reality bites

I'm not going to say it was the worst 10 minutes of my life, but it was in the top 25. Maybe top 20. I'd have to list them all to really get an accurate figure, and I'd rather not, since I've suppressed most of those memories already. I hope to suppress this one, too. Maybe I just need to get it out there first. I think I need to back up a little.

I'm pretty easy to get along with. Not too many people dislike me, and the ones who do... well.. I don't know them very well, so I can't be entirely sure why they do. Most of those people hang out in the same place, all together, in a place I used to spend most of my nights. I don't frequent this establishment anymore, for a few reasons we really don't need to discuss. Point is that I rarely go. When I do, I'm usually the only person there.
I went the other night. I thought, due to the empty parking lot and the lack of lights glowing through the windows, that I was late enough to be there alone. I was mistaken. I was completely mistaken. And I faced 4 people who don't think highly of me, and 1 person who apparently thinks less of me than of a termite. I'd have been fine, but that 1 person decided to make a few comments, not to me but to the room in general, which were entirely shots at me. At me. I was unprepared for the attack, and I have nothing against the speaker- well, I had nothing against the speaker- which left me with no reaction prepared but to smile politely, laugh it off awkwardly, and excuse myself from the situation before anyone could catch me crying.
But wait, maybe the comments weren't meant for me? Maybe they were just random comments? Maybe just song lyrics stuck in someone's head or inside jokes from earlier in the night? Ehhhhh... no. The first thing he said when he got outside to me was "don't listen to them. just forget it."
Complete humiliation.

But not because I was ridiculed without my knowledge in front of people. Not because I was embarrassed by his friends in front of him. Not even because he let them.
I was humiliated because everything that was said was true.
And I knew it.
And suddenly, I realized, everyone else knew it, too.

I like to think my own stupidity is my own problem- if I can deal with it, then that's really all that matters. But 10 minutes on a Thursday night rearranged that whole thought process. I'm not proud of the reality. I romanticize it in my head to make it easier to handle. He's obviously framing it his own way as well. But either way, that's what I'm living. And hearing it for the first time in that situation, when I'm obviously uncomfortable and confused and caught off guard in the first place, just makes reality that much more of a slap across the face. It is still my reality, but now it is someone else's inside joke.

Okay, I got it out there. I'm ready to suppress it now.
Come on selective memory.
L

damaged

A few weeks ago I burnt my leg. I gave myself a really good second degree burn. It was pretty disgusting. At first it felt like fire. I held iced towels against it and took tons of ibuprofen. When the pain died down, it started trying to heal itself. It wasn't pretty, but you could tell that my immune system was sending valuable nutrients to the surface area to help heal the skin. It kept being not pretty. Now it isn't as disgusting to look at. In fact, it's healing really well. But it is still there. I know I shouldn't swim because it's still vulnerable to infection. I still need to put neosporin on it everyday. It is still painfully visible, and it will scar. There will always be a big scar on my leg to remind me of the time I got clumsy.

There's no physical scar to remind me of the times I've been clumsy with my feelings, with my heart. Sometimes I forget that I am not completely healed. There is no visual reminder that I need to take care of my emotional safety. I feel healed, I feel fine, and then I feel the infection setting in. I've done things to aggravate the wound left by J and since I can't see the bleeding, I don't know how to stop it. It tries to heal itself, but I can't protect it. I can't fix it myself.

So I've been flying blind for the past 7 months. I thought I was fine, healed, progressing beautifully, but I'd just been doing a good job at bandaging the injury. And now, for some reason, I'm out of gauze. It's exposed and it's catching everything that flies toward it. It stings again. It hurts, it aches, it keeps me awake, and it forces me to sleep. I can't face the pain so I have no choice but to sleep all day. I'm safer if I stay inside. It can't get worse if I never face the elements. It has to heal eventually, and I have to shelter it until then.

I thought I'd sheltered it enough in June. I thought so in July. I was fine in August. September. But October has been like pouring rubbing alcohol into cut skin. Weeks of constant, burning, unbearable pain from which I can find no escape but sleep. Maybe friends can help? Only a few. Some even exacerbate the pain. Some pour more alcohol into the cut. It's safer to stay inside. The worse the wound gets, the longer the wound stays open, the darker the scar will be. So I'm going to shelter it. Shelter myself. Hide away from the elements, the world, everything out there that makes life worth living. I'm safer inside.

So thats where I'll be.

L