Monday, March 28, 2011

kiss all of yr saviours goodbye...

Hmm. So the flipside of my last post is the way i actually react to situations with people who have really, purposefully, fucked me up.
Today George sent me an email (knowing full well he is not welcome to contact me in any way after sexually assaulting me, blaming me for it, throwing accusations and emotional abuse my way to invalidate and dehumanize me) asking for me to send him all of the emails he sent me during this time to show to his counsellor, and asking permission to go over my respeonses as well. y'know, as a favour, 'cause he's getting help. awww. barf.

TWITCH.

How many times have i asked him not to contact me? well, about 15 over the phone, about 15 over email (after every time he emailed me all of his bullshit "we need to work on this so we can both grow because you're just as fucked up as i am if not more and you need me because i'm all you deserve" bullshit) . yep. i REALLY feel as though that's enough times for him to get that in no way do i want him to contact me. especially to do him a favour. a FAVOUR? really? The only favour i want to do for him is to fucking castrate him and let him bleed to death from the wounds.

of course though, i did. I went through the emails and forwarded them to him, re-reading all of the shit about how i was trying to make him kill himself, and employing a 'bullshit alienation campaign' because the 4 people i'd talked to about it weren't all that stoked on hanging out with him afterwards. re-reading (mostly skimming, but completely unable to think straight or even at all because of all the shit it stirred up) all of the accusations of how i wasn't everything he ever wanted in a partner because i called him out on his shit when he asked me to, and because i kept breaking up with him because i didn't feel safe around him and didn't want to date him.  And how that made me an empty, horrible, small person, for not loving someone who "liked [me] better before, when [i] was fucked up."

why did i do this? well, that's my shit to deal with, now isn't it? that's why this all got out of hand, why i dated him in the first place, why i stayed around for the whole 3 or so months that we were together, why it's taken even longer than that to get over it and not have it affect me so viscerally i can't breathe when i think about it too much.  Like millions of other people, I actually do believe that i'm a terrible human being and that if things are fucked up it must be my fault, that i'm just not treating people right, and if i had more patience, and more love inside of me, instead of these empty pieces that i'm always trying to put back together and losing halfway through the process, that i could be good enough for some abusive dickwad to be supported enough by me to change.

I mean, that's how it goes, right? If you take enough abuse, you can find the good parts of a person and help them grow and change into the person you know that maybe, someday, they might be?[/sarcasm].

yep, yeah, i was abused. in all the ways. and you know what? no one's going to save me from that. and no one can claim that because i was abused that i don't get to be the best parts of me, the parts that i kept untouched as much as possible, the parts that I held onto when there was nothing else, when i thought that i didn't have the right to speak, or to live, because every time i fucked up, i'd tell myself the things that i'd always been told. it's my FAULT. I'm not GOOD ENOUGH. I'm not WORTH ANYTHING. and I know better than that, and i know i've grown from there and i've cut off all ties with the people whose voices would otherwise echo through my life and keep me stunted and abused and incapable of becoming myself.

but i still sent him the damn emails. I still 'did him a favour' and i don't really know why. it wasn't to help him. it wasn't to help me. as far as i can figure, it's because i wanted the white noise in my head when i saw that he'd emailed me to STOP. and the only way i knew how to do that was to DO ANYTHING. and that's the task i saw in front of me. And I kind of hate myself for sending them. in fact, i hate myself a lot for sending them. I guess that's where my head's going to be pulling itself out of for the next week. I'm real confused.

When I sit and think about it, i know that all the things he said about me aren't true, just like how all the things my parents said about me and did to me weren't true or permissible. I know that I'm not the person their voices tell me i am. I know that i have a good life, filled with love, and that I care very deeply for people, just not people who hurt me on purpose. I know that i respect people and their boundaries. I know that sometimes i need a lot of space to keep from burning out, and to keep that level of care for the people i love, and that if i'm not feeling anything, it's time to build a nest and sit with it for a few days and let the feelings that i'm avoiding come up and make their way into and sometimes out of me. I know that this helps me treat the people that i love as though i love them, and to keep the people who just want to tie me up in their heartstrings at a safe distance.  I know that i'm not perfect, but i also know that i'm not going to tell anyone what they want to hear just to get my own way. if i'm going to be close to people, it's going to have to work for both of us, as we actually are, not as the idealized verisons of ourselves that society or religion, or even anarchism demands of us.  if i'm going to cuddle with someone, or fuck someone, it's going to be someone that i respect. not someone that i 'look up to', but someone that i can work with and communicate with, and practice good consent with in other areas of our lives before we get anywhere near the sexin's. I know this isn't going to work for everyone, and it's probably a step-backwards according to some, but it's what i NEED. And George refused to let me keep that part of myself for myself. He'd argue it out of me, not even logically, and use my emotions and our friendship to hurt me, sexually. Motherfucker doesn't have the right to come near me. to communicate to me, to be in my line of sight.

