Going back to my jobs this week. Yeah, they are all volunteer gigs, but I created most of them and I am very good at what I do.
Mentoring is a snap most of the time. I am with the same student for the second year, and that is all I have to share about that. Yep.
The jobs related work, well, I actually did create both of those positions. The first is for a city agency, to which I had gone with the idea. Coming up on four years providing work documents, resources and referrals and support for social services. I do the same thing, only slightly differently for a state agency. I like both places, pretty much equally. Very different environments and staff, but both are so satisfying. And, if I finish early at the state gig, I can usually squeeze time in for something fun, lunch or a walk or just sitting down by the harbor and watching the waves and the people.
I have been away from those activities for a month because I have been ill for a long time and a trip to the doctor and some crummy test results and, well, here I am, back on track, recovering from a bad cold (is there any other kind...man) and whilst I was not looking forward to having such a busy schedule again when I thought about it last week, today finds me feeling great about returning.
Tomorrow is me, doing my best to finish the laundry, something I really do not want to do, but I love clean bedding and clothes, so what is a girl to do. It really was so nice to have a washer and dryer in the house. You know, that might be the only, like absolutely only-only-only thing that I miss from my old life. Seriously. That means the balance of my Universe is just fine, so no complaining is warranted. Rats.
I had better make sure that I stop at the market for tote-able food for lunches when I am out tomorrow. I really cannot see myself taking oatmeal or broth and saltines. Maybe.
Wonder if CoolCat will miss our naps.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
new
Welcome Sun.
It has been weeks since there has been more than moments or minutes of sunshine. I know the Sun is still up there, it simply cannot penetrate the horizon to horizon breadth of grayness. So, waking to full Sun and having it last until after 3 P.M. has been very nice. That I missed part of it by napping does not thrill me even though my sick and tired body is grateful.
All the coughing and the rest is headache inducing, muscle exhausting and just plain miserable. I have been ill so long and it was my unspoken hope that longer days, albeit marginally, might help fill me with positive thoughts and clear my lungs. I actually do feel better today, so all those hopes are still here.
So. The Sun. I was so glad to see it today, especially on New Year's Day. I called several friends to offer New Year wishes and one of them asked me if I make resolutions. I think the only one I make is to not make them. Ever. There were so many years when I resolved to be a better person, to absolutely do my best to discover and do the right things, the things that would keep me out of trouble with my husband. I failed very year. Never got much better at divining whatever it was that would make us safer or more accommodating or pleasing him, making myself more likable. Maybe even someone that he might love. I still failed.
It did not have anything to do with the New Year or resolutions or anything. But, new beginnings were a significant part of our relationship. Every time he would do things to me he would be hugely and abjectly sorry. He would apologize, say it would never happen again. He would cry and tell me that it was not his fault, that it was stress at work, but more often that it was something I had done or not done. I rarely knew what he was talking about, and I would have to forgive him. Over time my forgiveness had to be said a certain way. My reply was that it was all right, it was fine, it was a new beginning. Nothing more, nothing less, or the cycle of abuse, remorse and forgiveness would immediately begin again. What a fucking mess.
It was only after I left that I realized how ritualized the entire process was. And, you know, I have come so far that it surprises me a little bit that I am even thinking about this today. Even a few months ago I would have immediately gone and forced myself to release the thoughts and do something else, but no more. Now I am trying to honor all of this and truly forgive him, and more importantly forgive myself for being the completely less than wonderful person I was, as well. I have always believed that I was a mess, that I could never do anything right, that whatever the situation or circumstance that I would do the wrong thing, but I am not all of that. I am just a person who does the best I can, and, really, that has to be enough.
I am still struggling with therapy and would love like you cannot believe to just stop going. Unfortunately, I realized as I was leaving the session last week that I do not have anyone with whom I can talk about any of this. My friends have their own lives and someone who is in the kind of ongoing pain that I have is a drag on anyone, especially people who love or like me.
