chriek: (おはーーー♡)
bri ([personal profile] chriek) wrote2017-07-02 08:28 pm


I've had a lot of things going through my mind. (Truthfully I wish I could write this in a way that seemed less lame to me. But I have to put it somewhere...)

When I was six years old I made a decision: I was going to do everything in my power to make sure that I was never touched or hurt against my will again. I could never take back those moments that happened in that year. There's something unforgiving about having someone else decide what your body feels. By that I don't mean torture but sexual invasion.

I know. It's not the thing anyone wants to hear about. I've repressed the memories myself so I can't blame anyone for that. Any poetry I've had read to me about it in class (e.g. Toni Morrison or even Maya Angelou whom I otherwise like) I can't stand. I hate the reminders and it's always made me uncomfortable in a way that makes me want to slap the other person to get them to stop reading it aloud to me. It's uncomfortable and gross and some part of me doesn't want to be reminded. But in order to be vigilant it's actually on my mind all the time. Every day. Every interaction and every unexpected occurrence.

Since I'm still working through it I don't know whether it's really about control. I think I resorted to control or vigilance because I had zero options as a six-year-old kid. All I knew was, "I don't want this to ever happen again" so I had to be on the lookout all the time. Thirty years of that will wear anyone out and it's getting less and less possible for me to keep this up. I'm too drained physically. (You try being "on alert" that long.)

But I'm still not okay with it. I still don't feel safe. I still don't want that happening to me without something to do about it. I don't want to be told to get through it. I don't want to be told to endure and pretend somehow it was a strengthening experience.

That's another thing I finally understood: people have mislabeled my fear as strength. It's not strength that drives me. I'm not able to make choices that are hard because I'm fearless. I don't like what happened to me. It got to me worse than anything else. Because someone did that to my body. You don't know how much that bothers me. Even when guys have tapped me on the shoulder or brushed me on the arm - you don't know how fucking upset I get because I didn't consent and I didn't see it coming so I didn't prevent it like I would have wanted.

I made the decision to stay away from guys completely or as much as I could. I always tried not to be sexual or attractive. As an adult I kind of wanted to have experiences and I got through the few years of sex I had by drinking. I've never felt okay about sex - instead I get angry. I hate billboards or lip-licking or anything because it only feels like a threat to me; even BL scares me to read sometimes. It's only like having sex thrust upon me in the middle of my life again. Because I never got to choose. Because I never said okay. Because that shit happened before I was ready. Because I was six fucking years old.

I've never been the same. And I really hate anyone putting a positive spin on something like that. You aren't doing me any favors. I also want people to stop telling me that they think I'm strong. DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THAT I LIVE MY ENTIRE LIFE OUT OF FEAR?! Goddamn your ignorance. Seriously.

And I know the difference between a self-esteem issue and terror due to trauma, thanks. Stop insulting me by saying, "maybe you're not giving yourself enough credit." Bitch, I know what I went through, I know my decisions, and I know why I made them. Believe me, it's got nothing the fuck to do with credit.

I really don't know where to go from here. I've never had the luxury of falling apart before - my father was too busy terrorizing me psychologically for me to have time to consider it. But I mean... this is the reason I live the way I do. Being on high alert means I can't think the normal way; I can't take my time or reason things out or notice shit around me. It's hard to think of what makes me happy when all I'm doing is making sure I never re-live something I so badly didn't want to happen in the first place. My priority is always that. I just never realized it before.

It's not as if I want to go on and on about this. Rather than the specifics of what happened, I'm mostly not sure what to do about the vigilance. I don't want to continue pretending I'm okay when I'm not.

I'm not strong. I'm not okay. I'm scared out of my fucking mind. All of this has gotten noticeably more intense since I stopped bingeing on sugar a few weeks ago. I've always used sugar to stuff down the fear and sadness (hence the obesity) but I didn't want to keep acting like my feelings weren't worth addressing so here we are. Part of it was I knew I couldn't count on anyone to help me. I still see it that way. People will see you in pain and instead of being on your side, they want to advise you about it. Who the hell needs your advice? Why do you think you have any idea about this? I get so frustrated. It's very hard for me to like people sometimes. And why don't you understand that fear needs compassion and reassurance? Why the hell do some of you think the answer is to scare me with threats of regret or that I'm "letting them win" by still trying so hard to protect myself? FUCK YOU! My six-year-old self did the best she could. I'd like to see you come up with a better plan at that age with a psychopathic father and no other family in the country. Get the fuck out of here with your noise.

I will never regret my decision because it was me trying to do what I could to keep me safe. I stepped up and did what I could with whatever my brain could come up with at that time - I did what my father should have done. No, I won't blame me for staying away from men. It wasn't a stupid decision. It hurt and yeah, I've missed out on a lot of experiences (especially falling in love). But I never did it to harm me. That was never the impetus for staying hidden or not putting myself out there. It wasn't self-hatred or fear of failure that drove me. I didn't give up. I was simply very aware of what could happen to me. I was very aware that even if someone saw, it didn't mean they'd help or do anything about it. And I knew how much something like that could hurt me so of course I sought to do something about it. I never got the chance to think of a better course of action because my father kept me too busy with harassment, gaslighting, and other psychologically destructive measures.

At this point I'm not sure how I'd change things exactly. I guess I wouldn't keep it in. I wouldn't pretend not to be affected by it. I'd talk about it (something my father forbade me to do via the silent treatment any time I brought it up). It's actually getting pretty late as of the time I'm writing this so it's getting harder to think and I know I should wrap up and go to bed. The point is, talking is important. I know people who haven't had my experiences have no frame of reference and a lot of them seem to have Opinions about how to recover. I don't need anyone's opinions. I don't need advice. I need to talk. I need to have the conversations I should have been able to have a child. I need the reality where this shouldn't have happened. I understand that it did and I don't mean that I want to wish it away; I mean it in the sense where it's not okay. The more people have said to look at my "strength" or "resilience" the more it come across like they're expecting me to endure it if it happens again. I've been expected to endure too many things in life. I don't want my endurance applauded. I had no real choice as a kid. No, I'm not going to celebrate that. What I'm going to do is address the kid that's hurting and tell her she has every right to feel as hurt as she does. Enough of this bullshit "strength". Don't need it, don't want it.

I'm allowed to feel hurt. I'm allowed to have trouble trusting after all the messed up shit I've had happen in my life at the hands of others. I'm allowed to need time. I'm allowed to talk about it as much as I need to. I'm allowed to be who I am even if or when it "inconveniences" you. What the hell, I wasn't put on this earth to please you, any of you. Call me "unfair" if you like (my cunty therapist said this to me a lot) - I'm allowed.

Yes, I know men aren't bad by default. Believe me, I've become aware of this fact. But that isn't enough to undo the damage. It's not enough to know that. It doesn't address what I went through. It doesn't say, "it was unfair to ask you to deal with this for so many years without help, and at such a young age." It doesn't let me mourn or get upset or anything.

I still like men. I mean, I'm still attracted to men and not women. But that fear... I can't simply let it go. It has to be acknowledged. Because it really shouldn't have happened to me. And even if it had happened, I should have had a parent who held me, protected me, got mad for me, talked to me, made sure I was okay, and so on. IT SHOULD MATTER WHETHER I'M OKAY OR NOT. I've had enough of people acting like that's not important.

God, it's nearly midnight. I guess that's all the time I have to spend talking on this right now. I really should get more sleep but lately it's been hard to get in bed and turn out the lights with only my fear keeping me company. OH THE FUN ADVENTURES OF PTSD ugh