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led astray

January 2013

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led astray

all over the place, and then back in the river

I have to stop thinking of these people as my friends who are just upset with me.  There are moments I start to think they're doing it on purpose to hurt me, but that would require them to think of me at all.  They just don't.  They don't think about me and they don't care about me and that's why, ultimately, I have to leave.  If I could figure out how to stop thinking about things, I wouldn't need to go back to therapy.  It's this failure to notice, care, consider, pay attention, and think for a moment that makes me feel Tink needs another home.  Here, she would suffer the same neglect that I have, maybe not on purpose, but as a side effect of blinders that never come off.  Thankfully I think I found her a safe, loving home.  I'm seriously not thrilled that I have to give her up, especially since there are already 2 other cats in the house, but beggars can't be choosers.  Here, as usual, I have very little agency or recourse.  I beg for housing, but that doesn't mean my needs for companionship are being met.  There is no emotional support left for me here.  There used to be some.  Did I spend it all?  I hardly know what to say anymore.  It doesn't matter because they don't want to hear it anyway.  Life will go on without me much as it does with me.  People tell me they care, that it would hurt them if I died, but I can't help but feel that a part of them, maybe a part they don't want to face, would be relieved.  There's one less drama they have to worry about, one less crying phone call, a lot less honesty they have to listen to.  I haven't ruled anything out.  There is still turmoil, doubt, pain, and fear enough to make me have to think really hard about it every day.  Sometimes having the option makes me feel stronger.  Sometimes it makes me feel weak.  I have resentment that I don't always feel the right to have.  I want to take care of people but I need people to take care of me.  That sickens me.  I make me feel sick.  I'm so tired of living on the edge of The Pit, but I can't see solid ground anywhere but here.  I've distracted myself back to boredom.  It's too early for bed, but I'm out of people to inflict myself upon tonight.  I have lost faith and trust in someone I swore would always be there for me, no matter what.  Turns out, what really does matter and being there for me means me being somewhere else.  I keep thinking back to the river.  I think I missed my appointment that night...I wasn't supposed to find my way back to camp after getting lost alone in the dark overgrown woods, in the swollen river, in the hurricane. Maybe this is where the pain comes from, having missed out on my proper end time, living a life I have no right to, living when I'm not supposed to anymore.  And if I was supposed to survive, what the fuck for?  This is no kind of life.  What did I struggle so hard for that night?  What drove me back beyond fear and hopelessness and acceptance of hypothermia?  Why did I swim so hard, fight through waist-thick rotten river detritus?  How did I find the river hidden in the overgrown underbrush, in the dark and the rain?  I don't understand that night.  I screamed knowing no one could hear me, waved knowing no one could see me, and begged knowing no one would help me.  How did I get back?  Why did I go back?  What fucking purpose/drive washed me back up when the river was done with me?  Should I have died that night?  Part of me wanted to.  Part of me was giddy that I found an excuse to go swimming, that I had to swim to live.  I had no right to get out of there with nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises.  There were several times I cold have/should have broken or sprained various parts of me.  The first time I realized walking wasn't going to do it, that I would have to swim, I dove into the black wetness and there was a tree downed under the water that stabbed me in the throat and chest and stomach.  I should have been impaled on that tree. There were boulders under the rushing water that I got my feet and legs stuck in while the current pulled the rest of my body along that should have snapped my limbs right off.  There was the deep funk that went on for what seemed like a mile, that I should have sunk into and been unable to struggle out of like quicksand, but I plodded through, never knowing where the bottom lay.  I was in the river and the river was in me.  So where am I and where is the river now?

Comments

I would, in no way shape or form, be relieved if you died.
I believe you.
Excellent. In September of 2010 you helped me by making sure I knew, on no uncertain terms, that my death would not benefit you, and I'm doing the same. Love you.

Sorry it took so long before I saw this...

I don't think I could possibly describe how devastated I would be if you had not come back from that river. I will be realistic and say that eventually I would be able to function properly. I have a good circle of friends that would help me through it. But it would have taken a long damn time. I've not seen you in half a year, I've not hung out with you for any significant period of time for many years. There were times I believed I loved you more than anything on this earth, there were times I believed I hated you just as much. You have filled me with joy, and you have crushed me ( both...several times.) I have seen you pissed at me, I have seen you be unfair and judgmental and self-centered and jealous. And never have I once wanted to see you come to harm.
Because with all the above I have also seen you to be caring, and thoughtful, and generous and fun and intelligent, unpretentious and just plain beautiful inside and out.
You have all these dichotomous aspects to your character, and it makes you a fascinating woman to know. A fascinating woman I wish to continue knowing and learning more about hopefully for as long as I live. I want you here, I don't want to be robbed of your existence. Perhaps that is selfish of me. I don't care. This world would be a cheaper, duller place without you. and I would not care for it as much after you were gone from it.
That's just my two cents.

Re: Sorry it took so long before I saw this...

I appreciate your candor.