Archive for August, 2014

… actually saved me from a lot of drama. Which is kind of funny.

This is going to be a personal post, touching on the past and how it once again has come to the future.

For those that haven’t figured it out, I have PTSD. I don’t like to talk about the past, but sometimes things trigger me hard and I’ll end up ranting about this and that. The way my ex-husband left me, some of the things he did, the works. They’re scars on me, and you know they’re not the only scars. They’re just deep ones, especially considering I’m still made to suffer for my kindnesses to this day.

On one such triggered day, I ranted – probably on my Livejournal – about some things that happened. My rants are never centered around one single person, mind you. They cover everyone involved. And that day I was hurting pretty deeply, probably because of the children, as the past reared its head and I recalled.  And someone who was involved in that past found the rant.

They messaged me I don’t know how long ago, but as they’re not on my friends list the message got put into the “other” folder. And there it sat, completely unread and ignored.  Someone brought my attention to this mysterious other folder today and for the first time ever I opened it up.

Omigod the emails that had gotten ignored. But I recognized her pig-pudged nose and my attention was caught by the way the message ended. “You know what? None of it is even true. Have a nice life.”

So I expanded the message, thinking wtf. And glanced at bits and pieces from my journal that she’d copied and pasted to reply to. She’d picked a doozy of a rant, and I even recognized one single bit that applied to her. But beyond that, I stopped reading because I knew instantly it was even more drama from the past. I don’t know how much of the rant actually applied to her. Chances are really high I was mushing it all together into single events to protect the not-so-innocent. I do that. Who knows.

The letter started off with how she had been thinking of writing the letter for a long time and she was finally doing it.

I stopped reading.

I mean seriously. It was long, it was more drama I don’t care for, and it was stupid to deny anything she may have participated in. She really hurt me.  Why on earth would I take anything she has to say seriously now? Why would I even waste my time? Chance my environment with her? Or anything ?

So yes. I didn’t read the message. I just know it ended with, “And you know what? None of it is true. Have a nice life.”

I never said her name, but she sure knew at least part of it was her. I won’t say her name now. The pain was too deep, and it reared up quite ugly. I could only say in reply, “Did you know who I was talking about? But if the shoe fits, lace that bitch up and wear it. Do not contact me again.” I mean. Really. I’m going over here to make a sandwich.

So later I reopen the letter because I’m trying to clear it from my history and to my surprise the first part is actually heartfelt, an apology. And I feel bad I didn’t see the message when it first came. She’s blocked now, so there’s nothing I can do to undo my message. The whole revisiting the affair cause me such swift pain… I often regret not being able to stop the knee jerks to think straight.

A lesson in this on how wrong I was. And how I should have been careful with my feelings.

 

It appears my drowning in work has petered out a bit, and I find myself thinking of when I start setting time out for this hobby again. While going through a box in a closet I found the lyrics to a song I wrote a few years ago. I’ve been trying to remember this song for a couple of years now and have been very frustrated because I thought the lyrics were gone. But there they were. I was thrilled.

It’s called “Music Box” and requires a xylophone. I can’t buy the drum I want and need, but I can afford a $15 baby xylophone. So I just got one.

Moving along.

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