My abuser is dying. I feel relieved. I feel slightly happy, giddy, upbeat, something. I feel mad… mad that I allowed the abuse to go on for so long and mad that I never stood up for myself. I feel just the tiniest twinge of sadness / depression / loss. I feel kind of dark. I feel kind of light, like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, too. I feel sick, but I think it might just be something I ate. I feel scared, I am wondering what the other people will think about me not being there for my abuser on their death bed. It's a family member. Heh.
I feel confused. I feel slightly ashamed that I feel good about someone dying. I feel lost… I'm wondering if I will have trauma from this… if I will be okay with it… I mean, I really wanted to stand up to them and show them they can't abuse me anymore. Their death has nothing to do with me. At least, I don't think so. Maybe I could have stressed them out and that could be a factor, but even that would be kind of small. I mean, I know my situation. I know I'm meek. I won't hate myself. Even if I should, I wouldn't want to carry self hatred around with me… Well, yeah, it's okay if I can't stand up to them, but I want to so, so, much.
I fear the future. I am used to being abused, and used to my life being bad. It's been this way for so long. It's what I know. I fear living life. Being free. Seeking pleasure. Openly. Without any apologies. Without constantly having to look over my shoulder, worry, stress, without being nagged, or brought down.
I hope this is a new beginning for me.
And, I need to think about their death. I don't know if they are dying or dead. When I find out, I need to decide what to do. I need to cope with this. It won't be hard. The hard part is letting go. Forgiving myself. Forgiving them if I ever can. The hard part is… not feeling like a loser because they got away with abusing me… accepting that I can never ask why… but in the past, they'd never give me straight answer. Their answer was always changing. :/ They wern't, loyal and stable in their opinions.
The hard part is learning how to live without them. We were close. Being my own person. Not letting them control me. Affect me. Influence me. Just being me. Doing me. Pursuing pleasure. The hard part is getting over guilt that I abandoned them when they were dying… if they are dead… or if they're alive and I choose not to see nor speak to them…
Yeah, there is a lot for me to think about, but this event alone makes everything seem brighter for me. I don't want to jynx it. Even if I could, do, whatever, they are old. They have to die some day. It's so unlikely they'll survive what they've got.
Oh. Freedom. I just wish they could have seen it. Fuck you Joan.
This is to me. Ana. It's all about me now. And I'm going to motherfucking party!