Another ‘poor me’

I made the rare and terrifying decision to share my blog on Facebook yesterday. 

I’m not sure what prompted that decision, it wasn’t a long considered thought process. Perhaps if it had have been I wouldn’t have done it. I think perhaps a part of me knew I was reaching my end and it was a cry for help. I think the facade of carrying on and acting ‘relatively’ normal or hinting that there were some troubled waters just wasn’t enough. 

To take the hit from the CPS, to take that exposure, the violation, the loss of control – I had to regain something. I wanted to go to people that had already expressed their care and concern for me and say look, look what’s happening here. I’m lost. I’ve been broken down systemically. By a fellow human and now by a system that’s meant to protect us. I want to expose my raw soul, cry out my lived terror, my frustration, the ongoing battle and then my war cry. To MY people. 

I wanted to say, this IS me, PLEASE KNOW ME, please still accept me, PLEASE WALK WITH ME.

The things I’ve been trained not to admit. A sign of weakness. 

But I’m missing flights when I’m sat at the fucking gate, I’m driving the wrong way without realising, I barely sleep, I have poor concentration, I think about death as a peaceful rest. 

There are a myriad of other things too, here’s a few that whilst aren’t dramatic are an integral part of my daily routine 

  • I can’t shut the bathroom door 
  • I’m scared of the dark
  • I have panic attacks at least twice a week
  • I battle the old urges to self harm almost daily 
  • I have obsessive daily routines that I must complete before leaving the house
  • I can disassociate and lose hours, and pieces of conversation 
  • Sometimes I think I’m being followed
  • I’m always scanning my environment for a threat ALWAYS, I can never relax
  • I can’t always be touched – not even by the kids
  • I have periods of feeling so dirty I run painfully hot showers and wash with cleaning products

Most of the time I can act normal. I can smile, I pretend I’m fine. Most of my pain is hidden. I could have been up all night but you wouldn’t know. Although recently more people on commenting on tiredness. More people are commenting on the spaced out look. In essence I suppose it’s getting harder to hide.

It’s ugly. I’m ugly. The bitter horrible rejection of society that no one really wants to see or acknowledge.

Well, I’ve put myself out there now.

I’ve heard a few times from my lawyer overnight. My husband is away. I can’t really discuss it with anyone. He’s explained all the legalise with me. It’s detailed. It’s beyond my comprehension. And I have the house to look after and four kids to look after. 

I think the general gist is as already stated, the case can go on or be dropped. Irrespective of progress so far. Which is just fucking great. The lawyer said more things. I think he’s just jazzing it up. Maybe trying to stop me giving him a shit storm – he knows me so well.

Did I mention how fucking tired I was?

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7 thoughts on “Another ‘poor me’

  1. I did similar when I was going through court and although I still don’t really know if anyone read it, it was therapeutic in a way because I knew that if people did they might understand what was going on a bit better.
    Thinking of you. The system is a real fucking bitch. I always said its meant to exist to punish those who commit crimes, but really it’s there to punish those who have experienced crimes by making them feel like a perpetrator, and make life as easy as possible for the criminals involved.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I can’t believe I naively reported the crime and believed the offender would be charged. I had faith in the justice system. I believe in a fair trial. I anticipated an investigation, and then a hearing before my peers. I just my voice heard and a decision of guilty or not guilty based on the evidence. To me, that was the system. Instead, I experienced untrained officers, delays, lost paperwork, chasing things up, doing a lot of work myself, and archaic laws from the 50s. Then the CPS were truly unsympathetic and more concerned with public interest than my case. I had not anticipated any of that. And now, here we go again. It’s an ugly, painful system. I can understand why a lot women don’t go through this. It’s a perpetual nightmare. Trauma over and over. Complete loss of control. I have no idea how many people have seen my case and know what about me. It’s sickening. I have the bare bones of time frames – only just and they can change all the time.

      So I guess my moods, my tiredness, my seemingly ungrateful attitude to life and anger comes across at varying times to friends on social media. And I decided to be honest about everything. I’m also sick of hiding the real me and I wanted to get some control back.

      I figure if people disappear after the revelation than so be it. I need to unburden myself.

      Anyway, hope you and bubba are well, a long awaited for gift. Just so amazing – knew it would happen, you never lost hope xxx

      Like

    1. On the whole very positive and some people privately shared their own stories which blew me away as I never expected or guessed. It felt quite liberating, empowering. I haven’t kept the link there. I deleted it after a while. And I was lucky that as I created a new account it was only a select few that read it. I don’t know who did and who didn’t. Some may have and not said anything – that’s kind of weird. At least on the whole most people will get my posts now and know I’m not just a seriously moody old cow (which I am too!)

      Liked by 1 person

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