It has been a long time since I've posted here, and a great deal has happened and changed in my life and my future may well be more uncertain than ever. It is interesting reading my last few entries and seeing what has and hasn't changed. The biggest reason I haven't posted here in so long is that quite simply I've felt spiritually dead. I still live my life mindfully, but I've had little to no sense of otherworldlieness. One of the saddest things I experienced moving back with my mom was that I could not reunite with one of my earliest spirit friends "The Lord of Storms" who was a massive thunderbird who would always greet me with a friendly gust.
My departure from Pittsburgh was quite possibly the greatest instance of emotional injury ever dealt to me. The last few years there I had come to rely on the simple truth of the fact that I had friends. In no small part due to the My Little Pony fad, I had come to realize for myself that Friendship really is Magic. Even when everything else in my life was falling apart, I found meaning and comfort and succor in the knowledge that I had friends, and that people liked me for me. I was even kind of popular which quite frankly floored me. I loved my friends, and although my ability to reciprocate began to crumble, I was always surprised by how overwhelming the support shown to me was.
Until over the course of one weekend, two bitter, delusional and likely dangerously malicious people destroyed the very foundation of everything that I understood about myself and others. The issues and grievances suddenly brought up against me in such clandestine scale were all things I'd been led to believe were resolved, or even were cases I had been completely unaware existed. My scope of understanding suddenly lurched from "Wow, people really like me" to "Oh god, they've only been tolerating me this whole time". I was devastated. I was hysterical. It still wounds me to this very day.
I know that I do still have some terrific friends, and I still don't understand at all why anyone continues to like or tolerate me, but I'm grateful to have them. The people who wronged me are starting to face the repercussions of their selfish vindictiveness, but the damage has already been done. They turned my own mother against me. They have made me paranoid and suspicious of everyone around me, my anxieties over my own inadequacy greater than ever.
Returning "home" to my mother's was not what I was expecting. She's suffered a relapse in her hoarding (see for yourself here) and my good old 'friends' convincing her to believe I had nothing but ulterior motives ultimately led to me needing to move on.
This year, I have reached the point where I considered myself an actual suicide risk. I did not make any attempts, but I had resigned myself to the concept, and in fact more than any grief, the concept gave me a sense of great relief. It's been almost a year since I've seen a therapist, and I desperately need to find a new one, even as my capacity to do literally anything is fading more with each day. Officially and by technicality I have been homeless since I left my husband. Just a few weeks ago, I spent a week on the actual streets.
I regained my will to live, but voluntarily going to a homeless shelter was preferable to where I was living. For the next month and a half, I have a temporary refuge with some of my boyfriend's relatives until they move out of state in June. I'm currently suffering a pretty terrible bout of anemia (I assume, based on my history and the symptoms) but I'm hoping to figure out a way of applying for welfare benefits, that is if I can decide upon an address to use.
And the blog post I actually wanted to write on fears and death will have to wait for another time when I am less tired.
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