part 129, or "with love, TTFN"

I have been feeling better and better about so many things. This past year has really yielded a lot of hope for me. For the first time in my life, I am facing an existence free of constant reminders of what I have done and what others have done to me. I am getting closer and closer to leaving this hell hole behind, and having my own life to live in a place I can call home.

As things have been falling into place these past few months, I am feeling less compelled to write in this blog. Don't get me wrong - I have been writing on my new anonymous blog, and have also written a short story I will be submitting to a contest. I am excited about how my writing has evolved from something I was compelled to do into an experience I sincerely enjoy.

The short story contest I am entering has made me realize that I can write short stories and enter them into contests in a relatively simple and inexpensive manner. Blogging has gotten me to the point of accessing my emotions deeply enough to put them into words in 1,000 to 1,500 word instalments, and then continue to function in the present. That's pretty much what short stories are, right?

I used to read my blogs...it was so strange seeing my thoughts and feelings and pain and torture and growth all laid out in a public diary. Every now and then, I would start from my first post and read every entry to that date. I stopped doing this after about twenty posts, though, because that is a lot to read and I already know what it says, so what is really the point?

I also have gotten to a place where I can write about all of this shit, post it online, and leave it behind. I have gradually stopped ruminating about every detail I have revealed about myself and my experiences, and learned to just spit out whatever it is that has been pressing my mind, and then let go of it and appreciate the relief from a little bit more darkness.

I cannot express how important this blog has been to me, and to my recovery. Beyond the catharsis of getting my troubles out of my head, I have thrived on the encouragement of people I had not spoken to in decades, and acquaintances revealing their similar grief, and complete strangers letting me know my words made them feel stronger. It has truly been a miraculous gift.

I have made so much progress since I have started putting it all out there, but it has been about only one facet of my life. I know I have mentioned that there were other things my dad did, and that I witnessed and experienced, but have not been able or willing to share any of that with the world. My obsessions and fixations have gradually come to center around these other events, and images, and feelings, and horrors. I think that is largely due to the fact that I have been keeping them all so close to me, and not setting them free into cyberspace.

This is where my anonymous blog comes in. In many ways, writing in that blog is like starting over again, like I have to go through the same processes with these other things that I did with what I wrote about here. It is really difficult. I have the time and the space and the stamina and the ability to make that effort, though. This blog has gotten me to this point.

So I guess this would be a good place to leave this tome of misery and hope, just as I am leaving behind the initial recovery phase and so much of the pain of my past. It is time to move on.

So, um, yeah.

Thank you readers, for giving me this opportunity to heal. I am eternally grateful to you, the recipients of the angst and joy of the past few years. Thank you for helping me to love who I am, and I have every hope that each of you are loving who you are, too.

<3 class="goog-spellcheck-word" span="span">Rebecca