Relaspe

I went to a writing workshop on the weekend. I was terrified a) because they were all strangers b) because they were all writing real books and c) because my blog is pretty...what's the right word? Brutally honest? Touchy-feely? Sometimes embarrassing? Silly?

Plus, it's not some crazy figment of my imagination, with made up people and places. It's all 100% true. I haven't even changed people's names!

I received more positive feedback than I expected, some constructive critism, and everyone agreed that it would make a very interesting novel. It's always strange to have to explain to someone new (quickly!) how everything came about - the religion, the marriage, the affair, the starting over almost completely alone. But I came home feeling happy, then had my brother and some friends over for a nice dinner for his birthday. It's been forever since I've had a dinner party, I was happy to be back in the kitchen for an evening.

My mother dropped by to drop something off, we had a nice exchange and a hug. And then I don't know what happened, but I definitely had a relapse. I don't know if it was talking about the past at that workshop, or seeing my mom or the premonition that I would run into Adam this week (today, at lunch). Whatever it was, all that old anxiety, sadness, fear, guilt, anger came back. With a vengeance.

I cried all day yesterday, didn't sleep, had about a dozen panic attacks. My hands were shaking, I was sick to my stomach. I think I even had a fever. The worst part of when these "relapses" hit, I can't control them. I can't even put my finger on what triggers them in the first place, it never happens because I'm sitting around brooding about the past, it comes seemingly out of my self-conscious, usually in the wake of a couple of bad dreams.

I was sitting at lunch with Chris, who was holding my hand for the millionth time while I completely melted down, when Adam walked in.

Living/working/existing in a two block radius of the man who completely shattered your heart can be exhausting. If I run into him on a good day, it's really ok. But on a bad day, watch out. I'm not sure what message the universe was trying to send me, but I'm grateful to have had someone who loves me by my side when it happened. Lots of talking and hugs later, the anxiety is almost completely gone. Two days isn't bad, considering I used to have panic attacks every day, and spent the majority of my time crying. You can be much more efficient at work if you learn how to cry quietly at your desk, instead of in the washroom. :)

I talked to two of my good friends this afternoon who walked away from the religion like I did, and both of them are still dealing with bouts of anxiety and depression, deep seated from the shunning and abandonedment and the "conditional love". But we're all getting better. And at least we're in it together now.

And I have Chris, who told me today he's sure there was some important reason we came into each other's lives. He said he had to make a decision a long time ago whether to walk away or work through all my crazy. And he decided to stay (I imagine he understimated how much crazy I had to throw his way). And it's been more than a year now, and I finally trust that he's not going anywhere, no matter what I do at this point. Undeconditional love, what a novel idea.

He said today a big part of the problem is just not having the ability to do that for myself. He said that part of me that I still hate has been through a lot. And is still healing, still hurting, still scared. I need to find a way to stop being ashamed and instead learn to love that part of me as well, so I can protect it from any further harm and help it heal. Not completely, because I think the big ugly scar will always be there. But maybe instead of being ugly, someday I'll feel pride and respect for the epic battle it survived.