I hate the last three months of the year. Aside from one incident at my first college, this is when all of my trauma occurred.
The end of 2017 is a blur. I remember I planned all these distractions for myself on the anniversary of the rape (December 15th), but ended up banging my head into the wall right before I was supposed to go sing karaoke at Applebee’s with Colette (my old best friend who is now nothing more than a distant roommate) and some of my coworkers. I remember crying and crying and taking Xanax and falling asleep.
All I do anymore is chain-smoke. I’ve smoked over a pack today and it’s not even 5pm.
I’ve been contemplating suicide again. I’m too scared of death to actually do anything fatal, and I’m even more scared of fucking it up and being permanently disabled, so I’d never actually do it, but it’s nice to think about sometimes. My few remaining friends keep telling me I can’t keep living in the past, but it feels like the past lives in me.
My mom scheduled the family Hanukkah party on December 15th, and I’m not sure what to do. I could just go to the party with Rebecca and pretend like everything’s fine (which, in all honesty, is probably what I’ll end up doing), or I could ask my mom to move it, but I think she’ll say it’ll be a good distraction for me, even though being around my family makes me want to die.
That’s such a shitty thing of me to say, but all they do is ask me about work because all I do is work and go to therapy, and God forbid they ask me about my mental health because we all know the Orfinger family can’t talk about anything real. Everything is superficial and perfect and happy, and no one’s an alcoholic (except for me and my aunt and my cousin) and none of us have an eating disorder (except for all the women on my dad’s side and me) and none of us ever hurt ourselves on purpose (except for me and my cousin). I’m so angry.
I’m angry that my family stood idly by while someone close to the family raped and molested me for years and didn’t notice and let it happen and didn’t intervene. I WAS A CHILD. I COULDN’T PROTECT MYSELF. I still can’t protect myself. I’m angry at my body. I’m angry at Tim. I’m angry at myself.