I Nearly Did.

I nearly did.

On Wednesday I had a flashback as I was walking into therapy.

It was the first few days of January in 2016 and he was confronting me about my transgressions. He had found a letter I had written to Rapist. I think I've told this story before, but reliving it this time made me drop like a tonne of bricks.

He asked what the deal was with Rapist and what he did to make me hate him so much.

I was cornered, so I told him. Telling anyone is hard, but telling someone who is unreservedly hostile and violent? He had just closed a door on my arm and kept pushing on it. It bruised purple immediately.

This was one of the hardest moments of my life ever.

After telling him I collapsed ( literally) into tears. He came over to me real gentle like as though he was going to comfort me. He whispered real softly and real close to my ear "you know, it would really make it better if you just killed yourself."

I felt his hot breathe on my ear on Wednesday.

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.

My pervert uncle is still here; it's been a month.

Confession: The muscle memory of being constantly on edge I'm fairly certain is causing me to regress. As in reverting to hating myself and contemplating unblocking him sort of regression.

I am just, so tired.

Fucking here we go again.

Cptsd fun.

i basically assume that people don’t like me unless they explicitly tell me they like me and then periodically remind me