139 - A God, Hoping

Lin

Hoping, it seems, is all I can do right now.

Hoping that I'll make it through to next Wednesday. Hoping that I'll finally move out. Hoping that someday I'll be able to travel freely again. Hoping that someday, I'll see my godly powers manifest in physical form, through my physical body again...

How much hoping do I have to do before I can get where I need to be?

I can keep a smile on my face for as long as I want to, but the truth will out no matter what I do. 

And that's a part of being neurodivergent - we see no point in being dishonest or running from our feelings most of the time, because what's the point of delaying the inevitable?

Why not face your demons when you have them in your line of sight? You have the advantage.

Yet here I sit, almost in tears again, because I just don't know what to do with myself any more.

Literally, I managed to have some social interaction today with one of our cleaners, and he was really nice. But Gods, did it bring me back into perspective about how lonely I've been.

There are other things on my mind, too, including moving, how safe I am in my house, my godly powers not emerging properly and my lack of ability to do almost anything, fun or not.

Truthfully, I can't even watch TV, despite wanting to. Sure, I watch it in the nemeton. But physically? I can't. Not here.

All this time, I realise that one of the reasons I struggle with being alone is that I've been programmed for so long to give to people, including the voldys, in massively unhealthy amounts, that now that I'm actively doing my best to take care of myself (whilst hanging on by a thread), I feel the pressure on my chest of the guilt I hold for not being the most selfless being alive.

But this whole time, I have been giving to other people - I stay quiet, I give money to charity whenever I order from Deliveroo, I tip the riders (albeit not much), I do my best to say genuinely nice things to them, I spread kindness and goodwill to everyone I can... Maybe, just maybe, I have this all askew - and people should be giving to me, after everything that's been taken from me. Somehow that concept simultaneously rumbles of both selfishness and all I need, purring like a dragon sat on his horde. 

He's awake.

Perhaps me knowing this, or being awakened to it, is exactly what I need.

After all, I've been unwillingly giving of myself for at least eighteen years of my life - and spiritually, I've never had a true break until now. This, albeit annoying process, wherein the vulnerability is like cascading through quicksand, with no safety net; is perhaps what recovery truly is: having no harness to hold you back. No reins to be controlled with in the way the voldys attempted to control me.

Weirdly, I'm now thinking of a man I once knew as a child, who died way too early for it not to be spiritually suspicious.

I remember feeling incredibly safe around him, and he'd carry me on his shoulders on the way to or from school when he was around.

He died of a heart attack not long before I started secondary school.

And not long before rickmansworth began making unwelcome advances into my life.

Now that I look back, I think that man protected me.

I wouldn't be surprised if the man I'm referring to actually confronted rickmansworth at some point for being creepy towards me.

Aye, I remember him. He wasn't having any of it.

Manny takes a seat beside me.

Ye really are having trouble today, aren't ye?

I nod. He hands me a warm bowl of tarragon chicken and vegetables, along with some silverware.

Fill yer boots, lad. Ye'll want the energy.

I shovel a morsel in, and he smiles as I chew. After I swallow, I ask him what he means.

You're going through some emotional upheaval, and I expect you'll want to talk about it.

Again, I nod.

You're ok with that?

He nods affirmatively.

Of course, lad. I wouldn't suggest it otherwise.

So, where do ye want to start?