I’m sort of sleepy and demoralized, but I actually feel quite good. I realized that the guy I liked, who I’ll refer to as Blip on the Radar, didn’t trigger my feelings of self-hatred and my belief that I deserved to be abused as a child, because I find value in myself now and don’t believe I deserved to be abused. That’s major. And the prize is that I can now be rejected by guys without being triggered. Hurrah! (Like, hey, you just won a sump tank! Yes!)
It was a bad night for Blip on the Radar. Not only did I get (sort of) mad at him, but the results came in for his current contest, and he got zero points. That bites.
It was a better night for me. I left the house in the cold and wandered all around the neighborhood in search of these cookies. I started at the local drugstore, and they didn’t have any, so I walked down to the grocery store, went past it, and checked out the farther-away drugstore, but they were closed.
I dimly wondered why I was wearing a T-shirt and thin pants in such cold weather, and the skin on my hands and arms started to get irritated by the cold, but I didn’t really care. Then I circled back to the grocery store and looked for the cookies, but they didn’t have them. About to give up, I checked the cookies aisle one last time, and my eyes alit on these cookies that I believe are the ones Emilia got me hooked on. (Shout out!) I was like, “Oh wow, they sell these here in America?!” and I bought some. (They cost way less at the store than on Amazon. I paid $3.50.)
Then I walked home and ate the cookies. I gave a few to my dad, too, and he liked them. They’re freakin’ good cookies.
So yeah, I’ve conquered my trigger issue–well, that part of it. I’m still triggered by other things, like actually witnessing physical abuse, obviously. That’s harder to cure, I’m sure.
So, yeah, Blip on the Radar is gone. I’d miss him, but he offered nothing of worth to me. It’s interesting that I’m not devaluing myself right now, but I’m still devaluing the guy who rejected me. I’m completely fine with that. He deserves to be devalued. (To be clear, I haven’t sent him any emails other than the one I printed in my last blog post. So I’m just devaluing him, well, here.) I suppose perfect maturity would look like, “Well, we weren’t a good fit for each other, and we didn’t have much to offer each other as friends, so it was a bad match,” but I’m not even striving for such maturity. Call me horrible, but I’m glad that he got zero points in his current contest. He sort of had it coming. Boom.
No cookies for Blip on the Radar. I hope he has other good friends, because if not, I’m not sure why he saw me as disposable. Oh well, it’s his problem now.