So, unless they specifically ask me about some aspect of this, I never mention anything. That suits me. I am tired of all of this. I am willing, often grudgingly, to deal with thoughts and notions as they rise to the surface, although I am still resistant to the whole issue of feelings. Everything in its time. This being a grownup and building a new life is exhausting sometimes.
But, there was Sun today! Yay! I am crafting this New Year's Day Brightness into all of my new beginnings, every day of new thoughts and awakening desires and trust that I will always have what I need. Honestly, until this very moment I was not even aware of how hopeful I have become and that I do trust about these things. Trusting people is going to take more, what exactly I do not know, but at least there exists the possibility.
It has been weeks since there has been more than moments or minutes of sunshine. I know the Sun is still up there, it simply cannot penetrate the horizon to horizon breadth of grayness. So, waking to full Sun and having it last until after 3 P.M. has been very nice. That I missed part of it by napping does not thrill me even though my sick and tired body is grateful.
All the coughing and the rest is headache inducing, muscle exhausting and just plain miserable. I have been ill so long and it was my unspoken hope that longer days, albeit marginally, might help fill me with positive thoughts and clear my lungs. I actually do feel better today, so all those hopes are still here.
So. The Sun. I was so glad to see it today, especially on New Year's Day. I called several friends to offer New Year wishes and one of them asked me if I make resolutions. I think the only one I make is to not make them. Ever. There were so many years when I resolved to be a better person, to absolutely do my best to discover and do the right things, the things that would keep me out of trouble with my husband. I failed very year. Never got much better at divining whatever it was that would make us safer or more accommodating or pleasing him, making myself more likable. Maybe even someone that he might love. I still failed.
It did not have anything to do with the New Year or resolutions or anything. But, new beginnings were a significant part of our relationship. Every time he would do things to me he would be hugely and abjectly sorry. He would apologize, say it would never happen again. He would cry and tell me that it was not his fault, that it was stress at work, but more often that it was something I had done or not done. I rarely knew what he was talking about, and I would have to forgive him. Over time my forgiveness had to be said a certain way. My reply was that it was all right, it was fine, it was a new beginning. Nothing more, nothing less, or the cycle of abuse, remorse and forgiveness would immediately begin again. What a fucking mess.
It was only after I left that I realized how ritualized the entire process was. And, you know, I have come so far that it surprises me a little bit that I am even thinking about this today. Even a few months ago I would have immediately gone and forced myself to release the thoughts and do something else, but no more. Now I am trying to honor all of this and truly forgive him, and more importantly forgive myself for being the completely less than wonderful person I was, as well. I have always believed that I was a mess, that I could never do anything right, that whatever the situation or circumstance that I would do the wrong thing, but I am not all of that. I am just a person who does the best I can, and, really, that has to be enough.
I am still struggling with therapy and would love like you cannot believe to just stop going. Unfortunately, I realized as I was leaving the session last week that I do not have anyone with whom I can talk about any of this. My friends have their own lives and someone who is in the kind of ongoing pain that I have is a drag on anyone, especially people who love or like me.
So, unless they specifically ask me about some aspect of this, I never mention anything. That suits me. I am tired of all of this. I am willing, often grudgingly, to deal with thoughts and notions as they rise to the surface, although I am still resistant to the whole issue of feelings. Everything in its time. This being a grownup and building a new life is exhausting sometimes.
But, there was Sun today! Yay! I am crafting this New Year's Day Brightness into all of my new beginnings, every day of new thoughts and awakening desires and trust that I will always have what I need. Honestly, until this very moment I was not even aware of how hopeful I have become and that I do trust about these things. Trusting people is going to take more, what exactly I do not know, but at least there exists the possibility.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
planning
Apparently I am as stupid as I think myself to be.
A week ago Friday I was driving home from up'nort and about five miles from home the steering wheel began to shimmy. I got groceries, just made it to my therapy appointment, went home and stayed there until yesterday when I had therapy again. Too ill to even take the garbage out for collection. Just hunkered down with CoolCat and napped and had lots of tea and meds.
When I got in the car to fetch more food, the steering wheel, heck, the whole column, was rotating back and forth, more than just the little shimmy from a week ago. It reminded me that because I had to cancel the car tune-up appointment a month ago when I became sicker, I had better reschedule whilst I was still feeling a little better.