Sounds pretty familiar, i bet. I doubt there's a single person on earth who hasn't had at least a handful of people in their lives who have bullied them out of being who they need to be to be safe and happy. I hope fewer of those people are straight-up raped by these people and further shamed by them afterward but i know that that's way too goddamn common too.

So why, after all this processing on this here blog, do i still not understand why i gave him what he wanted, every time, even now, instead of fucking ignoring him or smashing his face in like i know i actually WANT to do?

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

There's no reason to be assured.

Hmm. I'm gonna talk about forgiveness for a minute here
Mostly because i have no concept of what that means.

I .. think.. i was raised to beleive that forgiveness meant figuring out how to make the best of a bad situation, how to change yourself and your emotions and thoughts to accept the person, see things from their perspective and not hold their degradation of you against them. Y'know, we're all just human, if you don't 'get over' what happened, then you're going to end up bitter and disappointed and lonely. GOd forgave all the shit we pulled, so we'd better forgive all the shit other people pull.

I'm hoping that forgiveness means something else, or i'm pretty much ready to throw the entire concept of forgiveness out the fucking window. Because so far as i can figure it, forgiveness means not accepting your emotions and experiences and struggles as valid and instead subjugating yourself further to your assailants/oppressors in the name of "being the bigger person" which is a pretty fuckt concet in and of itself.

lemme tell you: If someone hurts me, I don't have to "let" them hurt me again. it does not make me "just as bad" to refuse to be around them or to tell them to fuck off when they try to tell me why i'm WRONG about them. I don't have to talk it out, i don't have to help them heal, i don't have to tell myself that i can't heal unless i learn not to be angry. If someone hurts me, i have the right to anger. I have the right to have boundaries with them. I have the right to do what i need to do to take back what they stole. And if I pull some asshat shit on someone and hurt/assault/oppress them, they have every right to do the same.

So it seems to me, that in the absence of forgiveness, people just hafta learn not to be jerx. 'cause in the absence of forgiveness, you have to face yourself and no one's going to pretend you don't look like an asshole.

Monday, March 21, 2011

No Where To Run This Time

Today was an angry day. You can tell because i didn't have much to say. When i'm ranting and raving it means i'm ok, or alright or even STOKED! when i have nothing to say, i want to explode and know that i can't, or i can't just yet, or i need to make sure that the explosion is going n the most appropriate direction first.

I'm not sure when or why i stopped just exploding on whatever was in the way. I think it was a good switch, hmmm. maybe i even know it was. sometimes i miss having the ability to let all of my anger thrash out. I don't miss the parts that i couldn't control, but i do miss being able to let it do that without having to process half of it away first and being left in a constant flight response until then.

It was a weird weekend and I was hanging out, hoping to see a friend and heard that George was on his way down. so i left, 'cause .. well, when i hafta go, i REALLY hafta go. and sometimes it just isn't time to overshadow what's going on with my friends with what's going on with my shit. The people who know that George sexually assaulted me were really confused about why I left, especially after he agreed not to show up after all. Suffice it to say that i was in no condition to be there. Not because I would have tensed other people up, but because it would have hurt me, possibly. maybe another time and place i would have stayed and let myself get the support from my community that deep down i know i need although i keep denying it, but not there and not then. I'm real confused. I spent the night dreaming about dismantling walls around playgrounds and running into George and having him tell me stuff about how, y'know, he CARES about me, and he's CONCERNED because i just don't 'understand the situation' and that what happened isn't what happened, i'm just remembering it wrong and he'd like to support me so that i can get it RIGHT, because what happened really wasn't a big deal and i had to let it go and forgive him or else I'd be a worse person for it.

Fuck. That. man, even in my dream i knew it was bullshit. I guess that means that I really have gotten untied from his shit. well, here's to hoping. it's only a matter of time before we're face to face and i have to make sure i don't listen to a goddamn word he says.

