Most likely, nobody is ever going to see this. I’m completely okay with that. I just wanted a place where I could voice what I was feeling about random things and feel as if I was being heard. If anyone does end up reading this, thank you! Please always keep in mind that I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.
*** This post discusses sexual assault/abuse. Please don’t read if this topic is triggering to you ***
I’m a victim of sexual assault. My abuser was an extremely close family friend. The exact details of that night are disgusting and the things that came out of his mouth will always haunt me. This situation as a whole was traumatizing and for a while I thought it was one of the worst things I’d been through.
As always, it gets worse.
The other day I was thinking about childhood memories. I use to spend a lot of time at my Uncle’s house. My cousins and I would play on the farm, catch frogs and turtles in the creek, and climb the hay in the barn. My favorite thing to do was ride the ATV to the river, where there was a fire pit and perfect climbing rocks. I did all of this stuff with the cousin that was closest in age to me, though I was the youngest in my family by far. L is five years older than me, for context.
When I was growing up, there were several times L would make me kiss him. Sometimes he would make it part of a game. For example, if we were playing a mom and dad it’s only naturally that we kiss right? But, the kisses were… strange. I would tell him I really didn’t want to, that I thought it was gross. He would make a deal with me: I kiss him for 15 whole seconds and then we can keep playing the game. I always did this just to get it over with. The kid never stopped asking. In comparison to the other scenario this was a pretty sweet deal, really. There were days where he would hurt me if I didn’t kiss him. He was a lot stronger than me physically so I couldn’t ever get him off of me. I was afraid to even hit him because I didn’t want to make him mad and have to suffer the consequences.
This was honestly normal to me when I was little. I never told anyone because I didn’t even know it was wrong. When even worse stuff started happening in highschool, thats when I knew it was wrong. I won’t go into detail about those incidents, only because they’re graphic and I haven’t ever acknowledged them until this very moment. But, I can tell you that thinking about it makes me so uncomfortable I want to cry. L makes me want to cry. When I was younger, I would’ve given anything for his approval, and I think the only time I got it was when he was abusing me. He never even protected me from other people hurting me. The night of the assault by my family friend, L was the first person I told. His exact response still fucking kills me : “yeah, I figured that was gonna happen.”
So, what do you do when you realize innocent childhood memories aren’t so innocent? I have no fucking clue. Sometimes I want to cry, other times I convince myself that I’m overreacting and should feel absolutely disgusting for thinking that way about my big cousin. What’s been interesting though, is how I never made a connection between his high school actions and his childhood actions, and how I never considered that there was more to my trauma than just one incident. If you want the truth, it’s been fucking killing me to think about it. I decided to talk about it in therapy, because honestly this is some pretty important shit.
I’m not writing this to air my big cousins dirty laundry. I really wanted to point out that families should be having conversations with their kids about what is and isn’t appropriate when it comes to touching. Inappropriate behavior shouldn’t be dismissed as “kids being kids”; children need to be taught that touching someone in any way that they don’t like is wrong and hurtful. I know that something like this is shitty to have to explain to young kids, but please believe me when I tell you it is so important.
So, this is more of an open question post.
If you’ve been in the dating game, chances are you’ve probably been cheated on. We all know the narrative of the girl who constantly goes back to her cheating boyfriend, and we’re usually making fun of her. But I want to pose a question: Can cheating in a monogamous, committed relationship be forgiven? If so, how many times and why? What if you know they’re cheating only for the sexual thrill? What happens if they cheat on you and they’re the absolute love of your life? What if you truly believe that they love you even though they cheat? What the hell do you do?
If you haven’t already guessed…this gals been cheated on a time or two!! I’m doing fine though. I just genuinely want to hear others thoughts and comments on relationships and love. I truly hope that those who read this don’t have much experience with it, because lets be honest: that shit SUCKS. Anyway, if you’re feeling up to it, please comment your thoughts down below.
As always, stay alive.
Generic informal-style greeting to all! It is, as always, an esteemed privilege to engage your casual disinterest once again! Particularly given my somewhat laissez-faire attitude has devolved into more of just laissez generally. C’est la vie, non?
