It Has Been 312 Weeks Since I Have Spoken To Him.

It has been 312 weeks since I have spoken to him.

Life is very different now.

You hit a certain point in the healing process where these memories scandalize and enrage you.

It's progress.

Being sick is an excuse: Episode 5.

Once I had a bronchial infection and I was coughing terribly. I couldn't sleep, my head was always pounding, and I wasn't eating much.

He insisted we have sex. I was literally having coughing fits as it happened. When he finished he said "Well that wasn't much fun" and then sent me to sleep on the couch so I wouldn't infect him.

Can you imagine?

Hey. If you're still having sympathy and compassion for the person who hurt you, it's really ok.

I said 'fuck that guy' in my last post. But it took me a really long time to get there. Also, that may never be how you feel about them. That's ok too. You don't have to hate them.

Your feelings toward them don't invalidate what happened to you. And your feelings certainly are not evidence that it 'wasn't that bad'.

I think there are a lot of people out there that think that there's a single 'correct' way to heal. You can process and heal in whatever way works for you. You don't have to follow someone else's blueprint.

Give yourself space, grace and time.

Support Character - Part 1

When we were teenagers and I was still living at home, he worked very hard to get me to play Ultima Online. It's an online RPG game, similar in style to World of Warcraft.

Silly me, I thought he wanted me to participate in something he enjoyed. Of course not, he wanted me to play healer.

That can be fun in some scenarios, but of course it wasn't here. I didn't get any input on quests, areas or achievements. It equated to me following him around everywhere, and clicking the heal while he played.

I was in the support role. It was all about him. It was to be the theme of the next 12 years of my life.

Self care, I have discovered over the past 7 years, is really fucking hard.

Sometimes self-care is, actually, NOT getting onto the computer and little treats and watching youtube videos. Sometimes those things are self-care, but sometimes they're also avoidant behaviors.

Sometimes self care is waking up and just. Fucking getting in the car. And driving to the bank. And the store. And buying the cat litter. And changing the cat boxes you've been avoiding because your brains been stuck in a hole. And picking up the trash you've been piling up. And getting a load into the wash. And mowing the lawn before the village council sends you a formal complaint and potential-fines warning.

Like its hard and annoying to do because it sucks. It sucks so much. But if I don't start working on this pile of bullshit I've let build up because it stinks and i was stuck in deer-in-headlights mode, I risk letting it turn into fuckery. I do not have the patience for fuckery that I once - foolishly! - thought I had.

It was years. YEARS.

May Sarton, from Recovering: A Journal [ID in alt text]