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Due/Do/Doodoo Diligence

Saturday, October 25

I saw some high school friends the other week so, my mind came back to this blog.

Truthfully, as soon as the plan to hang was set, I almost immediately came back to this blog and was, also, immediately embarrassed. Which is perhaps a good sign of growth for this 33 year old.

I filmed a (decapitated) cadaver head for about 8 hours today and I cried for about half an hour on the drive home. It's not the cadaver experience that made me emotional (although it was extremely jarring).

11 days ago, I accidentally/unintentionally confronted my childhood abuser. I don't know what I was thinking. It was a huge mistake, in most ways. In other ways, it's the bravest, most unlikely, thing I've ever done in my entire life. Weight lifted off shoulders, etc. Without getting too cornball, speaking this thing aloud has let me look ahead in life in ways I truly didn't know were possible. How could I have been so blindered? Oh yeah, I was molested.

Anyway, this kind of confrontation has been about as disruptive as one would imagine. It's been horrific, actually. The depressive valleys are low and the manic peaks aren't especially high as I'm used to. My "normal" baseline of manic thoughts and behavior have been replaced by something that feels a bit duller, but wider. Maybe. I feel okay. I'm glad it happened. But it's been really incredibly difficult to emotionally/existentially relitigate everything that happened to me. 

Finding a therapist has been a trainwreck. Is it my fault? I emailed them after my confrontation (in full-on crisis mode, although I can maintain well in an e-mail).

Consultation set for Friday... pushed to Monday (for unknown arbitrary reasons).

Then, on Monday, pushed to Wednesday (client emergency).

On Wednesday, pushed to Friday (this is where it gets confusing, they said they were still dealing with their sickness from Monday).

On Friday, surprise surprise, their rates are going up. They said they could suggest lower cost options to me. I said sure, and no response since.

Anyway, getting mad at this therapist I will never meet has made me feel slightly better. Otherwise I feel like I'm simultaneously tiptoeing through and stomping down parts of my own psyche. It's horrible. I feel very alone. I find it difficult to reach out to friends about this, for the same reason that I kept it so bottled up in the first place. It's absolutely horrific, confusing, sickening. I felt nauseous for about 2 or 3 days straight after the initial confrontation.

Writing helps though. I journaled a couple of times after The Night Of Confrontation and it made me feel a lot better. I don't think I'll be able to revisit those entries anytime soon.

Anyway, this is the song that triggered my most recent bout of TEARS.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yn4K1ZHR4SE

It's just so happy. And expressive. And creative.

But instead, I'm on the outside looking in (or, inside my car looking out, I guess). Window shopping possibilities of my own happiness and self-worth. Driving across LA in a car that I had to borrow from my abuser.

Oh yeah, I totaled my car about 2 months ago. So, here I am, borrowing a car from my childhood abuser. Life is complicated and also a sick fuck.