Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Superheroes and cowardice

My life has gotten a little weird lately. I started writing these op ed articles and to my shock and amazement, they got published. (In large part because of a very good friend of mine, because I don't deal well with people.)

I'm also getting job offers that are so incredibly tempting, that I have to turn down, because I have to respect my limits. It's a kind of torture, because it's the first time in ages and aeons that I have felt like I have something to offer the world.

I write articles about MST because I want to make people listen. People need to understand the problem and then maybe someone will fix it. Part of me believes that I can single handedly eradicate MST if I just work hard enough. I have to check that inner voice with doses of reality periodically. What I really want to do is write fiction. I do write fiction, a  ton of it, and I think it's really great stuff. I don't have the guts to submit it to be published though.

Part of my problem is that the agoraphobic voice in my head is too scared to become dependant on the opinions of others to make my living. And then I feel guilty for doing what I really want to do, because of my need to save the world....

I'm tired of being scared of everything, even my own dreams for my future....

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Heinous fuckery most foul.

Heinous fuckery most foul.

"The willingness with which our young people are likely to serve in any war, no matter how justified, shall be directly proportional to how they perceive veterans of earlier wars were treated and appreciated by our nation." -- George Washington

With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow, and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.” Abraham Lincoln.

So much for a "just and lasting peace". The VA has just taking a giant steaming shit on the constitution with regards to the second amendment, and never mind veteran's privacy. Congress has just spit in the face of every veteran everywhere....again.

Monday, March 30, 2015

Interview with an abuser

Control. As human beings we spend our entire lives seeking control. We smoke cigarettes, abuse drugs and alcohol, we impulse shop, and we use a myriad of other tactics to feel in control of our lives. Some part of us knows that control is an illusion. Eating disorders and gambling addictions are manifestations of that desire for control.

Some people beat their spouses to feel in control of their lives. Some people rape women to feel powerful and in control. Given enough time physical abuse and rape will eventually escalate into murder.

Victims of this abuse certainly have no control. They could choose to walk away, and seek help. Abusers are adept at convincing their victims that they are powerless. 

A man, an abuser, once told me “You’re going to find out some things about me, and I don’t want them to change the way you think of me.” The next day I found out he broke his girlfriend’s leg with a golf club, because he believed she talked too much. He wanted to shut her up. So he broke her leg. For control. 

One of the men who raped me told me once that he loved manipulating women into situations to force them to have sex with him. He loved making women do things they didn’t want to do. He smiled as he described some of the things he’d done to women. Control.

Another of the men who raped me, waited until I was unconscious from my migraine medications to rape me. I briefly regained consciousness during the rape and he was telling me “You have wanted this for so long.” The only way he could control me enough to get what he wanted was to wait for me to be unconscious. Control.

And every day 22 veterans commit suicide because they have no control. 

So how do we find control without murder, rape, abuse, or suicide?

Friday, March 20, 2015

Another article

Saturday, March 7, 2015

Why I didn't turn in my rapist...publication

Please share this around. This was incredibly difficult for me to write, and I want other survivors to know that they are not alone.

Monday, November 10, 2014

Jumbled mass of thoughts....

Well hell. I should probably preface this post with a warning: Epic drama.

I am just trying to not be homeless. A homeless agoraphobe is a suicide looking for a place to happen.

Obviously, and I have to say this way too often, I'm not suicidal.

A cherished friend recently found a way to help me remember that I used to be a real person and for a brief moment in time, I felt like myself again. Which is awesome, because I never enjoyed hating myself for the blank slate crazy I've been over the last few years and in particular the last few months. Of course, it was only a temporary reprieve. Inevitably, the fresh memory of having a real personality instead of functioning on medications with the least negative side effects, has thrown my current...state into sharp contrast.

I would like to stop and take a moment to bask in awe at my own depth of resilience. I used to be a person and now I'm a wreck bouncing from one awful symptom to another. And I have survived this for 7 years. I've listed and described my symptoms here for years. I kept writing what felt like extremely repetitive narratives of what my life has become. It's hard to quantify how much I've lost and therefore survived. But I did survive, although, at times, I really hated my own tenacity.

I am back in full on survival mode. Displaced again, although this time of my own choice. I took my cat and my clothes and walked away from everything else. I left my medals and my paperwork. I left my knick-knacks and my treasured collection of books. It's all gone now. I have my cat, my car, my computer, and my clothes. I'm running wifi off of my cell phone in order to publish this and then I have to turn that off because my cell phone bill is going to be astronomical. It's not like I can't afford it. Despite having spent 75% of my savings over the last year, I'm still doing alright. Realistically, worrying about money, might actually kill me. The proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

I've turned off all non-essential systems mentally. I don't try and regulate my impulses. I don't filter my thoughts, so if I think it, I say it. I don't think about tomorrow.

I just wrote about a dream I had, and basically, I need a fucking vacation. Reality  needs to go bother someone else for awhile and leave me the fuck alone.