Wednesday: Today I’m grateful for feeling…
Grief over Ludvig and the sense of family I lost in the wake. I think I’ve been intentionally not looking at the calendar in any significant way for weeks now but here it is, the day before his 2nd death anniversary. It explains all the poor sleep, the occasional bad food choice, the latent despair I’ve been feeling pressing down on my body. Had I just admitted it was July, I could have bypassed the sourcelessness of these feelings and held myself in the grief. Now I know, now I feel, and it fucking sucks. 2 years doesn’t make any sense.
Used and unheard after a conversation with Ludvig’s wife. It was our first time catching up in a year and a half. At first it felt like being wrapped in a familiar blanket, like coming home, to hear her voice. But it was all downhill from there. 2 hours of almost entirely a monologue and a lot of it was bullshit, bigamy, or an insult to Ludvig. She’s been losing her friends and I feel used, like she just really needed someone to gossip to and pulled me up as her last resort. She asked very little about my life and when I did answer it felt like she wasn’t truly listening, but rather she was processing just enough to give me a quick response. The worst part is I feel like this is how it always was, I just didn’t know any better at the time.
Disappointed in myself for how I let that happen to me. I’m currently working on self-compassion about it, so at least I can do something about this feeling. It was awful, I felt so trapped and incapable of extricating myself, setting a single boundary, or asserting an opinion when she said something l didn’t agree with. I felt so steamrolled and spineless. I even agreed that we’d talk soon when she brought it up – why did I do that?!?! Obviously I won’t, I’ll figure out how to word a text that sets my boundaries. I just wish I had been able to do better, be more assertive. My nails, which have been long and strong the past couple weeks, took several hits through the habitual stress of that convo.
Sad for the twins, for her, for everyone. They don’t seem to be doing well and I’m so angry at him for making shit like this. I think it just exacerbated what was already there but definitely created more issues. Both kids feel unloved no matter how much love you give them and Bela, Ludvig’s wife, has upped her martyr complex to a dangerous maximum. And I feel so fucking guilty for doing well, even though I know I made a conscious choice to use his death as a springboard, and it took enormous work to get where I am. It feels like survivor’s guilt.
Devastated, emptied, and refilled with overwhelming fury. I hit an emotional rock bottom today after an SIA meeting. Today’s topic was a rare one on sexual behaviors and everyones shares were so deep and fucking horrific. Their parents committing crimes so twisted and creative, they were unimaginable on their own. But to their own children?? I pushed myself to my deepest point and shared my fear of men pleasing themselves. It knocked me on my ass. I couldn’t hear any of the shares that followed, I was not in my body at all. It was the first meeting ever that I didn’t take my second share. I jump-roped for two songs, then went straight into the scheduled call with Bela and felt ripped open. Then everything tumbled into place: my history, the way I related to some of the other survivors shares, my behaviors, and I was granted access to a memory. It’s so fucking perverse, I can’t believe anyone could do that to a child. I’m so angry I can barely move. I pushed my table so hard my knuckles are bruised, I screamed and screeched and screamed some more. There’s a relief to finally knowing, to having one of the last puzzle pieces, to understand. But that relief means nothing in the face of a violation that large. I feel like a husk.
Feelin’ good…
- Loved and supported. Cubu was an absolute gem: knowing when to hold me, when to let me punch things, when to leave me alone to scream. I worry I’m giving him second-hand PTSD from this process but don’t know how to stop that. I called my recovery partner to tell her my memory and she was perfect. It took minutes of me sitting there trying to get a word out and she just sat there in the silence with me. She listened, empathized, I felt held. I’m so grateful to have people I can trust in an emergency.
- Successful and grateful. We had our last volleyball games before the finals today and I was so filled with fire, I knew I NEEDED to get it out. 10 minutes after confessing to my recovery partner in the car, I played my best games ever. All that rage went into focused, manic, mindless athleticism. Every high five from my teammates felt like a slap to my father, it was such a reward. I’m grateful to have excellent teammates and to have access to an activity that speaks to my soul.