I called, chatted with my guy there and told him what needed doing and mentioned the steering wheel movement. He told me to stop in before running any errands and when I got there he showed me the portions of the tires where the the steel fibers were showing and explained that he could not allow me to drive with that condition, that he would replace that worst tire and do the rest at my appointment on Wednesday and sent me to the waiting area. I knew this was serious because they were really busy.
An hour later I had four new tires. Great. Super. Super-duper. Except that even though the family that owns this dealership have been good friends for more than thirty years, they have no idea of what this past year has brought me, so he put on the kind of tires that my ex used to put on the car he drove.
I have been putting a little money away for this car work, but I never factored in new tires and the $700 bill he gave me before I left left me speechless. I know these people. I totally and completely trust them. That is why I never go anywhere else.They have never led me astray, and I know, with absolute certainty that they put on top-of-the-line tires and charged me approximately half the price at which they are usually sold.
So, I am grateful. I have so few resources that I am unreasonably frugal when it is not in my best interest to do so. Whilst I am not sure how long I can afford to keep this car, I have to take care of it. Me=stupid.
The tires were essential. Had I been paying attention, I would have clearly seen that they needed prompt replacing. Had one of them failed I might have been responsible for hurting, or even killing, other people. Me=super-stupid.
So, I did what any frugal-minded person would do. I paid the bill and then went shopping. I bought enough meat to have some every day for at least two weeks, depending on when I get may appetite back. Until then I am going to eat better food. All this time of not doing so has been poor, and yes stupid, behavior. I do not know how long my resolve will last, but the tires issue has been a call to attention and I am hoping for much less personal stupidity for a while.
A week ago Friday I was driving home from up'nort and about five miles from home the steering wheel began to shimmy. I got groceries, just made it to my therapy appointment, went home and stayed there until yesterday when I had therapy again. Too ill to even take the garbage out for collection. Just hunkered down with CoolCat and napped and had lots of tea and meds.
When I got in the car to fetch more food, the steering wheel, heck, the whole column, was rotating back and forth, more than just the little shimmy from a week ago. It reminded me that because I had to cancel the car tune-up appointment a month ago when I became sicker, I had better reschedule whilst I was still feeling a little better.
I called, chatted with my guy there and told him what needed doing and mentioned the steering wheel movement. He told me to stop in before running any errands and when I got there he showed me the portions of the tires where the the steel fibers were showing and explained that he could not allow me to drive with that condition, that he would replace that worst tire and do the rest at my appointment on Wednesday and sent me to the waiting area. I knew this was serious because they were really busy.
An hour later I had four new tires. Great. Super. Super-duper. Except that even though the family that owns this dealership have been good friends for more than thirty years, they have no idea of what this past year has brought me, so he put on the kind of tires that my ex used to put on the car he drove.
I have been putting a little money away for this car work, but I never factored in new tires and the $700 bill he gave me before I left left me speechless. I know these people. I totally and completely trust them. That is why I never go anywhere else.They have never led me astray, and I know, with absolute certainty that they put on top-of-the-line tires and charged me approximately half the price at which they are usually sold.
So, I am grateful. I have so few resources that I am unreasonably frugal when it is not in my best interest to do so. Whilst I am not sure how long I can afford to keep this car, I have to take care of it. Me=stupid.
The tires were essential. Had I been paying attention, I would have clearly seen that they needed prompt replacing. Had one of them failed I might have been responsible for hurting, or even killing, other people. Me=super-stupid.
So, I did what any frugal-minded person would do. I paid the bill and then went shopping. I bought enough meat to have some every day for at least two weeks, depending on when I get may appetite back. Until then I am going to eat better food. All this time of not doing so has been poor, and yes stupid, behavior. I do not know how long my resolve will last, but the tires issue has been a call to attention and I am hoping for much less personal stupidity for a while.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
happenstance
I was looking for something tonight and found an article about the underbelly of Las Vegas. Well, one of them.
