I had some interesting feelings come up yesterday.

It was Super Bowl Sunday. I thought about what I did last Super Bowl Sunday.

This was what I did last Super Bowl Sunday in a nutshell: I had a few friends over in the evening. Jon and Lora alternately fought loudly enough for us to hear, or joined us and acted like everything was fine until they went back into a bedroom to argue. They were fighting because Jon spent twenty minutes talking to me about a home repair project before joining Lora in the shower that morning. Things came to a head for me, as I finally hit a point of being so utterly sick of their fighting and her abusive behavior that I talking to her about it and how it had to change, or we couldn’t live together anymore.

If you’ve been reading for a while, you know all this already.

If you don’t, you can go back and read about it, if you want. It’s not pretty. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I get tired remembering it myself, which is what this post is about.

Here I was, thinking about Lora. Again. I felt frustrated and upset at myself.  Is she like a scab that I can’t help but pick at? You know the kind, it’s really itchy or in a bendy part of your body, so you feel it tugging at your skin, being hard, being strange, being in the way, and every time you stop paying close attention to yourself, you start picking at it again absent-mindedly. Pick, pick, pick. What am I doing? you ask yourself. Am I trying to draw blood? That’s going to leave an ugly scar if I don’t stop…

Why don’t I stop?

Well, why am I thinking about her in the first place? Because it’s Super Bowl Sunday, which is one of those days when I typically remember what I did (even if it had nothing to do with the Super Bowl). And I like remembering what I did last year for all kinds of events; Christmas, Memorial Day, 4th of July…most holidays, I muse back over what I did the prior year. I enjoy taking a few moments to consciously appreciate how my life has changed. Generally, it’s changed for the better. Not that the past was inferior, more like I feel more myself, more comfortable, more like I’m doing the things that I enjoy the most, and spending time with the people I love the most.

This year, things have definitely changed for the better, especially where Lora is concerned.

But, I also need to be aware that if I’m going to do my typical yearly reflection, then every holiday that Lora was here for last year is going to have a little ping of Lora-memory associated with it. And in the end, continuing to do something that I’m doing for years is more important to me than banishing all memories of Lora from my head.

Also, I don’t actually think I could stop myself from thinking about things in a way that I’ve done for years. How would someone even do that? The second I thought about it, I’d try to make myself not think about it, which would mean that I was thinking about not thinking about it which is pretty much the same as thinking about it and…see what I mean? Impossible.

So I had my moment. I thought about how shitty last year was. I thought about how nice this year was. Jon and I decided to go to a local bar to watch the game. We ran into Rob and a few of his friends there, and spent a lovely evening drinking and yelling and groaning over the halftime show.

It felt really good.

It’s a nice, new memory that will come to me next Super Bowl, when I think back to what I did this Super Bowl.

And it is way better than last year!



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polyamorist, cat-lover, hopeless optimist when I'm not being a firm realist.

2 thoughts on “reflections”

  1. I know this experience so well! It was a huge relief, a couple months ago, to get past the “this time last year, things were shitty” window. But even so, the trauma of those years still looms pretty huge in my emotional landscape. It’s like I’m driving away from a mountain range… I’m not still in the mountains, and have been out for a while, but they still dominate the rearview.

    It’s good to work on moving forward but you probably still have some processing and resolution to do about the Lora stuff. I’m not trying to tell you how you do or should feel, but the way you wrote about it makes it pretty clear that it was traumatizing to you, even if you weren’t technically the abuse victim, so it’s okay to think of it as a trauma you experienced… not just a person from your past that you’re angry with.

    I’m trying not to get impatient with my own healing process too.


    1. I really like that metaphor! It reminds me very vividly of a road trip I took a long time ago. We spent a few days in the mountains skiing. It was a magical (and scary) trip, because both on the way up and the way down, it was extremely foggy. When we were in the mountains, there were some times when there was a really wide strip of paved ground next to the road, where people could pull off if they had car troubles or to look at the scenic view (assuming they could actually see it). Other places, there was maybe half a foot of level ground before a steep, deadly drop-off.

      So driving was really jarring. The road was icy, the fog was thick enough that sometimes we couldn’t see how the side of the road looked. And those guard rails never look flimsier than when you’re creeping along and ice and know that just past one, it’s a sheer drop of hundreds of feet.

      Though the whole trip was a great adventure, in hindsight, that drive up was just terrifying. If I could do it all over again, I think I’d have wanted us to look for a safer route. Though, OTOH, the scariness did make part of the adventure.

      Anyways, the thing that *really* came to me is that when we left it was foggy again, like I said. And as we were driving away from the mountains, they’d be in the rear view mirror, then we’d go into a foggy patch, and when we came out, we were driving towards the mountains again, or alongside them, and they were definitely bigger than they had been. We couldn’t see that the road had switched back for awhile, before it would curve around again to point us in the actual direction of our destination.

      And I feel like getting over Lora is like that. I’m out of the mountains too (these emotional mountains have all of the scariness and none of the awesomeness of my road trip mountains), but sometimes it gets foggy and I don’t realize that I’m facing the mountains again until they’re looming out of the fog at me. I’m still far away from them, and getting farther every day. But seeing them square in front of me again is scary and makes me start to wonder if I’m EVER going to get away from them.

      There is also a certain amount of non-deliberate comparing to Jon that happens in regards to Lora. It just pops into my head sometimes. He seems way more OK with it than I am. Though I do know that not only is it not a competition, he’s also said that he’s still not ready for therapy yet, so a lot of that “OKness” is probably more on the surface than anything.

      I started going to therapy a few months before Jon and Lora broke up, and I’ve continued since. Our sessions sometimes involve talking about Lora. We also talk a lot about my chronic health issues. But Lora keeps coming up, as things surface that need to get worked out. I have that same feeling – I want to be done and over her completely and move on! But I know I need to take it at whatever pace my heart is telling me, and…let the healing come as it feels right, I guess.


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