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I'm getting ready to go home. What I mean is, my family is preparing to go 'home' to attend a wedding. I have all kinds of mixed feelings about this. It has been almost two years since I've been 'home'. Two years ago I hadn't even begun to deal with this. Actually, I think that trip home is what started all of this. Being in that house. With him. In my old room, feeling the memories surround me. It was a lot, even then, when it wasn't really in my head. I'm terrified of what I'll find when I go this time.

I don't know if he will be there or not. Part of me doesn't care. I've gotten to the point to where if I'm not alone with him, he basically just annoys me. It's the memories that I am afraid of. I won't be in my parents home. But I will be at my family's. And there are too many memories there to count. I did most of my 'partying' there. Among other things. The high school I graduated from is in that town. The church where the wedding will be is the church our baccalaureate was at. There are so many memories. It's a small town. Everyone knows every one. To be honest, I'm afraid of who I will run into. How many of my ex boyfriends will be there? How many that I DON'T want to see? From what I hear, my family now knows what happened, and I'm terrified of walking into that.

I want to be strong and happy. I want to be okay. I want to have fun and let every one see how well we are doing. I'm terrified that I will walk in and fall to the ground, overwhelmed by memories, fears, guilt. Shame. I don't want to walk into that house. I don't want those memories. I don't want any of this. I don't want to go deal with people pretending they're happy to see me when I know they don't want anything to do with me. I don't want to have to spend all of that time pretending. Pretending I'm okay. Pretending I want to be there. Pretending I care. I feel like if I have to walk back in there I should be able to fall apart. I should be able to hurt. I should be able to feel. But I can't. I don't know what to do. I don't want to do this.

Part of me is grateful that I don't have to go to my parents house. The morbid part of me wants to go back alone, and let it all take me over. I know I can't do that. I know. I just feel this weird need to be there. Maybe to validate it. I don't know. How do I even know any of this is real? I mean in my head, yes it is real. And I remember it. So I know it's real. I didn't make up years of abuse. But my brain just can't fathom it right now. I don't know how to comprehend this. And now I have to go back there. Back to the place where I pretended life was fine. And do it all over again. Because life is not fine. This is not fair. I should not have to do this. I want to be at that wedding. I want to see her. I want to support her. I don't much care about the rest of them, but her, yes. But to have to be there, dealing with the hurt and flashbacks and memories, all the while pretending that I'm okay, that I am happy to be there, than I genuinely care about most of my family. No. I shouldn't have to do that. I don't want to do that. I don't want to do any of this.

For the last few days I've had this overwhelming sense of hopelessness. Helplessness. I didn't know why. I still don't, really. I just assume it's from this fear. I want to go crawl in the shower and stay there. I want to curl up somewhere and become catatonic. I don't want to think, feel, speak, eat, function. I just don't know how to let go. I guess that's a good thing.

My entire life I've had this strength. I've gotten through, no matter what. I made it through my childhood. I got off drugs. I got married, moved on. I'm living my life. God has given me that strength. I know that. I have always tried to lean on him, even when I sucked at it. I'm thankful for that. I just pray that he'll continue to bless me with that strength as I go through this time of fear and uncertainty. If you're reading this, maybe you could pray for that, too.
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