I just had a short visit with one of my closest friends from middle school. Weird can’t express how much I missed her. She has always been that budda friends, the one who gets along with everyone and keeps the peace when bringing us together. It breaks my heart to know the life she had growing up, and to hear how the friends she keeps in touch with treat her. She is, hands down, the sweetest person I know and I hope things come together so her and her family can move back near me…at least where they are happiest. She deserves happiness.
Yay, I finally got to add a new piercing! I know you can’t tell from the pic but it’s a black heart with multi colour jewel…too cute IMO.
This little booger gave me a hard time, but I persisted and finally it all came together. Ok so it was partially my fault for buying needles from a new source and not realizing that the stud wouldn’t fit into the end to guide it through… I ended up putting the needle through twice, leaving it in my lip for 20 mins the 2nd time to make sure the front hole stayed open this time. It worked and boom, I’m loving it. I was going to do a hoop in my lip on the opposite side, but because I struggled with the labret stud I decided I will order a new needle next month that will guide the hoop in. Hey, it will give me time to for the swelling to go down.
This will be my first permanent lip piercing, when I was younger I could never let my lip heal. My mom was not a fan of facial piercings so as a teen every piercing was fresh and removed before I entered the house. Heck, at some point I just started using a safety pin them fastening it and rocking that over the weekend.
I’m tired of hiding my art, my vision, in not working right now so why not act while I have time to heal. Piercings are beautiful. I am beautiful.
More piercings to come.
I just spent 2 hours in the bath overcome by memories of my past. These memories are a part of me, why I am who I am today, but sometimes I wonder just who that is. Usually I can reclaim these memories twisting them into something enjoyable and get off on them, but sometimes that backfires, like today.
Laying in the bath I remembered an incident when my son was about 6 months old. We lived in an apartment not far from who we thought was his dad (yeah, long story). Someone knocked on the door a little before my alarm went off, early morning. I went to the door thinking either it was my ex or someone at the wrong door. The peep hole sucked as they usually do and I couldn’t decipher if it was my ex and his friend or not so I asked who it was. Someone said their name and that they were looking for JC. My dumbass cracked the door to tell them that J is 2 doors down…they forced their way in gun and all.
Up against the wall one told me to take off my shirt (it was all that covered me aside from panties). I’m not sure if I tried to distract them with talk or if I just stood there, but I do remember my alarm going off and my dread as my son awoke. They were distracted, demanding to know who’s there and fully on guard. Finally they let me get my son who was in my bed and I sat cuddling him as they paced. I don’t know what all they were doing probably filling a bag, but eventually I came out to make a bottle…I never sat my son down the entire time.
God is great and guided me, my words and all. I didn’t know these guys, but I knew them. Gangstas, gone off the wet, and I knew what color they claimed which narrowed down what set they were. I had an idea that my old roommate, ex, and friends might know them too. I dropped my friends street names casually as they fit into conversation, thinking maybe they were from the same set. I had to let them know I’m not a threat, make them see me as a someone who should be protected instead of an outsider. I tried to give them an out before any damage or irreversible crime was truly committed…leave before it’s too late.
It worked on one of them. He actually told the other they shouldn’t be there, something about me being down or a friend of _ set (yes, they knew the names even though my friends didn’t know them by name). Unfortunately the other one was too gone off the wet to care, he was on a mission with a crazed look in his eye and he was the one calling the shots. The nicer one never left me alone with the crazy one after that.
Like I said, God is great. It felt like hours but was probably less than a half before they left. There was one moment that truly scared me more than when they first burst in, it was when crazy joined us all in my son’s room. Things weren’t going as planned for him. Most of my belongings were still packed in boxes, his friend wasn’t helping much, and knowing what I know now things weren’t where they should be outside either. He was losing it, at one point pointed the gun toward my son and I and started talking about fvcking me, ordering me to take his friend to the bed. Somehow the nicer one intervened distracting him. Not long later they were leaving, crazy ordering me to count to (I forget how high) before calling the police and the other one apologizing. They left me utterly confused and scared they would come back busting through my windows, but after a few minutes I called the police and then my job.
I won’t go into the trial following all of this, nor will I speak more on their sentencing etc. but I will say that there is no 6 degrees of separation when you date/associate with specific populations…in my case it’s more like 3 degrees if your lucky. Mr. crazy reached out to me before trial through his kin folk whom I had just started seeing. Yeah…
What messes me up about all of this is not the fact that it happened or that I couldn’t stop it, but that I have fvcked up emotions and fantasies about it. From the moment I saw him I was attracted to the nice one. I wanted him to walk out the door so we could talk again another time. When he told me he wished we had met under different circumstances I wanted to say “you and me both” while a twisted piece of me was like “it’s not too late sugar.” Who thinks like that?!?! Yeah, I have issues…like I said, at that time in my life these were my type of guys, my people, even the crazy one. But Mr. Nice never manned up enough to ever deserve me.