Below the glittery and lavish excess that is a large part of Las Vegas there are perhaps hundreds of people who live in the flood tunnels beneath the city. Disenfranchised, jobless, homeless, either without other resources such as family, friends or social services, or they are ill-suited or disinclined to ask for or seek help.
Gathering what they can find from dumpsters and other places of disposal, they have created a home in the tunnels, where there are clusters of inhabitants in the miles of underground space. Residents gather neglected or abandoned money from slot machines and some other stuff which I have already forgotten.
There are dangers here. Water collects on the floors and possessions are elevated on salvages pallets and crates. Poisonous spiders are among the danger from predators of all kinds. Most residents carry weapons. No surprise there. Apparently, as long as the residents hold it together and manage things the authorities and police sort of ignore them. Wintertime brings the greatest threat of flooding, which is why the tunnels were constructed in the first place. The dry desert cannot absorb the excess of water and the tunnels flood, often at a rate of a foot per minute. Possessions are destroyed. Lives are lost.
The first reference was a slide show, and one of the last images is of a wall where someone has written. I have copied it here, not changing anything.
My first information came from Environmental Graffiti:
http://www.environmentalgraffiti.com/featured/sin-city-underground-tunnels/18773
Matthew O'Brien is mentioned in the above link and has written a book, Beneath The Neon. His web site is: http://www.beneaththeneon.com/bio.asp
Below the glittery and lavish excess that is a large part of Las Vegas there are perhaps hundreds of people who live in the flood tunnels beneath the city. Disenfranchised, jobless, homeless, either without other resources such as family, friends or social services, or they are ill-suited or disinclined to ask for or seek help.
Gathering what they can find from dumpsters and other places of disposal, they have created a home in the tunnels, where there are clusters of inhabitants in the miles of underground space. Residents gather neglected or abandoned money from slot machines and some other stuff which I have already forgotten.
There are dangers here. Water collects on the floors and possessions are elevated on salvages pallets and crates. Poisonous spiders are among the danger from predators of all kinds. Most residents carry weapons. No surprise there. Apparently, as long as the residents hold it together and manage things the authorities and police sort of ignore them. Wintertime brings the greatest threat of flooding, which is why the tunnels were constructed in the first place. The dry desert cannot absorb the excess of water and the tunnels flood, often at a rate of a foot per minute. Possessions are destroyed. Lives are lost.
The first reference was a slide show, and one of the last images is of a wall where someone has written. I have copied it here, not changing anything.
Dieing is easy
Living is hard
Living is hard
- I started out with nothing and still got most of it.
- We are born wet, naked and hungry. Then things get worse.
- If at first you dont succeed, destoy the evidence that you tried.
- Consciousness: That annoying time between naps.
- I used to have a open mind but my brains kept falling out.
- The more people I meet. The more I like my dog.
- Eat right. Stay fit. Die anyway!
- I just let my mind wander and it didnt come back.
- I've only been wrong once and that's when I thought I was wrong.
- I can handle pain until it hurts.
My first information came from Environmental Graffiti:
http://www.environmentalgraffiti.com/featured/sin-city-underground-tunnels/18773
Matthew O'Brien is mentioned in the above link and has written a book, Beneath The Neon. His web site is: http://www.beneaththeneon.com/bio.asp
fine
Dear Diary,
So, you know how when you ask someone how they are and they always say 'fine' or something like that?
Well, none of us, well, hardly any of us, a few of us do not want to burden anyone else with the crap buffet our lives can be sometimes, so we answer 'fine' should someone be so bold as to risk asking us how we are.
Anyway, my therapist always begins our sessions with asking me how I am. I say 'fine'. Then, she asks me to rate how I am feeling by grading it, as in A for great or B or C or D or F for really messed up. At least she used to ask me to grade my feelings. Thank goodness she stopped. I guess that means she is a good therapist. Yep.
Last week's session started the same way, with her asking and then mentioning the grading system. However, I was ready for her and told her that I knew that she would ask and that I was tired of just saying 'fine', but that it really was what worked for me, as compared to just about everyone else I really and truly am fine.