So, it's springtime now, even though you wouldn't be able to tell if you went for a walk, and I'm going to listen to some sad music and clean ALL THE THINGS and get rid of some shit and let myself be ok and sit with this anger and let it help me decide what i want.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

I watch 60 minutes go by hour after hour after hour.

went out of town with the feral pal this weekend. got to have a 2-beer night after the cock-up from the night before while everyone else had big bottles of hard alcohol to themselves. it was pretty funny. I like my friends. I like them when they're sober, i like them when they're drunk. I like them when they're yelling with me about TBTN and showing me how it can be done better, faster, and stronger. One year, some friends and I tried to organize TBTN here, we joined the committee, pissed everyone off, and left once all of our action points were done, and debriefed after the march. sadly, there was no actual debriefing, 'cause all I would have said is CUNT CUNT CUNT over and over. mostly 'cause i'm a jerk, and i wasn't allowed to use the word (not just at meetings, but at all, like, in the way that i'm not allowed to take the shit that's been put on me back and use it as a term of empowerment and funtimez.) man, i swear, I didn't call anyone A Cunt. i was just saying that i like the word and that i like to use it and i'm not using it to demean anyone 'cause if you ask me, a cunt is a fucking stellar thing to be. They really disagreed, and some people pushed the topic but i didn't, 'cause i'm also the kind of jerk who thinks that they're wrong all the time, or used to at least, and so i hid from 'em instead of stating my case. y'know, once i state it and they don't give a shit. never asked them to use the word. I understand that language affects people and that that word could very easily have triggered someone and it's not their job to tell me that I hurt them. I guess that's why I wasn't one of the ones pushing it. I did, in fact, take that word out of my vocabulary for years afterward. I get really excited when it falls out of my mouth now though. It's a good one. Really, my problem with TBTN was about being escorted by police for the march. I am not about to explain why that's fuckt.

On to other things. The trip was a blast, with lots of little fuckt parts that made it a roadtrip. Seeing family is always fuckt, especially when they ask you to be their support person for their newborn's circumcision and you hafta say 'hells of no, there is no fucking way in fucking hell i'm supporting any part of a decision to modify the body of a human being without it's consent, especially it's genitals.' without being that direct. I think i did a good job, made up some excuse about having to work that day (of course, i'm far from above calling in sick to ANY work in order to adventure, it was convenient.) then when i asked her about it and she sad it was her husbands decision i passively stated that i thought it was actually her son's decision then started talking about something else.  not about to harass my only family member in her own home two weeks after having a baby. also not gonna not say anything about genital mutilation. y'know? yeah. y'know.

oh yeah, and some dude pulled a gun on the feral pal and i about 5 minutes after we were accosted by some fucking racist scum for a cig and veered away from him. goddamn, i wish i had of just fucking hit the guy. sigh. the whole gun thing was WAY less annoying. (note: neither of us think that the gun was real, nor did we when it was happening, it's all good, seriously. it was just weird, and full of eye contact. dude didn't even ask us for money or anything. totally weird. i'm not entirely unconvinced that he didn't think we were friends with the racist fuck and that's why he did it. in fact, i really fucking hope that that's why he did.)

C.Pox update: all is well, barely a spot left on the kid. and she's eating like a ... toddler... again. meaning: everything, all the time, ever. and she got to run around in an empty community hall room today and actually admitted to it when she was tired. and i think we annoyed some liberals, so i'm stoked.

learning good consent update: there has been lots and lots of many drunken makeouts and more lately. I feel really good about all of them, and about the ability of all parties involved to say what they need to say, and what they're comfortable with, and that no is always the best answer if you're not super YES. I think the fact that I know and trust and have known and trusted the makeouts for a long time really helps. and that none of the makeouts involve p-in-the-v. (disclaimer, when i say makeouts, i could possibly mean anything from a furtive kiss to full on fucking in any sense-- including with all our clothes on. the people who need to know the particulars of things do. you, darling internet, won't. nor will anyone i'm not currently making out with. so there.) It feels safe, it feels good, and the one thing that i will tell you about, dear internets, is that constant communication and talking about consent and drawing up boundaries every single time... and when alcohol is involved, throughout the entire escapade... really does make things better. and i never intend on making out with someone without these things again. fuck, if i want a one night stand or a bit of a grind on a dance floor, i'm gonna make sure both they and i are ok with it. i'm really not sure how long it'll be til i feel like doing the anonymous makeouts, but either the object of my boner is gonna be weirded out and nothing's gonna happen any way, or shit will actually NOT be self-destructive. ugh. yeah. i think i really do need to stay away from the anon for now. I can't imagine making out with someone i don't know and trust to not be self-destructive for me. I'm stoked for people who are up on that, but for now, it's definitely not for me.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Push The Button, Start The Show

