measi's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Where do we go from here? Life's a song, you don't get to rehearse And every single verse, can make it that much worse... At quarter to nine in the morning, the T is a dangerous place for me. I'm sitting there, just riding the rails until I get to my stop, and have TWENTY WHOLE MINUTES to do nothing but think as I sip the first cup of coffee for the day. So this morning after yesterday's bullshit fiasco, I woke up nice and early to have my brain doing gymnastics again. Well, I shouldn't say it so grumpily, actually. I'm kind of thankful that my brain is going through this finally. After so many years of making excuses for putting up with crap, and just shoving it to the side, I have a lot of stuff to process. Most of it's being briefly looked at and then chucked in the mental garbage along with everything else that will pass through my head during PMS. November 7th historically is a sad day for me. I lost a lot of innocence in my life at age 22 on the morning of November 7th. A LOT of innocence. The world changed in three hours, and it's when I started facing the world in a whole new light. Ironically, I think that's when I started shutting down my thinking process. Because what happened that morning scarred me in a way that can not be reversed. And frankly, I don't want it reversed, because it was the consequences for my stupidity. Perhaps I'm being a bit too vague about it, but since I haven't discussed this with Erich yet, and still haven't figured out quite how I want to, I'll leave it at that for now. Let's just put it down as a decision that I walked into thinking I was making with support, but I walked out of it utterly alone. I know after reading this, that Erich's going to bring it up. Probably at a moment where I'm not ready for it. Erich, love-- I will sit you down and talk to you when I'm ready. Please don't come asking about this. So perhaps it's fitting that four years later, on the same day, I started REALLY thinking again. Not just the milling about that I've reflected in my journal for the past eight months here, or in my handwritten journal that preceeded it since '96. And here are the conclusions I've come up with so far, whether off-base or not:
2) There are people that have had some inner or proximity circle dealings with me since I left college that have done this. And it rattled my sense of self down to the core. So much so, that a year after starting to realize what was happening to me, I'm still gluing cracks of porcelain back onto the fragile vase that is my life. And these people who did so attempt to punish me for doing so. 3) My friendship is worth more than being there to puff up an already gargantuan ego. And I've noticed that during the times when I haven't been assisting to buff up one particular ego, I'm immediately the Anti-Christ, not to be trusted, believed, or respected. 4) There is no more deafening sound than silence. 5) There comes a time when honor and trust cannot be regained after too many transgressions and no attempt to change. Erring might be human, but forgiveness is divine. And maybe the Divine is the only one who can forgive. I have wasted four years of my life making excuses and dismissing the same things happening under the inbred na�ve thinking that there is goodness in all people, and that all people have a desire to be good people. Granted, the adult side of me has known this not to be true for many, many years now. But with certain people, I seem to get into a rut of always hoping for them. There's something I see, either directly or intuitively, that keeps that hope alive. Unfortunately, the amount of energy required to keep that hope alive with particular people outweighs the potential outcome. While yes, I'm furious at myself for having wasted so much time and energy, I'm also thankful that I *have* been able to get out of it. The ironic thing is, that during the entire time wasted, the rut or the hole I felt I was in wasn't being dug only by me. It was being dug by those who wanted to drag me down with them. I was going through the motions of helping them dig because I thought they were the ones sitting on the lip of the hole watching me. I often said that it's not that I need help the entire way out of the hole... but I needed that first hand stretching down that I could grab onto, so that I didn't fall further. I knew what I needed, but the help wasn't available because I couldn't see it through my constant fatigue and frustration. Yesterday I got out of that hole. I'm leaving the diggers in it and walking away with the people who reached their hands out. And hopefully, my mind will keep churning like this. As wandering and out there as it may be at times, I'd rather have it looping than silence. It's a sign of recovery, a sign of change, and a sign of moving up in the world. --Mel. 1:16 p.m. - 8 November 2001 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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