Tuesday, June 14, 2016

I am struggling tonight.

This is going to be a triggering post, please don't read it if you're feeling fragile or annoyed or affected by Orlando. I've been holding off writing it all day because no one needs to hear my broken ramblings, but I just need to blurt it out now because I'm suffering with a weird combination of anxiety and grief and self-pity and I'm not sure what else to do with it. I don't have a therapist yet, and I don't have any drugs, and I don't have anyone to give me a hug. This is what I have.

I'm struggling no more than anyone else is, I'm sure. Certainly far far less than anyone affected by the Orlando shootings. Or anyone gay, who has such an emotional stake in what happened, who feels hated or hunted and vulnerable in their places of community and safety now. Less than the angry, bitter journalist I follow on Twitter who is so enraged at straight people, his straight friends' lack of mention of the incident, their calls of 'don't forget the allies!' who were in Soho last night at the vigil. His blame... it's All Our Fault. My fault?

Or there's my facebook friend, who is heavily pregnant, and enraged at me for having a brief rant about stupid, blind gunlovers - how dare I pollute her feed, and everyone else's, with their ugliness? What's the good in that? Why don't I post about the victims and who they were?


maybe just stop sharing such negative bullshit media/memes from crazy facebook pages and the like. (how the fuck are you even finding them unless you're following them in the first place?!)
why fill up your own facebook wall, and others with crazy, negative, ugly shit?
just. fucking stop for a second.
there's enough of it on the fucking tv.
share some love. share something positive. share pictures and stories of the lives of the people that lost their lives in Orlando, instead of the monster that killed them.
Stop glorifying murderers.
fucking stop.
god. damn it.

That's positive? When you go look at the 49 faces of those people who were torn from their lives, you find out about the hours of terror and agony they suffered. You find out about the phone calls and texts they made before they died. Who would be a mother? To receive a last message that says Mom Mom Mom Mom or Mommy they shooting I'm gonna die and begs you for help, to save them... and you can't? I can't bear it. I can't bear to feel those parents' horror and fear, to think of them hearing this, and rushing down there, to wait for a day to see if their child's name is on a list of the dead. I can't bear to think of people lying on a bathroom floor in the blood, trying to escape and live and ... the idea of having that message on my phone forever. Those calls for help. This is what is there, when you go to read about the nice, sweet people who died.
 I am triggered, but I'm not sure what by, exactly, or how this related to me, other than that I feel it, and I can't stop crying. I am snot and aching face muscles and I'm trying to eat my feelings and it's not working.I am a pain in my chest and a heart clenched in fear and misery and oh, god, I would rather be angry with sick, stupid asshole redneck fuckbag neanderthals who perpetuate this evil shit with their tiny minds and lack of understanding, than feel this way. I would rather rage at them then be on the other end of those calls or on the floor in the blood, while wishing to god I had never had children and what was I thinking?

I have to try and finish this work, now, that I have been putting off forever, the way I always do because I am  this paralysed, non-functional person who can't manage normal life. I wish this would abate. 


5 comments:

Ms. Moon said...

Yes. You ARE probably concentrating on something so big you cannot possibly be responsible for doing anything about it. This is something I do frequently. But, oh, how sad I am that you're going through whatever you're going though. It sounds dreadful and horrible.
Do you have an appointment set up with a therapist? Jo. It is time for you to be able to share these things with someone, to relieve some of the burden which you are carrying and which is not yours to carry.
I love you, woman. Hang in there. Do what you what you have to do. Know things will get better. I promise.

Jo said...

Thank you Mary. Thanks for reading. I didn't really want you to because I know how hard this is for you to deal with too. I'm waiting for this therapist to get back from holiday... should be soon.

Anonymous said...

Yes, therapist, but also? I'm sorry to say it but your Facebook friend appears to have been a bit of a bitch. I mean, it's your Facebook account for you to post, share and comment as you wish. If she and her ilk don't want to read it, there is an extremely convenient unfollow button! I swear, it's micro-aggressions like hers that make sensitive people feel crazy. Perhaps she is feeling hormonal, but no excuse. The idea that your Facebook should reflect her shiny, happy (slightly moronic) feelings! There is plenty to feel angsty about going on in the world currently, so why should you follow her down her delusional rabbit hole and immerse yourself in her important ponderings of nursery d├ęcor and cute little onesies FFS. Holy self-centered!

Hang in there. I like reading the authentic and intelligent thoughts of a woman like you.

-invisigal

Jo said...

Ha! Thank you invisgal, your righteous support comment seriously made my day. <3

Jo said...

In fairness to said friend, she's not a nursery and buggy type at all, far more a hippy artist type of person. I see where she's coming from, I do, but I agree with you about the misguidedness.