One of the things that concerned me, once I was able to be concerned about more than surviving, was who I was going to be when I transitioned into a normal life. I know what a normal life should be because I observed how other people lived and I watched movies and read books. The books were an essential part of that, as I was certain that I would eventually find a story that could be my own and that once that story was found, well, I would be better. This was one of my major concerns when I began therapy, although I was unable to share that until deep into the sessions.
I was certain that not being under all of that crap would reveal that I was not a nice person, that it was only the abuse that kept my not-niceness in check. I am not entirely sure who I am, or could be, but there have not been any basic changes in how I feel or behave or think. Comforting.
The truth is that I have changed in other ways. I am less supportive of some of the behaviors that others have towards me. I had a long afternoon with a friend on Thursday. She asked me for help with the problems her recently ended relationship caused. Unfortunately, the end came after years of what she shared were abusive behaviors of her boyfriend. Clearly none of us tell anyone until it is very late, or nearly too late.
It is a sad story, I did get the information she needed and during the process I discovered that she has misrepresented me, told me some truly vicious gossip about a mutual friend, and I think that we are finished. In the past I would not have done anything or stopped helping her, but I am changed in this respect. She has lied about me and, given the nature of the gossip, most likely has done this about our young friend. From my perspective, I cannot afford to have her in my life any more. The third friend I have turned out, something I should have done years ago. The new me does this and I have to admit that I am not entirely sure how I feel about this.
I am becoming a quitter. Friends, jobs, volunteer gigs. What next. Family?
I am disappointing to so many people lately. I do not immediately drop everything and help with whatever they need. I do not give money when someone asks. Well, sometimes I still do, but I am much more careful about giving away what I really do not have.
My therapist tells me that these things are part of regaining myself. Lordy. Just painful. Truth is that whilst I seem to be more protective about myself and my resources, maybe becoming more assertive...only internally so far...and feel that I have the potential to, gosh, not sure, but certainly live more effectively than I have been.
I had a dream last night about doing something social. In my dream I was confident and enjoying myself. I woke thinking that being able to live as I was in that dream would be so nice. I am often struck with how disabled my life is. Living in the cold and dark. Not spending time with my friends, the ones who turned out to be true friends, not going anywhere or doing anything. I received free tickets for the local home and garden show, that begins next week, from the woman who was the realtor for the house. I would love to go, just to see the demonstrations. There are two tickets, I could take a friend. I cannot bear to spend the money for gas and parking, probably less than $15.00. This sucks.
It is just one area where a few dollars could be spent, but I cannot bring myself to do it. I am living poor. I am thinking poor. I am manifesting poor. I am determined to stay hopeful, positive, empowered. I really am. I am thinking and believing that I will not be left with nothing. Maybe that needs to be stated more positively. I am thinking and believing that I will receive my fair share of our joint resources. I need to hold that thought, that I will be fine and just be fine.
In my heart that is not so, but I need to find a way to install a better belief system into that willing heart.
For all of those years I hoped. I never stopped believing and hoping that things would get better, that all the bad stuff would stop and be replaced with, well, maybe not happiness, even I knew better than that, but perhaps by something more benign. Then, I stopped hoping because I knew that it would only get worse, and so I got out.
But, I want hope. I want the belief that I will be fine. I am tired of disappointing myself with all of the negative talk. I say it to myself, some version of a little mantra about how I will be fine, I will receive my share, everything will work out. It will.
I am trying so hard not to say lordy.