I've been listening to a lot of Shabazz Palaces lately. The beats are fucking killer, the not-so-hidden misogyny is making me a bit angers. oh, the angers. Really? Really. Really.  Yes. I'm still listening to it. Where do I go from here? A lot of music that i like makes me cringe and twitch and burf and such. The only group I really can't listen to anymore after a song making me twitch hard is The Dismemberment Plan. I wish I  paid more attention to lyrics. One day I actually heard the words to "Girl O'Clock' and realized that the song was all about excusing rape as a sexualized fantasy that is totally understandable and reasonable and not a violent act. then i started listening to more of their lyrics and realized that a lot of it is a lot of the same. So, Fuck 'em. For whatever reason i still listen to a lot of other fucked up music, I just couldn't get past that one. Y'know what I really can't fucking stand right now? the uplifting and idealizing of rape and rape culture. yep. that one.

The toddler's had a few late nights, so I'm sure I'm pretty screwed for getting any sleep myself the next couple of nights. Too many visits from and to pals the past few days. All visits have been good and wild and free. some with more whiskey and homebrew wine than others. On that note, the beer seems to be working. i mean, fuck, it'd better be, it's made from a goddamn kit. which i am ever-so-disappointed about. but, like the feral pal said "so, what you're saying is, it might actually work?" when i broke the news to him that no, our first joint homebrew project wasn't going to be all barley roasted from the 10-gallon stash food not bombs gave me a year ago 'cause they couldn't use it, hops stolen from neighbours yards and yeast from dumpstered fruit rinds.

that's going to be the second batch. :D

Also, man, I hate a LOT of things. and  LOT of people, but there's a special place in my heart for the way I hate rapists. and fuck it, I AM going to sit down and start a project of writing out a stand up comedy routine mocking all of the people who have ever raped me and my friends (if they consent to their story being told/alluded to). and it's going to make a lot of people very uncomfortable. and i might never stop smoking again. and it's going to be really fucking funny. and hopefully, will make more sense (read: be in any way linear) than this blog. I'll be taking resumes for editors within the year.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

this is my family. we found each other. we may be broken and small but we're good.

sorting things out in my head as usual. also, apologies for terrible typos in the last post. i am too lazy to change them.

smoking/not smoking. well, i started in october, and quit in february, and, well, have reached the conclusion that i have quit smoking ALL THE TIME EVER and am just gonna smoke once in a while, when it's a better idea to smoke than to lose my brain off the back of a truck. once or twice a week. i'll decide later if i'm gonna quit for real or start for real, or add/modify/delete myself into whichever sort of relationship with smoking that i'll find myself in next. i've been cranky but not super aggro. and the urges to fill my body with delicious carcinogens hasn't been that strong. i think it's all the beer and adventure. and parenting and adventure. adventure keeps me sane. (so does the sleep that sometimes comes in spite of adventures until i need to hole up and hibernate with the kid when she's sick.)

sick kid. check. chicken pox. yeah, i said it. chicken pox. she's doing really well. not much fever, lots and lots of baking soda baths and soothing lotions. her pox aren't as bad as i was afraid they'd be, we're just at ALL CUDDLES ALL THE TIMEZ and having snacks everywhere in the house and lots of juice and soup. The problem with this is that she has no appetite. even the pears we got from friends in exchange for the pear sauce we canned last summer didn't get eaten all the way through. I'm almost certain that this is the first time since popping her out that she hasn't had a constant, unsatiable appetite. unsettling. well, a few more days of non stop cuddles sounds about the right prescription.

I'm taking the opportunity of this paragraph to point out how awesome my kid is.  Today is international women's day. a day i've always really enjoyed, and enjoyed watching other people enjoy, but feel a bit distanced from, because i feel a bit distanced from being a woman. i know that that makes no sense and i've 'got shit to work on' etc. but the thing is, that i just haven't ever been able to completely identify as female. I told my mom as much when i was in grade 5 or 6 and she was pretty mad, and i didn't really care. imagine everyone's surprise when my kid starts to talk and almost every game that she comes up to is hyper-gendered and all about being GIRL GIRL GIRL. I've felt a lot of discomfort and twitch on this one, and have spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. As with most things, I've come to the conclusion that i will not ever consciously denigrate her or the things she cares about. so instead, when she's all talking about how great girls are, and how everything she likes is a girl, i say "fuck yeah!" (maybe with other words) 'cause girls ARE fucking awesome! but when she says 'mama's a girl' i'll mention that there genders other than 'girl' and 'boy' and that her mama isn't exactly a girl, or when she asks if someone's a girl or a boy  i ask her to ask them.  if anyone has any tips send 'em my way. I wrote a bunch more after this, but it didn't make sense, nor did i have any clue what i was talking about, so i stopped.

