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erikaFear.
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 thinkit'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 hasa 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.
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
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
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.
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on Monday, June 22nd, 2015 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
on Tuesday, June 23rd, 2015 08:43 am (UTC)no subject
on Monday, June 22nd, 2015 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
on Tuesday, June 23rd, 2015 08:45 am (UTC)no subject
on Tuesday, June 30th, 2015 02:24 am (UTC)no subject
on Tuesday, June 23rd, 2015 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
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on Tuesday, June 23rd, 2015 08:42 am (UTC)no subject
on Tuesday, June 23rd, 2015 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
on Tuesday, June 23rd, 2015 08:49 am (UTC)Also I love the combination of prudence, civic responsibility, and restrained menace that is your parenthetical note about working through the justice system.
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on Tuesday, June 23rd, 2015 08:58 am (UTC)Joking aside, I would not and likely WILL not be surprised if I'm held accountable for anything I say online, knowing that his lawyer is expensive enough to (have some intern) monitor my dw/lj accounts. Since I have done nothing wrong, it would only be logical to imagine I have a much easier time defending myself. Ahahahahaha.
(I also said during my speech on May 15th that my true revenge as a Slytherin was to make sure I had more than enough evidence then turn him into the police and let them handle it. :D )
On the road trip to the funeral I briefly mentioned, my mother told me that she was expecting them to bring my sex life up in trial and that no matter what they said I participated in, she loved me no matter what. That's almost comforting, aside from the fact that my mother had to specifically tell me this because rape culture.
(The other stuff you commented on is harder to talk about than the crisis management. Crisis management, that's where I'm a viking.)
(Did you read elle's fanfic? I don't know if I edited the entry in time for you to see the link.)
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on Tuesday, June 23rd, 2015 09:25 am (UTC)(Incidentally, I didn't say anything because unlike
I did not see the link, but that actually makes this even more awesome, because when you mentioned a fanfic, I thought, "I wonder if it could be that awesome LHoD fanfic I read a while back," and now that you've added the link, I can see that it is! So now I can confirm that I admired greatly it even before I knew it was by your girlfriend.
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on Tuesday, June 23rd, 2015 10:48 pm (UTC)no subject
on Wednesday, June 24th, 2015 12:23 am (UTC)no subject
on Wednesday, June 24th, 2015 04:10 am (UTC)no subject
on Wednesday, June 24th, 2015 11:57 am (UTC)