T-Bear
T-Bear rocks. I don't think people appreciate him enough, I'm pretty sure I don't. But he's always there for everyone when they need him. He is. Always. That's T-Bear's way. He has never ever let me down, and he's always caught me when I've flaked out. He spent hours listening to me burbling on about how I fuck everything up in my life. He hugged me. Told me I was a good person. Told me he'd always be there for me.
I told him things I've never told anyone before. Ever. Things I've held within since I was 8 years old. I don't try to hide the fact that I was abused as a kid. It's my life, it happened, it made me who I am today (for better or worse), but I've never ever ever told anyone some of the details before. I was too ashamed. Too scared that I would repulse people. Even in counselling I couldn't talk about this. Today I told T-Bear, not everything but more than I've ever said before. He wasn't repulsed, he didn't run away, he didn't look at me like I was damaged. It was somewhat cathartic, although I don't think I'll be sharing it with many others. I only told T-Bear because I was trying to prove to him that I am a bad person. And because T-Bear inspires trust. Everyone should have a friend like him.
I also told him that I killed my mother. Which, technically, I didn't. Although, biologically, I helped contribute. It's silly to believe this, I know it is, but my subconscious doesn't always listen to the one rational brain cell in my head. And I know my mother's sister blames me. If my mother hadn't been pregnant with me, she wouldn't have been full of growth hormones that made the cancer spread so far so quickly. They could have operated and saved her. Or so I was told by my aunt.
Happy thoughts all round.
I told him things I've never told anyone before. Ever. Things I've held within since I was 8 years old. I don't try to hide the fact that I was abused as a kid. It's my life, it happened, it made me who I am today (for better or worse), but I've never ever ever told anyone some of the details before. I was too ashamed. Too scared that I would repulse people. Even in counselling I couldn't talk about this. Today I told T-Bear, not everything but more than I've ever said before. He wasn't repulsed, he didn't run away, he didn't look at me like I was damaged. It was somewhat cathartic, although I don't think I'll be sharing it with many others. I only told T-Bear because I was trying to prove to him that I am a bad person. And because T-Bear inspires trust. Everyone should have a friend like him.
I also told him that I killed my mother. Which, technically, I didn't. Although, biologically, I helped contribute. It's silly to believe this, I know it is, but my subconscious doesn't always listen to the one rational brain cell in my head. And I know my mother's sister blames me. If my mother hadn't been pregnant with me, she wouldn't have been full of growth hormones that made the cancer spread so far so quickly. They could have operated and saved her. Or so I was told by my aunt.
Happy thoughts all round.