Whilst feeding the parking meter before going inside the clinic, I thought about what I wanted to say and this is what I have.
I am on my way to hoping to be fine.
Well. It sounded all right when it was in my head and then when I said it aloud. Now, seeing it in print, well, it looks kind of dumb. But, I cannot think of anything else, so it has to be fine.
Maybe I should try to think of something new each week. Like, I am fine, but I was better yesterday. Or, I am well...grounded. Or, something. Ha!
So, you know how when you ask someone how they are and they always say 'fine' or something like that?
Well, none of us, well, hardly any of us, a few of us do not want to burden anyone else with the crap buffet our lives can be sometimes, so we answer 'fine' should someone be so bold as to risk asking us how we are.
Anyway, my therapist always begins our sessions with asking me how I am. I say 'fine'. Then, she asks me to rate how I am feeling by grading it, as in A for great or B or C or D or F for really messed up. At least she used to ask me to grade my feelings. Thank goodness she stopped. I guess that means she is a good therapist. Yep.
Last week's session started the same way, with her asking and then mentioning the grading system. However, I was ready for her and told her that I knew that she would ask and that I was tired of just saying 'fine', but that it really was what worked for me, as compared to just about everyone else I really and truly am fine.
Whilst feeding the parking meter before going inside the clinic, I thought about what I wanted to say and this is what I have.
I am on my way to hoping to be fine.
Well. It sounded all right when it was in my head and then when I said it aloud. Now, seeing it in print, well, it looks kind of dumb. But, I cannot think of anything else, so it has to be fine.
Maybe I should try to think of something new each week. Like, I am fine, but I was better yesterday. Or, I am well...grounded. Or, something. Ha!
Monday, December 24, 2012
peace
Dear Diary,
It is nearing midnight. My daughter and her family are with my son-in-law's family all the way over there in another state. The winter holidays work well when one family is Christian and the other is not. I am the not.
My oldest grandson had his holiday program on Thursday, so I was invited to come a day early because our first wintery weather was expected. It mostly rained here, but where they live it had snowed the couple of days before and more was expected for most of the state.
The program was so wonderful. The students in his school are being taught American sign language and the final performance was the entire school singing and signing a song about wishing that no one would be sad or feel bad and it was so beautiful. Watching them signing as effortlessly as taking a breath was a powerful experience. The little one sat between his mother and me on our folded coats and we all watched, completely enthralled.
We celebrated Yule early so that they could get away west as soon as possible, bad weather forecast and all. Yule dinner is always on me and since the boys came along, is always take-out from their favorite Chinese restaurant. And, their favorite dish is meat on a stick, lots of it. We get enough food for two huge meals, and it is really delicious.
The big snow did arrive, and I spent another couple of nights until it stopped and we could dig out. There was less and less snow and icky roads as I came closer to home and when I got here the streets were clear and dry, with barely a dusting of the white stuff left on the grass. Apparently it was seriously windy, though there was not much damage.
My little angel was sick. I knew it. He knew it and everyone else did. I let him kiss me anyway. I keep promising myself that when they are ill that we will hug and snuggle, but that no kissing will take place. I cave every time. I get their illness. Every time.
So. I have been sick since Friday night. Taking lots of meds and keeping it at bay. No voice. Too bad no one else is around to appreciate the lack of my chattering. Except for CoolCat, and he is mostly bewildered by the occasional squeak, and alarmed by the nearly constant coughing. Hack. Lordy. I have been taking this mucus-reducing stuff and it might be working. At least I do not have a crappy infection in my crappy lungs.
I took a month off from work, am half-way through it. I needed the time to try and become healthier. The results from my check-up a few weeks ago were not great and I am kind of ashamed that I have let lots of things go during the mess. You either pay attention or you pay the price.
Therapy, well, what can I say. I apparently need it, and I do not hate it as much as I used to, although I still mostly hate it. I might stop. It is not as though I do not appreciate the work that needs to be done or that I need to do the work. I get all of that. The work on being able to have feelings, you know, like a normal person, well, that is too difficult. I cannot even get close to dealing with what happened. If I do that, get close, do the work, I will have to feel stuff again. I will have to relive all of that. I think that I cannot do that, but mostly it is because I will not. I am not going there.
