No, this is not really about murder. But it is about the threat of violence and physical assault. It is about fear, shame, stigma. It is about loud noises that make me jump, or small noises that cause paranoia. Why do I experience this right now?
I can’t tell you why. I wish I could but I have to testify soon and I would rather not talk about the specifics of the case in public until some sort of justice has been served by the judicial system.
I can tell you, I think, that something big happened recently. Big enough to make me jump at every little noise. But that’s not what made me want to type here, my free therapy and soap box. I was looking for emails. Very old emails, from 12 years ago.
I am a hoarder of memories. Mostly digital. I came across this, a message I sent to a friend. I was 15 years old. This is what I wrote:
another reason I was less angry at T: the night before T and I hung out, I hung out with an old guy friend/love interest, who I ended up wrestling–seriously–with at his house early in the morning. and then as we waited for the sunrise we had quite the make out session. I liked having that secret in me as I hung out with T. it was a constant, “haha.. you have no idea what I was doing this morning.”
Why do I bring this up…. grief. Complex grief. That is what is going through my heart and soul right now. I am hit in the head by losing my job a few weeks ago, very suddenly in a very extreme, dramatic way. And no, the thing I am testifying in is not related to my job–which also has a huge legal battle against it. It’s like a Hollywood movie.
Why do I bring this up… here is my brain fog from fibromyalgia trying to grapple with the intense straws in my head. Earlier I listened to a meditation about dealing with stress. I had one of the most relaxing naps. I didn’t even know I was asleep until I woke up. It was gorgeous.
I need lots of rest right now.
But the holidays bring up grief. Dysfunctional family stuff. Sad things. People who died, people who didn’t show up, people who showed up with too much drama. This is the weirdest Christmas–
Wait. See my brain doesn’t want to talk about it. She’s very good at avoiding things.
The person I was referring to above in that paragraph was someone named Wallace, the person I was “wrestling” with. Why do I experience grief over one night of wrestling and making out? Because he is dead. He overdosed. Just like that. He died last May, but I don’t know if I ever properly grieved it. So there I was going through my ancient email and I saw this ancient reference to him. This man who introduced to me a more physical form of sexuality [oh my!] and such beyond weirdness…
He was also fucked up and complicated. In middle school I found out his girlfriend had an eating disorder, she told me. I asked Wallace about it and he said he didn’t care. I knew this was serious, the girl was super skinny, and she seemed scared. I went crying with a friend to a teacher and told her. The girl got the help she needed, and I am still friends with all three of those women. I did not keep in touch with him until we bumped into each other a few years later and I wanted to know what it was like on the dark side of the moon with his complex soul. I knew I was fucked up too, but he reveled in it in a way most people try to deny and hide.
But I really hate that his addiction killed him. I miss you, Wallace. I don’t know what happened to our compatriot Ari. We would go to creeks and sit on abandoned couches. Wally licked my eye ball [yes!] and we talked about a million things. Damn middle school, we felt so old and cool. Now I am close to 30 years old. Wallace is dead and I think Ari is permanently brain damaged from all the drugs he did.
Life is weird. I asked the Universe for a more authentic existence a few months ago, and I am pretty sure I am on the cutting edge of authenticity. I don’t want to do marketing anymore. I don’t want to sell things or ideas or commercialism or capitalism. I want to educate or organize or count. I want to make a difference that encourages people to look within, to look up, to keep looking.
I didn’t ask for three legal battles in the course of 10 days, 1 federal, 2 criminal. I didn’t ask to be single or in so much physical pain that living in a perpetual hot spring of water sounds like heaven on earth. I didn’t ask for being close to no money because we didn’t get our last paycheck.
BUT I did ask for authenticity. This is it. There is no turning back. My higher power is protecting me, and I hope for these three things right now:
- I am safe and live in a harmonious home.
- I attract money and wealth easily.
- My body is youthful, my health is vibrant.