Hi Felicity, I appreciate your reply, I'm just acutely conscious of how unhinged I am at the moment and how I might read a post on this forum and respond inappropriately. I swing from strong to broken so fast at the moment that I not even sure I could read back over MY OWN posts safely 🙂 I'm not sure I ready to actively participate in a forum like this. There's a thing I've been dwelling on, a kind of attempted accounting for my life. Like I'm my own Anubis, trying to hold the harm I've done in one hand and the good in the other. Story time, I'm in Sydney, waiting outside my partner at the time's work. She comes out and shares that in a discussion with her co-worker said co-worker remarked that she didn't find me handsome as my lips were too thin. This I carried with me for 30 years, every time I looked in the mirror, even on my best face day, I wished my lips were bigger. THIS story, stupid as it is, looms large for me at the moment. The woman in the story didn't mean to hurt me, she never even knew my name, she probably never even gave me a single thought outside of the tiny second long window in which she was asked to answer the question of "is this guy attractive?" And yet somehow this hurt me. How much pain have I inflicted in my 50 years? I mean I can go through the things I've done that I carry with me, the crimes that blacken the heart I offer up to my judge. But how on this earth or the next do I account for the hurt I have left behind me with each step, the unseen crushed butterflies that have devastated an Amazon? AT ANY RATE, to drag this post back on track... My fear is that in my own grief and downward spiral I'm going to lash out, I'm going to say something to some also profoundly vulnerable person that HURTS. And I can't EVEN at the moment. Can I TRUST you to stop me or should I stop myself NOW? My apologies for laying this on you, I love you, Mo
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