I am trying so very hard. And it’s all just so slow-going…
I think about the people who have gone through *such* hardships.
Any part of what I’ve gone through, somebody else has. It’s not just the assault that’s part of the problem. It’s all the stuff surrounding it. But everyone has been through all of it.
What? I’m upset about the “loss” of the life I thought I’d have in New York? Think of the people who’ve felt bigger losses. Paris Jackson lost her dad. Forget some program or dream of a city. Think about what she went through. And she’s out there being this kind, tough, successful, cool model.
I’m upset that sexual assault dude kind of wore down my confidence? Think of all the kids bullied all throughout school who move on and become successful.
For every tiny piece of it – for embarrassment, lies I was told, assault, all of it – there are people who’ve been through every single piece of it, no matter how you slice it.
And then, when you focus on the assault part itself, I’m amazed – flabbergasted – by the number of people I’ve met who’ve been assaulted. There are so many cases in which I never would’ve known. People are so “normal.” They’re fun and funky and cool. And then I find out this horrific thing happened to them. (There are so many truly just horrifically awful stories.)
And yet, they grow up and trust people and learn to sleep and all of that.
And maybe this should actually make me excited and happy. People get better.
But if people get better… Why aren’t I getting better?! How am I the weakest of everybody?