Trenches
Good evening, patients. I’ve been on autopilot a lot this week, so I haven’t really had the will to blog. I do plan to fill out the days I missed soon.
I’ve fallen back into the trenches of missing my groomer, and I’m not too sure why. He’s a disgusting person and refuses to grow. He doesn’t believe what he did was wrong. Maybe it’s because I know he’s been stalking me—getting my page taken down and getting me banned on Spring as a last “fuck you,” using Rentry even when he knew it upset me, just because he was “bored.” I genuinely thought he cared for me, even if it was just a little bit. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
He’s still blocked everywhere, and I have no plans to contact him. It’s just strange—him doing these small things. I wish there was a way to mentally process it all, but every time I’m told, “You should take a break,” I start pulling my hair out. I am already listening to my therapist and working on it, but it’s not something I can just turn off and on.
Having to explain how I feel to people, basically to defend myself, is getting annoying too. People cope in different ways, and I haven’t done anything bad, but I’m still being lectured every two minutes. They aren’t even in the same boat as me, just assuming they would handle this better because it’s them. I’m so tired of people holding expectations for me.
I was told by a complete stranger that they understood how I felt—they had someone in their life like mine. It made me feel better, not disgusting, for going back to someone who harmed me. I’ve told people that I do harmful things to myself, and yet they act surprised.
Being told by someone who hurt you that they want to be in your life, that they want to help you, promising to change, that they’ll never leave you—how can I simply get over that and just not talk about my own feelings? I hate being dependent on someone; it makes me physically ill. I always try to leave, but I couldn’t this time. I can’t just do piercings, it seems.
I’ve gone backwards. I feel like I need someone harmful in my life again. I physically hate thinking, “What would happen if he came back?” because I don’t know what I would do.