I have yet to take on a summer job. I am completely resisting it. My main and most important reason is that I want this summer to be about taking care of myself. If I don’t do it now, I don’t know if I ever will. After this summer is school and internships and working and studying abroad and law school and life and a million other things. The time is now. I am going to focus on getting healthy the right way – adapting life-long habits instead of forced veganism. I love Veganism (lot I could say about that) but I have to have some gourmet cheese once in a while or I’ll go psycho. I also want to take time out to enjoy life – go swimming, read, go to the park, watch the sunset, sit and listen to music, try new recipes – you get the picture. But most importantly, this summer I plan on going to therapy. It is time for me to suck it up and confront my demons, fear, anger, and insecurities. I am A-OK 98% of the time, but that 2% is so horrible I know I need more than a good talk with one of my very few fully trusted friends. I am secretly afraid I’m going to go crazy one day, and I know if I finally seek help maybe my thoughts won’t overwhelm me one day. The thoughts are always there, even in that 98%. Only that 2% of the time do those thoughts become apparent to anyone else. That 2% is the time I talk or cry, usually unplanned. That 2% is the time I soil the bed like a child or scream in terror in the middle of the night. I hate those moments oh so much, and every time I think “I’m really going to get help now. I have to.” But I never do. I feel such guilt. I have so much anger, but I’m always fighting with myself. I feel like sometimes I just want attention – I just want SOMEONE to hold me and love me and understand my twisted tangled web of loneliness, pain, fear, and hard cold anger. I want to erase the past and it hurts to know I can’t. I not only hate those certain people in my past, I hate myself! I hate myself for being weak, for being stupid and foolish. I hate myself for being young. When will I be free from the thoughts? Why can’t I embrace my lack of ignorance? And why the fuck does this matter???? It could have been so much worse!!!! I could have been actually officially raped – I’m glad I wasn’t. But I feel like such a fraud, such a whiney baby!!!! I feel like who the fuck am I to talk? Poor little Ashley, some 60 year old touched her. Played mind games. Manipulated her. Invaded her privacy, her space. Sexually harassed her. Casually talked about murdering a guy. Poor baby. I know people who were molested, raped, abused, choked. I know people who have watched parents die. Who the fuck am I to have issues????? Actions are stronger than words, Ashley. Words can never hurt me, mommy. You know what? Fuck them all. This is the anger, you see. Sex is so fucked up. Almost every man I have known has used it against me. The fucking asshole, you know, the one who told me I deserved to be actually raped, you know, the one who TOOK MY VIRGINITY, told me he loved me JUST SO I WOULD CAVE IN AND EVENTUALLY SLEEP WITH HIM. The only person I fucking told what Charles did to me, and told me I DESERVED IT because I act like a slut. I had only slept with one person (him) and I was barely 19. I was completely green about love, sex, romance. I AM NOT NOR WAS EVER A SLUT!!!!!!!!!!! I am SO angry at him I want to pull his hair out and beat the shit out of him. But I would never do that. I just can’t attack someone. That’s a good thing I know, but it’s also bad. I’ve gotta stop now. This is too much. It’s good to vent, but now it’s time to put it away again. Maybe I’ll get to write again soon, I’m not crazy, I know the thoughts will come back. Writing is good. This is good. June 1st. June 1st I move, and as soon as everyone’s left I’m calling that therapist. Good night.
