So- I am trying to resist my feelings of failure that result from being pressured into creating a blog and then allowing life to take over, interfering with posting on said blog. But it is not working, the resisting.
I am happy that I have a blog. I see myself someday, cozy and secure in my downtown apartment, nestled in my overstuffed armchair with a cup of tea and my laptop, reading through the amusing and childish antics of my past. (SPOILER- here is where it gets... odd) I will be confident and secure in my life- all aspects of my life. I will have a beautiful career working at an urban elementary school. I will have a social life and a social love. He will be (everything) that I want him to be. I will be involved in the community and feel each day like I had a hand in change. I will understand myself better. I will be looking at graduate schools. I will ...finally... be on track spiritually. I will be taking care of my little brother attending school in my city. I will be saying and thinking and doing a lot of things. Hopefully.
What I am getting at... life changes. A lot.
On October something-or-other, a girl in my apartment complex reported that she had been raped. By a stranger. Wearing a mask. In her apartment. In the middle of the day.
My world fell apart. I know that there are a lot of other life events that can (and will) happen to disrupt my life in a more significant way, but this felt big. Correction- it was big. It literally changed the way I see the world. I felt victimized and afraid and angry.
Yesterday I, we, everyone, found out that it was not true. It was a false claim. It was a fabrication.
So again I will say...
My world fell apart. I know that there are a lot of other life events that can (and will) happen to disrupt my life in a more significant way, but this felt big. Correction- it was big. It literally changed the way I see the world. I felt victimized and afraid and angry.
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