Recovery Updates: Finding My Way Forward

I’ve said this many times, and I’ll say it again. Recovery is a process, with ups and downs. It’s a messy process.

I’ve had huge jumps forward lately. I’m finally getting out of my apartment more, trying to meet more people. I’m finally starting to be more stable in my finances, and fix holes in my budget (and wardrobe) that have needed fixing in years. I’m finally starting to want to be more attractive again, and not like in university, where since I was raped, I kept myself steadily thinking I’m fine with combination of being drunk when I go out, or being too exhausted and too busy the rest of the time. It’s a process though. Since I started getting depressed the may-june of 2012 after finally admitting myself what happened, I’ve done a whole circle around.

For most things I’m going better, but when it comes to my body issues I go back and forth. While I was depressed I started wearing simple things. Then I gained weight, I started wearing darker things and going out very little. I spend a lot of time wishing I could go back to the weight I had, and planning the clothes I was going to wear when I could afford them.

But I’m not the same person anymore. It’s ridiculous to think I can go from wearing sweaters, sneakers and wide pants to short skirts, high heels and so on. I’m not the same. There is no moving forward until I see that. And I have never really been the short skirt type that much, but I was just starting to warm up to the idea of more attractive and sexy clothes- right before I had a breakdown.

Most of the time I feel older than I am. Most of the times, I’m only hoping to one day go back to who I was. But I am not the same person. Continue reading

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Problem Solving for Anxious People, 15 min at a time

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

In and out. Suck it up and just do it. And and out. Just 30 more min.

What am I thinking of, you’d ask? Going to a battle? Meeting with someone I want to avoid? Breaking in a house?

Nope, nothing like that. And yet, even after these few months, this one small thing still constitutes one of the hardest things I have to do. It’s just some writing, but after months fighting with the idea that either I’m worthless or stupid to get into anything like rape, and finally getting over it, I realize I have other issues.

Problems

“I can see no way, I can see no way…”

It takes me a while to realize this, probably the first 6 months after the summer. I guess it was foolish to think that just because the rape was my biggest issue that summer it was the only or the others will resolve themselves.

Everything is hard now, it all just hurts. Yes. A problem is just a problem. Or so they say. But after 4 months of every problem being related to whether the guy living in my house will hurt me that particular night, or even worse- whether I won’t have money to pay my rent in that foreign to me city, and be left on the street to who knows what and with nothing to eat- every problem feels just as big. Continue reading

The Anatomy of Fractured Souls

I meet a friend recently, who saw my statuses in facebook and somehow managed to understand that I wasn’t okay. I had promised her we will talk in person.

I’m not sure yet if I want to tell her, so I leave it up to feeling.

Deep breath.

We talk long about things, going around the issue. She has heard enough to be aware that something big has happened and I’m struggling going through it.

“I don’t care what it is, ” she tells me.“And whether you will tell me now, or in a year, or in two. All I care is for you to be good and happy. It doesn’t matter what happened. It was in the past, leave it there. It’s over. Do now what will make you happy.”

I look at her for a second, making sure what I will say will be the right thing. Something in her tone tells me she rather doesn’t want to know what happened to me. I can’t blame her. I don’t want to know.

Continue reading

Aftermath: The first week after

Here I am, back, after what feels(or may be is, haven’t checked), a week since I last wrote. I had been doing well for a while with the recovery, so the natural thing happened- I slid back. And it took me a while to contain myself again. Another step forward, finally.

But before that, I finished a post that I never actually published, because it made me sick. Now that I feel better, it’s time for it. Here it is:

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This post I have successfully avoided for a while, too. It wasn’t that I was scared of it or it was hard. Writing the reason I created this blog was harder, for sure. But, in the big scheme of things, the reason for all wasn’t on me. I had regrets about it, but mostly I didn’t feel I was to blame for how things turned out. The next 2 years, despite everything, despite me feeling it wasn’t so, were my choice.

And that’s a choice I’m not proud of.

I’m spending considerable amount of time getting okay with what I did and how I lived, accepting that for the sake of recovering I needed these years. But it was never easy to accept it.

The first week

I was in another country, and my brain knew that what my emotional state was, would be irrelevant if I do not have a job, and stay on the street. One was matter of grief and falling apart, while finding job was a matter of life and death literally, since I was on my last money, an ocean away from anyone I can ask for help. The morning after the rape, my brain had pushed the memories down so much, I remembered nothing- absolutely nothing. It was a missing memory of 1 night- but I was tired lately, and I really didn’t think about it- I had job hunting to conduct. Continue reading