I am not a repressor. Keeping a lot of stuff in this last 12 months has damn near killed me. Someone listened, and if I haven't completely overwhelmed them will listen some more. On Thursday, I got out lots of stuff that needed to get out and I got to verbalize thoughts and feelings that were way too enormous to keep stuffed in my psyche. So Friday was a much better day.
There were parts of it that tried to pull me back to despair and panic and all the other negative emotions that have become so prevalent recently, but I got real bursts of me again, too. And it wasn't me trying to be me again, it was me. Like I'd make a joke or say something completely optimistic and tigger-ish and realize afterwards that it wasn't forced or me trying to remember what I used to be like, but really me. I guess it wasn't gone forever, after all.
The weather was gorgeous--in the 70's and sunny. Parts of the feel of the air and the sun in their own ways triggered memories that threatened to launch the flood of memory, but I let it just make me feel good instead. I don't think that would have been possible had I not gotten stuff out.
I am grateful for people who care. And people who listen. And especially to the person who let me dump my toxic waste without judgement. They have no idea the burden they helped me lift. I am going to survive. Not only that, be me again.
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