the old-school guestbook archives
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a rambling mess about not being fine ~ July 16, 2002 - 9:37 p.m. I'm still a mess, and still fighting the fact that I'm a mess. but I'm coming to realize that unless I let myself feel just how much pain I'm in, I'll continue to be depressed. and the depression has been really, really hard. I don't really want to do anything but lie in bed and read, and there's so much I need to do. on friday, I bailed on one of my garden shifts, for godssake, because I stopped in my room on the way there, and then couldn't make myself leave. and there's so much that needs to happen right now, all kinds of details that need to be taken care of, and I don't feel like I can handle any of it. but somehow, I am. somehow I even managed to drag myself out of bed at 6:30 this morning to go to yoga class. which I've been badly needing. got to keep that energy moving through. what I really need to do is just break down and weep. I wish I could just do that, at will. most of the time I feel like crying, or screaming, or curling up into a ball under the covers and never moving again. and I hate that I'm in this state. I hate feeling so fucked up when I know for a fact that life is beautiful and I'm surrounded by amazing people. and I just want to get over it. let it all go. but I'm realizing that the only way over is through. this stuff is deep and dark and heavy. he fucked with me on a whole lot of levels. he triggered just about every abuse response I have. he messed with my sense of safety. he was deliberately cruel and nasty, for no reason that I can identify. and that's one of the things that took me right back to being a beaten little girl: why is this happening to me? what did I do to deserve this? and even though adult me knows that I didn't do anything to deserve it, that it happened to me because I happened to share space with a mentally unstable human for a while-- that little girl inside me is still completely, utterly freaked out. and people I tell the story to are concerned for my safety, and I start out to tell them that it's okay, that it's not like he's going to come after me, or anything-- and then I realize that I have no idea what he might do. if I ever thought I knew what he was capable of, I no longer do. I used to tell him that I'd never feel safe around him until he got into therapy and started working on his shit. now I know that I'll never feel safe with him. ever. I have no idea what horrors he is capable of. and this is part of what is fucking me up, I think. my whole world has been shaken up, because I no longer feel safe. I will feel safe again. I will know that the universe is watching out for me. but right now? I'm scared, I'm hurting, I'm completely freaked out. I want to say that I hate him for doing this to me, but then my internal sensor says you don't hate him, hating is unhealthy, you're good and spiritual and you have compassion for all beings... and it's true that I can feel compassion for him on some level, but it's also true that that scared little girl part of me HATES him for doing this to me. ihateyouihateyouihateyou! is what she's screaming inside me all the time, and maybe that's why I don't let myself feel it all, maybe that's why I'm so depressed. I want to be beyond this, and I'm not. I just started crying, in the computer room. maybe that's a good thing. I'm a mess. I hate him for doing this to me, I hate him for being ugly and cruel and heartless and cold. I hate him for his guns and the threats he thinks he has the right to make. I hate him for the fact that I could feel, that night, how much he wanted to punch me in the face, to put his hands around my neck and squeeze. I hate him for talking me into thinking he was growing and changing, and then becoming a worse monster than ever. I hate him for making me afraid. I hate him for not giving a shit that he's done all this to me. I hate him for feeling like he'd rather stick a gun or a fist in my face than tell me why he's being so abusive. isn't that funny? in a sick kind of way-- that the whole reason he resorted to violent threats was because he didn't want to answer the question: why are you being so mean? so how can I think of him as anything but a monster when the answer came and it was because this is the way I do things. anything good I ever felt about him has been obliterated, and the feelings which fill the void aren't ones I feel good about. I don't want to hate. I don't want this screaming terror. but I know that this is all part of the healing process, and that I won't feel this way forever. I know that I'll probably never feel good about him again, but someday I'll stop hating. probably after I've stopped hurting so much, and feeling so afraid. I'm just so glad I have so many wonderful people in my life, so much support and love. sharel came up to me in the dining hall yesterday and asked how I was doing, and I started to tell her, and I just broke down. I want to be fine, I told her, and I'm not. and she was wonderful, and hugged me while I cried, and promised to be there whenever I need her, even though I know she's crazy busy right now. I'm not fine. I will be, I know that. pain and healing, anger and release. all of this is very familiar. I just have to care for myself, to take care of the details of my life as much as possible. to let myself feel. to let myself hurt. to let it be okay that I don't have it all together. to let it be okay that I'm not fine.
(((rings))) |