I don’t even know how to explain it. Ever just have a whole ton of stuff get difficult all at once? It’s like you just finish fixing one hole in a wall and another one appears, and you go to fix that, and then another wall just topples over and you just can’t keep up sometimes, and you think maybe it’s okay to just find a quiet corner to curl up and be still for awhile.
Life is so full of heartache, of joy, even boredom. It’s just so much sometimes. Too much. And so I had this weird kind of breakdown very recently, and it’s hard to talk about it because I’m still not sure what set it off, what really happened, or how to process it all. Also, it was humiliating because it happened in front of some dear friends and I have to deal with that too, which sucks. I know it was related to past trauma, but really, did it have to be now? And how do I figure things out and make it right in the middle of everyone else’s crises? I’m barely managing to take the time to go to the gym 3x/week, I simply don’t have time for a proper breakdown. I guess you know it’s bad when a padded cell and some Xanax and painkillers for a month or two sounds almost attractive. And so I think things are going to be a little messy while I deal with these ridiculously rude monsters from the past.
I recently realized that I have allowed my entire being to grow around and into some very real pain and junk from way back, and there’s all kinds of hell to pay for that eventually, both physically and mentally (if those are two different things). It seems I don’t even know how to exist without this part of me, can’t visualize what that looks like. See, let this be a lesson to you. I didn’t deal properly with things, and now it’s all part of my skin, my lungs, my heart. Part of everything I am. I can’t just pluck it out, toss it away and keep breathing. I didn’t know this all this time – I thought I’d dealt enough with it and “moved on” but I also knew I hadn’t on some level. But oh I hate dwelling on the past. I really hate it.
So let me just get this part over with, since I keep not mentioning it like it’s a deep dark dirty secret. Which, well, it is. Or it was. When I was young, on my 19th birthday actually, I was drugged, and I was raped by two “men” who were not much older than myself at the time, but so much more worldly I guess. The whole time, and they kept me there all night, my head and mouth were begging over and over to go home while my body betrayed me in every way possible. But no wait, that was the drugs. Oh but I didn’t know those drugs existed back then. I left the next morning thinking it was all just me. I was sure I had lost all moral sense. I said some horrible things to myself, and really never have stopped.
It took a week before I “confessed” what “I did” and was told by my boyfriend (now ex-husband), who knew these things, that this type of drug was called a Mickey (Roofie now). By then I’d already begun to hate myself. Ah. So it was drugs then… And evil people. But even with the book knowledge, I blamed myself, and I’ve blamed my body ever since, because on a fundamental level it utterly betrayed me. And oh have I taken revenge on myself. I’ve been blaming the victim for decades, while yelling up and down to others not to do that. And now I don’t know how to go forward, but I’m going anyway. Because some part of me is letting these little nasty pieces of things escape in spite of my best cement. And also because I want to heal. I deserve that.
Yes I made some bad choices, stupid choices. I walked through the wrong doors, but I didn’t deserve what happened to me. I didn’t deserve the life-sentence I seem to have given myself either. Basically I was used as a weapon against myself and it’s never stopped, and those guys probably never once looked back on their lives and thought about the trail of shit they left behind. All this time people are all “oh learn to forgive those who’ve hurt you”, and I hate that, but now I realize that the hell with those guys, I haven’t ever forgiven myself, not one little bit. And all the failings and missteps that have come after, that’s on my shoulders too. I failed to take care of myself – preferring to spend all my time and effort on others, who mostly now think I did a fairly terrible job anyway. And I missed out on the nurturing I needed. I deserved better. I deserve better. But I have no idea where to start, so I’m just fumbling.
So if you see me, and I just sort of… leak out of my eyes, or stare into space and miss what you’re saying, please be gentle. And if I cancel stuff, if I don’t show up here and there, please know that I’m working (re)construction at a fairly brisk pace, and the walls are crumbling no matter what I do, and I’m not sure I know how to fix anything at all so sometimes I just have to sit with it. And if I crack inappropriate jokes, well for goodness sake, that’s just me being me, so please laugh. Oh, and if I don’t laugh at your roofie jokes, it’s because I really truly don’t think they’re funny. At all. Anyway I’m pretty sure we’re all under construction. And I won’t point out your dust to you if you don’t mention mine.