And, here we are. At least I am. I have this new life, whatever it is or can be will be of my own making. I kind of love where I am right now. No sense messing it up.
The good part is that this holiday season is the best I have ever had. Ever. At least for the past forty years or so. No stress and worry about doing the wrong thing without ever the benefit of knowing what that might actually be. No concealing what was really happening and making all nice and cheerful so that no one would know. So many secrets. So many and I will never share them with anyone. There are a few people who have the general outline, as it were, but no one, not a single person knows the truth, besides me and someone who is not me. This is take to your grave stuff.
When someone is alone during regular family-get-together things the popular theory is that that person is most likely feeling vulnerable and lonely. I am certain that is so for some people. The news lately has been so full of terrible things, stunning loss and natural disasters and lost jobs and serious health issues and so much more. I am not comparing myself and my circumstances to those of anyone else, but I am grateful that I am doing as well as I am. I am more lucky than I deserve to be. It simply does not get any better than this.
It is nearing midnight. My daughter and her family are with my son-in-law's family all the way over there in another state. The winter holidays work well when one family is Christian and the other is not. I am the not.
My oldest grandson had his holiday program on Thursday, so I was invited to come a day early because our first wintery weather was expected. It mostly rained here, but where they live it had snowed the couple of days before and more was expected for most of the state.
The program was so wonderful. The students in his school are being taught American sign language and the final performance was the entire school singing and signing a song about wishing that no one would be sad or feel bad and it was so beautiful. Watching them signing as effortlessly as taking a breath was a powerful experience. The little one sat between his mother and me on our folded coats and we all watched, completely enthralled.
We celebrated Yule early so that they could get away west as soon as possible, bad weather forecast and all. Yule dinner is always on me and since the boys came along, is always take-out from their favorite Chinese restaurant. And, their favorite dish is meat on a stick, lots of it. We get enough food for two huge meals, and it is really delicious.
The big snow did arrive, and I spent another couple of nights until it stopped and we could dig out. There was less and less snow and icky roads as I came closer to home and when I got here the streets were clear and dry, with barely a dusting of the white stuff left on the grass. Apparently it was seriously windy, though there was not much damage.
My little angel was sick. I knew it. He knew it and everyone else did. I let him kiss me anyway. I keep promising myself that when they are ill that we will hug and snuggle, but that no kissing will take place. I cave every time. I get their illness. Every time.
So. I have been sick since Friday night. Taking lots of meds and keeping it at bay. No voice. Too bad no one else is around to appreciate the lack of my chattering. Except for CoolCat, and he is mostly bewildered by the occasional squeak, and alarmed by the nearly constant coughing. Hack. Lordy. I have been taking this mucus-reducing stuff and it might be working. At least I do not have a crappy infection in my crappy lungs.
I took a month off from work, am half-way through it. I needed the time to try and become healthier. The results from my check-up a few weeks ago were not great and I am kind of ashamed that I have let lots of things go during the mess. You either pay attention or you pay the price.
Therapy, well, what can I say. I apparently need it, and I do not hate it as much as I used to, although I still mostly hate it. I might stop. It is not as though I do not appreciate the work that needs to be done or that I need to do the work. I get all of that. The work on being able to have feelings, you know, like a normal person, well, that is too difficult. I cannot even get close to dealing with what happened. If I do that, get close, do the work, I will have to feel stuff again. I will have to relive all of that. I think that I cannot do that, but mostly it is because I will not. I am not going there.
And, here we are. At least I am. I have this new life, whatever it is or can be will be of my own making. I kind of love where I am right now. No sense messing it up.
The good part is that this holiday season is the best I have ever had. Ever. At least for the past forty years or so. No stress and worry about doing the wrong thing without ever the benefit of knowing what that might actually be. No concealing what was really happening and making all nice and cheerful so that no one would know. So many secrets. So many and I will never share them with anyone. There are a few people who have the general outline, as it were, but no one, not a single person knows the truth, besides me and someone who is not me. This is take to your grave stuff.
