Well Hello There Wednesday . . .

How did you sneak up on me so fast?
The last few days have been . . .weird. An almost constant state of low level anxiety. Heart pounding, racing, hands shaking, adrenalin pumping, on alert, fear, worry. Constantly. Why? What's different? What's the cause?
Who knows, really. I have some ideas. There's dry and musty old bones laying around, waiting to picked up again. I'm stepping over them slowly, gently, delicately. I can't crush them. Not yet. Soon. . . but not yet. Though they are crumbling under their own weight . . .
Why do I even try to wax poetic? Meh.
I'm opening up more about my past, my rape. Treading lightly, but getting it out there. It's getting easier to talk about. The pain is still there, but the sting isn't as bad anymore. I also brought up another sore point with M today. Again, something I kept secret about my rapist - the sexual and physical abuse. I've told people about the control before. About the emotional and verbal abuse. But I always kept quiet about the other . . .worse abuse. But I talked candidly. M pointed out how what was done to me was cruel and wrong and horrible. Unforgivable. I know this, of course. But hearing it from someone else, from my therapist, a man whom I respect deeply, who I trust wholly and implicitly. . .made all the difference in the world.
And do you know what I realized? Yes, what happened to me sucked. It was horrible in so many ways and no one should EVER have to go through that. But I'm stronger for it. It helped shape me into who I am today: a smart, vibrant woman. A force to be reckoned with. I'm a wonderful wife and mother, a loyal and caring friend, a skilled and empathetic nurse. Or, as some have pointed out, a comedian. I am these things in spite of and because of what I experienced.
 My past can be seen as tragic and sad, a hindrance on my mental well being. Or, as I like to view it, it can be seen as empowering.  This ass waffle stripped me of my dignity and self worth and shamed me. Sadly for him though, I have the last laugh. Because despite everything, despite the hiccups with my bipolar disorder, I'm thriving.
Thriving.
As I continue to work with M through all this, and as I open up to my trusted friends and my hubby, the fresh pain will subside. It's already become more dull and I imagine it will continue to let up. And then these bones, these musty, putrid bones, will finally be crushed - dug up from the past and crushed into nothingness.