i wonder how many long separated posts this blog will eventually have. all similarily proclaiming that maybe this time i really am out of that slump……. i want to swear that things are different, that life has moved forward and that i should take the time to document a few things, because while nothing’s good, neither is anything bad, and if you squint, some things are absurdly interesting in a weird kind of way. i wish i had it in me to write everyday, but that would just be the same false face i present to the world simply because it’s easier and people like that version. i can’t imagine anyone who could truly tolerate this version. if i can’t.
it passes. i know that. don’t be stumbling around here thinking i don’t recognize that this will go away for a while for a day or two. it’s not always this dark and murky and annoying, but it remains so often enough that it would be unfair to expect someone to share it. there’s nothing worse than imagining having to put on the face all the time and i can’t begin to imagine feeling safe enough to let some one know the truth. i told him part of the truth and he left because it was too much. i told him because he was the strongest and felt the safest and he gave me little bits of calm. i’d never known calm. i miss calm.
now its so much worse because, wow, who else could i ever even think of trusting with all of that? when do you even tell someone? is it on the first date? is that when you reveal you were molested as a child? when do you tell them about the rape? do you wait until you’re married to tell them about the stalkers? yes, more that one. when do you let him know that although you try to remain present during sex, you most often dis-associate from your body. the little part i did tell came up in an unexpected way in a conversation. it seemed safe, so i shared. and he’s gone
it’s not safe. it’s never safe. nothing’s ever safe. nowhere’s ever safe the only safe is alone. the only safe is fake.
