Yohannon (yohannon) wrote,

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The Saga's Aftermath

Well, whatever else they may do to you, Ambien works. I crashed a mere 10 minutes after taking the pill, only to be awakened by the sound of a ringing phone 4 hours later.

It was Roni. Apparently she got home late last night, after being out of cell range for most of the day, to find phone message from myself, Val, H and S, not to mention copies of the rancorous e-mail exchange between H and Val (I never got around to mentioning its role in last nights upset, but at this point it's moot...suffice it to say H placed the onus for helping us determine his own limits squarely on us, rather himself. He's being such a shit about this!).

So she started making the phone calls, tracking us all down. It appears things have calmed down a bit, with H and S deciding to back down a couple of days to let things cool off.

I hadn't realized how much of this situation was triggering my own feelings toward my past problems, not to mention the lack of resolution over some of the very same behavior that H is exhibiting now. Yeah, I got better...but now I feel like someone who's been a drunk for thirty years and now can't make amends to so many people, long exited from his life.

Roni asked me "Why do this? Why leave your journal lying open to the public, even if it's only to your friends?" A good question. The answer is I need to get over this fear of exposure. Stop laughing! Sure, so I can be gregarious and open, but writing goes a lot deeper. Writing, REALLY writing, can be more intimate than sex...or as shallow as sex, for that matter.

I need to start being completely honest, perhaps in ways that normally makes me uncomfortable or want to run and hide. If I think it's going to be THAT bad, I might restrict it to a group of people, hoping they understand what I'm trying to do...but otherwise, I have to get it out there.

Mentioning the reformed drunk before reminds me of something a therapist told me to do regarding unresolved feelings re: my father. You know, that old "write a letter and bury it" thing. FOr some reason, it didn't work for me...I didn't want to bury those feelings, or set them alight to "release them into the universe". I wanted an audience, people I could express these feeling with a sense of empathy.

Goddess...is that why I'm a writer this time around?
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