Thank you all for your concern, I seriously thought about taking that post down, and even did for a few minutes. But let me clarify instead.
I wasn’t upset about being alone and not having anyone to hang out with. An evening alone in the apartment without my roommate and her boyfriend around is something I absolutely savor.
Instead, while looking for an incident in one of my old journals (really, the ONE time I didn’t write everything down… so frustrating) I ended up looking through those from my early twenties and I just couldn’t believe the insecurity and negative self-image I found on those pages. I know I wasn’t happy then, but I managed to block out just how bad it was.
On New Year’s Eve there was an incident of domestic violence at the hotel. The girl was taken to the hospital, the guy fled, we have to get the blood out of the carpet. Last night, J. and I realized that when she came back to pick up her luggage the next day she was with the guy who did it.
“That’s a shame,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you want out of that situation??”
“Because they get so far into your head you think it’s your fault. You know what pushes their buttons and you should have avoided it. You feel like you brought it on yourself,” I explained.
Because it’s true. That’s how you feel. It’s certainly how I felt on rare occasions. And the fact that I was weak enough to even let it happen is what I was mourning. And now I have even greater appreciation for how much I’ve grown, how much stronger I am, how far I’ve come.
(Because I know it will come up, there is no actual hitting in my past, more of an angry wrestling. Arm twisted behind back and forced to the ground. It was rare that I even walked away with bruises, though my bathroom door and my car were not always so lucky. I am not at all comparing my situation with the poor guest this week, but it has certainly made me think.)