I can’t understand how one anonymous remark delivered to me from some women in my spiritual community by a man I once trusted with my life but am not so sure now if I can ever trust him again has sent me into such a flat-spin, out of control and ready to crash and burn.
I have spoken to both my therapist and to someone with a local Rape Crisis Hotline and found myself yesterday afternoon writing a long letter to my community which I then posted on subscriber lists within the organization saying goodbye, at least for the time being, to this community that has been my spiritual family for over a decade. I did end it with an offer of a gift, when I can find the wherewithall to accomplish it and of which I spoke here, a workshop to educate well meaning allies of the special needs of people like us who are trying to find our true selves in an atmosphere of both hate causing and well-meaning ignorance which are often indistinguishable in their intent.
Today my thoughts turned to both suicide and to suing the non profit 501c3 entity for damages, two thoughts that have me deeply shaken to my core because both are an anathema to me but has at least made me more sensitive to those who have considered either or both when they have been deeply hurt. I made contact by both phone and email with my local chapter of the ACLU to pose hypothetical questions about the law with regard to gender specific public accommodations and to the suggestion of filing a suit for sexual harassment in an attempt to distract myself from the horror of my own thoughts.
Oh yeah, I went to my files to check my prescriptions for T-blockers and Estrogen to see if what I’m experiencing could be a side effect because I don’t want to stop taking them because of this, because so far, I know they are right for me. Luckily I could find nothing that said they could cause thoughts of suicide or mass murder so I did breathe a sigh of relief at that.
What am I thinking? I am in turmoil and in trouble and I am trying to get the courage to call someone I can trust to come hold my hand before I empty my refrigerator and larder and drink all the booze in my well-stocked bar. I am a trained bartender looking for work, after all.
So far, the responses to my letter have been two well meaning “I’m so sorry” letters and I am beginning to feel more ashamed of the many letters of the kind that I have sent out to fellow sisters and brothers in need because in my state of mind, people feeling sorry from afar just ain’t cutting it. What I don’t need right now is sympathy/empathy but I am begining to fear that is all I’m going to get.
I hope this post has staved off my anxiety so that I can relax a while and try to think of flowers, birds and cool summer evening breezes along with my housemates two doggies who seem to have connected to my distress with their loving presence, right outside my bedroom door. Right now they are my only friends to be here with me and for me. My housemate should be returning home from her day job unless she has to work her other job tonight. I am contemplating how to act if she doesn’t have to go and we can sit and talk, although I could always say I have a headache, which is true.
I prefer truth because the truth is far easier to remember than a lie. I just hope I remember to breathe.
Breathe, Deanna, BREATHE!