I am the Queen of disjointed thinking. I like your hat! :-D

Well there’s an exciting title!  I went to Pacific Fair this morning.  I got a hot chocolate, even though it was already 33 degrees.  The lady made polite conversation with me while she made my hot drink. “Anything planned for today?” she asked me with a smile.
“Nothing at all planned today.  Quiet one.” I lied.  I took my hot chocolate and walked away quickly.  I don’t like lying to people, even if the truth is none of their business.  The truth is that I had an appointment in Southport today (I am still in Southport now).  I told my uncle and most of my friends that the appointment was with a psychologist.  This is a safe half-truth.  Here, in the relative anonymity of the international-computer-webby-thing, I will tell the truth, which until now I have only told my Mum, and my very best friends: today I had an appointment with a sexual violence support counsellor.  I hated the thought of going there so much!  I didn’t hate the thought of the appointment, because I knew I’d see my counsellor, a very nice woman.  I just hated that to get there, I would have to go through Surfer’s Paradise, where the incident (which I cannot legally speak about) occurred.  I hate Surfers, which is sad, because I always loved it.  The absolute worst part of the whole thing is that it wasn’t some stranger, it was somebody I trusted.  I trust people.  I just do, and it should be ok to do that!  I hate to hate things, I hate to hate people and places!  I hate that bad things happen to good people.  I hate the word “victim” and I hate the word “survivor”.  Being called a victim makes me sick to my stomach, because every time I hear it I remember what happened.  Being called a survivor, I feel that is a lie, because I’m not through it yet.

I’m going home soon.  I’m dreading going through Surfers, and the traffic moves so slowly at this time of year.

Even some of my good friends think I was unaffected by what happened to me, because I can laugh and joke, and I can talk about sex, and I can have sex, but that’s not how it works.  I was already scary and broken and damaged, but now I’m scared I’ll never be fixed, and that’s the truth.

That was my day.  I have no more room for hate here, so

Signed with love,

The Pretty Kitty.

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Comments on: "This was my day:" (2)

  1. I wish that I had clever words that could help you. I am struggling to type something here that doesn’t sound trivial or useless. So I will just leave you with a hug xox

  2. Katie said:

    Hope it was good for you to see the counselor. How unfortunate that you have to walk through that place to get there. ❤ ❤

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