i've got to get this feeling off my chest (the doctor says all i need's pills and rest)
Fear.
Here I sit, and I am terrified. To do what I want, I have to leave my fears behind. But my fears have kept me safe. (Have they?) I haven't had safety. (I found some in myself.) Safety may come in risk. Risks are scary.
I am terrified. I do not choose that word lightly; the weight of my fears is nearly incapacitating. It drains my throat, and I find myself ducking all eye contact, as if a glimpse into my soul would reveal the emptiness swirling around a chain of logic so inescapable-so devilish-that even though I know it's wrong I can't help but feel it's right.
(I don't think it's I'm really empty. I think that's something my fears tell me will manifest. It feels real. I think it's wrong, but it feels real.)
Moving into my parents' home. Losing my job. Trying to understand, with futility, Josh's actions. All of it adds to the tremendous weight of this fear, that I will be hurt again-that I should not trust again-that I cannot rely on myself (oh & how it hurts that that one I cannot blame on him).
Travis tells me that my judgment is impeccable, and as far as he can tell, the problem is with me second-guessing myself. Then that'd be why I hadn't kicked Josh to the curb, I suppose.
(What tense is that? The thoughts in my head aren't always critical. Many of them are helpful, adjustments, helping me see all sides of an argument, pointing out facts about the noun in a conversation... that sort of thing.)
I leave for San Francisco day after tomorrow. I'm going to SF during Pride week to spend time with my girlfriend, and that is definitely a sentence from my dream life, so I'm okay with it.
It-I must admit-being my life in general. I'm depressed as fuck and all freshly traumatized like I'm 18 all over again, and being 18 the first time was bad enough.
BUT...
This time I know it's different, and I'm going to act as if it's different.
Except it's ... it's all still so fucking hard, and I just want to admit it. To accept it. It's going to be fucking hard. Few people in my day to day life reinforce that I have a right to be hurt, that anything I tell them is okay. And the ones that do say that-my sister, Travis-it hurts to tell them.
It hurts so badly to trust anyone right now.
I've been going to therapy. I feel like my therapist is frustrated with my lack of progress but I don't know how to explain that when all I foresee is problems and that's backed by experience, it's really-just because I can explain how wretched I feel doesn't mean it feels LESS WRETCHED (except in some ways thru like, validation and understanding BUT IT STILL SUCKS).
And feeling that way makes it really difficult to do anything. I have a few tasks to get done before I go to San Francisco--research some social work agencies there, talk to them about what their peer support work is like, that sort of thing-and it'd be super helpful if I wrote a few emails before I left, since I'm going to be in transit for the better part of a day.
OH AND I'M BROKE IF YOU WERE WONDERING. of course I am. I'm going to San Francisco on the flight voucher I got last year when I lost my shit and went there (they bumped me off a flight for 500 dollars in a voucher, fuck yes).
my awesomesauce girlfriend in SF, who I believe I'm calling elle for the purposes of the journal, fully believes my cooking skills make up for my lack of financial ability to order take out, so I find that adorable and tend to try to save her as much money as possible when I'm there. It's more of a staycation than anything else, except I'm staying with the woman I adore.
I haven't talked much about Elle on the journal because she's extremely private and somewhat "wild for to hold, tho [she] seem tame." Noli me tangere, my fatal downfall. *DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYS.*
Joking aside, she's so much more than that, tho my love be inexplicable except to say that once she wrote a fanfic sequel to "The Left Hand of Darkness" and it lived up to the book.
Seriously. (that's a link to her fanfic, go read it and give it massive props for worldbuilding rivalling Le Guin's and I'm VERY SRS)
So spending time with this elusive creature (mostly it's her cell reception, tbh) and the big señorita of the Bay Area.
(I don't really spend money when I travel except on bus fare and the occasional meal with a friend. I'm a good window shopper. I buy a latte if I'm feeling hungry. That's it.)
I've scrimped and saved and bought nothing but absolute necessities (no joke, I have bought a toothbrush and tampons and chocolate while travelling to a funeral)-- I am going to San Francisco on less than a hundred dollars (plus the refund check I get from my water bill) and I get paid next Friday and I'm terrified, but I'm always terrified.
On the plus side, only bill I have to pay with that money is my phone bill (which is enormous but I've tried to shrink it as much as possible, still, don't even get me started on how Josh talked me into that).
I just... I need the space, I need the reminder of what I'm fighting for. A good life, ideally in the Bay Area, but more importantly where I rely on myself and the people that are around me are there because they want to be, not because of financial entanglements or some sort of obligation. Where I trust my own judgment.
Josh tried to take that from me. He left me here, decimated, and he's off having sex with HER, I'm sure, merrily until the trial. (I hope he has a fucking heart attackgreat time, I really do, because he's just gonna escalate, that's what he DOES, and I'm going to fucking make sure he gets what's coming to him [via the justice system!] if it's the last thing I do.)
What he tried to destroy was never his to take. My consent is valuable to me because I am a human being and I deserve, at the very least, to be treated with respect and dignity.
And to have some fucking fun, which is what I plan to do.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth. Comment there (
), or feel free to comment here.
