"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.

Tired, Cranky, irritable. That's me today, and for most of the weekend. Slightly disassociated, definitely fucked up and out of my depth again. That means it's becoming time to slow down and chill out. I think what's been overwhelming me is our upcoming move *knocks on wood*, the site and all *that* entails, and just the simple day to day work of being me.

Speaking of the move, we're looking at an apartment tomorrow evening. It sounds fabulous: 1000 square feet, 1 bedroom, 19' balcony, $665 inclusive. Plus after looking up the address, it's close to 2 supermarkets and close to a bus route that goes right by the University of Waterloo. Sounds good to me... sounds good to Mike... so we'll see what tomorrow holds.

I hate moving. *HATE* it. But I hate doing an apartment search more. This is why Mike gets to do it. I'm the one that does the paper search, he gets to call, we go and view together. Works for me. I really don't feel capable to interact with strangers right now. Heh. Ghosts of my past, right there. People-fear.

That's a nice signpost telling me to slow the hell down and take better care of myself. *sighs* I'm tired. Really tired. And not the nice type of tired that a good night's sleep can take care of. The tired that comes from deep down, the type of tired that comes from years spent trying, and trying again and not seeing the gains. I'm starting to see gains, I really am. But why am I still so tired then?

I dunno.

There's a topic I want to start in Mending Wings tonight, if I can clarify my thoughts a bit better. Cliques. How they affect people, so on and so forth. I've been thinking more about this lately since I ran across a young woman's journal entry on the subject. She's now on my list of people I want to email and ask for submissions and/or patronage of PtF.

Bah.

Max is distracting me. Flaunting his beautiful view of green grass, sunshine and his great hair. I'm jealous as hell. OTOH we're having spring type weather out here, the snow is melting, and the sun is shining. Gah! The zipper on my only 'all-weather' coat just fell off. Could've done me a favor and waited a week. I guess that sets what I'm doing today... bank run to see how much we have left in our accounts, and a search for a new jacket.

*several hours later* Mmmmm, shopping is fun. :) Went for a jacket, came home with a new jacket, bra, silk shirt, dress jacket, and two summer-type tops. For the pre-planned budget of $40ish for the jacket alone. Yeah Baby. :)

I've been realizing lately just HOW much better I'm getting as each day passes. August 1999 I filled out an application form for ODSP, as brutally honest about my inabilities as I've ever been. I told the government about the days and weeks when I couldn't eat, bathe myself, much less leave the house. The times when I felt completely unable to survive anymore. That I was paralyzed with terror at the very thought of leaving home and having to interact with strangers. I told them of the flashbacks that would have me on the kitchen floor sobbing. That's the space I lived in, almost 2 years ago now.

Today. Today I have a beautiful website, a place that wasn't even within my abilities to dream of then. Today I went out shopping, surrounded by strangers, even though I'm feeling scared. I haven't had a flashback in months. My last panic attack was Friday, and instead of trying to 'prove something', I stopped what I was doing and did something else. I had my daughter stay with me for 5 days, and it was FUN!

God, it's been slow going. Still is. I'm still scared shitless sometimes of the world outside my door. Even attempting to imagine a life bigger than the one I live right now still makes me prefer dying. But! But! This life of mine keeps getting bigger, more room is being created for me to grow within. I used to have to fight myself to just keep surviving. Now, I fight to keep growing. That's good enough for me right now.

Just finished watching 'Passion of Mind' with Mike, and it's making me think about myself and my life. A part of my life that I don't share very often due to the stigma attached to 'mental illness' and the like. Passion of Mind explores the concept of self and multiple personalities (or nicer put, separate parts of self).

I have 3 very distinct parts of myself, so distinct that they each have names. Linda, Sara and Lillie. Linda is me, the day to day self... the one that pays the bills, takes care of the body, lives in the world shared with everyone else.

Sara, whom my daughter is named after, is the wise one. She loves me unconditionally, is my guide and main support. She's where I go when I don't know if I can deal with the world around me anymore, to talk and figure out where to go next. She's so incredibly stable and strong and wise... I'm amazed that I carry her within *me*. Sara takes care of my soul and keeps my hope alive.

Lillie. Ahhh, yes, Lillie. She's about 5 years old, and terrified. The scared, helpless child. When my external life goes out of control, much of the time all I can hear is her screaming inside my head. I don't know what to do with this part of me, so I ignore her most of the time. There's a reason she exists, yet I don't know what it is.

Ok, now that I sound all freaky and psychotic... *sighs* I don't know. On one hand I feel ashamed to admit that I've fragmented from the wise and scared parts of me... yet on the other, I think it's something to be proud of. Keeping Sara separate from the me that had to live outside of my head kept me alive. I believe this wholeheartedly. If I allowed myself to be as scared as Lillie always is, I wouldn't be able to function at all.

What kept me safe... *sighs* is now a liability. I want to be completely whole. I'm so used to keeping myself in 3 sections now that I don't know if I'd ever be able to make them whole. Enh. Keep on moving and trying, I guess.

Dreams, hope, loss, fear, strength, happiness. This entire site is my dream, and it's here now. It's amazing to see and virtually touch the dream that for the longest time lived in my head. It's also really scary. The ideas have come from my life, my world, my hopes and fears. That means it's so intertwined with me and who I see myself as. There's a lot of "What If?"s now. what if it doesn't take off? What if people just don't understand what I'm trying to achieve? What if my host goes under and the world explodes? * grins *

I wonder if by putting the journals into specifically themed sections I'm putting the people that write them into nice, neat little boxes. You know, "you fit HERE, you STAY there!" kind of thing. There was no way to really show what I believe is the process that people go through in becoming themselves. that we all go from broken wings to touching the sky and back again. it's a cycle not a linear path. Granted, that's the way my life has taken. my journey. Circles and spirals. And my way is not always the same as anyone else's. The PtF journallers are beautiful, strong women. and I doubt they'd let me pigeonhole them anyway.

I'm doing my best, and that's all I or anyone else can ask. Trying is part of it all. Sometimes I fuck up. but I have to keep my eyes, heart and mind open for the times that I do good. I'm doing good here. I really am. As Mike said to me, "if you help ONE person with the site, one. then it's all worth it." Funny thing is, I've already helped that one person. Me. I've shown myself, and my inner demons that I can make a dream happen.

So. To finish off this first journal in my dream site, I have to thank the people that got me here.

Kudos to:

Mike P, my fiancé, my perl god, my best friend. Thank you for not blinking when I said "That's IT I'm registering the damn site, and making this thing happen! NOW!". Thank you for listening to me rant, and for all the missed date nights because I had to work on "one last thing".

Gayle, my designer, my (soon to be slumberparty) friend! Thank you for your fabulous design, and your pure generosity of spirit. You took my haphazard notes and thoughts and made them visual.

Mike G & Richard H, my boys, my brainstorming partners, my 'in' at compar. Thank you for always being there to listen, to help, to support. 30 hits! HA!

Terri, Alison, Pookie, my contributors to this dream. Thank you for sharing yourselves with me and with the world. Wanna be my friends? Not that you aren't already, but the other kind, you know, lots of talking and sharing kind.

My Sistera, my sister. Thank you for being a shit right now. I love you so very much, and I miss you. But I'm in some weird way glad that you're disappointed in me. Makes me really want to ensure that * I * am not disappointed in me.

Audra, Boss lady of Marigold and Chicks With Antlers, and my point of reference. Thank you for creating sites that I admire and frequent. Thank you for giving me a direction I wanted to take with my vague ideas, even tho you may not have known that you were.

Finally, THANK YOU ALL who read this, read the site, post on the boards. thank you for helping make this real.

Linda.