I blog gluten-free

Sunday, April 1, 2012

The Button

I'm currently attempting to help myself... my biggest issue is that I am more than capable of figuring out what's wrong, and analyzing it to death while attempting to actually do something about it... I have to... if people complain endlessly about something sucking and just let it lie forever, it will drive me insane. If I'm that person, then I eventually have to smack myself in the head, say something like, "Hello, McFly!" and get to work.

I procrastinated for weeks before I finally clicked on one particular button and, trying not to analyze, actually talked to RAINN... although I'm sickened by their stance on helping the transgendered with sexual assault... I knew, I was crumbling. Badly. While I'm aware that anger, triggering episodes, irresponsible behaviors, etc are normal, I also had tried to avoid the issue... and I am generally very prone to using a bit of dry gallows humor, at least at first, to deal... to wit: "A fire on Ash Wednesday? Brilliant!" I'll eventually have to break and meet it head on. When I realized I was an anxious mess (and thanking God that for the most part, those I've chosen to keep are patient with me when I head into spectacularly neurotic episodes.)

I tried a website where people can talk... about healing, about assault, etc... detested, right away "Victims" being the first word that I caught, and have yet to avoid clicking the red X to my right when the "This website may cause triggers" warning pops up. Nope. Can't handle. I've had more than enough. I have to cope, I have to work, I have to find comfort when I can.

Certain "innocent" or "normal" things people say will cause me to shut down, to become angry. If I show in some way that it did, it will anger me more. "Daddy like" causes me to flash back to an incident where The Idiot Known As Ricky Fucktardo decided to A) entrust me with the knowledge that incest turned him on... (Strike 1---and OUT!.) and B) tried to invite a couple who could satisfy that whim. Having no interest in swinging was something I already got shouted at, beaten up, and occasionally, invited to whether I wanted it or not. (I'm so glad I live somewhere where no neighbors can attest to me literally running for my life to a friends' in my underwear.) They were creepy, they were forceful, I was stuck for the night, unfortunately, and my skin was crawling. I hid in the closet.
Then there was the guy that he invited over---a big, creepy guy who had told RF* that he'd give him $ to have sex with me. And left me alone with him... When he tried to get me onto his lap, I ran. Later on, I received the fight of my life... and  physical scars that still heal to this day. Because I'd cost him money and he'd made a promise to this guy. I was supposed to be good, I was supposed to be obedient. I'd made him look like an asshole. Now I deal with itching, peeling, etc... and thank God that it's gone.

Anyone who says "Do something sexually to prove you care", even in jest, is more or less going to freak me out. I will never be able to look at that person the same way.
I always figure a true friend can get you a gallon of milk on the way over without needing to have their schlongs or other parts polished just for the favor. I also figure that if I feel like thanking a person, then I'd make sure that they got gas money if needed, a hand written thank you note,  or a home cooked meal, or gee, maybe a heart-felt thank you. If a sexual favor is expected in return for a favor, it's not happening.

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