Here I sit, and I am terrified. To do what I want, I have to leave my fears behind. But my fears have kept me safe. (Have they?) I haven't had safety. (I found some in myself.) Safety may come in risk. Risks are scary.
I am terrified. I do not choose that word lightly; the weight of my fears is nearly incapacitating. It drains my throat, and I find myself ducking all eye contact, as if a glimpse into my soul would reveal the emptiness swirling around a chain of logic so inescapable-so devilish-that even though I know it's wrong I can't help but feel it's right.
(I don't think it's I'm really empty. I think that's something my fears tell me will manifest. It feels real. I think it's wrong, but it feels real.)
Moving into my parents' home. Losing my job. Trying to understand, with futility, Josh's actions. All of it adds to the tremendous weight of this fear, that I will be hurt again-that I should not trust again-that I cannot rely on myself (oh & how it hurts that that one I cannot blame on him).
Travis tells me that my judgment is impeccable, and as far as he can tell, the problem is with me second-guessing myself. Then that'd be why I hadn't kicked Josh to the curb, I suppose.
(What tense is that? The thoughts in my head aren't always critical. Many of them are helpful, adjustments, helping me see all sides of an argument, pointing out facts about the noun in a conversation... that sort of thing.)
I leave for San Francisco day after tomorrow. I'm going to SF during Pride week to spend time with my girlfriend, and that is definitely a sentence from my dream life, so I'm okay with it.
It-I must admit-being my life in general. I'm depressed as fuck and all freshly traumatized like I'm 18 all over again, and being 18 the first time was bad enough.
BUT...
This time I know it's different, and I'm going to act as if it's different.
Except it's ... it's all still so fucking hard, and I just want to admit it. To accept it. It's going to be fucking hard. Few people in my day to day life reinforce that I have a right to be hurt, that anything I tell them is okay. And the ones that do say that-my sister, Travis-it hurts to tell them.
It hurts so badly to trust anyone right now.
I've been going to therapy. I feel like my therapist is frustrated with my lack of progress but I don't know how to explain that when all I foresee is problems and that's backed by experience, it's really-just because I can explain how wretched I feel doesn't mean it feels LESS WRETCHED (except in some ways thru like, validation and understanding BUT IT STILL SUCKS).
And feeling that way makes it really difficult to do anything. I have a few tasks to get done before I go to San Francisco--research some social work agencies there, talk to them about what their peer support work is like, that sort of thing-and it'd be super helpful if I wrote a few emails before I left, since I'm going to be in transit for the better part of a day.
OH AND I'M BROKE IF YOU WERE WONDERING. of course I am. I'm going to San Francisco on the flight voucher I got last year when I lost my shit and went there (they bumped me off a flight for 500 dollars in a voucher, fuck yes).
my awesomesauce girlfriend in SF, who I believe I'm calling elle for the purposes of the journal, fully believes my cooking skills make up for my lack of financial ability to order take out, so I find that adorable and tend to try to save her as much money as possible when I'm there. It's more of a staycation than anything else, except I'm staying with the woman I adore.
I haven't talked much about Elle on the journal because she's extremely private and somewhat "wild for to hold, tho [she] seem tame." Noli me tangere, my fatal downfall. *DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYS.*
Joking aside, she's so much more than that, tho my love be inexplicable except to say that once she wrote a fanfic sequel to "The Left Hand of Darkness" and it lived up to the book.
Seriously. (that's a link to her fanfic, go read it and give it massive props for worldbuilding rivalling Le Guin's and I'm VERY SRS)
So spending time with this elusive creature (mostly it's her cell reception, tbh) and the big señorita of the Bay Area.
(I don't really spend money when I travel except on bus fare and the occasional meal with a friend. I'm a good window shopper. I buy a latte if I'm feeling hungry. That's it.)
I've scrimped and saved and bought nothing but absolute necessities (no joke, I have bought a toothbrush and tampons and chocolate while travelling to a funeral)-- I am going to San Francisco on less than a hundred dollars (plus the refund check I get from my water bill) and I get paid next Friday and I'm terrified, but I'm always terrified.
On the plus side, only bill I have to pay with that money is my phone bill (which is enormous but I've tried to shrink it as much as possible, still, don't even get me started on how Josh talked me into that).
I just... I need the space, I need the reminder of what I'm fighting for. A good life, ideally in the Bay Area, but more importantly where I rely on myself and the people that are around me are there because they want to be, not because of financial entanglements or some sort of obligation. Where I trust my own judgment.
Josh tried to take that from me. He left me here, decimated, and he's off having sex with HER, I'm sure, merrily until the trial. (I hope he has a fucking heart attackgreat time, I really do, because he's just gonna escalate, that's what he DOES, and I'm going to fucking make sure he gets what's coming to him [via the justice system!] if it's the last thing I do.)
What he tried to destroy was never his to take. My consent is valuable to me because I am a human being and I deserve, at the very least, to be treated with respect and dignity.
And to have some fucking fun, which is what I plan to do.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth. Comment there (
), or feel free to comment here.