- the stalker is no longer stalking me.
- The legal case was continued, again. But this time the district attorney on the case called me and explained why. I actually understand their reasoning for continuing it, and I really appreciated them calling me.
- I am still sober. Over 3 years now.
- I haven’t had sex in over 53 days because I’m finally trying to learn how to ask for what I want.
- Work is crazy but when I find time in my boss’ schedule to connect with her, I find that our working relationship is much healthier. Communication and connection help erase insecurities and lies that our brains make up- internal gossip perhaps.
Done with updates. I had a dream last night about the stalker. Let’s call him Diablo or D for short.
In the dream he was still obsessed with me, like he seemed to be in real life (see six page letter he hand wrote in ALL CAPS and sent to my home…).
I was trying to go to an event in the dream but he wouldn’t let me go unless we “went together.” I think the event was like a school dance (I’ve been out of high school 10 plus years).
He had high expectations for this event. I felt uncomfortable but I didn’t know how to express myself. I felt stifled, smothered.
I arrived at the event. It was such a massive venue, and there were thousands of young people, young like us. I found a friend and latched onto her. I felt safe with her. I realized, in the dream, how to avoid Diablo: because the event was so crowded, I would “get lost in the crowd” so I wouldn’t have to deal with him. I would stick with my friends to have protection.
Yes, in the dream I didn’t want to confront him.
At the restaurant, my friends and I were ordering and I realized the restaurant allowed patrons to order vibrators. My friend and I looked at each other, “but there’s nowhere private to go use them and get off.”
We finished eating, then went back to the main venue for the event of the dream. At this point it seemed to be a graduation, not dance. It was time to take our seats. I was really worried Diablo would figure out I had ditched him but I just didn’t want to deal with him. We found our seats, things seemed okay. Several minutes later a wave of students stood up and started running away from the stage and seats. I looked at what they were running from and saw it. It was Diablo’s body. He had shot himself.
I started running away too. Was I responsible? Could I have prevented it? How sick, I had to take on his suicide because he felt rejected by me.
I finally found a place that was safe and away, but still with the masses of young people. Someone could tell I was very upset. They told me, “He’s still alive. He didn’t die.”
Now my feelings were conflicted. I felt responsible he was dead, because he was clearly so distraught we didn’t sit next to each other, that I rejected him- again. But now I felt uncomfortable. He was alive, and now I would have to accept his attempted suicide and his continued life. The uncertainty of what would he do next.
That was the dream. Damn my brain is working through some shit. Diablo, in real life, is alive. He’s unstable and who knows what’s next. But there it is. Acceptance. I will have to muster that one.
Love to my faithful readers.
PS I go to the doctor today. Last night I was giving myself a physical exam on areas that still hurt, so I could be prepared to talk to her about them. I found something. Perhaps it is an inflamed body part, or it is a mass. But it is hard, large lump, and it hurts when I touch it, and it doesn’t seem to fit my anatomy- like a growth. Could this be it? In one way, if It is, I would feel vindicated. I’m not crazy for these fucking endless symptoms, physical pain. It’s like a purgatory but I am alive. God, please release me. I am tired of this pain. Take this lump, if that is what it is, and help cleanse me. Help me get medical attention. Living with chronic physical illness and pain is EXHAUSTING. Not purgatory- endless nightmare.
I don’t want to wake up, though. I want to fall asleep and rest. Then when I wake up, I want to be better. I want to skip these months of physical therapy, doctors appointments, not knowing, knowing. The diagnoses always being a hundred little things instead of one big one. I would prefer one big one. Easier to manage- I think.
I can’t. God can. I will let Her.