The Trauma Fairy Did It.

I dreamed about a cat I had as a kid today. I wasn’t very nice to him. I didn’t know how to take care of him and I abused him. I scared him and made him feel trapped and I probably hit him or threw him at times too. Needless to say he didn’t like me very much but in the dream he came up to me and rubbed against my legs. He let me hold him in a way he never did in real life.

If we have nothing else we have still the certainties of time, death, and gravity.

I feel so ashamed right now for still struggling with what I went through because everyone else has moved on. The more I look at myself the more I realize how much is wrong with me and it’s going to take a really long time to ever fix myself.

Toxic positivity and false optimism were tools my father used against me for years. He made me wish I was dead, or that he was dead, or both and then he’d say things like “Life is good!” or “Don’t worry, be happy!” or “Smile!” like he was mocking me.

It’s important to find time to cry. That’s what I did today. That’s my grand achievement. But I never have time to cry anymore. There’s no time just to feel things without explaining it to anyone. Crying is obscene and humiliating and private so I don’t do it if I can help it and then I feel ashamed.

If this year has taught me anything it’s that I’m a real piece of shit. I’m still kind of hoping that I could be less of a piece of shit but I don’t really know how. So I guess I’m doing this therapy thing now.