When I was 18 my on-and-off boyfriend finally admitted he had cheated on me. "Only twice. One was pregnant so that doesn't count." Oh, he said he totally used a condom (while we didn't).
That is how I brought in the New Year. A fractured
coccyx, a drunk boy passed out on my bedroom floor (great party) he was oozing blue drool on my carpet, and W.D. finally admitting to cheating. Lucky me, we were already broken up.
That didn't stop my lack-of-reality-vision from loving him. The story is SO FUCKED UP.
*!*!*
Last night I had a dream that woke me up in the middle of the night (more middle than my 2am bedtime). It was so awful that I couldn't bear it and had to wake up. Even then I couldn't shake it and wondered if ...
Jukebox was cheating on me?!
Of course not, but this dream was very jarring. So I replayed the dream over and over (not helping me go back to sleep) to see why it was in my head. I finally made a connection to W.D. And it made much more sense.
Back then, since I didn't have healthy coping skills and I didn't have a healthy self image, I just buried W.D. cheating on me along with all the other garbage he brought to my life. And since we were buddies again for a brief year 5-7 years later, I thought I had forgiven him for being a total douche.
Now I am revisiting some terrible things he did to me and the desire to protect him is falling away, revealing an ever-present truth I was blind to:
He is a giant piece of shit.
*!*!*
So I'm a bit tired today from my wild dreams, having had to get up early for a shoot, but I have much more to be grateful for. Jukebox, for one. And for two, starting to clear some more cobwebs out of my scrambled head.
Labels: jukebox, mental health issues