus, there is something wrong with her because I have had multiple. The first divorce, I refer lovingly to as "The Great Depression", which was harder to adjust to, but I did persevere quite well. He also wasn't a serial killer, although he wasn't nice to me. I lived over half my life with him even if it wasn't pleasant always.
Divorce is the similar to a death.
The second one, makes me feel like a fool, but I can't beat myself up over my decisions either. I have to move on. Inside my mind, I am still me. I like myself. I like the ME that the serial killer tried to bury. My first husband also did not like a strong woman as well, but was not as evil.
On the flip side, I am better off without either of them.
The hard thing to adjust to is that I put up with that crap and continued to fool myself that I could fix it or it would get better only to have him demean me, degrade me, and be evil. The Serial Killer Monday series didn't even touch the surface of the mental games and verbal abuse I went through. Some of it no one would comprehend and chastise me for suffering through it and the other stuff was too cruel for me to write. So...this brings me to the point of my post yesterday which may have been misconstrued.
I know what constant evil and constant negative energy does to a person over time. Case in point...when I was a detective investigating Crimes Against Children, I heard and saw such deviance and evil that you can only imagine. Day after day of looking at dead, abused, or tortured children does something to you. I looked at them physically. I retrieved from them their mental states via interviews and spending days with them. I also did the same for suspects. I took pictures and sexual assault bio kits from suspects and victims. I listened to 4 year olds tell me how they performed oral sex on a 40 year old man. I listened to little boys cry while they talked about being sodomized. Then...I had to turn around and be the "Boogie Man's" friend and talk to them about the same, listen to them talk about rape with a child as if it were love. After leaving investigations to pursue personal goals, I realized what had happened to me. I was oblivious to it when I was investigating the crimes. I gained weight. I was moody. I worked all the time. I lost interests in other things. My job was so successful, I was being pulled statewide to teach, and to assist other agencies. After being exposed to all the deviance on a daily basis, I didn't have a sex drive, although I did it anyway just to please my husband. Can you imagine if he knew I was feeling dirty or didn't give a shit during that time?
And believe me, I.LOVE.SEX! (Sorry Mom, Aunt Superwoman-TMI) Just for the record, Mom, I caught you and dad once, so paybacks! LMAO.
The other detectives that replaced me over time did not last long. One shared with me that he lost his sex drive and his emotional state was always in depression. Maybe that is an area that only those that are in that position are going to fully understand. However, it is reality. I don't think the "copworld" ever addresses it. It is often ignored or brushed over, never spoken of.
So take all that into consideration with my second husband. I am out of the relationship, but I was exposed to evil every day for almost two years. I wasn't worthy. I was ugly. I didn't dress right. He hoped I had died and bled to death when I miscarried. I had my hair pulled and I didn't like it. He tried to force his deviant sexual practices on me. Every time I didn't comply...and believe me...I DIDN'T...it got uglier for me. Top all his hatred and evil comments with shoving, pulling my hair, and the silence treatment. That's a lot of fucked up. And I took it.
I say I'm OK. But do I really know. The first time someone wants to date me and I am attracted to them, am I going to be me or a freak? Am I bruised or broken? I would like to think of myself as bruised. It is going to take a very special person to capture my heart, I can tell you that.
What I meant by...Will I be suitable for someone...ever?...which bothered everyone...was not that I am out there prowling for a man. It is the farthest thing from my head right now. What I meant was...me inside. All the sick humor, the crap I've been through, my independence, my strong will, my active lifestyle, my baggage. There may never be anyone that wants to put up with that kind of history. And is there any permanent hang ups? I guess I will find out on my first date. I guess I will find out the first time I have sex. Maybe I will never find out. I don't know.
I am perfectly happy all by myself, with my fucked up self. Just sayin'.