"It's been a year, get over it and yourself already! fuck."

I was just about to write about this horrible feeling of something wrong inside of me this past week. To write out the questions to make me think and dig deeper inside to find the root of the feeling. Then I went for a smoke and realized. It's the 27th. March 27th. So here I am. Crying as I type, because it's the one year mark of the beginning of the most humiliating, devastating, horrific time of my life. Looking back, the worst of it only lasted about 2 months... but it felt like years. Still feels like years.

I need music to do this. Something loud and invasive that will help keep me *here and now* so I don't get lost in the remembering. My mp3 playlist will do.

The quote at the top is what I've been carrying around inside. The frustration that what happened a YEAR ago still has an impact on my life. That it still hurts. Well then, I'm gonna go backwards a year if I don't seem to have a choice in the remembering.

March 28, 2000
(transcribed from my paper journal)

Girls Night. Heh. And Cheryl is the one most readily available. Maybe Jenny, maybe Cyn. I can attempt to handle the soap-opera, but the irony is killing me. Cheers! Sometimes I feel as if this entire planet is someone's pet science project. And I'm one of the mice. Can't quite figure out what I'm supposed to be displaying/being. Oh well. Man I feel numb, kinda lost... shut down somewhat, but not to the degree of total loss. Well maybe that's not correct. Last night is fading fast from memory. I guess my mind is giving out "everything will be ok" signals. But that's just it. Everything will NOT be ok. How on earth can I trust Richard again? How can I trust myself? heh.

*sighs* The thing is, it's not just that. It's not just a breakup. It's the night I lost it and tried (and I mean TRIED) to smash my head in against the floor. The pleas for help, for support that went unanswered. The complete denial of HOW BAD IT HURT. The every fucking monday night that something more would come, something worse from him. The times I tried to get admitted to a psych ward because I KNEW I was a risk to myself. The smiling faces that lied to me.

I said at the time that it was worse than being raped. That I would have preferred being raped, beaten and left for dead again than what was happening to me. My entire world fucking shattered and the fall started a year ago today.

A memory. Coming back to Toronto from being up at my mom's in april. I had nowhere to go. After a year and a half in that fucking city, and I was left standing in the middle of downtown homeless, friendless and lost. The next day I went back to the Y and found people who DID give a shit. They helped me climb back out of the hole filled with the shards of what was my life.

So here I am. A year later. I have a fiancé that understands me, that I trust and love. I have friends that I'm learning to trust. I have a dream realized in white, blue and purple. I'm sitting at a desk I built, in a room that is ALL me and my stuff. My life has grown into something more fulfilling and rich than the life that shattered ever could have been. So why do I cry and hurt so bad now?

It's the Why. I never found an answer. I still don't know WHY. I don't think I ever will. Fine then. I have one thing left to say.

FUCK YOU, Richard. Fuck you, Cheryl. Fuck you, everyone who contributed to that nightmare. I hope that whatever you gained from my pain turns rotten and causes you the same agony.