AAAAAAAAAUUUGH!
please don't hate me
The suggestion of parting ways, why do I hate the idea so much? I wanted to go home, relax, play games. It feels as though you are being taken away and so my immediate impulse is to hold on to you... Even though I had not intended to "use" you right then anyway. I should probably talk to a counsellor about this clinginess. Letting you go should NOT be that agonizing.
God it was hard. And then I just started walking and I swear at least three distinct parts of my mind started freaking the fuck out. I mean seriously losing their shit. Hence the first two parts of this message, selected as about the most coherent thoughts in the storm of screams and so much fear my breastbone hurt. But I am pleased to report that another of the clearest voices was saying, "It's okay. He still loves you. He understands. It's going to be okay. He knows you still love him..."
I want you to understand this is the kind of broken I am. This is the kind of fear I'm surrendering to when I don't want to leave you. This is a passable description of my mind from the inside when shit gets a little crazy. And it's often what I'm avoiding saying or doing when I fall completely silent.
I think just walking, though rude if one doesn't understand I can't communicate, was right. The storm happened, but that means I faced my fear, and I felt liberated, denying it the control over me to keep me paralysed. It was me deciding firmly that you could go home and I wasn't going to whine about it or beg you to comfort me about it. And I could go home and relax and game and not need you beside me to enjoy it.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Relief
Good news! I won't be homeless next month!
I called my landlord last night, who said he doesn't mind if I stay so long as he gets his rent as appropriate (it's $100 more per occupant not on the lease). I made the offer to my roommate to pay the same amount I had been paying while staying here and taking on half of the rent, $450, even though there is now another person to carry the rent, and he accepted that. "But just one more month".
At the same time, my roommate's girlfriend's mom is a realtor, and she has offered to help me look for places. She also started mothering and reassuring me immediately that my roommate would make sure I had a place to go before insisting I leave, that I would be able to find a place in the time I have, she knows I can do it. Things like that. It kind of makes me blush to get such maternal care. With such a source of help, "just one more month" should be fine.
So I told my friends about it, played some games and stayed up late last night. Part of my night also consisted of reading this page, which a friend of mine linked me to, and gaining some further insight into my relationship with my blood mother. Many of the points are very much applicable to her, to greater or lesser degrees. Not all. I suffered little physical abuse, for instance, and if my mom ever got pleasure from my pain directly, as opposed to from a sense of self-importance to which my abuse was merely a means, rather than an end in itself, then I didn't notice. I think I would have done.
I went to bed at about 4 AM, and woke up at half past noon, feeling happy and hopeful again. I have no regrets. Relief has come!
Anyway, I have some landlords to call. Good morning, bloggers!
I called my landlord last night, who said he doesn't mind if I stay so long as he gets his rent as appropriate (it's $100 more per occupant not on the lease). I made the offer to my roommate to pay the same amount I had been paying while staying here and taking on half of the rent, $450, even though there is now another person to carry the rent, and he accepted that. "But just one more month".
At the same time, my roommate's girlfriend's mom is a realtor, and she has offered to help me look for places. She also started mothering and reassuring me immediately that my roommate would make sure I had a place to go before insisting I leave, that I would be able to find a place in the time I have, she knows I can do it. Things like that. It kind of makes me blush to get such maternal care. With such a source of help, "just one more month" should be fine.
So I told my friends about it, played some games and stayed up late last night. Part of my night also consisted of reading this page, which a friend of mine linked me to, and gaining some further insight into my relationship with my blood mother. Many of the points are very much applicable to her, to greater or lesser degrees. Not all. I suffered little physical abuse, for instance, and if my mom ever got pleasure from my pain directly, as opposed to from a sense of self-importance to which my abuse was merely a means, rather than an end in itself, then I didn't notice. I think I would have done.
I went to bed at about 4 AM, and woke up at half past noon, feeling happy and hopeful again. I have no regrets. Relief has come!
Anyway, I have some landlords to call. Good morning, bloggers!
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Quiet
In the last few hours of my work day, I found good feelings again. The fog seemed to lift just after Leah asked me to sweep the carpets at the end of the day. Though she ended up arranging to borrow a vacuum cleaner from her sister that worked better than any of the ones we'd had in the store before. They keep getting lost or sold or broken or something.
I told Helen about my worries about not having a place to live. She seemed kind of shocked, and insisted that we'd find something and I wouldn't have to go back to the Center of Hope, but I think she was saying it because she didn't want to believe in the reality of that happening to someone she knew.
I walked home feeling feeble and regressed. In my mind, I am lucid - I can think fine, and can describe how it is I'm feeling... in text, anyway, speaking comes difficult... But I feel like a lost toddler, trying to be brave, but confused and scared. My sense of self seems to float, disconnected from things. I have an impulse to reach out to people, but also an impulse to hide and retreat from them, especially if they might not have time for me. I am keenly self-conscious, and afraid of doing something wrong.
For the moment, I feel okay, but very delicate; I am held together, but not very strongly, and I feel I could fall apart very easily; I am balanced for now, but I could very easily fall.
I wonder how long this will last, and what will happen next.
And I prepare myself to move back into the Center of Hope. I have so nearly accepted it as inevitable that I am almost determined for it to be the next part of my story.
I told Helen about my worries about not having a place to live. She seemed kind of shocked, and insisted that we'd find something and I wouldn't have to go back to the Center of Hope, but I think she was saying it because she didn't want to believe in the reality of that happening to someone she knew.
I walked home feeling feeble and regressed. In my mind, I am lucid - I can think fine, and can describe how it is I'm feeling... in text, anyway, speaking comes difficult... But I feel like a lost toddler, trying to be brave, but confused and scared. My sense of self seems to float, disconnected from things. I have an impulse to reach out to people, but also an impulse to hide and retreat from them, especially if they might not have time for me. I am keenly self-conscious, and afraid of doing something wrong.
For the moment, I feel okay, but very delicate; I am held together, but not very strongly, and I feel I could fall apart very easily; I am balanced for now, but I could very easily fall.
I wonder how long this will last, and what will happen next.
And I prepare myself to move back into the Center of Hope. I have so nearly accepted it as inevitable that I am almost determined for it to be the next part of my story.
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