10 Year Heist
It was still a lot of day today. Less than yesterday but also more of the same. Still suck enough to be slow and unfocused, even if I’m not to tired to walk or eat.
Had a lot of trouble getting Shanda’s attention, to me or even yourself. Did eventually get your attention to my vision loss, after years of it being to scary for you to acknowledge.
Had lots of writing to do – not here, obviously – and didn’t get done until late. But I did get done with most things I hoped to do: writing and eating and Dog care and even day job. Totally missed HA4H despite being technically available and thinking about it more than once; I need an alarm because 4 PM is apparently hard for me to hit dead on.
Saw my plans for Saturday canceled for unclear reasons; I’m going to see if that can be undone today. The heist isn’t ready for a lot of pressure but it might work and I think past experience buys me some buffer if it doesn’t. And I don’t want to sit on it for another two weeks. I’ve done lots of waiting in my life; I’m going to do less here.
Read this and seen: https://www.reddit.com/r/raisedbynarcissists/comments/dd4e1e/ My sexual harassment wasn’t (usually) about cleavage – like most of my abuse it was rarely that specifically motivated – but the bit where a narc yells about your clothes and how they make you a bad person felt relevant.
Had thinks about therapy – both the LI topic of medical care and the metatopic of therapy itself. There’s writing for both but only a little this minute. Remembered being told to lie to physicians (and others) under threat of being “taken away”, which in retrospect might have been worth the gamble. Had thinks about the way my therapist and I disagree about risk and imagination.
Ben contacted me today to say Mother and Pete were nearby. He suggested we meet. I usually can’t be bothered to do same-say meetings away from my house even for sex or money, let alone for abuse. But the urgency isn’t what makes it hard. It’s the fact that Ben thinks my life – or maybe his? – would be better if I took some more abuse. It makes me feel like I’m making it all up. And it makes me feel like I failed at parenting, by not finding a way to get him out. Like I’m still failing by not getting him out now. Someday I’ll have to find a way to not feel so bad about the way I was a bad 11-year-old impoverished incarcerated single mother. But it didn’t happen today.
It did help me see how much I resent the shitty things I had to do to survive in the past. The way I hurt people, and the fear I have about doing it again, when things inevitably go wrong. Fleeing was the best I could come up with to make it less bad, even though it was also abandonment. And before I fled I did all sorts or horrific things, to myself and others. I don’t want anyone to get close to me now, so next time I have to flee less people will get hurt. Less people will get trapped. And I’ll be able to leave sooner before I get trapped myself. Before I have to give up the humanity I’ve clawed back from the world.
That points right back at how I can’t want medical care. But for now, sleep. If I don’t I’m going to have trouble getting to robots, and I already skipped Monday.
ZiB
—
Sent from a phone.