Hey. If You're Still Having Sympathy And Compassion For The Person Who Hurt You, It's Really Ok.

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.

Oh.

4am Musings

Is childhood inherently traumatizing?

I don't think compassion for your abuser is necessary, nor is it a reasonable expectation of abuse survivors. But it might be good for some survivors. It's possible to be compassionate without reinserting yourself in someone's life.

What you need could change throughout the years, and it could differ wildly from what someone else needs at that same moment in time. Situations that look the same aren't necessarily.

*Incoming metaphor, sorry* Healing from abuse is a twisted, vine-y road covered in thorns. You just have to figure out how to make your way with as few injuries as possible. That could be with a machete, or pruners, or some cautious, thoughtful navigation. Or some mixture of the 3.

I don't know. I'm still figuring it out myself. What I do know, is that anytime anyone's tried to tell me what's good for me, it's been starkly in contrast to what I needed at the time.

The Recloseted Lesbian. Compassion

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.

Today, as a queer woman in Canada, I feel unsafe.