I've been searching for a way to have intimacy without sex for a long time. I crave intimacy and I always have. At times I feel like an intimacy addict. Intimacy is not always happy and smiling, sometimes it is conflict and struggle. My family just went out for breakfast and we were all on different pages, some were very hungry, we couldn't decide on a restaurant, there were tiny arguments starting here and there like little fires. It was extremely intimate being on the inside of a car with all of this going on. I remember it from road trips with my parents and brother. Tiny spaces with a few different agendas trying to find one path :) And everyone matters.
It's not intimacy with family that I lack though, or with girlfriends. I find it quite easy to connect with women and share emotional intimacy, though I find myself hesitant to engage physically with them, even on a non-sexual level. I catch myself wishing to take a friend's hand and hold it for a bit or snuggling up to them, but I fear their reaction. I find myself holding back in these relationships. I don't feel that it is acceptable to ask a good girlfriend to snuggle with me for a few minutes. I worry that they will be uncomfortable with the request. Part of it is the longevity of the relationship, I've moved around so much that most of my friendships are newer.
With men it is easy to find physical intimacy, but difficult to achieve emotional intimacy. Lots of men, and boys, want to fuck me. It's nice, but it's not fulfilling. I thought it was what I wanted and I still crave that kind of attention. But when it comes down to the moment of actual sexual contact, I become turned off. It's all about the moments before that for me. The eye contact, the brush of a hand, someone trying to make me laugh, looking interested in what I have to say. That's the addicting part. Once sex becomes involved then I am not able to believe that the person was actually interested in me. Just another fuck. This is all in a short period of time usually, if it were maintained over a longer period of time, showing sustained interest, perhaps that would be different.
The instance that I am turning around in my head is my recent physical intimacy with a friend. At first I felt it were inevitable that this friend and I would end up having sex. After a couple instances of hanging out, making out and sleeping together, I realized that intercourse was not I wanted. I also realized that I had some CONTROL over whether or not it was going to happen. I have been in situations where I have slept next to men before without having intercourse, but it would only be one night.
So my realization led to a couple of conversations and my friend asked 'why?'. Why did I not want to have intercourse with him? I believe I said something about my emotional reaction to said act, but since then I've felt the need to expand on my thought process.
It is not because I'm not attracted to him. It's because I'm bored. I'm tired of the emotional trauma/drama that comes with making love to a man. Because that's what it is to me. I've long been afraid that I would not find a suitable partner for myself. It still niggles in the back of my mind, but at this point I'm more afraid I'll never be able to have sex without feeling disappointed with myself. Maybe I didn't make them work hard enough for it, maybe I'm too easy, too eager, too desperate. Maybe I don't have enough self worth, self esteem, good judgment, good advice.
I feel these social pressures to behave a certain way. If I'm going to be promiscuous, then the man has to put a certain amount of effort into trying to have sex with me. What is enough effort? The real answer, which I can now see, is when I want to have sex too. The previous answer, which I am attempting to come to terms with, was much less. I would usually feel guilty once we were at someone's house, in someone's bed and feel that it was my duty to cater to the man's desires. I felt that I had made some kind of promise to them by that point by ending up in those circumstances. I am not proud of these feelings.
I cannot have random sexual exploits without them taking a toll on my emotional, and therefore physical health. I love sex and it is a coping strategy for me. Helps me deal with stress, helps me deal with loneliness, helps me cope with life. Silver lining...double-edged sword...no happy ending, just scattered happy moments.
The definition of insanity is expecting a different result from the same action.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Thursday, October 6, 2016
Missing You
Missing you, can't wait to see you again
Missing you, somehow you became my best friend
Where are you, are thinking about me now
Missing you, wish you could get here somehow
Missing you, somehow you became my best friend
Where are you, are thinking about me now
Missing you, wish you could get here somehow
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
Post-Friendship Breakup
I have been reflecting on my Privilege post (http://softpinkpetals.blogspot.ca/2016/09/privilage.html) and wondering if the situation inspired my behavior, or if maybe I should take a little more credit for being an ass and realize that I act out when I'm uncomfortable.
Dinners in restaurants where I can't afford the tab make me uncomfortable because I feel like I don't belong somewhere I can't afford. One of my biggest fears is that somehow I'll develop a desire to live outside of my means. To want things that I can't buy. There's just such a weight of debt that hangs over my mother and causes so much stress, that it became one of my greatest fears.
