When I last posted it was still May. I was already beginning to feel the pull of changes, of the end of Maria's school year, the end of Geoff's break, and the kind of urgency that builds around summer plans. Even in May, it was getting late for making those plans, and at the moment I am reminding myself that even though summer hasn't even begun, it isn't almost over, already.
Because, as the calendar fills, and notifications for the next school year arrive, I feel as though our summer will swoosh by, something like a flash flood, but hot and dry.
Ok. So. I posted enough times about the collision, about court hearings, trauma, frustration. It's been the ongoing saga since December 6th, 2018... a seemingly endless nightmare, figuratively, literally. Last March I signed a settlement. It felt more like raising my arm, feebly, to wave a brave but tattered flag of surrender. Make it stop. Just, please, make it stop.
The hardest part is that I believed it had to be finished absolutely no later than December 2020, and that something would transpire in that time that would release me, feel like vindication, relief. Instead it got harder, lonelier, and thanks to my own insurer, even more twisted, manipulative, deceitful, and drawn out. As of Wednesday, last week, it's done. If I can believe it, trust that nothing will pop-up, surface, or come crashing in, then I will not sign another paper, make another report, take another call, testify, or wait and wait and wait for anything related to the drunk lady driver that drove head-on into my van. At last. But the relief? A sense of freedom or success? It's not here, not like I had hoped, like what I have been fighting for, reaching for. The best I can say for it, is that whatever I can recover, or gain, whatever I can overcome is now in my hands, without any interference or false hope, or abuse from the courts, from lawyers, from insurers. I can appreciate it in a way that I am familiar with, by knowing my bottom-line. All of the outside demands, requirements, expectations were clangorous, filling my head with noise, clouding my thoughts. It was two and half years of trying to personally heal, and being constantly derailed by having to serve others, so that my own healing was on the back-burner, while new traumas were inflicted, and new crises arouse.
With nothing more to expect from the outside, with only me, my injuries, feelings, and thoughts, I feel as though I can take a clear reading, a sort of post-trauma triage. So. The bottom line, today... I have physical limitations that may never heal, I have recurring pain. I stutter. I have memory issues, including amnesia. Riding as a passenger is almost excruciating, and driving is exhausting (I was always a vigilent driver, and it's a helluva a thing to be even more so!) I startle easily, become overwhelmed in crowds, or really with anything that is loud, flashing, unexpected, unfamiliar. And all of this I work to cover, to mask, to compensate for... which means not everyone knows,
and I am tired. I am not giving up on things getting better, I will probably revisit physical therapy, for the rest of my life, and clearly some more talk therapy could help, I hope... all I have to do is muster the energy and courage to start all of that up, again.
I have been addressed for my "oversharing" on social media, and I imagine what I have shared just now might seem like "too much" to some. Writing has helped me, and publishing my thoughts and feelings is part of the help. There may be an explanation for why I post personal things, some psychological reasoning for this process. I think it helps because I sort through the feelings and ideas, because I make myself accountable by being open. I do not talk this much
in person, and I don't harbor ideas about gaining sympathy, or ruminating in my emotions. In fact, writing helps me to stop dwelling, stop lingering and feeling tied up in impressions, theories, attitudes, pity. I wonder, if I am oversharing
, and someone thinks this is too much,
why read this? I don't say that bitterly, only curiously. I've come to admire people that are themselves, that hold their space unapologetically, and love themselves, speak for themselves, enjoy their hobbies, their attractions, their taste in music, or interests that are far from mainstream, or even entirely conventional. The world is hard enough without critics, without judgement, and limiting estimations of others. I don't expect to be everyone's cup of tea,
and I like to believe we deserve space and kindness, to heal however we can, to be happy in our interests, comfortable in our thoughts, positive in our bodies, safe in our amusements.
We have been busy! Good busy... happy, healthy, productive, stimulating busy. And it really is almost summer, and laundry. Yeah, I gotta do some laundry, and cleaning. Real ovesharing?? The real dirt is this... house cleaning has fallen far far behind on my list of priorities. It hasn't even been on my radar. Besides phyiscal limitations, I have been blind to so much, and incapable of managing maintenance, of seeing what's neglected, or coping with a steadily growing To-Do list. I propose a new kind of insurance, even though I have zero faith in, or respect for, insurance, still... I wish I had Re-Set Insurance
. After a life-altering crisis, when everything is "settled" and you have begun to catch your breath, and have a look around at the collateral damages, a life coach and cleaning crew will arrive and restore order, reassess your best approach for managing your time and household needs, and get you back on track. I think I would appreciate the results, but truthfully the process might be too traumatic. I am just going to plug away and keep moving forward, doing my best. It's been ages, but I just remembered the saying I'd often declared... Never give up! Never surrender!
Yes, that bears repeating.
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