Grappling

[angela_n_hunt]

Woof. Slept for over twelve hours last night. I could have woken sooner, but I didn’t want to. I was just so damn tired. I need to keep an eye on that though.

Found my running shoes. I appear to have buried them. I thought the dog had absconded with them, but apparently that was all me. Fucking resistance.

* * *

So. Therapy. Therapy is kicking my ass. We have gotten to the subject that I am tired of, but apparently isn’t finished.

My mother.

I’m grappling with the idea that my mother is a narcissist. Which made me wonder. Can two narcissists marry each other? I’ve always known that my father was one. Classical type. That just seems weird. But when I went to do research, yeah. Happens. And when it does… It’s fucking bad.

Quelle surprise.

So here’s the problem. I don’t want to talk about Evelyn with my therapist, because for fuck’s sake, can’t I be done talking about that fucking bitch? Can’t I ever get free of her? Can’t it be fucking over already?

…

Apparently not.

So.

As much as I never wanted to give a single inch of text to her except in passing, I’m letting that go. Because buried under that is guilt and fear and resistance. Guilt for “bad-mouthing” my primary abuser, fear that she will somehow read what I write and punish me (which is fucked up CRAZY, I’m a grown ass adult with two black belts), and resistance… I don’t know.

That’s why I’m in therapy.

But the only way out is through.

I am ready, Goddess. Show me the way.