My mother seems like a reasonable person to me. I feel like I know her fairly well. But I can't understand how people get in the position of spending so much money that they don't have. I've lived a privileged life in that I received money towards going to college and my education was inexpensive so I never needed to take out a loan in order to go to school. I'm not sure I would have gone if it wasn't paid for. I wonder sometimes. I wonder how it affects my perception of the value of my education or contributes to the fact that I haven't pursued my career path harder.
Part of the reason I haven't pursued counseling more aggressively is because I fear taking out a loan. Haha! Full circle. I fear debt.
But back to being an ass. I act out when I'm in situations where I feel uncomfortable. On one such occasion it caused the end of a friendship and a lasting feeling of shame and regret in my memory. I even convinced myself that I was somehow possessed that night...possessed by jealousy and insecurity.
Crystal was one of my older friends in college, which made her seem extra cool. She was beautiful and interesting and sweet. I think I met her in a class, but I can't quite remember. We found out we were neighbours and begun to hang out together, she showed me a new route to bike to university, and we crafted together. She told me secrets about her relationship with her boyfriend and shared her life openly with me.
One night she invited me to come for dinner with her and her boyfriend before we went out to see a show with some other friends of theirs. The moment I walked into their cute 2 bedrooms apartment that they occupied together a strange feeling swept over me. It's only now that I can identify it as pure jealousy. I don't know if I'd ever been more jealous in my life. I wanted the perfect street artist boyfriend that I lived with in a funky apartment with and had little dinner parties. I was so desperate and afraid that I would never have that. That no one would ever love me enough to make a life with me.
I blew the evening, got wasted, blabbed to the boyfriend specific secrets that Crystal had told me were in confidence. Pissed everyone off, including the friends later on in the evening. Passed out at someones house, got told off quite colourfully by a friend of the boyfriend for something and then Crystal ended up escorting me home despite everything and I innocently acted like nothing had happened. Bless her for not leaving me on the street somewhere.
Needless to say things were never the same between us again. She was never unkind to me afterwards, but she was not trustful either. Which I don't blame her for at all. She even tried to meet up with me a couple years later when she heard I was on the west coast after she had moved there, but decided against it at the last minute and stood me up.
It was so painful for me. Losing a friend over my own feelings of shortcoming. Such shame I've felt over the years. I still feel a slight ache and it has been around 10 years since these events. I just couldn't believe how I acted. I felt at times through the night and when I replayed it in my head that I was watching it all happen, that I was not really in control of myself.
I appreciate films that can capture this kind of awkward social pain because it makes me feel less alone. It was a terrible thing I did. But I am not a terrible person. It's hard to know that someone out there thinks of me as one. Or at least I feel she does. Perhaps she doesn't even think about me. I am very sorry about this event, but I also need to let it go. I'm afraid if I let myself stop hurting over it, that it might happen again. I'm still insecure at times, but not to the extent I was at that time. I've grown up quite a bit.
I'm sorry Crystal. And I forgive myself, I'm sure you'd understand.
Dinners in restaurants where I can't afford the tab make me uncomfortable because I feel like I don't belong somewhere I can't afford. One of my biggest fears is that somehow I'll develop a desire to live outside of my means. To want things that I can't buy. There's just such a weight of debt that hangs over my mother and causes so much stress, that it became one of my greatest fears.
My mother seems like a reasonable person to me. I feel like I know her fairly well. But I can't understand how people get in the position of spending so much money that they don't have. I've lived a privileged life in that I received money towards going to college and my education was inexpensive so I never needed to take out a loan in order to go to school. I'm not sure I would have gone if it wasn't paid for. I wonder sometimes. I wonder how it affects my perception of the value of my education or contributes to the fact that I haven't pursued my career path harder.
Part of the reason I haven't pursued counseling more aggressively is because I fear taking out a loan. Haha! Full circle. I fear debt.
But back to being an ass. I act out when I'm in situations where I feel uncomfortable. On one such occasion it caused the end of a friendship and a lasting feeling of shame and regret in my memory. I even convinced myself that I was somehow possessed that night...possessed by jealousy and insecurity.
Crystal was one of my older friends in college, which made her seem extra cool. She was beautiful and interesting and sweet. I think I met her in a class, but I can't quite remember. We found out we were neighbours and begun to hang out together, she showed me a new route to bike to university, and we crafted together. She told me secrets about her relationship with her boyfriend and shared her life openly with me.
