Things are… moving along. I’ve hit the point in Handling the Bad Thing that I have to be on lockdown with some of what I say, so I won’t say much about that here past that I’ve had to make some very heavy decisions after talking to police. Everything I do will have repercussions now.
I’ve got my back yard to a place where I’m actively looking forward to having folk over. I’m even planning a party! I have places to sit, I have shade and sun, I have plenty of room, I have a rose garden… I’m pleased with things. It’s a very peaceful and comforting and safe-feeling place to be now.
As for my rose garden, the only one that’s having trouble “taking” is Peace; this might be because the damned guys who do the lawn keep nailing it with the weed whacker. They’ve already destroyed both lilacs by repeatedly mowing them even after I said to watch out for them. But I do have one of the roses blooming already… Tranquility has one spectacular and fragrant blossom, and three or four more buds ready to open.
But now, I think, I would like to sit in my back yard with a book, and a cup or two of tea, and good company.
So vasovagal syncope happened.
This is the clinical term for flat-out fainting. There are many causes, and I’ve had issues with it before but not since I was pregnant with my daughter seven years ago. This go-round appears to be triggered by not taking care of myself as I should have been the last month and change, low potassium levels, and an emotional shock stronger than most people were aware of, for reasons that pretty much only one person would be aware of.
But I’m taking the clue BEFORE I faint in public again, and trying to take better care now. One hell of a wake-up call.
I am sort of wondering at the levels of crazy I’m noticing coming out of my ex’s camp; I’ve been doing my own thing but getting “pings” now and then, and I have to wonder if people know how they’re looking to others — including neutral parties and bystanders — by this point. There’s been some really irrational activity that’s been brought to my attention, and I’m in a fairly constant state of “ooooookaaaaayyyy… that’s, um, ‘special’, isn’t it?” I’m mostly just doing my own thing. (That said, I will say that if I ever meet a man like my ex in every respect and detail but minus the self-destructive batshit, I will marry him on the spot. Too bad everything I ever wanted, needed, or asked for in a Partner came bundled with a proprietary DRM-locked version of subjective reality and some other-user-unfriendly malware.)
And otherwise… I’m actually doing pretty well. Work has me filling in for my supervisor quite a lot lately, which is nice. I have plans for a firepit in the back yard, and friends to have over to chat and maybe have impromptu jam sessions and generally hang out, a few sweet playmates, a chunk more of debt paid off, and of course my wonderful children, my Best Beloveds.
As I was writing this, I had one of my darkest fears about my daughter confirmed. I’ve suspected for several years now that Something Bad Was Going On, but could never get anyone to LISTEN to me until my last therapist, who helped me get on the road to investigating things. With the help of a new person on the scene who is also looking out for one of my Best Beloveds, independent observation and suspicion was done… and today my daughter actually told me who it was, and that she hadn’t wanted to tell me. I held her close, told her that she is a very good girl for telling me, thanked her, and told her that I will keep her safe from that ever happening again. She’s just fine with never seeing this person again, and is scared but willing to talk to the people who need to be talked to. I finally have the final tool I need to protect my daughter: her assistance. I am having my shitfits today and tonight, and will set forth tomorrow on the path needed, wings spread, flaming sword in one hand, my beloved six-year-old daughter’s in the other to help her walk this path.