Friday, December 29, 2006

Day 131 and the 11 previous days - part 1

It feels very strange being sat here in front of my computer, once again, after my absence. The past 11 days have felt like weeks.

The Friday I before I stopped writing, Day 117, I went to my usual Friday counselling appointment. I was angry. The night before I had spoken to the "Ex, Ex" on the phone and I was left feeling more frustrated than I had felt in a long while. There is no point in even getting into it - the conversation that is - because I still winds me up.

Needless to say, he has a very skewed view of our relationship, its violent ending and the few hours we spent together a week ago. He remembers very different times and blames me. He has the peace of mind not to remember the drunken volatile arguments and bullying, abusive behaviour - because he was constantly off his head. BUT, he does 'remember' that it was my fault. Something about our conversation that night made my blood run cold. He went off on a tangent about how I could "ruin his life" if I wanted to. He rambled on and on about situations that could be affected by "people knowing we had been together". He sounded confused and quite possibly, more disturbed than I. It was at that point that I realised I was fighting a losing battle. ("There is no point in even getting into it - the conversation that is - because I still winds me up."? And there I go again - I couldn't help myself could I?...see below)

I went into my appointment fuelled by the previous night's conversation and ranted for about 45 minutes, until I came to an abrupt halt. I remember walking to my appointment thinking I wanted an appraisal from my counsellor - I wanted to know how she felt I was doing, and if I had moved on any, because I just felt stuck in the same place I had started. After those 45 minutes of ranting on and on, I suddenly became so sick of talking. So sick to death of recounting the bad stuff, the past that fills my head constantly. I suddenly became aware that I felt I had talked my head off and I still felt the same. "What if all the talking was not the way to go? What if all the talking and analysing, and joining up the dots was just a waste of time and all I had to do was let go?"

This was possibly THE scariest thought to date. I don't know how to let go of things. This has become more apparent as time has gone on, with my constant desire to find people from my past and 'make right' what I feel I had done wrong. The people I contacted couldn't have cared less if a girl they once knew emailed them out of the blue and tried to dredge up the past. They had moved on - and it was simply bizarre to them that I had got in touch. My need to 'make right' has ended up in a lot of dead ends, and I have turned each and every one of those dead ends into more blame and guilt - instead of seeing them for what they actually were. I had done the same with the "Ex, Ex". By meeting up with him again after all this time, I was bringing it all along with me. The pain, the hurt and the frustration, when all I should have been doing was to allow myself to get over him.

I sat there, in the quiet room with the bright lights and thought, "If I let go of all this stuff, all of the past and just move on, who the hell will I be?" I don't know who I am without this past of mine, but quite obviously it isn't working, holding on to it all.

I had caught the tail end of a documentary called "Unknown White Male" the other night. The man in the film had severe amnesia and had lost his past - completely - and the filmmaker followed his journey, recreating himself from the ground up. At the time I remember thinking what luxury that was.

When all 'this' kicked off way back in July of 2005 - that is exactly how I felt. Like someone had wiped me away. Someone had erased my life and I had to rebuild it with only the parts I wanted or needed. By reliving all of my life to date I had helped to recreate my past, when all I wanted to do from my crashing point, was to keep forgetting.

That is when I decided not to talk anymore. My counsellor and I reconvene in January and from there, we shall work out how I go about losing my memory.

Day 118 - I met up with an old friend. She had crashed a few years previously and she has made it through to the other side. She is getting her life back together, and two years (?) on, she was sat in front of me, amazingly confident and courageous.

Day 119 was filled with Christmas shopping. And an evening of self harming.















Day 120 - I crashed. Big time.

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