Thoughts
Learning about Corie has done some weird things to my sense of time.
I realized today that my view of the past and what has happened to me was malleable, as if it were still a work in progress that could be adjusted and tweaked, part of the present and part of the future.
Corie dying makes the past, especially what happened in the house, feel solid. Locked in. It really happened, and I have to deal with it.
It put how fucked up the whole situation was into sharp relief. I've always been able to laugh it off, a weird situation that I got into in a weird part of my life, it's over now, no sense in applying it to the person I am now.
I don't want to be the person that let herself get involved with them in the first place, but I have to look at why I did it: I wanted to feel special, I wanted to be a part of something, and they offered something unique and compelling for me to climb into. They accepted me and made me feel like I belonged there, and slowly turned that into me not belonging anywhere else, that no one else would understand me the way they would.
Obviously, that was bullshit. I'm fully aware of that. But I'm also aware that I do like feeling special, I like when people choose me to confide in or ask for advice or even hang out, because I feel like I'm achieving something when I get that validation from others. I still have that aspect of myself, even though I'm a lot more cautious about who I let win me over.
I know that what happened was serious and still affects how I interact with my reality in the present. I'm looking into therapy so that I can talk through it with someone unbiased, but I'm also finding myself wishing I could talk to the others who were in it with me and also got out.
F doesn't want to see me in person yet, and I can't blame him. His last memories of me are wrapped up in the house, and he's working on moving forward. I would be a sharp reminder of that fresh wound.
But I have spent the past four or five years praying (in as much as I pray) for his escape, that he would get out, that I would have the chance to explain why I left and hope he understood. I've done that via Facebook, he does understand because he had to do the same thing, and yet, the closure I hoped for isn't there.
I find myself desperately wanting to see him but knowing that it probably wouldn't be for the best. I'm trying to let go of the idea and let him come to me when he's ready, even if that's another four years down the road.
I don't really know what I want to talk about or feel or not feel...I just know that I never really dealt with all this, and it's obvious that I need to.
I realized today that my view of the past and what has happened to me was malleable, as if it were still a work in progress that could be adjusted and tweaked, part of the present and part of the future.
Corie dying makes the past, especially what happened in the house, feel solid. Locked in. It really happened, and I have to deal with it.
It put how fucked up the whole situation was into sharp relief. I've always been able to laugh it off, a weird situation that I got into in a weird part of my life, it's over now, no sense in applying it to the person I am now.
I don't want to be the person that let herself get involved with them in the first place, but I have to look at why I did it: I wanted to feel special, I wanted to be a part of something, and they offered something unique and compelling for me to climb into. They accepted me and made me feel like I belonged there, and slowly turned that into me not belonging anywhere else, that no one else would understand me the way they would.
Obviously, that was bullshit. I'm fully aware of that. But I'm also aware that I do like feeling special, I like when people choose me to confide in or ask for advice or even hang out, because I feel like I'm achieving something when I get that validation from others. I still have that aspect of myself, even though I'm a lot more cautious about who I let win me over.
I know that what happened was serious and still affects how I interact with my reality in the present. I'm looking into therapy so that I can talk through it with someone unbiased, but I'm also finding myself wishing I could talk to the others who were in it with me and also got out.
F doesn't want to see me in person yet, and I can't blame him. His last memories of me are wrapped up in the house, and he's working on moving forward. I would be a sharp reminder of that fresh wound.
But I have spent the past four or five years praying (in as much as I pray) for his escape, that he would get out, that I would have the chance to explain why I left and hope he understood. I've done that via Facebook, he does understand because he had to do the same thing, and yet, the closure I hoped for isn't there.
I find myself desperately wanting to see him but knowing that it probably wouldn't be for the best. I'm trying to let go of the idea and let him come to me when he's ready, even if that's another four years down the road.
I don't really know what I want to talk about or feel or not feel...I just know that I never really dealt with all this, and it's obvious that I need to.