Fine. I admit it.

I have come to a realization.

After making it through the rape weekend and all that, you would think that I would be fine. (Would you? That would be a big assumption). But there, as always, are remnants lingering... The most prominent of which is my legitimate fear of drinking. Not to say that I should be comfortable with going out and getting wasted every weekend, but I would like to be able to go out occasionally and get drunk or tipsy with my friends... Its kind of what we do. Unfortunately, where I stand right now, the most I have drunk in the past 2-3 weeks is 2 glasses of wine. Which doesn't even touch me.

What would happen if I were to have a drink?

I'm not sure. Crying, wailing, bad decisions, emotional release on epic levels. I don't know, but I'm scared of it.



Maybe it would be a good idea to try Therapy again.

Control

I will stay in control.

I don't need you.

I have perfect apathy.

Walls.

I wont let them down.

Why would I?

Too dangerous.

Plus, its not like you asked to scale them.

Obsessive.

Its just a distraction.

I'm just running.

Like always.

Ha.

My life is a circle.

Sleep

After a nice long lull in my history of terrible sleep, the nights of little to none appear to have returned. I find myself waking with the certainty that someone is in my room. Or I wake feeling as though I have fallen a 1000 miles. In the past few nights, one or both of these sensations has woken me up multiple times. I am not okay with this.

I Hate You

Two thirty.

Almost asleep.

Phone vibrates.

Roll over.

Rub Eyes.

Grab Phone.

Squint to see.

...Tave?

Goddamn it.

Deep breath.

Open text.

"You Fucked Up"



Awesome.

Baggage

"Because of gender stereotypes and rape myths in our society, it is common to blame the victim--for dressing suggestively, having too much to drink, taking a walk alone, inviting someone into her/his bedroom. However, no matter when, where, or how it happened, sexual violence is not the victim's fault. Bad judgement is never a rape-able offense."

The Weekend

This weekend was it. The one year mark.

The mark of the rape.

The last significant one year anniversary for the years of my own personal terrors.

It was a weird weekend. I'd call it an emotional roller coaster, except it was more two sides to the same card. I bounced back and forth between complete emotionless apathetic emptiness and severe anxiety. I was surrounded with wonderful people who desperately wanted to reach me, to make things better, I didn't know what to tell them to do.

I spent a lot of time in reflection over the weekend and the week leading up to it. I have concluded that I am frightened of myself. Again. I am nearly totally inaccessible emotionally. I just don't care. Its a defense mechanism, to be sure, yet it is scary nonetheless. The walls my heart and soul hide behind are monumental. I know that the only way to find peace again is to scale them. Unfortunately, I don't even know how to begin doing that.


I was informed this weekend, that I don't believe in happiness. Yes, someone had the audacity to tell me they know me better than I know myself and that their conclusion is that I don't believe in happiness. For the record: I would just like to take a moment and say "Fuck You" to that person. I don't know what true happiness is and I sure as hell don't know if I'll ever find it, but I know people who have. I've seen it. Maybe they are the lucky few- but I know it exists.

I'd like to reiterate that though I am still processing and working and sorting all of my shit out, I am the happiest I've been in years. Years. I am not settling. I am not just enjoying the ride. A lot of work has gone into the place I am today. And you, my dear, have no way of knowing who I am.

Ranting and Rambling, that's all this blog has become.

New Years.

I remember watching the clock tick closer and closer to the New Year. I was in some bar in Oakland, fairly well inebriated, and overcome with the possibility of the worst year of my life coming to a close.

I looked at my best friend and told her I was probably about to cry. Knowing the major emotional breakdowns I am prone to should I consume too much alcohol, she panicked a little pleading with me not to cry.

However, this was different. It was not a major panic attack, some hidden away memories come to haunt me or deeply repressed emotions finally airing their grievances; No, this was joy, relief, gratitude, disbelief.

I never, never thought that I would make it through 2010 alive. I know how over-dramatic that sounds, but let me explain. Physically, yes, I knew that the odds were in my favor to still be breathing at the end of the year. Mentally... I just, I wouldn't have guessed it. The strength with which PTSD took over my life for the majority of this year scares me deeply. It was the worst depression I have ever suffered and something I really didn't see myself getting out of.

But I have.

I am so proud of who I am right now. I know that I am far from perfect or healed or the person I want to be, but compared to where I "should be"- I've come a long way.

To continue this journey into the future I've compiled a list of Plans for the new year. (Technically, I suppose they are the same things as resolutions...but in my mind resolutions often fail whereas plans are more permanent. I know I'm crazy, don't judge.)

1. To lose the 30 pounds I've gained the past two years, by May.
2. To pick a major/create an academic plan including testing out of all Gen Ed.'s
3. To work enough jobs to save money for school and stay out of debt.
4. To become somewhat fluent in Spanish.
5. To continue self-therapy through disciplined writing.
6. To allow myself to grow and learn to accept & embrace who I have become.


The Glenmore Girls have decided that the theme for this year is Embrace. How fitting for the place I am in my life. I just want to keep moving forward.