More nightmares, every few weeks, and only more common now I have S. Not sure why that should be except that maybe as I’m learning to trust him I’m stripping myself bare of a lot of things, and my injuries are open to the air once more and it’s like ripping off so many plasters or something. Because I have to trust him, because any kind of sexual activity with him has a meaning, and so yes, I guess I’m evaluating meaning and choice and guilt and blame and he sees everything of me, so is it any wonder if sometimes I am reminded of T, merely because of the absolute contrast between that experience and everything I have now? To feel safe and happy I have to let go, and to let go I have to trust and be honest with S and with myself.
So yes, the first time I met him I had one of those nightmares, and I’ve had a few bad days, and then he woke me up in the middle of a very bad night the other night and I just dived into his arms and held onto him for dear life. You can’t bury these things, sometimes. Perhaps I can deal with this and get over it for good, now.
I’m hoping I might be able to leave this blog again for a while soon – the last few weeks have been a rollercoaster ride; but I don’t think I’m unwell, as such. It’s more that adjusting to changes like this is difficult, and I’m having to confront a lot of things about myself, and I don’t always like what I see, so I’m having to grow up a lot, which is definitely a good thing. Growing pains are to be expected, even if that does mean bad days and panic and fear and wanting to be infantilised and looked after some times, and being just a bit attention-seeking on the internet every now and again. It’s a stupid kind of dealing with the hand I’ve been played, and I’m a bloody idiot and I annoy myself witless, but I’m alright.
Perhaps that’s what I really came back to say: look, I’m all growed-up, I can haz boyfriend, this is a bit scary and I’m freaking out a bit and sometimes that brings up things I’d rather not think about and sometimes I have the most god-awfully black days is that normal is that normal is that normal oh wait yes it is normal and maybe not every day will be super-happy-fun-times but some days are and it’ll get better and I’ll be less shy and less of a scaredy-cat and learn to grow and trust and have confidence in myself and him and even if it ends tomorrow I’ll still have learnt something.
I am normal, and that is, frankly, fantastic. Or rather, I am a work in progress, and yes, alright, I admit it, I am probably going to go back to counselling once I’m back at university, give it another go, but that doesn’t make me ill, or mad, it just means I’m taking responsibility for myself, and accepting that I don’t always find things easy.
