I am angry.
And I just need to vent the anger and get it out. I want to… I’ve run out of words.
It’s just a long quiet silence inside of me, and I can’t release the pain.
…
Next morning.
The pain has been the hardest part. It’s like this thing that sits inside of me. This truth that I know is there and I can’t get away from it. I can’t dig it out. It just hurts.
I just found my quiet laugh. I was there for three beautiful, blissful weeks… and then I’m upturned again.
I got a tattoo last night. I stopped smoking and drinking. I’m cutting out all drugs. I don’t need them anymore and, apparently, it is imperative that I stay vigilant. Especially when in public.
The tattoo… It felt like I was adding a shield to my body and a source of comfort. It made me feel safer. It added certainty to my Self. And I think that is the battle I am currently fighting. Certainty. My Subconscious all knows what was done to me. I went to the NYPD yesterday.
Belief. Every time we are abused, the abuser attacks your beliefs and your ability to form a healthy perspective. The first person who you have to convince is your Self. You know what happens. You are logical and can form logical deduction… But when your Self-Esteem is shaken, your ability to determine a healthy Perspective is the first thing they take from you.
Most people let their Voices die in this stage. They say nothing. I can feel it.
But if I say nothing, I know the damage that will cause to my System. It doesn’t matter what was done or said. All that matters is what was ethically right and what was ethically wrong.
The police were adamant I talk to someone.
I could hear the scripts being recited back to me. My whole life I was forced to believe the beliefs of others. Forced to believe… We never talk about that. Forced to believe religions. Forced to believe innocence and guilt. Forced to believe we are not capable of choice. Forced to believe we NEED someone who is bad for us. Forced to believe we had a moment of “crazy.” No. I did NOT! I am have a plethora of sex rules and practices that I use on everyone because my sexual past is so problematic.
I never consent to one-night-stands. Juan and I have had many a discussion on these. I do not like, desire, or want anyone touching me with first discussing expectations, three dates, at least are required, and I never consent to sex unless I am sober.
I’m the one who walks around sex parties naked with a band on my wrist that says, “Too drunk to consent” because consent fucking matters!
I am terrified of penis. I am terrified of being in a room alone with a man. I am a lesbian! I would never, in my right sober men consent to a random, one-night-stand with HIM of all people. He and I had discussed it. It was never going to happen. And the ONLY reason why it did was because he took advantage of my intoxicated, possibly drugged, self. There was another man there who figured it out and left the room. Why couldn’t he?
I can’t… stop thinking about it. I can’t stop replaying all the “would have’s,” “could have’s,” “should have’s” that are going on in my head. And the conclusion keeps coming back to one solid point: I was so intoxicated that I required help walking. I was so intoxicated and/or drugged that I was fading in and out of consciousness. I was so intoxicated and/or drugged that I threw up. I was so intoxicated and/or drugged that he said to me several times while raping me, “Wow… you are so drugged.”
I was so intoxicated and/or drugged that I said, “I think I’ve been roofied” and he gaslit me and just kept fucking me. And did not stop.
And now he’s texting my Juan like their buddies… they always go after the ones who are dearest to me.
I don’t know how to function like this. I don’t know how to clear my mind and focus on parenting and work. I can’t stop thinking about this.