Fucking Here We Go Again.

Fucking here we go again.

It's Fine.

I think the hardest thing I've encountered recently is the expectation that I be 'fine' now.

It's been almost a year since I was cut off, and I was very lucky to have a group of people who were there to catch me. They helped me wake up and come to terms with what that meant.

In the last year I have made progress; some of it inconceivable. But my shitty days are SHITTY and my hang ups are not gone.

I'm involved in a show an acquaintance of mine is organising to raise money for a mental health charity. The fb group is posting individual profiles of each collaborating artist.

I lost it when I found out. I hate pictures of myself, first and foremost, but him seeing the picture and knowing where i might be at some point is making me sweat. I asked politely to not be showcased; they obliged, but not without a raised eyebrow. The admin is a friend of mine, and she knows the story. She's absolutely empathetic, but it seemed like she thinks I should be passed this.

I'd love to be. And I'd also love to jump right in and start dating again like everyone keeps suggesting. You know, as if that would solve so many of my issues. While I have come to the conclusion that celebacy isn't my end goal, i am not ready to get out there. Remember that little attempt i made in May? Didn't exactly go well. Doesn't change popular opinion though. It's been long enough they say. It's time.

I also see my support system less and less. I like solitude, but there are times when i feel crushingly alone.

But it's been a year, and they all have their own troubles and I should be well enough to handle the worst moments even with my own conviction.

And I do. But I wonder how many of my old habits are creeping back in. The internalizing, the self loathing, the self destruction, the recklessness. It may be the fall out from my uncle being here, but i feel colder than i have in a while.

It's like my humanity is ebbing away again. And at times i feel i haven't progressed at all.

A little over a week ago I was going through a strong " missing him" phase. At those times I try to reread some of my old posts to snap out of it.

This one is a gem.

IT WAS THAT BAD

When we were working on the basement last summer, he got some concrete work done. So there was  some time where the floor in the basement was all broken up.  He told me if I kept upsetting him he’d bury my body there and cover me up with concrete.  

No one would ever know.

Catch 22

"You can't find a decent paying job with your degree? I fucking told you not to go to university."

"You don't actually look though, you just pretend. You think Im stupid and will fall for your bullshit."

"I'm not like your parents and everyone else that fall for your sob stories. You're just fucking lazy."

"I told you to go into nursing. Why don't you ever fucking listen?!"

"Your degree is a joke. You told me when we met you wanted to go to law school. You mislead me."

"No you can't go back to school. You wasted enough of my fucking time."

“FIND A DECENT FUCKING JOB YOU USELESS CUNT!!!”

Tension

My uncle the Pedophile left today.

Every part of me is exhaling.

The paradox.

I say I’m a survivor but what piece of me survived? Who am I? How do I know I am who I’m meant to be if I can’t figure out which parts survived and which parts I’ve lost?