On Tuesday I Had An Intake Appointment For Group Therapy At My Local Womens Shelter. I Had A Personal

On Tuesday I had an intake appointment for group therapy at my local women’s shelter.  I had a Personal Danger and Risk Assessment done. The score scale  is out of 30 and a score of 19 or higher categorized you as “In Extreme Danger/At Extremely High Risk”.

I scored a 27.

I am not terribly social at work, but i used to be on friendly terms with one of my coworkers before they switched employers. Two years ago their spouse had an accident; the spouse and a friend blew up a shed they were inside of.

I don't know the story well mostly because the two didn't remember much of what happened. They were using propane for something and one of them absentmindedly lit a joint. Both were lucky to be alive.

My response when I found out was probably normalish:

" I'm so sorry! That must have been so scary! Are they ok? Are you okay? Are your kids okay? Is there anything you need? How can I help?"

His response? "What a fucking moron. You can't be friends with someone who chooses to continue to be with that idiot."

So he wanted my friend to leave their partner while they were laying in a hospital bed after having been thrown 30+ feet by an explosion. Burnt, broken and taumatized. All because one of them made an error and as if the horrifying consequences of that mistake weren't sufficient 'punishment,'

And my friend who spent the subsequent weeks healing and helping their lover get back on their feet was an "idiot" and a "fool". And was " no friend of [mine]."

If that doesn't summarize his capacity for compassion I don't know what would.

Have you ever been to a women's shelter?

You buzz, and you identify yourself before you enter. They have video footage of you and they take pics. If they've misspelled your last name it is a hassle to proceed. If they let you proceed at all.

They'll buzz you in only 5 minutes before you're scheduled. Otherwise there may not be someone to " keep an eye" on you. The leave you outside to be victim to whateved creep is stalking the place that day. Or whatever mother nature has in store.

There's passcodes and two sets of impenetrable doors. There is bulletproof glass at the reception desk. There are hardly any windows and none of them open.

It is stale and stagnant and stinks of misery.

It took me 20 minutes to secure a glass of water since they had to find "an escort". The chairs are stiff. There is an air of everything being just " functional"

It's not welcoming. It has no intention of being so. It's a prison. You're there because of decisions you made.

We leave one to enter another.

He's persistent.

This is just what he's been taught will win me back.

You want real world examples of shitty cishet male behaviour being reinforced by societal standards? I'm living that goddam nightmare.

I am ashamed that i am inches away from contacting him today.

I have no idea why taking steps to heal has to be so damn hard.

I have my group therapy intake tonight. I’m feeling sick.