One night she invited me to come for dinner with her and her boyfriend before we went out to see a show with some other friends of theirs. The moment I walked into their cute 2 bedrooms apartment that they occupied together a strange feeling swept over me. It's only now that I can identify it as pure jealousy. I don't know if I'd ever been more jealous in my life. I wanted the perfect street artist boyfriend that I lived with in a funky apartment with and had little dinner parties. I was so desperate and afraid that I would never have that. That no one would ever love me enough to make a life with me.
I blew the evening, got wasted, blabbed to the boyfriend specific secrets that Crystal had told me were in confidence. Pissed everyone off, including the friends later on in the evening. Passed out at someones house, got told off quite colourfully by a friend of the boyfriend for something and then Crystal ended up escorting me home despite everything and I innocently acted like nothing had happened. Bless her for not leaving me on the street somewhere.
Needless to say things were never the same between us again. She was never unkind to me afterwards, but she was not trustful either. Which I don't blame her for at all. She even tried to meet up with me a couple years later when she heard I was on the west coast after she had moved there, but decided against it at the last minute and stood me up.
It was so painful for me. Losing a friend over my own feelings of shortcoming. Such shame I've felt over the years. I still feel a slight ache and it has been around 10 years since these events. I just couldn't believe how I acted. I felt at times through the night and when I replayed it in my head that I was watching it all happen, that I was not really in control of myself.
I appreciate films that can capture this kind of awkward social pain because it makes me feel less alone. It was a terrible thing I did. But I am not a terrible person. It's hard to know that someone out there thinks of me as one. Or at least I feel she does. Perhaps she doesn't even think about me. I am very sorry about this event, but I also need to let it go. I'm afraid if I let myself stop hurting over it, that it might happen again. I'm still insecure at times, but not to the extent I was at that time. I've grown up quite a bit.
I'm sorry Crystal. And I forgive myself, I'm sure you'd understand.
Saturday, October 1, 2016
Sunday, September 18, 2016
Privilage
Last night my family went out to dinner to celebrate our house selling. The end of an era for my family. We went to a fancy restaurant and got waited on by staff that was attentive and charming. I used to enjoy these outings when I was growing up as a child. I enjoyed putting on make-up and getting dressed up and eating tasty food that I wouldn't cook for myself.
There are still aspects of this tradition that I enjoy, but now it's tainted by a realization of class.
Class has rarely been something that I've consciously thought about, but it's come up in conversation a few times recently. Status. I think there are two big reasons that it has become more a part of my reality. One is my sister-in-law and the other is my step mother. Both consider status a priority. I feel a chasm between us when it comes to keeping up appearances. One that is easier to bridge with my step mother because we have other things in common, but I find it hard to reach my sister-in-law.
Status makes me uncomfortable. I don't desire, nor to I understand the desire, to spend heaps of money (or spend heaps of money I don't have) on things that represent to others that I might have heaps of money. As I get older, I realize that these things are important, to an extent, to my own parents as well. I was raising in an immediate culture where class was important.
Class relates to intelligence, class relates to health, class relates to safety. Class is an invisible promise.
In this environment of an expensive restaurant, I found myself being snobby. Complaining about what wasn't good enough about the meal, even though it was excellent. As the wine flowed, my complaints grew louder and I couldn't seem to help myself. As we walked out of the restaurant, I felt embarrassed by my own behavior. Bizarre.
I felt troubled and uncomfortable with myself.
Strange.
Who was I trying to be? Who am I? Am I truly a snob? Maybe I was just looking for attention.
I am definitely not one to live outside my means, but I have also been given false means to live within at times. My grandparents funded my education and travel. I have lived a life of leisure to an extent. I feel that I owe the world something. I felt guilty during college that one of my best friends was working and she held a 4.0 average at school, while I was partying, not going into debt and also not getting very good grades.
I was taught that education was given, not earned. I believe that higher education should be free to those that want it. Would I have even gone if it had been free? I never really questioned whether I would go or not because I went to a mostly white college preparatory school where everyone at least applied to college, there was a course for it.
I just don't want to be a bad person.
There are still aspects of this tradition that I enjoy, but now it's tainted by a realization of class.
Class has rarely been something that I've consciously thought about, but it's come up in conversation a few times recently. Status. I think there are two big reasons that it has become more a part of my reality. One is my sister-in-law and the other is my step mother. Both consider status a priority. I feel a chasm between us when it comes to keeping up appearances. One that is easier to bridge with my step mother because we have other things in common, but I find it hard to reach my sister-in-law.