We’re going a touch dark today. I’m rather fond of the piece despite its somewhat downer tendencies. Like Eeyore.
“Star Blight”, December 26, 2019.
I wish no one subjected
To a black hole formed inside
Having been so infected
With such galactic divide
Matter’s pulled towards this crypt
Where light and laughter perish
Course along preordained script
And resign all you cherish
Rearranging organs and
Universes much the same
Reshaping unique to bland
And our joie de vivre as shame
These pits have a finite life
At least in physics theories
Which may or may not be rife
With grand unanswered queries
Whatever position then
Cosmic vast or soul scape bound
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I've never been at my best, Because being at your best Means knowing who you are, And I've only been who you wanted me to be. Changing the way I think Never changes the way I feel, So no longer will I submit To your demands of me. For you to know me is to love me For you to really know me is to hate me. But I'd rather feel your hatred Than your manipulation. Black and white could make grey If you wouldn't throw the black away. Until then, I'll make red. Red stands alone. ****I wrote this a little over a year ago, just before leaving for college. But I thought maybe someone could benefit from seeing it? I felt very confused about who I was, I still do. That's why I'm bringing this Poem back. Also, I don't know all the grammatical rules to poetry (LOL I don't know the rules of grammar period), so if you're a poet and this makes your eyes bleed, I'm so sorry sweetie.**** Stay Alive, Guys.
I recently finished my freshman year of college, which got cut short because of Corona. Consequently, I’ve been back at home since early March. I really, really don’t like being here. I constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells around my parents. Its just my dad, stepmom and I at home, so I’m their main focus all the time. I feel like they (mainly my stepmom) are way too invasive and controlling over me. For instance, I’m 19 and have to ask to stay out after 8p.m. The other night she asked me if I needed to start keeping my phone in the kitchen at night like they made me do in highschool to make sure I “get good sleep”.
So this past semester I was taking a class that I had to make a C in to stay in the program that I got accepted to, and I got a D. I’m retaking the class this summer, because I just have to have the class successfully completed by the time school starts back. When stepmom (I’ll call her M) got this info, she made me study all day everyday before the class even started, even though there was a whole month before the first day of class. I haven’t had a “break” for three months it feels like. If she walks in my room and I’m checking my phone to adjust my studying timer she accuses me of not being focused. In all, I’ve studied 6 hours a day at minimum for a month and a half straight, and before that I had regular online school, so there wasn’t any down time.
I know that she does a lot for me, she really does. But I always feel like I’m being judged. As bad as it sounds, even talking to her is tiring and anxiety inducing. I cant stand being here and the frustrating part is that when I try to explain it to people they don’t necessarily get it because they don’t experience it. I guess my main point is that I feel like I’m never going to be able to grow up because she always has to be involved. If I ever have to have a call with one of my professors about school or anything pertaining to tests, she has to be on the call. Honestly, It’s embarrassing. The other day she scheduled me for a haircut and didn’t tell me until the day before, so she just decided I needed one. The worst part is I cant argue with her because it always turns into a big issue, or my dad takes her side and they come to the conclusion that I’m just being a brat. I’m tired of not being able to make my own decisions. I’m fully aware that there are things that I need to discuss with them. For example, I went to the gynecologist for the first time last week. Doc recommended Kyleena for birth control for me. I came home and told M about it and she said “ill have to think about this”. At first I thought that it was just about insurance purposes, which I totally get, but then I realized that she was trying to make the decision on my birth control. Maybe I’m wrong but that just doesn’t seem like that’s her place.
Another thing that’s been bothering me is the fact that M always says she can’t work from home because dad and I bother her too much. However, she still works from home two days a week sometimes and all she does is come in and out of my room asking me if I’m studying or ordering Dad and I to do chores. I just feel like everything is piling up because I’ve been home for so long now and I feel like I’m in high school again.
Sorry if this was completely boring and a waste of time. I just needed to let it out. I’m completely aware that people have real problems, so please just take this for what it is: a venting session.