Another weekend passed and survived.
SATURDAY: I had my second therapist appointment. It was hard. It was really difficult and REALLY uncomfortable. She gently led me deep down into the muddy floor of my conscience. A large rope was tied around my waist- just in case.
In great detail, my mind handed me dark illustrations and pictures from the time I was raped. Then, without much hesitation, the little weathered photo I had stored away long ago bubbled up to the surface from the black tar.
She talked me through each recollection like an overly-enthused, yet melancholic museum tour guide. I appreciated it, though, in a funny way.
After all was said and done, she handed me a book to read: “The Magic Daughter” by Jane Phillips.
SUNDAY: I woke up, my dogs were sprawled across my body beneath the sheets. C, my girlfriend, was sleeping soundly next to me. It was a slow morning occupied by funny videos and innocently taunting the next door neighbor kids. We- or I decided- I wanted boba. So, we got dressed and drove towards my old stomping grounds. 3 boba drinks and chili cheese dogs later, my cousin asked if we wanted to come over.
Listen closely, even though you can’t hear anything, listen anyways. It made me so happy to introduce her to my grandma and aunt. Really happy.
We spent quite a while at my grandma’s house. A man from El Salvador came to the door (see what I did there?) saying he was homeless and asked if he could have something to eat. Being the awesome people that my family are, they packed him water, juice, fruit, burritos, Quesadillas, some money, socks and nice shirts for his job interviews.
After we were done visiting, we were on our way to my old apartment to pick up some of my clothes for the week. My ex and his cousin were very cordial, they were polite and helpful. I think I just kind of blacked out because when I came to reality, I was in her bathroom, washing my hands, sunglasses on and confused. Goldie had come out for a long time. She met all of my girlfriend’s roommates. I was a little worried and upset. Yet, she insisted everything was okay and not to worry about it.
Later that night, I had a conversation with my grandmother. I’m moving back to my old house, rent free. She’s going to help my buy a car so I will be able to get to work and back, and will be able to save money. It is the absolute best option for me.
That took a lot off of my shoulders and I’m not so stressed. Now, it’s just dealing with the wave of emotions from officially breaking up with my boyfriend, digging up the memory of my friend’s suicide, dealing with dissociating, and changing my living environment. Oi.
Overall, I’m really proud of myself for staying relatively sober (I did have a glass of wine on Saturday while we were talking about everything- but just one glass!). I’m not relapsing on drugs. I’m really proud of myself that I’m not going off the deep end. I’m keeping it together. Thank God for my medication.