Just listen

I recently said in jest, that if I ever wrote a book for partners of incest survivors, I would entitle it "Bill"

Bill is a friend of mine. We've known each other over ten years.

He came to visit - just left about an hour ago, actually. He showed me a lot while he was here. I cried and cried and he listened. He hugged me, told me he understood and just...listened.

He didn't judge or offer advice; he didn't look at me funny or anything. He just listened. When I would gag (I gag a lot lately) he would ask me if I was okay. He wasn't pushy or arrogant; just concerned. Truly concerned.

He let met talk as long as I wanted to talk and then he validated me. He told me good things about myself - things I haven't heard in a long time, and things I need to hear.

For two nights, he let me stay with him (completely platonic, btw, because we are just friends) but even he saw the difference in me, when we neared this house, and as we drove away.

My nerves here are just shot. My heart broken and he listened to me pour it out... He never said a bad thing at all; just listened.

I realized it was the first time in years that I felt listened to and acknowledged. It was the first time in years that I felt I mattered - that I was important...that I'm worth someone's time. I'm worth someone's compassion.

He came for a couple of reasons but partly because he wanted to get a feel for what I need as I go through what I'm going through and I think, what he saw, was this crisis on top of a crisis. He calmed me down, told me he would help me... soothed me, promised me everything would be okay. He was honest - told me I didn't necessarily push people away, but that I definitely do test them. But he didn't say things like this in a condescending way, as if he knew some better way to be. It was a decade-long observation that he made, and that I accepted as true. Because it is true.

I didn't sleep too well those two nights, despite being away from the house, but I wasn't as sick as I have been, either. And I smiled. And I laughed, too.

I stuck my feet in the water at the dock...so did he. Something I haven't been able to do in years, without fear of ridicule or judgment.

We went today to see Cindy. She cut off all his hair (it'd been growing for three years - he had a ponytail!) so we went there and Cindy, too, echoed so many of the things that Bill had said.

It was ....something.

I can't describe it.

It was something indescribable to be sitting between two people who want me to heal. They want me to heal and not only that, but they want to help me through it. They don't want to leave me or run away. They want to understand as much as they can. They don't push or pull - they've been so gentle and so kind and I don't have any words. Just tears.

Mixed tears.

Tears of appreciation, and tears of longing.

Appreciation for what I have; longing for what I've missed all these years.

That ticker in my brain that keeps going, "You were never enough for him...." over and over.... it's all your fault, all your fault....

But now I have these people who are being authentic and kind and they're telling me they love me and they don't expect anything in return....just want me to heal.

This makes my heart ache. It makes me question everything I know and believe about myself. Everything I've always believed about myself.

It's not fair, what I'm going through.

And it's not fair that people gave up on me. I am worthy of being listened to until two in the morning if necessary. I am worthy.


Neither of them have shunned me for my suicide ideation or cutting; neither of them have chastised me for feeling so ashamed. Neither of them have put me down - not in the least. They lift me up. It is a little frightening, especially given the recent circumstances and how everyone just gave up.

They are helping me... sometimes just by listening.