Coupla things.

I quit the AA meetings.  I realize that I don’t fit in, and they won’t want me, on accounta me not going totally sober and not believing I need to and not believing that I can’t do it without an invisible friend.  Steps one and two are impossible.   I like step four– make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself– so I’ll have to figure out how to work that one.  (“Work the step”?  Gods, I talk like them.)

Nice Boy is haunting me.  By that I don’t mean he’s contacted me or anything.  It’s just my own head.  He made a bigger impression on me than I knew.  I have to wonder if this isn’t worse than keeping in contact with him.  I also question my judgement in males– I mean, what kind of male do I pick out and attract besides the one I already had?  This worries me.  But I can’t really do anything practical about it now.

My head is not getting in order.  I am one fucked up lady.  I spend half my time running around doing things that need to be done, then the other half numb and useless.  I am starting to think I have PTSD.  I was nearing the end of my three-hour visit to the DMV today when I had a nice thought about Nice Boy and just about burst into tears.  Right before they took my photo, too; I let a few people go ahead of me in line because I know I get a red nose when I’m trying not to cry.  I tried to smile for my ID photo and only managed to look like I might not want to crawl into a hole and die.  I am trying to balance mental health, job search, reality checks, and a score of other ideas that I need to try to make reality (also for mental health).  I cry when I have to cry.  I face unpleasant things instead of distracting myself.  I am reading all kinds of library books about abuse and rape victims since that seems to be a powerful trigger for me; I need to figure that shit out and fast.  I am trying to settle my past down instead of letting it flare up and cripple me when I least expect it.  Because for every time I tell myself that women have survived much worse husbands than I have, I realize that I am worse off than I have ever let on.  I am weirdly and intricately damaged.  And until I face my damage I will not understand it, and I will be doomed to repeat my mistakes, compound my errors, or perhaps worse, get myself into a whole new sea of misery simply because I rejected everything old and tried something new, for newness sake. 

I want to be myself, but with armor, and weapons, and skills. 

I will be prepared and I will be powerful.


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