December 17, 2015 § 1 Comment
Disclaimer: This post is going to be really fucking depressing. And I’m sorry but I’ve had some rough stuff happening and I really need to purge (feelings, not my insides, don’t worry).
My eyes have been bleeding the past week, since Sunday night actually. I’ve made a couple of strides to get out of the house. But those times ended up hurting me worse.
My brother is supportive(ish). I use the (ish) in a good way because he doesn’t just agree with me, but pushes me to change my ways, knowing that I do various things and make certain choices for very self demeaning reasons. I know all of this, it’s hard to hear it, and even fucking horrifically harder to change the way I think about myself.
I am writing this, thinking I want to tell details of this week but I’m scared now. It’s really the same as everything else, a few different details but I don’t know. I feel like I can’t be honest about one of the issues because it might affect various other things but I will just say I was really stupid on Sunday night, and since that night I’ve been mostly in my bed, crying and getting physically sick from the stress and emotional shit. Such a marshmallow I am and I hate that about myself. <Again, language I use too much without even realizing it but others pick up and inform me. My thoughts I’m sure are much much worse and that’s why it’s so strange, and terrible, because it’s just normal to me. I joke or think I’m being sarcastic, making very self deprecating comments and it ends up being way too much. I honestly never recognize it.
The couple days after the Sunday night debacle, I was obviously still incredible depressed and hating on myself, but I am lonely and I do know that people make it better. Same thing for the next night. Both involving problems with men. My history of abuse I’ve talked about (how much? I’d have to check previous posts) but it’s ruined many relationships and also made further occurrences more likely because my brain’s warped into thinking that that’s all I’m good for, even needing that validation.
I won’t say it was rapey, such a tricky word, but coercion. Which has happened to me before and I feel like I make it happen, blame myself, so I suppose I should just allow it. I think this is a giant grey area for men when it comes to sex. That fucking Blurred Lines song and video kills me because NO, it is still a form of abuse that ends up really damaging the other person. In looking back I also believe that the guys who do this don’t really know they are, or what position they’re putting the other person in mentally. I think it’s a cultural thing where rape is very violent and terrifying. But even if you’re not completely forcing them, continually moving their hands places, putting your hands where they have already moved them and said something along the lines of “let’s wait” etc. and obviously various other methods, are also not okay. It becomes a very difficult game in the victim’s mind of “Should I just let it happen?” “He obviously wants me very badly, so maybe I should be flattered and just do it.” “Will I lose this person forever if I don’t go along?” etc. etc. This is especially worse if you’ve set clear boundaries (which I did on the past few nights and they were broken). I honestly never thought any of this behaviour from men was wrong until I started therapy for these specific issues a couple of years ago. I was surrounded by women (it just ended up always being a gender specific group I was in) discussing their abuse of this nature and I was immersed and accidentally ended up realizing various other times that I honestly never thought were wrong but were, many of which I just always thought I was the one who made it happen, I was dirty and disgusting and tried to push it away.
I am not going to disclose exactly what happened to me but I’m a giant scar and I seem to keep putting myself into situations where I’m torn open again and again. I can’t help but blame myself. And my self esteem is a pit of shit and I know I need to fix it.
Lovely brother and I got into a bit of a discussion and eventual fight which involved other matters, however, earlier in the night he was upset with me because of how I treat myself, speak about myself, etc. I don’t know how to get out of this stupid bullshit cycle. I desperately want to, I know it’s a slow climb out of it all (I’m fucking impatient) but I am terrible at trying to make first steps.
I just…I don’t know. I wish I could end this more eloquently but I’m just in a bad place right now still, though writing still helped a tad.
December 3, 2015 § Leave a comment
My eyes are bleeding. Mascara wands and dirty foundation’ed fingers and I’m crying. Fucking myself to boredom. Wine in plastic cups, licking the rims. I am alone and I want company of someone, do I really want anyone?
I think I’m better, so much improvement, then I think about my behaviour. Hoping I’m a sociopath, that it’s not really because I’m still hurt, broken. I’m rationalizing because I know it’s the latter. But why?
I should be happy. HappiER. I’m still fucking around and starving, drinking and pilling, treating myself terribly, want to rip down all the mirrors. That’s a lie because I need those mirrors, the scale. I wish I didn’t care but I can’t just be myself without some kind of outside acknowledgment, proof I’m there. Do I still exist?
I’m a shell. A human icicle protected, however fragile, from the emotion and caring that I so desperately want and won’t accept.