The Lost (Found) Weekend Begins

It’s been eleven hours since I began my hiatus from the world, which means, for me, I have detached from social media by abandoning Twitter, uninstalling Grindr, and I’ve not turned on a television or radio nor used my phone other than to answer texts (and I have started no text exchanges, I am in reply mode only, and, even then, ignoring some people) and I am turning my laptop on only to write and post blogs, not surfing the inter-webs.

Why? Bad dreams. About bad waking. This election is frightening me, pushing buttons, bringing up things I thought I’d dealt with. I get so annoyed with myself: there are people in this world with real problems, and I, who live a life of relative privilege — I have a family and friends who love and support me, a place to live, food to eat, safety — and spent ages in therapy dealing with my bullshit worries and fears, re-booting myself so I operated from the energy of Love and Light, rather than living in fear and darkness,  I ought to be over and past and done with those triggers:

Daddy died when I was 17 months old — abandonment fears —

Physically & verbally abused by family member —

Called names/bullied from first grade through being chased out of school and home at 16 —

Agoraphobia/social anxiety —

Body/slut shame insecurities —

The “not good enough” & “they wouldn’t love me if they REALLY knew me” thing —

— all of which, finally, are founded on a belief instilled in me — NO, not instilled, it isn’t the doing of someone else, I am responsible for my own reality — so, maybe, okay, not a belief, but a nagging-copout-suspicion-self-doubt that I don’t belong here, am not good enough for this club of being, that whatever love or appreciation I receive is coming my way because I have either fooled people/world or people/world can’t have their first (second, third, fourth) choices and so I am the back-up plan, what they’re left with.

And a world in which nearly half the country in which I live can vote for an insane man who operates from a narcissistic platform of hate and attack, energizing the same sorts of people who threw me up against lockers in school, called me faggot in my twenties and chased me down the streets of New Haven looking to kill me, is a world in which I do NOT belong, and do NOT wish to live in.

So, I need to recalibrate here, find a way to understand the fear and hate and ignorance driving those people, focus on the OTHERS, and find some peace. At least my night terrors last night were less violent than the few preceding nights, and I was lucid enough to say, “No, Charlie, remember, you are taking a break, love yourself, love yourself, love yourself.”

It did some good, not a lot, and I gave up at 4:30 and got up. Fed the dogs. And prayed these stomach cramps I’m having don’t last all day. Or, all weekend.

It was — I think — four years ago I decided I needed to take a break from Facebook for a few days and never went back.

We shall see if I return to my life.

 

 

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