Hard days

Of the two paramount trials in my life, one is far easier to handle emotionally. Sadly, this one is no less damaging to my real world “mask.”

My work transition is most damaging in the least important ways. I understand the value of money, but never truly value it. The priceless moments that Master Card talked about are the true mana from heaven. In my mind I can spin this simply: now I have time to work on myself in new and exciting ways; time to build myself up and a flexible freedom to take advantage of what is around me.

It is a testament to my conditioning that this freedom is terrifying. Assuredly, much of that fear is financial, my new job is not a financially steady one. Alas, or maybe not, money is not that great a concern. Humans do like some structure, and few of us are told how to build our own. A job has come to exist for me like shelter in Maslow’s hierarchy¬†of needs. That is over now, at least for a time. Now my time is all my own, I must take charge of it, nothing could be more of a reflection of who I am. It begs the question, do I lose my freedom when I become my own boss, or do I finally achieve it?

My second struggle crushes me still. It dominates my idle time and feasts on my internal dialogue. It makes thought so hard, and has defeated almost all efforts to meditate; something I long to be able to do in this hour. My damage at the hands of my ex still grows: my thoughts probe and always find new sources of pain, outrage and disappointment.

I am so shell shocked that I still have not been able to tell the whole truth to anyone, even the loved ones that my sanity has been so reliant on. Finding out that your rock has been nothing but a house of cards supported by columns of paper tigers is not something I know how to share in much detail.

I think part of me believes that to divulge such explicit agonies would be spiteful, but the truth does not work that way. Part of me is too ashamed that this happened to me, I am confident that I am the victim, but I had chances to make the pain, this pain at least, less brutalizing. Lastly, I am still processing this, still learning that this terrible thing is real, that she could do these things, and was so far from the person she used to be.

I will find a way to be strong alone, but I am not there yet.

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