So I spent 2 hours in the bath reliving it all plus some, feeling grimy because I found myself wondering and borderline fantasizing what would happen if crazy and nice had raped me. Worse yet I even entertained using sex to manipulate the whole situation and then a fantasy grew from that. I couldn’t enjoy it though because under it all I felt extremely blessed to survive the whole thing and lose little, I was so scared they’d rape me or to call police because it could lead to my son getting harmed. For me to fantasize or retain any other action felt like a slap in the face to God and the blessed outcome and help during this horrible event.
What is wrong with me!?! I know it’s normal try to own uncontrollable events, but this is crazy! No part of me enjoyed the situation or wanted to be trapped so why even consider this crap soooo many years later??
Is there a clinical term for overwhelmed and not motivated? I know I should be packing and purging, but I don’t want to leave the couch and fireplace to even get the laundry to fold. Ok, I made myself do that and other basics in household maintenance, but I had to MAKE myself which is not right.
Yeah there’s some depression and a lot of avoidance happening right now and most of it is surrounding the move. We’ve lived here almost all of my son’s life, about 13 years. We have so many memories here, both good and bad, it’s hard to say goodbye.
Typically I enjoy moving but what makes this different is that it is severely affecting my son. His friends, activities, and memories are here. He is upset, withdrawn, and showing it like guys do…”nothing’s wrong” then shutting himself away. Watching this affect him makes it hard on me. I busted my ass to ensure he had a stable home to grow up in, even remaining here when I wanted to run away from memories because I knew it was more important to give my son stability. Now I can’t even give him one lat summer let alone his high school years.
Maybe I’m feeling like a failure because I can’t afford the rent hike. Even so, I would refuse to pay $1650 for this small place. I guess I just don’t like to know I can’t swing something even if I chose not to pay in the end; it’s having the option to not stay due to the increase instead of having the decision made for me.
Then there’s having to go through things and purging. I still have things of my dad’s that I’ve stored away and things of his that are in use that need to be given away. I’m not thrilled about the memories that going through things will bring. Baby clothes saved for the 2nd child that I would never have. Baggage.
I have 2-3 months to get through this, I need to step up. I can do this. Maybe it’s a good thing we have to move, it’s time I let go. Make a list, table one room at a time before moving on.
Just 1 more night vegging then I start on the first room.
I was molested at age 4, I spoke of this before, how his actions and lies affected my self esteem and friendships. Unfortunately this wasn’t all it affected.
Although I don’t remember any penetration or pleasure from his random finger follies, the experience unlocked a fascination and curiosity that should not exist for many more years. I’m not sure what age it started, but by 7 I had discovered the pleasure that one little nub could bring. Bath time was never the same. And then I got older and probing added that much more. And that is how I put myself to sleep many nights.
This was my secret, nobody knows of this. It’s not something you speak of even to your best friend. Hell, I was already an outcast because of my molester, imagine how people would think of me knowing this. No, nobody else would be able to use my experiences against me.
What is it about a Hanes crew neck t-shirt that is so comforting? Not the ones that you buy that hang on racks, but the undershirts which are rolled and packed in fours. Soft, thin and somewhat stretchy, they cling and hang just right showing off curves and waist, hiding what you don’t want seen and showing of what you do.
Maybe it’s because I was an 80’s child and a 90’s teen; tight shirts and really baggy jeans. Maybe it’s because I’m the daughter of children who lived the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s and the image and attitude of jeans and the thin Hanes crew neck undershirts are engrained in my brain and DNA, the one ensemble that remained constant in both look and attitude over the decades, linking and uniting. I guess that would be more of a link to my dad as my mom was not a jeans and t-shirt woman, more bell bottoms and more girly tops growing up and a mix of slacks and jeans and blouses as an adult; I am not her.
I play rough, love hard, am extremely loyal, very perceptive and intuitive, cute, honest, caring, shy, jaded, soft, broken, angry…ok maybe I am part her. I’m a girl but not typically girly. I have girly tops and one or two skirts even, but once I slide on nice fitting jeans and a Hanes t-shirt I feel right. Maybe it’s the attitude that has been associated with the look; bad boys, badass females. Maybe it’s how it looks and feels on me. Either way it fits my mood and personality, hugging me when I need encouragement, caressing me when I’m insecure or hurting, clinging to remind me I’m a woman, and allowing me space to move if I need to knock someone on their ass.
