enoughdonegone - Tumblr blog

[enoughdonegone]

[enoughdonegone]

[enoughdonegone]

Unlearning

I was driving around seeing clients yesterday for about 6 hours. I'd only had a bagel for breakfast and it was nearing 6pm. I was pretty hungry.

I stopped for food, and I felt really bad about it. I confessed to my partner that I'd stopped, expecting her to agree with my assessment that it was financially irresponsible.

She didn't. Naturally. Because eating is not a luxury, and it's worth the $17.

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I HAVE the power!

friendly reminder that YOU 🫵 can make even the most relaxing innocuous activities into high stress situations if you’re mentally ill enough. always believe in yourself and your incapacity to conquer catastrophic thinking!

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Best to do the scary things at a bit of a run..

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It was years. YEARS.

May Sarton, from Recovering: A Journal [ID in alt text]

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Cheers to not letting the monster take over.

““How to make a monster: First you must take something innocent, then feed it hate, ridicule and betrayal. All that is left is a soul poisoned by the world.””

— -via iitisveryoverrated (via bialyanqueen)

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Oh.

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So much reprogramming to do

So I'm starting to recover (barely) from whatever this stomach thing was and from some terrible corners of my brain I keep hearing:

" Oh good! I bet this shrank your stomach! "

" You've consumed less than half a day's worth of calories over 4 days; you're going to see some great results"

"Could you eat like this permanently?"

"Some clouds have a silver lining, you know..."

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I'm sick. Sick as fuck, to be precise. I have not been able to keep anything down for 3 days, I've been sleeping shit, and everything fucking hurts. So my capacity for emotional regulation is out to lunch. That in mind, be kind about this train wreck below.

I'm a little obsessed with Astarion (Baldur's Gate 3). Nothing unhealthy, I just read a lot of extra stuff about him that I don't for the other characters. Side note, he's, objectively, not a good person, but I'm championing him anyway. He's a broken little guy, and I am a broken girl; the only difference between us is I've had 7 years of therapy.

I'm watching some alternative dialogue options with Astarion on YouTube. Some of this shit cuts open scabs that I forgot were there.

Like there's a choice in ACT 2 you can make that kind of pressures him into doing something that he just told you makes him feel wretched...HOOO BOI, I need to go curl up in the shower for a bit

[enoughdonegone]

Self care, I have discovered over the past 7 years, is really fucking hard.

Sometimes self-care is, actually, NOT getting onto the computer and little treats and watching youtube videos. Sometimes those things are self-care, but sometimes they're also avoidant behaviors.

Sometimes self care is waking up and just. Fucking getting in the car. And driving to the bank. And the store. And buying the cat litter. And changing the cat boxes you've been avoiding because your brains been stuck in a hole. And picking up the trash you've been piling up. And getting a load into the wash. And mowing the lawn before the village council sends you a formal complaint and potential-fines warning.

Like its hard and annoying to do because it sucks. It sucks so much. But if I don't start working on this pile of bullshit I've let build up because it stinks and i was stuck in deer-in-headlights mode, I risk letting it turn into fuckery. I do not have the patience for fuckery that I once - foolishly! - thought I had.

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Support Character - Part 1

When we were teenagers and I was still living at home, he worked very hard to get me to play Ultima Online. It's an online RPG game, similar in style to World of Warcraft.

Silly me, I thought he wanted me to participate in something he enjoyed. Of course not, he wanted me to play healer.

That can be fun in some scenarios, but of course it wasn't here. I didn't get any input on quests, areas or achievements. It equated to me following him around everywhere, and clicking the heal while he played.

I was in the support role. It was all about him. It was to be the theme of the next 12 years of my life.

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I wrote this the day after my first-ever post. I was a mess. I'm still a mess, but it's a different kind of mess.

I still wonder at times if I need someone to 'keep me in line.' I have a partner who is kind and gentle, and has no interest in taming or training me.

I still don't trust that I am good enough to be hers. Or anyone's.

Uphill all the way

Sometimes I feel like he’s right. That I’m crazy. That he is a good man who tried so hard to help me become a functioning adult. That I was just too fucked up to make him happy.

It’s a funny thing to be trained not to trust yourself.

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I don't think compassion for your abuser is necessary, nor is it a reasonable expectation of abuse survivors. But it might be good for some survivors. It's possible to be compassionate without reinserting yourself in someone's life.

What you need could change throughout the years, and it could differ wildly from what someone else needs at that same moment in time. Situations that look the same aren't necessarily.

*Incoming metaphor, sorry* Healing from abuse is a twisted, vine-y road covered in thorns. You just have to figure out how to make your way with as few injuries as possible. That could be with a machete, or pruners, or some cautious, thoughtful navigation. Or some mixture of the 3.

I don't know. I'm still figuring it out myself. What I do know, is that anytime anyone's tried to tell me what's good for me, it's been starkly in contrast to what I needed at the time.

The Recloseted Lesbian. Compassion

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4am Musings

Is childhood inherently traumatizing?

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It has been 312 weeks since I have spoken to him.

Life is very different now.