Excerpt 6

September 19, 2024

I had my last appointment with the foot surgeon today. The bandages and stitches were removed and since I cancelled the surgery I had scheduled for my right foot, there’s no reason for me to return. I asked for a referral for physical therapy, and I scheduled an appointment for next Wednesday before I left his office. I want to start rehabbing this foot. When I got home, I put a daily exercise alarm on my phone and Vase made me a veggie egg white omelet. It was a good morning, and I was happy, something I haven’t felt in the last few days.

I haven’t had much sleep. Memories are coming back to me little by little and I’ve been finding myself caught in thought spirals afterwards. I look at my life and all the mistakes and bad decisions I’ve made, and I wonder if this is what rock bottom feels like. Then I think, if so, the only way is up, and I just have to keep doing what I’m doing. I remind myself that Suzette said for every two steps forward in trauma therapy, you take a step back. It’s a good thing I’m mostly alone right now, it really is. I’m not always the most pleasant person to be around and my emotions can be unpredictable. Surprisingly, I’m crying less. At night, I lay there and listen to my Hz music and stare at the curtains, emotionally drained, exhausted and unable to sleep. After the memories and thoughts there’s nothing. My mind is quiet. It’s different for me. Usually, my mind races when I can’t sleep. I’m not depressed, I know what that feels like. It’s not anxiety either. I think my brain is decompressing.

Derrick texted and asked how I was this morning and when I asked how he was he didn’t respond. I waited a couple hours before I texted him again. On Sunday, when I sent him a sexy poem, a pic of the chocolate body paint and asked him how he was, he didn’t respond then either. I chose my words carefully because I didn’t want to make it seem like I was angry, and I didn’t want to anger him. I told him I assumed he was going through something because he hasn’t texted and he’s told me in the past that when he’s going through something he withdraws. I also said that since I fucked things up the last time he has no reason to trust me and I understood. Of course, he thought I was angry, and he was. He also said he usually doesn’t get a chance to sleep in and he had to wake up to another text with me having issues again and I burst into tears. He said I needed someone who could give me undivided attention and since it can’t be him, he told me to go find that person. I did the same thing I always do. I sat there staring at the phone wondering what the hell just happened. I couldn’t believe I was in the same place again with him just like I was so many other times with him and it reminded me of all the other times the same thing has happened with other people.

After a few minutes, I thanked him for our time together, I apologized for the way I treated him before, wished him well and then I deleted the text thread and all the phone numbers I have for him. Not because I was angry, not because I didn’t want to be tempted to contact him, but because this time I didn’t want to read text after text and try to find what I missed and how I could have made it better, this time it was over and honestly, I was relieved. Now I had to make him a cookie. Not only did he just set his own boundaries with me, but I had to set one for myself. I don’t think he’ll contact me again but if he does, I can’t have contact with him. I cried for only about fifteen minutes or so and then I put on my sneakers and went for a walk. I thought about my time with him and everything that’s transpired, just like I did when the same thing happened with Xavier. It felt like the last year and a half was much longer than it was. It took walking around the building a few times, but I finally came to a conclusion. Today had to happen, just like the other night when he was here with his friend had to happen. This had to end, I’ve known it, I just haven’t wanted to accept it. We had much, much more than a communication problem and I have a lot more work to do on me.

My mother also called me this morning. She asked me what my problem was with her. It took me a few moments to gather myself. She’s serious. She can’t understand why I won’t speak with her or see her, which means she doesn’t see anything wrong with the way she’s treated me. All I would say is that I’m in trauma therapy and anything I would have to say would be damaging. I added that I didn’t want that for her. She was quiet for a second before she said okay. I told her I will be at the beach house, and she asked me if there were any topics that would be off limits. I said I would let her know if anything comes up that I can’t talk about. The conversation was similar to when she told me the cancer had metastasized, we could have been talking about ironing clothes or the weather. You’d never know I’ve been processing a lifetime of trauma, and I was speaking with one of the perpetrators. I may have issues like Derrick said I do, but one thing I’m not is cruel. My mother is living with denial. She’s also dying. It's not my place to tell her what she did to me. She knows, she’s choosing not to face it.

I’ve been reading the book on C-PTSD that Suzette gave me. I can read a page or two and that’s it for the day. To say its heavy reading is an understatement. Every sentence screams, “this is my life.” It’s difficult to read, however, it’s validating to know my behaviors and the way I talk to myself and treat other people is normal based on what I’ve been through. I relive experiences with every paragraph I read. Little bells go off with things I recognize. It seems like every few seconds my brain says, “I do that!” and “so that’s why I do that.” It’s like the guy who wrote this crawled inside my head. Nobody’s ever understood me. Ever. I had to let go of wanting people to understand me because I realized nobody ever could or would and then here comes this guy and he just knows. If he knows then other people know. And that means I’m not alone. My entire life I’ve felt like an island. I’M NOT AN ISLAND.

When I read the following paragraph, I had flashbacks of the last four years with Xavier and then every other failed relationship in my life, not just my lovers. I was immeasurably saddened that I hadn’t had this knowledge earlier. And then I reframed my thoughts. I told myself that I have the knowledge now, so I don’t have to do this anymore and when I find myself reverting back to this behavior, I know why and I can stop it.

