Wednesday, October 9, 2013

anguish.

**TMI/trigger warning**
Please read on only if completely comfortable, this blog is much more for myself than others...
 

Today I felt like a rape victim for the first time...
 
I decided to partially shave my lady bits in an attempt to take back what's mine; instead a scar was revealed and it made me shrink back into my prison...my body is a collection of limbs, veins and abuse. The mental ninjas that kick away bad thoughts and perpetrators of violence are getting tired.
I decided to wear the same underwear that I wore the night he didn't listen; the night I was convinced it was something I was doing wrong, something about my genetic make-up that make me unlovable, unfuckable, unworthy of anything more than rough commands.
And I can't even make friends with my body to celebrate it's beauty and perfection because it isn't working properly! I shake constantly, I've started having dissociation episodes since coming off the sodium valproate, my breasts ache and have started to lactate, my joints ache at strange times of the day and wake me up at night, I am constantly exhausted...
Why couldn't he have been a decent stranger with whom I spent a few months eating toast, losing my virginity and watching TV? Why did my desperation to die and say goodbye override everything, so much so that I couldn't tell anyone how much it hurt or how badly he was treating me? Why have both my previous sexual partners shaped my perception of sex so negatively? Why did it have to an in-between scenario, complicated by friendships, mental illness and futures? Why is all this so taboo (even my therapists don't like talking about it)?
 
We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on.
—JK. Rowling