WI start this entry at 11:28 PM.

A is out at a concert. I wanted to go.

I suppose it's best I not go. Last night, he was drunk (I know, fucking shocker) and I got a run down of how I'm a terrible person.

The litany of all my failures in  life was followed by, "I love you."

Uh...

The list of complaints is the same. I do realize I internalize this shit far more than is appropriate.

But what am I supposed to do? I didn't yell. I attempted to point out where he was wrong, realized it was a waste of time and he wasn't listening, and just shut up.

This takes a toll on me. I feel worthless. I've been thinking everyone would be best without me. No, I'm not going to kill myself or anything. It's a thought I've come to realize is more or less and escape thought.

A came home today and said he was sorry for last night. I appreciate the sentiment, but no, I'm not "over" it.

Words hurt. And yesterday (as well as other days), he's stabbed me repeatedly in the heart.

And you know what? I kept thinking, last night, B would never say this.

Ouch. (For him).

Allow me to clarify: if I seem like I haven't "gotten over" being harassed and assaulted in grad school--congratulations, you're right. That happened the semester before B lost his grasp on reality, then I had C--so no, I haven't had time. And that's why I seem and do dwell on it. Not only is it massively unjust, immoral, etc.--but I never fully got a proper chance to mourn my professional loss, to deal with the shit platter I was handed.

It took my current psychologist to point this out and to diagnose me with PTSD. I may have symptoms of PTSD the rest of my life, and that's something I've accepted. Am I okay with it? Nope. Dwelling on my own affliction isn't going to help move forward--

--and by moving forward, I mean pursuing a higher degree. Specifically, the degree I was working toward.

In "Good god, you're weird" news and to switch topics--I grew a cup size! YAY!  My breasts have been sore, my bras haven't felt comfy, and I bit the bullet and got a fitting. To my delight, my small frame is a 32C! WOOT!  I'm not uncomfortable--it's just right. It's so funny, though. I grew to a B when I was a senior in college. No pregnancy, no children, no weight gain. Just random growth. I suspect my body is slowly catching up from years of total starvation. Or not. So I bought a few new bras today, and I must say, I really fill out my shirts now.

I know, TMI. But to me, this is a sign of health. And hey, I'm not in pain, I can go without a bra still without pain--so what's not to like? (Well, the cost of a good bra, but...)

If you made it this far, thanks. I love you and cherish my friendship with all of you.

Best,
Moi