Sometimes my life can be pretty fucked up.
Now, for instance. I thought I was maybe getting my life on track. I'm working with a program director at a university to develop and instate a program to better serve the students facing particular issues. My partner and I recently decided to start a joint account. We are discussing moving to a bigger place. I've been counseling and mentoring college age kids for the past couple months. I've been happy, healthy, and productive for the past couple of months, for the most part at least.
Then I went and dug around in my past. And here I am at 2 AM, sitting awake, on my computer, listening to forlorn, melancholy, and depressing music because my whole world is turning upside down. Something I believed for a long time, something that profoundly affected my life, fucked me up beyond recognition, and shaped the very person I became to a high degree, may in fact have been in my head. I've come to terms with that part, and I'd rather that be the case, honestly. But how does a person recover from the shock, the realization, that most of their adult life was spent dealing with, coping with, trying to recover from, and learn from... an event that didn't even fucking happen? A dream, a dissociative episode, or just some lie I told myself? The past seven, eight years of my life built from something that... that may not have been reality.
I don't regret where I am. I regret some of the things I did. Some of the things I didn't do. A lot of things I'm doing now are the direct result of my struggles with that incident. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I may never know the truth about what really happened.
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