A little bit

Sometimes I hate the chord that runs between my abuser and me, because it turns me into exactly the kind of person I don’t want to be. There is someone on the Internet so crazy that she’s actually throwing around word salad regarding my abuser and several of her “cohorts.” I don’t know what crazy people call them. I haven’t taken 401.

Anywho, this woman who is a total lunatic is hitting that nerve. The nerve that whispers “it’s your job to protect her, and you’re not doing it.” So what did I do? Like an ASSHOLE I emailed all her friend and asked them to check on her for me. I used to call it “loving her by sneak attack” and then I realized that the information obtained was not actually keeping her safer, it was just driving me bananas.

I didn’t do anything to protect her. I just did something to implicate myself, as if I’m part of this whole thing instead of trying to be the solution. Perception is reality, and I will not come off looking good. I will just come off looking even sadder than I did before.

Once again, SOMETHING THAT COULD HAVE BEEN BROUGHT TO MY ATTENTION YESTERDAY.

I get into the hero mode of “if I could only Y, she would X.” The Y comes before the X because it would never occur to me that she would be the actor. I’m always the actor. I’m always the one who does stuff wrong. By saving herself and only reacting, the game is that she has never done anything wrong. She just reacted, and I took it wrong for 25 years.

My appointment for PTSD is at 9:00 AM. I have no idea what I want to say. Where do I even begin?

Like every lesbian’s story, I suppose.

There was this girl……………………