Starting over… again

I am about to get real honest with my little ‘summary of the last year’ as I start over… again.

I didn’t go to my graduation. I couldn’t afford the regalia. I regret it a little now, not being able to walk across the stage and have my hard work acknowledged because it truly was grueling. My GPA dropped below the 3.7 I had held throughout my 3 years at university, after the incident. Yet, I managed to finish my bachelors degree. Even through the interrogations from my now ex, boyfriend. I felt unsafe. Around others, alone, out in public and even in my own home. I was terrified of people but especially any male friends.
“What were you wearing?”
“How drunk were you?”
“Are you sure you told him he couldn’t stay there?”
“Are you sure nothing happened?”
Others were shocked and asked, “are you sure you’re not interrupting the situation wrong?” Adding, “that doesn’t sound like him.”
I stopped writing. Turned down acting jobs. I didn’t apply to the nursing program after completing my psychology degree with a minor in public health and all of the prerequisites required, even though that was the plan I had been working toward for years. I felt unsafe, unheard, ignored and the normal feeling of “are you over this yet” leeching off of people was suffocating. Over a decade of therapy, 4+ years of trauma therapy dealing with my bipolar, CPTSD, ADHD, anxiety and severe depression. There I was in another hole like trash trying to fight to get out of it. I’ve cut many people out of my life. People I cared deeply about knowing I will never be anything more than a survivor if I don’t drastically change my life. I know I take some things to extremes to avoid plausible risks and I also know that I have allowed some behavior because I was worried that I was overreacting or just reacting to an extreme. My plans to create a better future for my son were unravel by my own hand and a missed threat assessment and plainly, poor character judgment sandwiched between all the stress from my overflowing plate. Nobody is perfect so just be honest and real. Fuck people’s potential. Fuck my potential. Just be who you are.
I will keep working on how to trust again, mostly I mean myself. Which reactions are good instincts versus those that are a trauma response. Until then, I’m not available. To anyone, for anything. Those I chose to be in my life, are. There is no confusion. Everyone else, Godspeed, I hope you’re healthy and happy. Don’t contact me. I need to heal. I need to feel safe. If that wasn’t fucking apparent by now.