October 7th, 2003

dream, thoughtful, quiet

something interesting as I'm digging through stuff.

Reading through stuff from December 2001. And there's this thought from a psych journal I had to write at the time.

"But the biggest problem is simply this. It has to do with fall semester sophomore year (this would have been fall 1997) in which I was not only given the diagnosis, and had to figure out how to deal with the mental illness, but also betrayal on all sides. My suitemates spied on me and reported it to the Resident Director (RD), as well as lied to me numerous times. My Resident Assistant (RA) at one point blamed every single problem in that suite on me, including ones I could have in no way been responsible for them happening.

"The biggest problem of all was a guy named Marty F. He was the RD for my dorm, and strangely enough I still carry his business card in my wallet as a reminder of the horrible times I went through. Marty never believed me on anything. Marty wanted to "mold" me (his word, not mine). Marty wanted to throw me into a looney bin. And I suspect, if Marty had managed to get his way, I would not be the proud holder of a degree from Cal.

"I tend to hold my friends at arm's length too. The betrayals of my suitemates from that year ring hard on my soul, and I'm sure they will for many years. I trusted them because I had to live with them. They took that trust and ran straight to my main tormentor that semester. It has been hard to trust now. I let people in somewhat, but I don't let them in all the way. I'm scared that if a person gets to know me, they'll see the real me, and they'll run screaming in horror. And as much as my friend Patrick tries to assure me that he's been pretty far in and hasn't seen any monsters yet, I can't help but believe there's one there. Why else would I loathe myself?"

(I'd link the post, but it's in a locked journal entry and I don't totally feel like sharing. And I've taken the last name of the RD down to a first initial to assure his privacy. Funny, I still hurt from what he did, but yet I care about his privacy. And the friend Patrick reffed here is, of course, zibblsnrt. This was written about eighteen days before we became a couple.)

I still have issues with trust. I don't trust people deep down because I think they'd just be as willing to hurt me as they are to help me. Zibb's trying to help me past it, and he hates the people who hurt me this much because I tend to assume I'm not worth much, and that people, if given half the chance, would hurt me.

It's stupid, but it's the way I think. Luckily, I have zibblsnrt to help me through it. And the rest of ye too, of course, just that Zibb gets most of it because he's strangely the person I trust the most.

Anyway, I ought to be getting to bed here. Chat with y'all latah.
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