Ill Start Off By Saying That I Cant Speak For Everyone. However In My Experience, And In My Discussions

I’ll start off by saying that I can’t speak for everyone. However in my experience, and in my discussions with other survivors, it seems that in the early days of abuse recovery we become obsessed with understanding WHY.

Why did they do this?  Why didn’t I see who they really were?  Why did they choose me?  Why did I allow this?  

We buy books, research online for hours, bombard our therapists with theories, and try to find stories like ours. We look for the truth somewhere outside of ourselves.  It feels like if we can just find that one elusive  piece of the logic puzzle, our knowledge will heal us. 

It’s probably a necessary part of the process, and can be therapeutic in its own way. But you can’t push away the inevitable forever.  The feelings come, and they come hard.  They have to.

When I slowed down on the fervent research and made myself sit in the pit of horrors that was my brain, things started to change a bit. 

I always assume that everyone struggles with confidence at one time or another.  So I ask myself,  do I actually have residue from the abuse or do I just lack resilience? 

I’m sure you know how my brain answers.

I don't know why, but I googled his name.

He got into an accident on his bike in April and has a GoFundMe set up by his girlfriend. He was in the hospital for 10 weeks.

There's some feels here, but not what I was expecting.

Oopsie.

You know when you know something is a bad idea, but you do it anyways?

Have any of you figured out how to curb that yet?

Apparently I’ll never be safe.

So.  I got sexually harassed by one of my tax clients yesterday. 

He’s on disability and CRA (Canada’s IRS - less scary, still irritating) is jerking him around.  He's “not going to file” to solve this issue (it won’t, but you can’t tell some people anything).  CRA will probably just cut off his benefits if he doesn’t file, and as I’m a fucking fool with no sense of self preservation or foresight I offered to do his return for free.  

So I’ve just agreed to do him a favour, and he starts calling me sweetheart.  I’m don’t say anything, and I wish I had because it went allll downhill from there. I roll up to pick up his documents and he’s shitfaced.  I don’t know what he was drinking, but I can’t get that sickeningly sweet smell out of my nose.

He starts trying to get me to “feel” his body parts that are “fucking jacked” now that he’s been working out.  I’m visibly uncomfortable. He asks me to grab his ass. “No, thanks”

He asked me to come up to his apartment.  I said that I was in a hurry to see other clients.  He asked me to go out to dinner with him and I told him I had a partner and wasn’t interested (why did I have to mention my partner, isn’t ‘not interested’ enough)?

THEN he says, and I fucking quote “Well you could always come upstairs for a one hour romance.”

“....Nope, I’m not interested.  I gotta go.”

“Oh come on, it’s just a sexual experience baby, that’s all it would be.”

*walking away dry heaving into my mask*

“Oh, ok, well thanks anyways!”

For the love of fuck, asshole.  I do your fucking taxes. I had half a mind to leave his docs with him, but I am propelled forwards by this self-destructive sense of compassion for people who are simply not worthy of it.

I think she just grasped that there's a REALLY long way to go.

Therapist: Ok, I think we can try to tweak how you speak to yourself and shine some light in the dark. How do you feel when you get dressed up? You know, make up, cute outfit, that sort of thing...

Me: eeeeeee *laughs*

Therapist: ... That bad?

Me: "Wow, make up can't even help this. Look at what you have done to yourself. You should cover the mirrors in the house. You are a disgrace and disgusting and you're never going to come back from this. You're ugly, and you're going to be ugly for the rest of your life now. You have no value, slob."

Therapist: Holy shiiiiiit....

Second Hand Anxiety

My partner has an interview today. I am LOSING MY FUCKING MIND about it. I feel like if she doesn't get the job it will be because I failed her.

Not sure if I just want her to get the job she really wants because it would make her happy and improve her quality of life. Or maybe it's because he blamed me for anything in his life that did not go his way.

"If you would have fucking slept on the couch so I could actually sleep...."

"They asked questions that weren't on the list you gave me. Thanks for fucking this up for me..."

"I don't fucking care if you don't know anything about machining. I told you to take notes for me to study for my trades exam. These notes are shit. It's like you're not even trying...."

Still figuring it out. I'll think about it while I go vomit. Stay tuned!