Emergency contact

They say “bad luck, comes in threes”. I’m not sure I believe in luck when other people’s free will exists.

Last week, bullies were suspended from school for having cyber bullied one of my girls. I found out I need a tooth extracted due to a root fracture from dental work. Woke up Saturday morning to my car keyed and then picked up a huge nail in my brand new winter tire. The worst of this for me is managing the “fixes”. Without back up, these tasks feel monumental, I’m exhausted just thinking about it. I’m barely functioning on an average day. This is still better than living under a twisted, dictatorship regime.

Yesterday, I had a dental surgery consultation. Like most new medical scenarios, I had to fill out a questionnaire. Without intention, the form takes me to that place I avoid at all costs after the narcissist.

“Do you live alone?” Checked yes and instantly started feeling the pity party kickstart. My thoughts are “Is there free counselling to deal with having to answer yes to this? Great, now I feel like shit.” Worse was leaving the Emergency Contact information blank.

No emergency contact…that’s a terrific feeling. If I really wanted to, I could put my 70 year old Dad who cares for my mother 24/7 as she suffers with emphysema down…. I could text my best friend who lives on the other side of the city and ask to use her name… There are probably a handful of people who would accept the request. The Aries in me or the hurt inside me, stubbornly has me leaving it blank. Some kind of damaged human rebellion. I think about that blank space most of the day in between filing police reports and bringing baked goods to the guys who replaced my tire on Saturday.

While I’m working and in between phone calls from the firefighter who is being supportive after so much chaos in the last several days, I’m reflecting on the blank space. I’m reflecting on how I heal and not focus on that blank space?

My best friend is texting me about bringing baked goods to the tire guy calling it a “baking date”. This has me genuinely rolling my eyes. She is trying to play matchmaker and I’m not sure why? I explain to her that the thought of a date makes me physically ill. Flirtations cause the kind of eye rolling that one might only expect from an adolescent.

There’s a piece of my heart that hopes that some day the emergency contact information will not be blank. At the same time, I cannot imagine opening my heart and soul to someone. Love has become like Santa Claus or the tooth fairy to me. Something that seemed magical in my youth, capitalized on by Hollywood and Hallmark. Not real, not magical… I no longer subscribe to its “magic”.

I’m Googling dating after anarcissist, it all leads to dating yourself, selfcare and not using a man as a band aid. I come across a blog that tells me that this dating thing I’m doing with the firefighter is wrong.

“And she was way past male hook-ups, interactions and attention to simply fill the gaps until “someone better” came along.”

When Is It Safe To Date After Narcissistic Abuse? Part 1

I go to a staff Christmas get together and a colleague makes a point to introduce himself. Throwing in at some point that he is a single dad. This wee comment initiates profuse sweating for me. Fight or flight. In my world flirtation and acts of war are equivalent right now. Everyone in my section thinks it’s cute, “I’m rooting for this…” the women giggle. The guys from my pod, playfully tease me. I just keep saying how much sweat was happening.

I’m still happy, joking, silver lining Krista but I’m broken. Repair will be slow and cumulative….

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