and now i'll stop for the night, 'cause i've got the last few pages of 'the amber spyglass' waiting for me.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

[the only hting that belongs here is a string of nonsensical swears]

So, This is day 4 of no smoking. Fuck you, I'd smoke if I had any. But I don't. So I guess that's good. I am however fantasizing fairly seriously about leaving every city in the world ever behind. This whole "people" thing that i seem to be surrounded by is really kind of a bit much, i think. Really though, I'm just planning my escape in terms of "how long will it take to grow and cure enough tobacco leaves for me to have it to a pace wherein i can always have tobacco whenever i want it?" and planning everything according to that right now.

If there was a lack of sentences in that paragraph, i'm sorry. Words aren't my strong suit at the best of times. the brain melting withdrawl has been hard on my communication skills. and patience. and ability to  cope in any way other than avoidance. it's pretty fun. i think i'm doing ok though.  drinking lots of water, and tea, and hot water, and taking walks when i can (it's been cold. COLD. like, -27 cold. without factoring in the windchill. I had a moment last night, when the kidlet was at the co-parent's house, that I NEEDED TO GO OUTSIDE AND RUN AROUND. first thought, obviously, was "i haven't checked out those two dumpsters down that way, maybe i'll find something. that'll be an adventure" luckily, before i got too far ahead of myself, i realized that not being able to find my mitts really was the end of the adventure. touching metal with bare hands in -40 (windchill included) temperatures, at night, alone, isn't gonna be a very good idea. at all.  So I boiled some water, went to the backyard, stood outside for about 10 seconds, said "fuck this shit" under my breath and went to bed.

I need spring. I need it soon. I'm pouring through canning recipes to find delicious things to preserve, and as the food makes its way to me i'll be ready for it with 57 &1/2 mouthwatering recipes that i've somehow convinced a couple dudes to join me in canningland for. I'm looking at prices of land in the kootenays, which is REALLY getting ahead of myself, because the kidlet won't be allowed to be subjected to my ferality by the co-parent until after she can consent to it, so at least 16. sigh. so many years. well, i'll hover around 50% until i just fly over the edge anyway. A well-meaning friend was telling me about how the job that i do pays much better in victoria, and that made me think of a few cabins i could rent out there and part-time drop out into for a while. Oh, the dreamings. This is not time to be realistic. this is the only way i'll get through the next two months of "STILL FUCKING FEBRUARY, JERKS."

On the kidlet note, she's doing well. The fact that every kid she has ever played with in her entire life has the chicken pox right now thing is kind of funny. When i came back from the trip the co-parent told me the news. Now there's a spot on her neck and i'm making plans to do pretty much nothing but cuddle her and give her lots and lots of baking soda baths for the next week. it's gone around before and she hasn't gotten it, but this seems like some sort of virulent craziness that's taking over the kids who DID get the vaccines for it even.well, if she's gonna get them, it might as well be now. It won't cut into her toddler resistance training with all her other pals who have the sick, and the first few days she can hang out in the comfort of a well-known home and sit and be poxy with no pressure, and maybe even just hang out at her dad's house and watch baby shows in pj's all day. we're still figuring that one out.

Have I told you lately that she's started to say "i love you?" that's a weird one. you've got this rather tiny creature who is ordinarily bent on nothing but the destruction of your pantry and conversations. once in a while they want you to turn their dominoes into playgrounds or throw cars off of jumps that you've painstakingly constructed which cross two couches a kid desk and a couple of milk crates, but really they're not that interested in you unless you have food. then WHAM. "I love you, mama." makes my heart melt every.single.time.

Also, for those of you still able to follow this post, not smoking is BAD FOR MY MENTAL HEALTH. seriously. I'm keeping it together, but I don't actually know if i'm doing a very good job. and i'm pretty sure that i'm not actually keeping it together, i'm just not saying a lot of things and not seeing a lot of people and being all-too-upfront about the fact that i quit smoking and am CRAZY when i do have to interact with people and expecting everything to turn out all right in the end because of that. But seriously. I just want a goddamned cig already.