I post these publicly and so have found lately that on top of everything else that I am experiencing I have become profoundly aware of my own egocentric response to people reading my posts. It has developed over the time I have been writing these, slowly but insidiously and has lead me to form yet another area of concern..about the contents of my posts. Like a paranoia. What will people think? But no more, this is for me and if you don’t want to read then thank you for coming but please look away. And have a nice day.
I completely forgot the reason I decided to do it in the first place (write a blog) as a catharsis and because I love to write. I really do. And initially I just wrote. Honestly and freely without worry. But like everything if you are not fully aware of it the ego will creep up on you and find a way to put the negative spin on things. I am finally aware.
I used to be very good at it. English was always my best subject at school. I was never a Grade A student, my chaotic childhood put paid to that but when the days allowed and I was able to focus I would kill it and get good marks with relative ease. Unfortunately, lack of practice, not reading as much of the good stuff I used to, electronic devices that pretty much talk and write for us and exposure to people who although are entitled to their say, really are incapable of saying it well through poor education and just being slightly naive yet they have the limelight and popularity, all this combined has had their effect on my ability to string a good quality sentence together. My grammar is frankly up the clacker….!
One thing I have been discovering over the last few days is a very slowly accumulating appreciation for myself, finally. About where I have been. How many fights I have fought in life, win and lose and the patience I must continually work on in order to get myself through this time of transformation. And that I must stop feeling guilty about it and stop being so hard on myself. (My psych the other day said ‘stop apologising for everything). I can’t help it. One irony is that my parents did teach me to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.
Everyone has periods of change, some are faster at getting through it than others, but I’ll be buggered (colloquial Australian slang meaning, not the other!) if I intend to stop the process when I am knee deep in this merde, hopefully for the last time because this time I am incredibly resolved to emerge as a beautiful butterfly and not a moth (not that any of mother nature’s creatures are awful, just preferable).
I am still crying everyday. Yep. I am completely flabbergasted myself that this can go on for so long. But as I discussed with my psych the other day and she agrees I am finally feeling everything full kilter without the meds and oh boy am I feeling it.
Yes, I have been told I am clinically depressed. I have fought the label. At first it appeared to be grief only but it is now full blown depression. I still prefer to stay home and away from everyone as much as possible. I don’t see the point in many things and I have lost most of the joy of life. Yet amongst it is the thin line of hope dwelling in the far flung corner that surfaces more regularly than it used to.
I will work hand in hand with my psych to get to a place where this hopefully will never become the debilitating illness it has ever again.
I also need to work on the triggers. This time, the trigger was Joe. I realised that his so called help as I was coming out of my last darkness was more an artificial high of false promises and manipulation coming from someone whom himself has very deep seated problems but may never do anything about it because in his eyes he does not have any.
The funniest thing is I still love him. Even though I know it is misdirected and delusional I can’t still get him out of my thoughts, its been nearly 2 months since he last spoke to me and I have only just stopped writing to him just over a week ago was my last time (yes, idiotic but true). I have been told that broken love can take years to get over and sometimes you never really do completely. I wouldn’t know as I categorically do know this has been my first real love. May be the last of its kind this lifetime, who knows? It feels like I will never feel this way about anyone ever again. Even dating is doing me no good, so I have stopped (it was a temporary madness that made me do it so soon, an attempt at distraction both physically and psychological) . I don’t want to get involved again anyway and frankly at present I’m in no state to.
And the old tune from everyone is you have to love yourself before you can give your love to someone else rings relentlessly in my ear. It was because I love myself that I felt I deserved the beautiful person I though he was, I thought I knew. But logically, under the circumstances how could I have? We both but probably more me perpetuated the romantic tale of a young love long lost but found so many years later and the second chance it was a Hollywood movie waiting to be written and told. Delusional.
I was complicit. But I trusted, I trusted wholeheartedly and I now forgive myself for that. I no longer say how dumb can you be but what was it about this man that made it so easy for you to trust him and how can you not make that same mistake again? I will learn, or die trying!