I feel myself slipping back into old patterns. It’s very difficult to understand if you’ve improved yourself when so much time is spent alone. Devoid of meaningful personal contact and care of friends/lovers it’s very subjective isn’t it ?
For example – I much preferred living in sweet sweet denial when I thought all men behaved a certain way when in private company with me. I’ve never known any different. I’d not learnt how to safely handle men like all the women I grew up with and were in my social circles. The good time party girls. I went to amazing high profile parties, charity dos, social events. I’d watch them having the time of their lives, regularly receive gifts, holidays, amazing clothes/handbags/jewellery, envelopes of cash (‘we didn’t do anything !” 🙄 yeah okay) and rarely be short of ‘gentlemen friends’.
I’m not entirely certain why things always took a dark twist and turn for me. Some kind of pathetic beacon signalling to all the wrong types of guys, rarely attracting the good types. In fact good types with good reputations still didn’t treat me with respect. So I learnt to believe I didn’t deserve happiness or ever hearing a man tell me he loves me. I still haven’t. Now I know that will never happen. I won’t be married/in a committed healthy equal relationship, I don’t/can’t have children. I’m past my youthful prime. The MindWizard sucked out the last few best years I could’ve had something to offer. I don’t have anything positive or fabulous to bring to the table. To the outside world I guess I ‘scrub up’ okay and can smile and act my way in or out of social settings (on the rare occasions I’m made welcome). It all seems that the last half dozen years have significantly taken their toll upon me. I reconciled my thought to this – occasions that were ‘my fault’ and because ‘(I) shouldn’t have looked at him like that” – it was my fault (I) was very sexual and didn’t now how to read the signals. When NO was ignored. My fault ? Their fault ? A combination of the two ? It doesn’t really matter anymore. Denial or suppression. It was far easier to get through each day just being hated by other women for whatever reason than connecting that I reacted the way I did because I didn’t know how to trust. So it’s best to trust no one after all ?
At the start of this post I was mostly thinking in journal form. Go on luv, have a good purge but, you know one thing from journaling is that one never really finds the answers for the one question that will now never stop swirling.
So many questions. Never a truthful answer. So it’s best to stop asking questions. It’s easier to retreat from people on the timeline.
When it’s noted ‘you’re quiet lately Swirly. Are you okay ?”
It’s then I choose to back away. No. I’m not okay. I don’t ever think I will be.
It would be most inappropriate to tell the truth. I don’t want sympathy. I don’t blog for attention. I write to try to make sense of everything. Not many understand. The majority are kindly but if I were to really open up it wouldn’t be considerate of me. To dump stuff on someone that’s not equipped to deal with the weight of everything – I just get the usual silent treatment. Quite recently I opened up to someone that knows some of my experiences. I showed raw vulnerability. To only be met with silence. It cut me deeply. Proving once again. Trust no one. I’ll only state to the degree I’ve posted. I don’t want to ever become a burden or the name in your DM that causes an eye roll. I’d rather just quietly slip away when they’re not looking. I’m doing what I can just to get through a day without falling apart in public. Holding on to the remnants of how I think I should behave in public/online and remain mostly under the radar from predators and from ‘splainers and from reading everyone’s tweets posts and blogs at the mighty fine times they’re all having. Wondering how I can be more like them ?
It’s still really early days for me. University studies are churning up memories that I wasn’t expecting. Sometimes the good bits, previously lost, that sandwiched the bad bits are returning.
I do wonder if that good kind caring loyal dependable funny charismatic woman will return. I’m caught between embers and tattered feathers. Wanting to talk. Desperate to talk but still learning how to phrase things. I’m either mouthfuls of still unspoken incidents or a tinderbox that will spontaneously combust and accidentally set fire to everything in my path for fear of not forming correct polite sentences. So it all remains bubbling under the surface.
Ready to erupt from its dormant yet pressurised state
@Swirlingfire, 27 February 2019