It’s not physical, it’s just emotional. Everything takes longer and feels heavier when you’re sad. I dragged ass to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy this morning, which I am sure is just enough for the people around me to say, “your world. You need help, lol.” Meeting my vulnerability with humiliation is something I won’t fucking forget, and I never want to see him again in my whole fucking life.
I do struggle with mental health issues, so the easiest story in the world to write about me is that I’m crazy. That motherfucker is trying to make his problems my fault, saying that I’m the one that’s responsible for his wife not sleeping. He’s going to get as far away from me as possible. That’s danger language, and no one is there to save me from it except me.
The good news is that I never have to see anyone I don’t want to, and right now, I want to stay as far away as possible. Anyone who turns to humiliation and control is not someone I can have in my life.
But I won’t extol everything I saw happen. I am only talking about my life, and what all of this means for me. What this means for me is that I thought I had a team under me helping me work all this out, but when push came to shove, there was nothing that could be done except to let their false narrative stand and get the fuck away.
Weird obsession? Fuck you sideways. It’s too expensive to be your friend.
Stories That Are All True 