I want to write and to continue this blog but I wonder what benefit is created by the effort.  Is it read?  Does it matter?  Where could I go with it in the future, if I do continue it?  I’ve thought of this as my letter to the open void of the potential audience.  “Hey, here I am and here’s what life is like for someone like me.”  Increasingly, though, I feel like a member of a very rare type of human.  One that finds few I can truly share myself with and feel safe.  I feel out of step within the job I have and with many I encounter, just as I did when growing up.  Some days, when even those you think of as friends reveal that they see your struggle in life as irrelevant and those who were supposed to love you instinctively only use their power to harm you further…  Those are the days that get carried around for so much longer than I actually imagine possible, forming part of the strange shell around me. 

Who am I?  I’m loved--I know that unquestionably-- by people who really know me.  I carry that, too.  I’m also the woman who has been abused over and over again under a bright, shiny, banner of “love.”  So, how do I keep the two separated?  Lately, that’s difficult.  Emotional flashbacks or some variant of that popped up not long ago, leaving me feeling even more unsafe and unsafe for others to have in their lives.  I have a new niece that I can’t see, yet my mother sends me pictures of her, tauntingly claiming regret for herself and again shifting the burden of choice onto my shoulders and stamping me the one who isn’t participating in having a family.  My ex-husband died.  His sister messages me to tell me he still “loved” me.  I feel the pain of the blows he dealt me just as much today as at the time I received them.  So, where do I file all these things?  

I feel comfort with the person I hope I can share the rest of my life with in a healthy way.  I want to build something good and safe and nurturing with him.  And, I keep hoping, despite the hurts and wounds that intrude on that that I actually can accomplish it.  Today, though, I’m just trying to keep from grinding my teeth together at this draining job until I can return to that comfort and safety.

3/7/12

I’ve been feeling totally devoid of ways to express what my daily life has become since last writing. Ways exist, undoubtedly, but I’ve found some of those seem trite in print. And, I suppose it’s only fair to add that just living life happily seems to take more time than one might think. So, I will fall back on a list. A list! Oh, boy!

1) I think a lot, on a daily basis, about why this country seems to be shifting into more and more deeply entrenched factions and why a lot of that seems to be devoted to waging a war on women and women’s rights.
2) Love. Oh, the things I could say on this topic… It is bigger and more beautiful than I imagined and, yet, simpler at the same time. It’s been interesting to realize that I have a greater capacity for joy than I thought I had. It’s been a joy to see that there are good things inside me that just needed safety and support to appear.
3) Matt! Beautiful, wonderful, kind, funny, brilliant, playful, giving, lovable bookworm Matt!
4) Things are a-brewing with regard to positive career changes.
5) Some days I think I miss having had real parents in my life until I realize I still don’t really know what that means. I miss the munchkins a lot. The pattern of coping with that is mainly to send cards when I can and hope they get those and any birthday or holiday gifts yet. Most days, I wonder if they hate me or miss me.
6) Some knitting going on but slowly. I taught a couple people to knit recently, one of whom lamented her lack of speed at it and I realized that she’s already almost as fast as I am.
7) Mostly, I’m getting a lot of reading done and loving every minute of it. I spend at least one afternoon each weekend with my love at a bookstore, browsing and, occasionally, buying works to feed our mutual addiction.

And, that’s all I have at the moment. PSG draws ever closer and keeps me anticipating a return home.