When someone is alone during regular family-get-together things the popular theory is that that person is most likely feeling vulnerable and lonely. I am certain that is so for some people. The news lately has been so full of terrible things, stunning loss and natural disasters and lost jobs and serious health issues and so much more. I am not comparing myself and my circumstances to those of anyone else, but I am grateful that I am doing as well as I am. I am more lucky than I deserve to be. It simply does not get any better than this.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
dunt wanna
I am so tired of talking about all of this. Oh, not the griping and moaning and groaning and complaining that I do here. This is therapeutic. I get bogged down or scared or something and I mostly just go to bed, but sometimes I come here and just spew.
The talking I hate is with my therapist, who insisted on two sessions this week. I am hoping that writing tonight will release some of this stuff so that I might be able to do some decent work tomorrow.
But, the spewing here. It empties me so that I do not have to deal with whatever it is for a while. In starting this project, it was my hope that by writing and getting some of the stuff out of my head that I could gain some kind of perspective and that it would help memove on with my life.
But, the truth is that I thought, believed that when all the clutter filtered out through my fingertips that it would make room for emotion. The lack of which is holding me back. I cannot cry, although when something scary happens or something tender happens I can feel a little weepy, but nothing more than moist eyeballs is the result, and that is not good enough. Even I know that.
I am repressing all of that crap from before and the process of doing that is keeping me from feeling anything. Even good emotions. Sure, I can feel happy and content, and I know that for certain because it has happened four times since moving here. If it can happen a couple of times, well, then it is possible to have that more often, even regularly.
I feel satisfaction from my work and from the little bit of artsy stuff I have been doing. Surely that is a start. It would be nice if I could find some momentum and keep on going to other feelings and emotions. And, it is not like I am trying to suppress anything. I am not. I would give just about anything to cry, you know, just feel all...or even a little portion...of the grief that I know must be inside me somewhere. Hell, surviving all of this, I have earned the right to experience grief. I cannot. There has to be sorrow and loss and yearning and wanting and need and hope and love in me somewhere, too. There has to be. I thought that my life was over whenever he decided, and there was that certainty that the life I wanted, the kind where I would be loved and honored and safe simply was never going to happen. At some point I realized that I had truly and soundly resigned myself to having only what he allowed.
What I can feel is fear. Fear that something more will happen to me. That I will be out somewhere and be confronted or attacked by him. When I am out of the house, at the market or Walmart or at a restaurant or anyplace, I am hyper vigilant about my surroundings. I watch my immediate geography all the time so that no one can sneak up on me or catch me unawares. Parking lots are places to be especially cautious.
I greatly dislike being out of the house after dark. We are experiencing lots of gloomy weather, clouds and fog and stuff and even today it was dark by a quarter after four. Everything stops then and I get on this computer and read stuff and visit a couple of web sites and play puzzle games. All of that is fine, but I want more. I want lights on at night. I think about this all the time, every day, even before it gets dark. I am so freaking stupid. I know better and to be caught and held by these fears is stupid. It is stupid.
I have no problems going to work or on errands or to my daughter's, but other than that, I am reluctant to leave the house. I am careful when I walk onto the porch to get the mail. I worry about what might be in there. They have been well instructed to not contact me in any way and I worry about them violating that just the way they are about the financial stuff. Which, by the way, is now four months in violation of the court orders.
Oh, and I keep thinking that if I am going to be worried about anything it should be that whole money thing, but amazingly I am not. Stupid, I guess, or maybe there is not any worrying room left for this.
So, I am hoping that by writing all of this tonight that I will be ready for tomorrow's session. Part of the problem is that I feel like a fraud. I am able to go out and work and do whatever needs doing, but I cannot do the personal, interior work that I have to get through. And, it is not as though I am not trying. I am. I want this more than anything. I want this even if it means that I get stuck crying for a while, even a long, long while. Even if it changes the kind of person I am. Even if I temporarily stop being myself. Even then.
