Not well is the answer.
Picking up from yesterday – I’d planned for it. I came into it with a positive attitude. I was like, “This is the day. I’m gonna be strong. I’m gonna make the most of it.”
And I did.
I had a lot of fun with my friend in the morning. And then I did get a little quiet and distracted by social media. But my workout class was fun. And dropping stuff off at the Bowery was nice too.
And then I did not want to go home that night.
I worked in my office, basically through the night, taking naps on the couch. And even when the late night work they needed me to finish was done, I did not go home.
My work even pays for you to take a cab (or uber or Lyft or whatever you want) to get home safe if you’re going home late. And even still, I was like, “nah.”
Since it happened, I have moved. I have gotten a completely new bed – completely new. New mattress, new bed frame, new sheets. I haven’t spoken to the perpetrator in months (probably about 3 months). There was literally no reason I could not have gone home, or shouldn’t have felt safe going home.
But I didn’t want to.
So, I didn’t. I stayed in my office.
I did go home Friday. And by that point, I was so exhausted, I fell on my bed and slept and slept and slept.
And then I woke up feeling very overwhelmed. And that feeling hasn’t really dissipated yet.
It just sucks. And I definitely think I have more to say about it in the upcoming week.
For now, I guess I’ll give my broad overview thought about it which is that all of last year, I had the comfort in knowing my “old life,” my “normal self” was less than a year ago.
“Well, last year at this time, I ran an ultramarathon! A 50-miler.”
“Well, last year at this time, I was having a grand ol’ time with people I loved.”
“Well, last year at this time, I ran my fastest half ever!”
“I got my dream job.” “I finished 52 volunteer activities in 52 weeks.” “I started 52 performances in 52 weeks.” “I was sightseeing like a boss.” “I was so fit and small and full of energy.”
All these things – all these glorious wonderful things.
When I could say, “Last year at this time, this was happening…” none of it seemed too terribly far from me… It all felt like it wasn’t toooooo far away from who I was now. ‘Cause come on. If just last year I was running a 50-miler, how much could I have fallen out of shape? If it was just last year that I was finished up 52 volunteer activities in 52 weeks, how far away could I really be from being this community-minded helper. If it was just last year that I was doing 52 performances in 52 weeks (and having a paid acting gig), how far away could I really be away from that?
2015 had been an amazing year. And as I felt that the “me” I’d really strived to be – the one who’d grown so so so much since her open-heart surgery & quitting school days – was still within reach… I felt like I could still “be” her…
You know? Barely being able to make it out of bed in the morning because I cannot stop crying from a nightmare that’s so real? That’s a phase, obviously. Just a phase. That’s not who I am. I mean, didn’t you hear that just last year I was handling a whole boatload of things?
Not feeling comfortable around men? A phase! Gotta be.
Skipping workout classes because I’m overwhelmed by being around people or by going outside in New York – or honestly, because I just feel so down because I don’t have the energy? Phase, phase, phase.
We are officially out of that safe beautiful lovely time period where I could say, “Well, just last year, I was doing this.”
Now it’s, “Just last year, I was sobbing uncontrollably behind a building at Sea World because his name kept being mentioned in my tour group.” “Just last year, I cried during a sex with a very very sweet man who did nothing to make me uncomfortable, because I could no longer handle a man climbing on top of me.” “Just last year, I let some fun adventures go by the wayside because I did not feel I could handle doing them.” (And on and on and on.)
So, now it doesn’t feel like a phase anymore.
It feels like I changed.
And I can work on that – I can work really really hard on that. I am working on that. I’m in individual therapy, and I’m in group, and I’ve committed to running a lot – which I know is very good for me. I can try my freaking best to come back to “normal.” And I promise you I will try so hard.
But my god, in this moment, it is so so so so so so so so so painful to feel so disconnected from the life that was mine – that I really loved. And it feels like it’s a lightyear away.