It is amazing how unpredictable the effects of #PTSD can be. One moment I can be totally unaffected, as if the turmoil from my relationship with Writer and my childhood never existed, and the next moment frozen, unable to function in even the most basic ways. It is getting easier.
I could try to sweep it all under the rug, pretend it never happened. I was trained to do that throughout my life. One can function in denial. Only that leaves you more vulnerable in the future.
I continue to work with my counselor (a specialist for families of sex offenders), and with a survivors group.
Never having learned to value my own needs, and being conditioned to place everyone else’s comfort above my own is difficult to overcome. I was taught that I was responsible; where I should have been protected, I was placed in the role of being protector. No child deserves that violation. But as children we had no voice. We had no choice, and even where we might have had a choice, were not aware that we had the power to make it.
I am slowly learning to reclaim my power.
Writer was by today. He repaid what was left of the significant amount of money I had invested in him for pursuing an internship that never came, the job that would have given him the income to contribute to our household going forward. It was less than half of the total. Now I need to reflect on if it will serve me to pursue the remainder.
He has the income to pursue new relationships – He never had actually deleted his OKC account as he had claimed, only placed it in vacation mode so it would be easily resurrected. I pray that he does not hurt his new love interest, especially because she is not in additional relationships at this time and he has a way of being very desirable – showing only the facets that he believes will keep the woman hooked, while being secretive about his own desires.
I was able to remain pleasant. Hearing about his writing progress, and potential work opportunities. He says his counselor may only have him back for one more session – they have been exploring his view of women in general, though have not broached his making amends to his victims. I told him I would appreciate if he were able to make amends to my son and his girlfriend – that it would go a great way to healing the rift he created in my family that continues to hurt me. I know his healing needs to focus on him, and I cannot make him help me heal.
I was shaking near the end of the short visit. I had not thought of taking a xanax before his arrival. I did ask him for assistance with holding a cabinet while I screwed it to the wall, even after I was shaking, and he was willing. I gave him a trash bag with a couple more small items if his that I had come across. And he was gone, without a hug or a kiss or a handshake.
So the chapter of my life where he ever *has* to enter my thoughts could be over. I will spend some time reflecting and assessing if the value of seeking the remainder of the investment outweighs the benefits of being able to turn away from the past and move forward only with my own needs in the forefront. If his novel ever is published, perhaps I will even read it, knowing that at least I had a positive influence in that.