[I know I’m still catching up from the archives. So, picture that this one came after this. (If you don’t wanna read that, we had been talking about how I feel so lonely in so many ways, including in romantic relationships.]
I think I’ve mentioned this before – the idea that I like to believe I’m just going through a phase… a hard, sad, rough phase. But like, we all know me! I’m Aurora! I was cool, and I’ll be cool again and we can all just kind of forget this happened to some extent. We can forgive the jitteriness or sadness, hermit-ness, whatever, because we *know* me.
I imagine the day where I’m “perfect” again and I go through almost a “making amends” thing of apologizing to anyone I feel I was too short with or just not attentive enough to. I’ve made some of those apologies, but then I hole up in my room again after being sorry I never make time for someone. Sooooo..,. What does that accomplish? (Nothing.) I want my apologies to be meaningful and show a change. So, you know, I wanna get “fully better,” do my tiny apology tour, and live this wonderful great life.
That’s the dream.
And I always thought that dream was closer than farther.
But then I didn’t get better as soon as I’d hoped.
And there is this very striking thing that dawns on me every so often. We didn’t all know me before. There are people who have *only* met me after I’ve been assaulted – who’ve *only* known me as edgy or jittery or distant (or maybe to clingy depending on the circumstance – the point is, negative things).
And of those people, there are some who don’t even know me anymore. Whether we drifted apart or they moved or whatever, they’re not really around in my life.
And then it makes me realize, I’m not gonna get this cute little apology tour with everybody, because there is no everybody!
There are people who came into my life at a very very low point and they left before I (hopefully) pull out of it. And they’re only gonna know me in that way. They don’t know the good before (or if we’re lucky, the good after).
And that is so overwhelming to me. It makes my life feel more out of control than ever. I am trying so hard to “get better,” but I don’t know how to make it happen faster and the passage of time (and the normal weaving of people in/out) just feels extra intense.
I wanted this gorgeous happy ending in a bow. And maybe my overall story will have that. But a bunch of people won’t see it. If you were following *their* life stories, I’m just a chapter of a sad girl who couldn’t get things together fast enough, who couldn’t get her life back on track.
I know we’re all the hero in our own stories, but in other people’s, I liked to imagine I was at least a fun supporting character, not a sad one or a catalyst or a bad memory or something.
Anyway, that is my selfish post of the day – worried about my own image and what people think… But goodness gracious do I hate the way recovery is turning out.