TW for brief mentions of r*pe, abuse, molestation, abortion
Where do you go when you don’t feel safe anywhere or with anybody? The internet? Peak triggering right now! I go into work, all smiles and professional attire, but inside, every day this last week, I am fucking screaming and crying and dying inside all at once. It is literally too much for my mind to process!
The Heard V. Depp Defamation trial has been soooo fucking triggering and terrible. I have lived through a similar relationship and allllll of the fucking gaslighting and internet fanboying over Depp has been nauseating at best, soul crushing and triggering actual flashbacks at worst. Throw on top of that the SCOTUS leak and then Mother’s day this weekend and I JUST CANNOT!
Having to unfollow and even block people over this shit is not what I expected from anyone I follow or share mutuals, but 2022 is full of fucking surprises, eh?! The media has been particularly violent and repulsive with shit like, “Can we really ever believe women?!” as headlines.
Reproductive Justice has been a part of my life since I was twelve! Part of me still wanted to believe that they couldn’t take Roe away. In 2016 I knew better, but still…here we are. And all of the horrible memories of trying to access birth control covertly when my abuser was poking holes in condoms and flushing my pills and raping me on the regular all come flooding the hell back. Seeing folks gaslight fat folks over emergency contraception effectiveness and accessing healthcare, fucking appalling!
Autonomy is pretty much my number one thing always. My biggest fear? Losing autonomy! When I had my surgery last year, it’s all I could think about. I would wake up from nightmares about waking up after surgery to find that they performed other procedures and removals and such, just horrible shit. Humanity knows no bottom when it comes to the horrors they will enact on “others” and we all fucking know this!
I want to write, like so badly, I keep starting and stopping. I have a formed thought but then it’s gone when my fingers hit the keyboard. There is something there that I want to get out but my brain won’t allow me to come up with the framework for it, I feel it, it’s just like NO BITCH NOT TODAY! So I wait and keep trying. It’s not fun to write about your own abuse survival, but it can help, and at the very least it can get me to push through some stuff so that other things can be processed. But my brain? Not having it this week. Too much happening!
On Sunday I will be attending a workshop for children of toxic mothers. Yeah, it will be mother’s day. That isn’t usually a difficult thing for me to deal with, but can occasionally be an annoyance. This year though, not sure why, it just feels extra terrible. I can’t even say that my mother was toxic. My mother was mentally ill, emotionally neglected, and basically unable to truly raise her children, so I did. Explaining to a beloved that I was never the little girl with or wanting baby dolls or to play mama like other little girls because at five years old I was already changing my new baby brother’s diapers. Wow! I still need to process that little factoid.
Our brains protect us from things that we aren’t able to process or understand at the time. In my thirties I was constantly remembering shit I hadn’t for most of my life. Now it’s more random bits and bobs, but it’s also how I can see things differently now. I have so much more compassion for my mother’s now-obvious plight, but I don’t love or forgive her or her actions/choices. I can understand why and how and all of that, and I don’t wish her ill or spend energy actively hating her anymore, but I would rather not know or think about her and that’s the truth.
If anything I’m more mad at those she depended on for love and support in her own life and how they failed her at every turn. I do think she should have aborted me though and wonder if her life and mental health could have had better outcomes had she terminated the pregnancy. My parents did what they could with what they had, I’m sure. I am certain their intentions were good. But neither were equipped mentally or financially to raise children. Just my opinion. None of my newer perspectives or newfound compassion towards my parents changes that they did nothing to protect me from molestation or abuse. No one did. NO ONE! Not at 7 years old when I was molested by a family friend of my childhood best friend, and not at 14 years old when a 21 year old took everything from me and destroyed all that I was or could have been. All of my survival skills, and they are plentiful, I learned from friends or just figured out on my own from just trying to stay alive. I still have huge gaps in my basic human skills, but what can ya do?!
What gets me through is me. All that I have been through and overcome and have achieved on my own, it inspires and motivates me to keep going even and especially when nothing fucking makes sense in this world. My imagination is alive and well and ready to transport me where I need to be to feel safe and free. It’s why I prefer to be alone more often than not these days (covid19 still being rampantly infectious EVERYWHERE – I follow wastewater reports, y’all! – is also a big factor).
It is hard to imagine the (romantic) love I know I deserve in my life when I have never seen it in real life. I have never had the kind of relationship I’m “supposed” to. I’ve never had the kind of partner that sees me and supports me fully. It’s hard to even want what I do and know I should have in a partner when betrayal or abandonment is inevitable. I think I might, maybe, possibly, be ready for like an actual romantic relationship again, but the prospects and platforms for these things are beyond upsetting at this point. So I ignore it all and trust that when something is right it will just be right. I keep trying! I don’t even know why I do sometimes, but I keep getting back on that big dumb proverbial horse! Ha-ha!
The last two weeks I have had so many people tell me that I have really lived a full life, I’m so smart and knowledgeable, and “Sarah knows everything!”, “Sarah’s done it all!” when I see myself as so boring and basic. I know I’m not but I don’t feel like I do or say anything particularly interesting or special. At the same time, if I’m being real open and honest (when am I not?! Ha-ha!), I’ve also been absolutely full of myself in the best possible ways! Like I LOVE looking at myself in the mirror lately, even full length ones! Surely this isn’t allowed! Ha-ha!
I love my own company, I have the best time. I put on music every night when I get home from work and allow the music to create some imaginary respite for myself. I linger and relish over my white wine spritzer and it never ceases to surprise me how quickly the ice melts! (Bota Box Sauvignon blanc with Vizzy watermelon hard seltzers, for the curious.) Food is food and rarely piques my interest these days but a human’s gotta eat and so I just stick with simple things I can easily grab from the fridge or freezer (spinach quiches for the win!). On weekends I have given the occasional Sarah concert to my adoring (it’s possible!) neighbors. Ha!
I miss my beloved puggo still so much it is truly unbearable but I try to keep going. I look at dogs for adoption almost weekly but always close the page before I can get through the pics and bios. I’m not ready. Puggo got me through so much so maybe I’m supposed to figure out this next chapter on my own? My gut tells me yes so I’m sticking with it until it no longer feels that way.
I choose to romanticize all I can in my silly little day to day life because it really does help a lot. I make rules for myself too because they can help me stay true to myself when my reaching for creature comforts can cause more bad than good (shopping!). Here I am writing all of this while complaining that I want to write and can’t! Ha-ha! I will never claim to make fucking sense, okay! The truth is that I am okay, but I am only just barely okay. My house is once again a disaster zone and I’m oscillating between giving zero fucks and way too many about it but my body is like TOO FUCKING BAD! So I make peace with it, with myself, with my body, with this life I have fought so hard to carve out for myself. I choose to trust in myself, knowing that I have survived so much and will continue to so long as I choose it. And I do! I choose to survive and keep on keepin’ on every damn day. I worry that I am too content in my aloneness. And then I just don’t care! Because that is also acceptable.
I’m here for realness and sincerity, honesty and vulnerability, I’m here for the good and juicy bits of life that shine for me when I know I’m heading in the right direction.
Rad Fatty Love to ALL,
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