Skill? Artistry?

::bats eyelashes at smonster::

Artistry? Artisanalty?

Artisan craft? Artisan would work, but I can't find the right form.

Oh, Epic, that's a lot. The fact that you ARE plugging along is a testament to your strength.

This. It's so hard. I'm sorry, Epic.

Thanks, guys. That means a lot. I would say more, but I'm also a hair-trigger weeper, especially when I'm stressed, and I'd rather not cry at my desk right now. But thanks.

Currently enjoying a slurpee (lemonade flavor, yum!), because I decided part of my self-care today would involve hauling ass to the nearest 7-11 on my lunch break for Free Slurpee Day. I did also pick up a sandwich (and Cheetos), for my Grownup Lunch.

Self-care is super important, Epic, and a free Slurpee is an excellent choice.

Epic you are doing a lot right now it is a testament to your strength enjoy slurpees and other things to take care of yourself!

So my day was really nice. there will be future dates. Not sure what kind of things. It's kind of hard because there's not much to do here in Brevard and it would be nice if we could split the trips back and forth but the drive down the mountain wasn't that bad.

Epic, a lemonade slurpee sounds like a perfect prescription. I hope it gave you strength.

Java, what an absolute pain to have to deal with such toxicity. Clearing your mind can only help. I hope it gives you ease.

I've used the spiral analogy for years, particularly to illustrate 'non-virtuous cycles' (which I prefer over 'vicious) vs. moving up the personal-evolutionary ladder. While I love a good circle, the truth is, when you are doing the work, you are never actually treading the same ground twice. It may feel you are not getting anywhere, but even the effort alone is progress.

The memory discussion really hits home for me. Absolutely every professional I worked with on my own path assured me that I have repressed memories. All I can do is guffaw.

HAHA. You know what? I remember plenty.

Also? Memory is so incredibly subjective that, once I discovered that absolutely everyone in my family, near and far, lied out their backsides, I figured it didn't matter anymore what was 'real.'

Like Teppy, prior to that, I was a rigorous keeper of the 'facts' and correct chronologies, etc.

At this point, at least where my family history is concerned, the truth is what I decide it is. In the end, what does it really matter? He was the monster at hand, she was the monster in absentia. I survived.

I adapted the Dune 'Fear is the mind killer' quote for myself.

Toxic lies are the mind killer...blah, blah...when the toxic lies are gone, there will be only me. And I will be good and goddamned if I will let their rubbish take me down.

Still, I agree about the effect of trauma on memory.

One of my old boyfriends suffered from a terrible, chronic disease, starting in childhood. It meant he spent a month of his senior year in hospital.

He told me his parents never came to see him. He was 18, so not a child.

He really, truly believed that he spent that entire month alone, but his mother visited every morning before work and his father spent every evening with him. He just could not remember anything but his fear and isolation. The poor thing.