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The journey begins ... or continues ... articulating the rollercoaster that is my life

You deserve so much better than those feelings.
You are very loved.
You might not have been or felt it...

Love you too Swift.
It was just a toxic emotional-purge kinda thing. It's past now.

Writing it out was cathartic, like an exorcism.

I'm not up for writing specifics though.

Tomorrow I'll finish filling out my housing transfer paperwork.

Dreaming of my tomorrow. My better life. Being in a place where I finally get to start my thrivey, more alivey owning-myself-and-not-being-such-a-surviver life. My kind-to-myself life.
It's gonna happen. :rolleyes:
 
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So I have the place to myself today which is pretty much always a treat for me, alone time AAaaahhhh! :-)
I adore my beautiful man and we pretty much constantly joke, tease affectionately, are often childlike and playful and/or have great conversations.
Functionality, in an adult way, lately, is more of a challenge, but we sporadically achieve that too.

I always end up missing him and can't wait til he gets home, by the end of the day.

He has casual work as a removalist, which he loves.

I always make amazing rolls for his lunch, enough for him and his boss and get high praise from both of them.

I'm not working or studying at the.moment, which I feel bad about but, yeah, health's been a major pain in the bum. All the miscarriages didn't help so I just need to avoid any more of them and hopefully I'm just on the mend in a big way.
We survive on disability, are some of those people who are incredibly fortune to get that support, but it did take near death and severe impairment, to get that, so it's a mixed bag of blessings. Personally I'd much rather be able to work and get paid, waaay better morale booster, I love working, providing it's not an exploitative and toxic work environment, coz I'm kinda, seriously over that. Again health dictates what I can.handle and it isn't a great deal at the moment, but I'm definitely working to change that.
I do want to nail this housekeeping gig though, I've never really been able to keep up with that.
I try to never give up hope of being well and love being a highly functional and contributing member of society.
 
I've been thinking about my worthlessness symptom and the fruits of it ...
Basically, I never would have had kids, if I had had self esteem, at least, not with the person I did.
I wanted to be someone I was ok with, and someone loved, though.
So my fruitful womb got a work out because I thought I had no merit on my own. Innate and intrinsic value was a totally unheard of and uncontemplated concept growing up.

I'm pretty gobsmacked and overawed at having had all these people, who are here by virtue of emerging out of my vagina.

I also get easily shocked, in a sense, mildly shocked, when they treat me kindly; are appreciative and loving towards me.

My guy has helped me enormously, in being able to expect good treatment and practice healthy and assertive boundaries with them.

Shame's still a thing, a big and debilitating thing, but I'm definitely making progress :-)
 
I had another one of those keening crying sessions, which is.kind of a luxury, because I was here by myself.
This time it was over the family breakdown when I left the family home.

I had told my ex that I was in love with now guy and, well, he made everything about that, and the "crazy" "evil bitch" smears.

I had already left ex though, not skillfully, not well, a freaking horrible shattered mess.

I stayed at now guy's place, for a bit, before I moved to the next town and also spent time homeless, then got a spot in a woman's refuge, I think you call them "shelters" ? in America? I had only my youngest daughter with me. It was this time of year, 8 years ago.

So my grief was about losing relationship with most of my kids for heaps of years.

When I left, my oldest was 20, "special" son was 18, oldest daughter was 16, still estranged son was nearly 15, "queer" son was 12, youngest dawty was just 9, youngest son was 4.5.

I got care of 12 year old son when I was in the refuge and youngest son has lived with me for most of the time since. 12 year old son moved back to Dad's though, he couldn't handle me pulling him up about the crappy way he was treating his little sister, and the rough-as-guts ghetto neighborhood.

He visited up until he was 14 when I got special son in my care, who was very psychotically ill. He has a lot of trouble handling his special brother, even now. He and his sister are getting on well now, though.

So we had a lot of separation which I found incredibly painful and worrying.

It felt freeing to get in touch with that stored-in-the-emotional-basement grief and let it go.

It's not completely gone, but I'm sure I've lightened it up, somewhat. It also feels like a kind of moral injury, that's not completely healed, but is well on its way to being mended.
 
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I keep having distressing and violent dreams but they aren't as bad as I'm anticipating, which is reassuring. I want to go into them but I'm so so fazed and tired.

My throat's been.getting progressively more sore and swollen the last few days and I'm spacey and even more unmotivated than usual, if that's possible.
 
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Woke up to a emotional flashback, has me feeling I'm f*cked for life.My "Inner critic" is merciless. I wish I'd been in a position to get diagnosis and treatment earlier.Not getting much in the way of treatment until my late thirties, after the amount, and sheer number of years of horrible, hateful treatment and lack of good treatment, Damn, I have so much work to do still! It's hard not to feel really down on myself for being like this.
My guy yelled at me last night. We triggered each other. After a miserable morning, we talked, I cried, we're ok now.
 

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