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I'm six kinds of a mess right now, simultaneously wanting to be left alone and to be petted and reminded that I can stick kick ass, even while wearing this cast, even when my eyes are swollen almost shut. I keep scaring the dog with the noises I make, which at least proves she's not entirely deaf yet.
The con happened. I thought it went pretty well, I was pleased with myself for much of it. But, then, a thing happened, and then someone spent a lot of time telling me what i was thinking and feeling, what my motivations were and how wrong I was, and sure, it's a small group and none of them are especial friends of mine, and I stand by my choice not to defend myself, but holy hell, it left a bad taste in my mouth.
Abundance came to visit, unexpectedly, Sunday to this morning, and I spent a lot more of that time crying than I care to admit, but even so, I feel so freaking lucky to get to be in his life and have him in mine, it's hard to mind everything else. No, that's not quite true, I mind other things, but then I measure them up against the depths of feelings and everything else seems minor.
So I ricochet around the first floor of house in turn giddy from an amazing and intimate few days, wretched because Abundance's gone and won't be back for a couple weeks, scared of what happens next with everything, disappointed in myself, frustrated with my new computer and its subtly different keyboard, unable to alight on any media, tv movie music book and then back into this bone-deep comfort of someone telling me everything's okay, he sees me and loves me still.
I've told Light and Abundance this, and somehow a third repetition of the metaphor seems cheap, but I keep feeling like I'm jerking myself awake, that I start trusting that everything really is going to be fine, and then noticing that I'm doing so and the angry voice kicks back in to tell me I'm a fool and an idiot, that I should know better than to think myself important.
I went to therapy yesterday, and apparently am in much worse shape than I imagined, because my therapist pushed me to accept a second appointment this week. I'm going to cancel, but it was a little shocking. Sure I cried for 45 of the 50 minutes, but it didn't feel especially extreme, so I wonder what is showing through the cracks. I know I can outwait this uncertainty, outwait this cast. I know I'll have a lovely weekend with Light, and Hands and Hips if I'm lucky.
I will go on outliving everything that dares me to do otherwise. And there's a happy post in my fingers, where I gush about exactly how twitterpated I am with Abundance, I just think I need a couple more hours of tears before I can get it into words.
Either way, I should probably stop listening to Mountain Goats songs.
The con happened. I thought it went pretty well, I was pleased with myself for much of it. But, then, a thing happened, and then someone spent a lot of time telling me what i was thinking and feeling, what my motivations were and how wrong I was, and sure, it's a small group and none of them are especial friends of mine, and I stand by my choice not to defend myself, but holy hell, it left a bad taste in my mouth.
Abundance came to visit, unexpectedly, Sunday to this morning, and I spent a lot more of that time crying than I care to admit, but even so, I feel so freaking lucky to get to be in his life and have him in mine, it's hard to mind everything else. No, that's not quite true, I mind other things, but then I measure them up against the depths of feelings and everything else seems minor.
So I ricochet around the first floor of house in turn giddy from an amazing and intimate few days, wretched because Abundance's gone and won't be back for a couple weeks, scared of what happens next with everything, disappointed in myself, frustrated with my new computer and its subtly different keyboard, unable to alight on any media, tv movie music book and then back into this bone-deep comfort of someone telling me everything's okay, he sees me and loves me still.
I've told Light and Abundance this, and somehow a third repetition of the metaphor seems cheap, but I keep feeling like I'm jerking myself awake, that I start trusting that everything really is going to be fine, and then noticing that I'm doing so and the angry voice kicks back in to tell me I'm a fool and an idiot, that I should know better than to think myself important.
I went to therapy yesterday, and apparently am in much worse shape than I imagined, because my therapist pushed me to accept a second appointment this week. I'm going to cancel, but it was a little shocking. Sure I cried for 45 of the 50 minutes, but it didn't feel especially extreme, so I wonder what is showing through the cracks. I know I can outwait this uncertainty, outwait this cast. I know I'll have a lovely weekend with Light, and Hands and Hips if I'm lucky.
I will go on outliving everything that dares me to do otherwise. And there's a happy post in my fingers, where I gush about exactly how twitterpated I am with Abundance, I just think I need a couple more hours of tears before I can get it into words.
Either way, I should probably stop listening to Mountain Goats songs.
