I received a submission from today's guest blogger, and I said to myself that once it gets edited, I would move it to the front of the line and let you hear her story. She requested that her name and picture be witheld, so I will honor her request, but please read her story and ask yourself if you could ever see yourself in her place...  
I went through an epic breakup last year. I mean like a catastrophic breakup. I
 was in a long distance relationship for 2 years, and thought I’d found 
my husband. We discussed engagement and relocation, but he was lying and
 cheating on me the entire time. I estimate he told me 1-3 lies every 
day. I don’t believe in victims; I’m not one. I was complicit in the 
deception, ignored my gut, blindly trusted, and developed this bizarre
 habit of asking him questions while making excuses. For example:
- ME: Why didn’t you call me for the last three days? Was your phone dead, your charger broken and your landline attacked by pygmies?
- HIM: Uh…yeah. That’s exactly what happened.
So, I was essentially lying to myself. When my suspicions mounted and
 the evidence became unavoidable, the “crazy chick” emerged. She crept 
in slowly at first, squelched by my better judgment. She’d eye his cell 
phone on the table. "The answers are in there", she’d whisper. I’d silence her, and even when her whispers became shouts and nightmares, I refused to look through his stuff. Until…I eventually went through his stuff. 
I found penis pictures, emails to random women about vacation 
plans, and other things that are too messed up to mention. This dude had 
skeletons and demons all rolled into one. It was scary, but what scared 
me the most was my willingness to anchor my life to a dude I clearly 
didn’t know. For the first time in my life, I felt I couldn’t trust 
myself. This is uncomfortable to admit in public. This story 
doesn’t make me look good. I fell for the wrong guy, stayed in a 
relationship well beyond the expiration date, and instead of trusting my
 gut, I went thru a man’s personal belongings. My mother always told me
 "if you have the urge to snoop, you already know the answer". She was right, but sometimes you have to do "hood rat" things. 
Needless to say, we ended our relationship and I’ve recovered with 
no visible scars. For the most part, you wouldn’t even know that this crazy 
thing happened to me. Except, that the “crazy chick” lingers. I’m at the beginning of a new relationship, and the “crazy chick” 
whispers more often than I’d like. I find I am fearful that new boo will
 end up like the old one, that he’s always lying to me, and that he 
doesn’t really love me. Intuitively I understand that I have to make 
peace with the “crazy chick” inside. She represents both the strongest 
and most broken parts of me, and I’ll be honest, I kind of love her. The “crazy chick” has gotten me out of horrible situations and held me 
together (with gum and shoelaces). In times of conflict she gets things 
done. Her tactics are explosive and her weapons cause mass destruction, 
but if she didn’t exist, I’d still be in denial somewhere in the mid-west just miserable and engaged. The “crazy chick” saved my life.
It is a daily struggle not to go thru new boo’s belongings, and to 
trust that he is who he says he is. It’s a struggle to determine which 
part of my gut to trust: the part that thinks everyone is lying, or the 
part that believes in love? If we have any future, I have to make peace 
with my personal history, and I should probably understand that all men
 aren’t the same. Still, the “crazy chick” lives in the bunker of my mind, with a helmet, some fatigues and a semi-automatic weapon. I’m working out a way to tell her the war is over, and that no matter what happens, I’ll be okay.
Ladies, what about you?  Do you have a “crazy chick” that you must 
make peace with? If you have already done so, give everyone some lessons by commenting below. Gentlemen, 
is it possible to aid in healing a woman’s “inner crazy chick”? Leave your comments and let's discuss. 

 