Simple, comfortable, dependable…it’s me.
Has it really been a year since I started this blog? It seems like I haven’t gotten very far, but I’m sure there are some small things if I think about it. There are just so many emotions to dig through and far more distractions.
Distractions, always so welcome.
I did start deciding last year and made a lot of progress…then distraction. My sister and her family came to stay with us for about 6 months. Hmm, maybe that was more like a setback in ways and trigger to other issues I need to work on. It’s real hard to progress in cleaning and decluttering when there are 6 people living on top of each other in a not-so-big 2 bedroom with no storage space.
Of course, once my family moved out relief set in. After rearranging the common areas loneliness set in. It’s so quiet when it’s just 2 people and my son’s a teen so it’s not like he’s around much, and it sucks cooking for just 2. I’ve found myself retreating to books the past month or so, I’ve become neglectful of some of my responsibilities. Not good.
One good thing about books is that they make you think and I have truly been doing a lot of that lately. There are some new developments that are forcing me to confront the past and think about what I really want. It is very difficult, I already struggle to shut my brain down to sleep. How can I truly envision my future if I keep ignoring my past? How can I overcome what’s holding me back if I am not host with myself?
It is time. I must do this. I’m so glad I rediscovered my screen name, I can’t keep this all in my head.
When I was 4-5 years old, an older neighborhood boy molested me. At first it was like show me and I’ll show you, but he couldn’t stop touching. In reflection he really didn’t have much idea what he was doing, he tried to finger my “pee hole” (lol I was 4). Because of the pain from touching the wrong hole and his constant harassment I finally confided in my grandma.
I won’t forget that night. We had gone out for dinner, my parents and grandparents, and as we were getting out of the van I whispered my secret to my grandma. I don’t remember exact details, but there was a lot of questions by my family and lots of talk after I went to bed. The next day my parents walked over to his house and spoke with his parents.
I’m not sure what the kids parents did from there, but I don’t think they did much. I, however, was ban from socializing with him. My parents informed a few other parents as to what happened since their daughters were around my age and played with him as well. I was relieved to know that he wouldn’t be able to bug me anymore, what I didn’t know was that he would flip my world upside down.
I was young, somewhat shy, but was friends with all of the neighborhood kids. We were always hanging out, playing on my swing set, even started a club. After I told on that boy many of the kids stopped playing with me. I was heartbroken. It sucked being sent home when he would show up at someone’s house and to have people tell me I was making things up because he said I was. At 5 was too innocent to know how to contend with this. I started sneaking and lying to my parents, not telling them he was at my friends houses and even at 7 telling my parents that I was going to play video games with his sister when really it was him. I usually got caught.
As you can see this went on for years, in reality he badmouthed me to people throughout my teens even. My self-esteem plummeted, my friends disappeared until it was just me and 2 other girls in the neighborhood against the rest. I became very shy, angry, and insecure. This all carried over to school and other aspects of my life, of course I’m still discovering just how much. The results of this small, semi-innocent encounter at such a young innocent age is the root of so many of my problems. How could this 1 boy have completely changed me and my future?
Is it possible to have a fresh start while still living in the same house in the same town full of the same people?
This is my dilemma. I love my town, semi big city with lots to do and lots of options. My rental is nice, affordable, I won’t find even an apartment at this price within 30 miles, maybe more. The problem is that it is full of ghosts, so many memories that are holding me back.
There have been many times where I wanted to pack everything up and move, I really feel that it would help. Unfortunately, the economy recovered and rental rates skyrocketed and have not come down, this would push us far from our beloved city. If it was just me this wouldn’t be a big deal, but my son is 13 and has a life here. His non-traditional education program is here and we are surrounded by community based arts programs here which offer scholarships and lots of opportunities for middle and high-speed, everything from wood working to refined art skills.
I know that I haven’t give a background yet, but the access to all of these things as well as being within a few hours drive of my family (including extended family) is very important. My son had a horrible time in school and maintaining friends. Since we pulled him from traditional school to homeschool and use alternative non traditional programs he has blossomed. He has strong interests and access to facilities that will help him develop those skills. He has also made a few really good friends right here in our neighborhood. For the average kid it isn’t much to make be friends when you move, but for mine it will have triple the emotional impact.
***sigh*** yes, this is a part of my problem, always putting my son’s needs above my own.
I have so many conflicting thoughts when it comes to moving, I will have to keep my eyes open and keep thinking things through. I’ll keep you posted.