was a really tough week.
I found out a lot of information, some old, but new to me. There was just a lot to take in during only one week.
I think that I had lulled myself into thinking that X couldn’t hurt me anymore, that our physical distance gave me some kind of emotional armor. And that’s not true. That’s what last week proved to me, over and over and over again.
I won’t be specific about everything, but you remember Dolores? Good neighbor and friend of X, who apparently has been providing much aid and comfort since my departure–remember? Well, she’s getting a divorce, too. I guess it’s going around. Must be something in the water. Oh, and apparently there were a number of people who wondered if something was going on with them well before I left. Nice.
It looks like, through some shady dealing, X may try to harm my credit. Not sure how badly. It has to do with the house, and there’s probably not anything I can do about it.
Those are just two examples from last week. And I hate that he can make me hurt. And I hate that it is still so easy to pull that blanket of denial over my head, to bury my head in the sand, and to immerse myself in a false sense of security. And it took me a while, but I finally figured out that THAT was what was bothering me. That he can still get to me.
(As I’m writing this, I’m feeling something that can only be described as survivor’s guilt. Maybe it’s about Luna–from the last post). Maybe it’s about other bloggers I read, or other stories I’ve heard that were so much worse than my own, but some little voice in my head–it is not a kind voice–is telling me to quit my whining, because I DON’T REALLY KNOW.
And I’m trying hard not to go down that path, as I would advise anyone else to avoid it like the plague.)
This week feels better than last week, though the circumstances are basically the same. I’m figuring out, or remembering, how to deal with the fact of my own vulnerability. I’m not sure I can really put it into words, but if I can, you’ll hear about it.