Reading back on my last blog, I see improvement. Which is always a good thing. I did go back to see that therapist after all. My second session with her was much more effective than the first one. She has started to help me to understand and unravel why certain things have happened, and she has helped me accept that nothing that DID happen was my fault. Which I thought I believed, but apparently it turns out I was kidding myself. I had been carrying a lot of self blame for what had happened over the past few months.
I went back and de-privatized a bit of venting/writing/prose I posted about Shifty and what happened. It’s entitled (caught//capturedcaught). It’s heavy. I recommend if you might find it triggering that you don’t look back to read it. I publicised it because now I need to be brave. It doesn’t go into deep detail, I don’t think I’ll ever truly write about what happened in specifics. I relive that night, those days and months, too much as it is. I won’t ever move on from it properly if I keep pouring salt into the wound. But I need to throw it out there into the universe I think. If you did want to read it, you can access the post with the password ‘shifty’.
I was talking the other day, in mid flow of a totally unrelated conversation, and suddenly it dawned on me just how much the entire situation should never even of happened at all.
It’s like my life follows a path, and then I met someone whom I should never have met, and they split off this separate divergent path without me realizing it. All the time I was involved with them, following them, the path just kept winding further away from where I thought I was. By the time I realized what had happened, and who this person really was I was following, I was so far away from where my life should be, I couldn’t even begin to process it or know how to get back.
Nothing of this magnitude should ever happen to anybody.
I’m finding my way back now, but there’s still this pull to go back to that twisted path, just this kind of sick intrigue, trained into me which I can’t shake.
But as I said, improvement is occurring. I’m working my way back. Little things are bringing my life back together again, and I find myself laughing naturally rather than forcefully, genuinely smiling at people rather than painting on a face, and although it’s taking me every bit of strength I have to get up in the morning, I’m somehow managing it. And I feel stronger for it every day. I do.
I am a little more damaged than before. And there’s no harm in admitting that. It’s okay right now that I need someone to stand in the bathroom and talk to me when I shower because I hate being alone. And it’s okay to wake up in the night kicking and sobbing. It’s okay to get annoyed, pissed off, angry, and out of sorts sometimes. It’s okay to be blank, unsure of what to think or feel. And it’s just fine to sob my heart out too. These things will pass.
I didn’t allow myself these things before. And now I give myself permission to. I am not weak. I am stronger than I give myself credit for.
I give myself permission to feel every inch of this along the way, feel it, expel it, and heal.
That path divergence…maybe I’ll never be the same. Maybe I can’t get back to the path I was originally on. Maybe I’m not supposed to. But I’ll make my own path. My own fucking yellow brick road. And the first stop along that road, is Cornwall.