“Viewing all relationships through the lens of parental abandonment, the outer critic never lets down its guard. It continuously transfers unexpressed childhood anger onto others, and silently scapegoats them by blowing current disappointments out of proportion. Citing significant transgressions as justification, the survivor flashes back into outer critic mode,
and silently fumes and grumbles in long judgmental ruminations.”

Until the past couple of days, letting people off the hook wasn’t my strong suit. I held people accountable and when I felt like they didn’t deliver I tore them apart by making a laundry list of their faults, much worse than what I’ve been doing in my journal the last few years. I jack-hammered how much they disappointed me and hurt me into every thought, so much so that no matter what they did it all felt the same to me. I blamed others for letting me down and lets’ face it, I was usually upset. I haven’t had that many times when I’m not bothered by something and it’s usually involved feeling hurt by someone else. I’ve transferred most everything I’ve been through onto most everyone because I can’t separate one hurt from the other.  No wonder I have trust issues. I didn’t give people a chance.

I have a lot of guilt about my behavior and there’s a lot I have to let go of and work through. I wish I could take it all back, the way I’ve treated people the last few years, but I can’t. I’m also aware that I can’t grow through guilt. It’s taken over fifty years for me to realize that I’ve spent a lifetime living with trauma response behavior. It’s going to take time for me to unlearn how I talk to myself, how I treat myself and others, how I view the world and how I’ve lived my life. I don’t want to be broken anymore. I want to learn how to give myself a chance.

11:55pm.
Neighbor dude just texted me. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. I thought about ignoring him but there’s no reason to. He hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m the one who hasn’t been able to make up her mind about what she wants.

“How are you?”

“Recovering from surgery and working on getting my shit together. How are you?”

“I’m ok.”

“That’s good.”

“Thank you.”

“Welcome.”

“Sorry if I bothered you.”

“You didn’t.”      

“Ok, good.”

“What have you been up to?”

“Not too much. My best friend is in Hospice. Just got back from saying our goodbyes to him.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. You’ve had a lot of loss the last year.”

“Yeah.”

“You doing ok?”

“Yeah.”

“You still yelling at little kids?” He coaches baseball.

“No, lol.”

“Good for you, and them.”

“Lol.”

“I owe you an apology. I’ve been an asshole.”

“What kind of apology?”

“There’s things about myself that I don’t share. It’s affected the way I interact with people. I’m learning to be a better person. I just want to say that I’m sorry for the way I’ve been.”

“Should I come downstairs in easy access shorts with no underwear on?”

“I’d really like that but it’s probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have more work to do on me.”

“Ok. What are you wearing?”

“Same thing I always wear, a nightie. But I think you know that, lol.”

“You want to watch me put my hands down my pants?”

“If I watch you do that then I’m going to want more. The last time I was able to not do anything because I already had company, and I had my 24-hour rule. Seems lately all I do is break my own rules about a lot of things. I won’t just be watching you.”

“You can help.”

“It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Ok.”

“I don’t mean this to sound the wrong way, but I don’t want to chase someone who isn’t interested. I’m not looking for a relationship, but I don’t like texting you and being ignored. I understand that’s how you operate and that’s cool if it works for you, but it doesn’t work for me. I end up doing stupid shit because of the way it makes me feel. That’s on me and because of things I haven’t shared. Part of the reason I’m working on being a better me.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. I hope you don’t think I’m angry, I’m not.”

“I don’t.”

“Ok. Maybe down the road when I’ve worked some shit out and you still want to show me what’s in your pants I can watch or help out.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’m very sorry about your friend. If you need someone to listen to you, someone who isn’t involved in your life, I can do that. My best friend passed away the years ago, so I get it. My mother only has a few or so left and then she’ll be gone too. So, I understand. I really am sorry that you’ve lost so many people close to you within the past year. I hope next year is better for you.”

He didn’t respond and I’m not surprised. He’s only been interested in sex, I’ve known that. I’m the one who’s been going back and forth with what she wants just like I did with everyone else. I said what I wanted to say to him and I’m not angry at all. I’m also not devastated that he didn’t respond and I’m not laying here ruminating about it and going down the rabbit hole of unworthiness. Normally I’d be telling myself that I’m only good for sex and nobody will ever be able to see me as anything other than a sex object. And I’m not telling myself that the men I sleep with don’t want me to care about them like I usually do. Maybe they don’t but I’m not going to stop caring, it’s what I do. Usually I’d lay here and berate myself for sharing information about Susan’s death and my mother, especially because Susan’s death affected me so much. I don’t know why he didn’t respond. He could see me that way, maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t though. Maybe he has his own shit he’s dealing with, like his friend’s imminent passing. He’s mentioned other issues and honestly, I don’t really know him. We’ve been having sex for over a year but neither one of us really talks about our life. When I assume shit, I end up making trouble for myself. I’m trying not to do that. As I was laying here I realized that when people don’t respond to me I feel like they’re ignoring me and it immediately brings me back to my childhood and how it felt to be neglected and how hard I tried to get my parents, especially my mother, to love me. It’s been so automatic that I haven’t had time to recognize it let alone stop it. That one tiny but not so tiny thing, buried underneath everything that’s happened to me has been the one thing that’s caused me to react the way I have and therefore, what’s ultimately done the most damage to the relationships I’ve had.

I don’t think I’ll spend the rest of the night thinking about how neighbor dude didn’t respond, it feels different than it normally does. Hopefully I’ll sleep tonight. I could use it.