Maybe I need medication or less chocolate or more chocolate or something. What I am not going to do is to run away from any of this. There were too many secrets for too long. I may never share most of what happened, am pretty sure that I will not, but I need to do something to find release from the hold all of it has on me.
C'mon, Tomorrow. I dare you to challenge me and make me cry. I dare you. I double-dog dare you. With a cherry.
The talking I hate is with my therapist, who insisted on two sessions this week. I am hoping that writing tonight will release some of this stuff so that I might be able to do some decent work tomorrow.
But, the spewing here. It empties me so that I do not have to deal with whatever it is for a while. In starting this project, it was my hope that by writing and getting some of the stuff out of my head that I could gain some kind of perspective and that it would help memove on with my life.
But, the truth is that I thought, believed that when all the clutter filtered out through my fingertips that it would make room for emotion. The lack of which is holding me back. I cannot cry, although when something scary happens or something tender happens I can feel a little weepy, but nothing more than moist eyeballs is the result, and that is not good enough. Even I know that.
I am repressing all of that crap from before and the process of doing that is keeping me from feeling anything. Even good emotions. Sure, I can feel happy and content, and I know that for certain because it has happened four times since moving here. If it can happen a couple of times, well, then it is possible to have that more often, even regularly.
I feel satisfaction from my work and from the little bit of artsy stuff I have been doing. Surely that is a start. It would be nice if I could find some momentum and keep on going to other feelings and emotions. And, it is not like I am trying to suppress anything. I am not. I would give just about anything to cry, you know, just feel all...or even a little portion...of the grief that I know must be inside me somewhere. Hell, surviving all of this, I have earned the right to experience grief. I cannot. There has to be sorrow and loss and yearning and wanting and need and hope and love in me somewhere, too. There has to be. I thought that my life was over whenever he decided, and there was that certainty that the life I wanted, the kind where I would be loved and honored and safe simply was never going to happen. At some point I realized that I had truly and soundly resigned myself to having only what he allowed.
What I can feel is fear. Fear that something more will happen to me. That I will be out somewhere and be confronted or attacked by him. When I am out of the house, at the market or Walmart or at a restaurant or anyplace, I am hyper vigilant about my surroundings. I watch my immediate geography all the time so that no one can sneak up on me or catch me unawares. Parking lots are places to be especially cautious.
I greatly dislike being out of the house after dark. We are experiencing lots of gloomy weather, clouds and fog and stuff and even today it was dark by a quarter after four. Everything stops then and I get on this computer and read stuff and visit a couple of web sites and play puzzle games. All of that is fine, but I want more. I want lights on at night. I think about this all the time, every day, even before it gets dark. I am so freaking stupid. I know better and to be caught and held by these fears is stupid. It is stupid.
I have no problems going to work or on errands or to my daughter's, but other than that, I am reluctant to leave the house. I am careful when I walk onto the porch to get the mail. I worry about what might be in there. They have been well instructed to not contact me in any way and I worry about them violating that just the way they are about the financial stuff. Which, by the way, is now four months in violation of the court orders.
Oh, and I keep thinking that if I am going to be worried about anything it should be that whole money thing, but amazingly I am not. Stupid, I guess, or maybe there is not any worrying room left for this.
So, I am hoping that by writing all of this tonight that I will be ready for tomorrow's session. Part of the problem is that I feel like a fraud. I am able to go out and work and do whatever needs doing, but I cannot do the personal, interior work that I have to get through. And, it is not as though I am not trying. I am. I want this more than anything. I want this even if it means that I get stuck crying for a while, even a long, long while. Even if it changes the kind of person I am. Even if I temporarily stop being myself. Even then.
Maybe I need medication or less chocolate or more chocolate or something. What I am not going to do is to run away from any of this. There were too many secrets for too long. I may never share most of what happened, am pretty sure that I will not, but I need to do something to find release from the hold all of it has on me.
C'mon, Tomorrow. I dare you to challenge me and make me cry. I dare you. I double-dog dare you. With a cherry.
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