Right before I sit down to try to work, I often post here first. I do not know
why. It is like a diary entry, but one stuck in a bottle and thrown in the
sea. I like that idea. The depression and sadness is quite intense today. I
missed my zyprexa which acts like a wall that keeps me at a distance from
certain memories and events and thus allows me to go forward. So too, my
little scooter got a flat tire and I know my ex will not get it fixed, so I
have lost all my mobility . . . this is very very important to me.
I know. I am not helpless, and can perhaps find a way for someone to come and
fix it on my own. But I feel like that young woman Hope/Heather who has been
posting here. So crippled and unable to fuc*ing do so many things. And I am a
very proud woman and thus it is distressing.
John is heavily on my mind today. Memories keep intruding of both sweet
moments and intense moments of violence and humiliation. I have this sense --
intuition -- that New York is going to drastically affect me and help to propel
me away from this graveyard of memories. I can't explain. I often sense when
something of import is going to happen, and I have that sense now.
It upsets me that after 7 years I am still so close to the pain, anger, hurt,
and confusion. I know if I was to see him that I would attack him. Yes, yes,
I am aware of all the things to say against this. But it is a fact, an
observation and would be beyond choice. I would hysterically claw and draw
blood no matter what public space we were in . . . and it would not be from
anger, but born of pain. There is no actual worry, for there is no place we
will both be. But it is a condition of my soul that nevertheless sickens me
and which I must find a way to heal, for my own life -- irrespective of him.
I must stop dwelling here and attempt to do more lesson plans for conflicts and
then work on the thesis. Maria is happy in the sun drawing, and I have been
given this gift of her and the time to do research I love, and it is so small
and selfish to not understand this in a deeper way than I do.
Rosena
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