I’m a little in awe of how much this whole violence thing has affected me. Every time I think I’m handling things, or I’ve got it all DOWN, something happens to knock me off my carefully constructed pedestal.
I’m still working to get back on my feet, clean the house and make it mine. I’ve had to talk to him a few times, and saw him once when he came to get the dog and some of his stuff. That event ended up with me sitting on the floor, crying. Not pretty, and certainly not the strong girl attitude I try to project. That veneer is rubbing off and I’m starting to show the sensitive spots.
We spoke earlier this week about various housekeeping items and he offered to bring me Molly for overnight Wednesday/Thursday. I couldn’t answer at the time, and said I would think about it and let him know in the morning. I didn’t. I avoided the entire situation and texted around 430 Wednesday afternoon and said that it was obviously a no-go, that I wasn’t ready for it yet. And then I pulled over and cried again. (To my great amusement, there is one single tear running down my face right now. I feel like I should be dewey and on camera somewhere. Oh, and dressed much better than I am at the moment. Yoga pants and the solitary tear do not make an attractive heroine.)
I had to put this away for a few days in order to get my brain wrapped around, well… life. I’m completely overwhelmed by everything. I have wanted to write my own stuff — even doing some journaling or something, and I can’t even get that done. I’m exhausted.
I’ve got several writing clients, which is fantastic, and I’m excited about them, plus the bar gig which is also going well. By the time I get through all of the stuff that I need to do for both of those, I’ve barely looked at school and the homework there — I know i’m way behind on at least one assignment, which is currently sitting half complete in another window, there’s one huge one looming (with a group no less, which is like trying to get kittens to do what you want for just TWO minutes, OMGPLEASE) and due on Friday, (so yeah, tomorrow) along with another short story I’ve not yet even begun, and cleaning up a second memoir piece which again, i’ve only barely grazed.
Sometimes the detailing of all of the things that need doing is actually helpful, and then I walk into the living room and it’s a disaster and I think, “Oh FFS. Because there’s THIS too.” Other times, writing it down like i did just now up ^ there makes it even more holy shit. Like it just has.
I want so badly to explain how the violence is still affecting me, but right now I can barely hold my head above water in order to explain that, so I guess in a way, my complete inability to explain it, explains it.
**** Updated: The big first part of the psych project was completed. It was a cluster fuck that resulted in only three of us really working on it, out of a possible five. We’ll see how that shakes out.
I finished the project that was sitting in the other window and while it’s 3 weeks late (one of those being reading week, so really only 2), I’ll have to see if he accepts it. My 10 page memoir is due tomorrow as well and I can’t wait to get that passed into him. I’m happier about this second one. Guess we’ll see what kind of responses the first piece brought.