@Ree@Dreamwidth.org

Lately I've been reflecting on some shit that went down in 2004 or so. At the time, I was part of an online roleplaying group. (Haven't I always?) The group's leader went and founded a second, very similar group, which was trying to co-operatively write a novel (or several) and get it/them published.

When I found out about it, I was invited... to proof their posts, not to actually join. I would be permitted to play in their sole non-novel roleplay area, and nowhere else, so long as I cleaned up their shit and knew my place.

I did it. For weeks, maybe months, I did what they wanted. They posted crazy numbers of posts every day; I dutifully combed through and corrected them. Eventually a virus kept me away for a week, after which I felt the weight of their daunting post count and ran away. How long would I have kept going if my health hadn't stopped me?

I wish I had the vocabulary to describe this accurately. I think that those events hurt me badly enough that something in the back of my brain decided that potential repeats must be avoided at all costs. So when I'm trying to work up the nerve to jump into something that feels too much like that hurtful experience, this piece of myself starts screaming at me "no no no avoid avoid avoid". Because that's supposed to be helpful, see, it's supposed to protect me from pain by getting me to freak out and agonize. Agony being the same as pain, brain, that is not as helpful as you seem to think.

Apparently the next several days are going to be full of non-routine stuff for me. I expect I'll be gibbering in a corner somewhere before Monday rolls around. I think maybe I have one day more before the particularly stressy stuff starts, but I could be wrong about that.

Whatever may come, today I have dried my tears on the sleeve of my most comfortable hoodie, sipped hot apple cider, and found things to giggle about. That's what matters.