…that lately, i’ve had a lot of free time on my hands & i have been re-reading my online diary from when i was a late-teen/early-20’s kinda gal, and it just makes me sick how much i write about hating myself, how much i did hate myself. how every statement i make is couched with a negation. how much this behavior spiked when i was with my abuser, & how it still remained for years and years afterwards. how even after i left her, her modes of control were still completely present, almost as if she were really truly there, because she had colonized me so thoroughly. & peeps don’t take me seriously, because we weren’t together for all that long, because she never hit me. now i don’t hate myself, now i believe in what i have to say, so i can say fuck that noise and not back down from it. what i went through was real. i am over it now, but it did not come easy. it took years and years of self-destruction, hate, processing, endless punishment and even more endless rage. it took years of avoiding my friends when they did the slightest thing to upset me, because the slightest thing seemed like a pathway to that huge bad inescapable place, because i couldn’t deal with the slightest loss of control. because i said, “this will never happen again.” still placing the blame on myself, as much as i try not to, like it’s my responsibility & not hers, and i took extreme measures to avoid it. it took years of not being able to say anything when people did fucked-up shit, just going home and raging about it for hours on end but when i said anything, even the slightest thing standing up for myself, i was so panicked. (this summer, actually, i yelled at a friend for keeping me waiting for hours while she blew coke off a kitchen table with some hipsters, and when i was done yelling at her she said, “i am so proud of you. a few years ago you would have just stormed out and we wouldn’t have talked for six months,” and i realized that she was right.) throat closing up, knowing i was going to be punished in some way. & i knew i couldn’t keep living like this, but i didn’t know how to stop.
what helped? time. unconditional love from my ex-partner. talking with other people who have been hurt by her & realizing that this isn’t just me being crazy or oversensitive or making shit up, like she said it was. what maybe helped the most was getting a tarot card reading from a wacky older friend of mine about the situation maybe 3 years after it happened. he knew nothing about what happened or any specifics. i asked him the question in the vaguest terms possible. he said, “in this past situation, you were convinced that you were the most evil person in the world. but it just isn’t true. it’s not true, and it never was.” even though i already knew that on some level, i think that hearing that from an external source helped the most.