GBU

The Good:

There is sunshine.
Our Dogwood tree is pre-blooming.
There was a purring, warm, fuzzy cat perched on my hip.
I've got a lovely home and someone to love & care for/with me.
The garden plants haven't started peeping up yet, but they're trying.

I was lucky enough to see my bff and his wonderful, fantastic kids this past weekend.

The Bad:

I slept on the couch again last night due to poor planning. (fyi: putting a printer on a wheelchair seat and forgetting to put it back when finished = no way to get to bed for me)
My insomnia gerbils were almost gone - alas, they are back.
I am depressed and PMDD'ing and so tired.
Did I mention the PMDD?
Everywhere hurts.
Even there.

The Ugly:

In recent weeks, I became slowly aware of an apparently repressed memory. There were no fuzzy lights, or streaming camera effects to go along with this memory. There are, however, varying degrees of anger, shame, guilt (for nothing, as I did no wrong) and sadness. It is one thing to be assaulted. It is another if that assault is sexual in nature. It becomes a horrid thing when the perpetrator of said trauma is a relative. Who was so drunk they don't remember anything.

Thing, thing. THING. The more one uses a word, the less that word retains its meaning.

I was a thing. More times than I care to number. I still am a thing, in the minds of many.

A disabled thing, a thing with a hole, a useless and worthless thing, a thing to be used, a thing to abuse. A thing to kick, a thing to throw, a thing to beat. Thing, thing, THING.

I am curious if my lifelong guilt complex is related to my thingness. If, by treating every other human (and many inanimate objects) as better than myself, I encouraged the behaviour. I devalued myself, which inadvertently gave silent permission to the world to devalue me too.

If I am to blame for all of this, then...I don't even know how to end that sentence.