Too, too many thoughts in my brain, all fighting for their moment in the sun. My brain will not stop, EVER, not until I finally am able to fall asleep, and often not even then, I can’t always get my thoughts out. It’s often frustrating.
I’ve learned some additional information about his activities during the time we were together, which is making me question my people-reading skills all over again. Not to mention all the concerns that pop up when I stop and wonder whether it will be safe, wise, remotely possible to trust someone again any time soon. And I’ve spent a bit more time alternating between sad and angry. Always a good time.
I have realized a few things, or at least thought up a few more things to ponder in my never-ending insomnia. Which, just for your information, is my natural state, not something that has occurred after the late unpleasantness. I shun sleep. Until the alarm goes off and I’ve only been asleep for two hours, then I LOVE sleep. But then it is too late, of course.
First thing: I thought I was safe with him, but in reality I was vulnerable. I am feeling vulnerable in hindsight, and feeling vulnerable makes me self-conscious and vaguely uncomfortable, like I’ve forgotten something that will surely embarrass me once I remember what it is. Which I think has something to do with having to accept his mean and hurtful message about having used me. I feel like he might be sitting around having a good laugh at my expense. Which is ridiculous, really, as I doubt he even gives me a passing thought. Also not a self-esteem booster, feeling discarded and used. Oh well. Nothing overly deep there, just a thought that dashed through my brain on its way to wherever random thoughts end up.
Second thing: I am changed, irrevocably. There is no going back. I can not be the person I was before I met him, and I can not be the person I was five minutes before his wife spoke to me for the first time. It ain’t gonna happen, so the wisest thing for me to do would be to focus on making sure the changes that are inevitable are for the better, and don’t lead to bitterness or jadedness.
And, that’s all I’ve got for now. The rest is, as I said, bouncing around inside my brain, causing me angst and unrest but not being kind enough to funnel itself into something helpful like painting or writing, or hell, even into an obsessive burst of housecleaning.
I think I’ll have a glass of amaretto and curl up with a book. In the meantime, here’s an excellent thought to keep in mind when the other stuff is trying to keep you down.