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?

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