And yet, even though he listened so kindly and perfectly, I still felt ashamed for telling him all of the stuff that’s happened lately. I got home and felt so guilty even though he’d given me absolutely no reason to.
Partly I guess I’m just ready to move on to the next (hopefully much more awesome) set of stories, but I think it’s more than that. Even though I’ve done every single thing to fight the Man-induced compulsion to shut up, I still feel guilty for talking about it, even to my best friend. I can hear those chiming admonitions about “privacy” that ran through that stupid thread and even though we are not in touch in any way, I can still feel The Man judging me because I didn’t “move on” as fast as he’d have liked.
And I do still feel embarrassed for how much of myself I wasted on him, how much, okay, probably something like love I felt for somebody to whom I essentially did not exist. I hate the way his idea of me is still in my body and heart, to the point where I feel guilty about sharing a story with my friend.
My BFF, my wife, and my other close friends have given me so much care and support, and honestly I really do owe them better stories. And I want the shame to be out of me somehow—no matter how many times they TELL me that it wasn’t my fault, etc, I won’t be able to really move forward until I believe it, all the way down deep. This has been my lifetime struggle, and I hope somehow I’m getting closer.