Status makes me uncomfortable. I don't desire, nor to I understand the desire, to spend heaps of money (or spend heaps of money I don't have) on things that represent to others that I might have heaps of money. As I get older, I realize that these things are important, to an extent, to my own parents as well. I was raising in an immediate culture where class was important.
Class relates to intelligence, class relates to health, class relates to safety. Class is an invisible promise.
In this environment of an expensive restaurant, I found myself being snobby. Complaining about what wasn't good enough about the meal, even though it was excellent. As the wine flowed, my complaints grew louder and I couldn't seem to help myself. As we walked out of the restaurant, I felt embarrassed by my own behavior. Bizarre.
I felt troubled and uncomfortable with myself.
Strange.
Who was I trying to be? Who am I? Am I truly a snob? Maybe I was just looking for attention.
I am definitely not one to live outside my means, but I have also been given false means to live within at times. My grandparents funded my education and travel. I have lived a life of leisure to an extent. I feel that I owe the world something. I felt guilty during college that one of my best friends was working and she held a 4.0 average at school, while I was partying, not going into debt and also not getting very good grades.
I was taught that education was given, not earned. I believe that higher education should be free to those that want it. Would I have even gone if it had been free? I never really questioned whether I would go or not because I went to a mostly white college preparatory school where everyone at least applied to college, there was a course for it.
I just don't want to be a bad person.
Sunday, September 4, 2016
Ode to a Teenage Love
I gave you a piece of my heart
Planning for you to wear it proudly on a chain around your neck
Brag about it to your friends
But you tucked it away responsibly in your desk for safe keeping
Time passed and other things were squirreled away in that same desk
A collection of useful and micellaneous objects
Covering up that precious piece of heart
Forgotten
More time passed and though I'd not forgotten about you
I had given up trying to ensure that you would not forget about me
Finding comfort in the belief that maybe one day the universe would reunite us
While accepting that it may not
A few years later you move out of your apartment
Cleaning out your desk, you find the heart
Dusty and rolled in pencil shavings you don't recognize it at first
But when you do your breath catches and you sit hard on the bed pondering
You're older now and you wonder if you would have done things differently
You wonder where I am and how I'm doing
You wonder if you deserved this heart, if you earned it
You remember I told you I loved you the time I saw you last
And, I won't forget, you responded, "I love you too."
Planning for you to wear it proudly on a chain around your neck
Brag about it to your friends
But you tucked it away responsibly in your desk for safe keeping
Time passed and other things were squirreled away in that same desk
A collection of useful and micellaneous objects
Covering up that precious piece of heart
Forgotten
More time passed and though I'd not forgotten about you
I had given up trying to ensure that you would not forget about me
Finding comfort in the belief that maybe one day the universe would reunite us
While accepting that it may not
A few years later you move out of your apartment
Cleaning out your desk, you find the heart
Dusty and rolled in pencil shavings you don't recognize it at first
But when you do your breath catches and you sit hard on the bed pondering
You're older now and you wonder if you would have done things differently
You wonder where I am and how I'm doing
You wonder if you deserved this heart, if you earned it
You remember I told you I loved you the time I saw you last
And, I won't forget, you responded, "I love you too."
Saturday, August 27, 2016
A blessing, and a curse
I'm struggling lately. Feeling quite down. Transitioning to a new place and saying goodbye to everyone around me that I care for. It's not easy. I feel like crying every day. I just want to lie in bed and be miserable. So I do a bit. I'm also stress eating, but I still find some strength in me to exercise to keep my heart up. Playing a bit of music.
Today I wrote an impromptu song about the man I've been falling in love with. I hoped that he could hear my heart since he doesn't want to hear my voice. I believe that connection goes beyond physical actions. I believe thoughts can be heard by those we love. I try to hear his thoughts and understand without taking it personally.
We don't control our emotions and sometimes they overwhelm us. That's what this blog is for: to spill my overwhelming emotions into, to try to cope with feelings that I struggle to experience.
Life has grown easier in some ways as I experience more facets of it. I wouldn't go back in time.
It doesn't change the fact that I'm vulnerable. I'm not sure I'll find love, in fact I fear I won't. Maybe it's not for me. Maybe my purpose is just to spread love around rather than have it for my own.
Life is for me and all I can do is sadly carry on, until the sadness becomes less. Slowly, I can't force anyone to believe in love with me. But I'll continue to believe in it anyway. Silly me :) Forever hopeful. A blessing and a curse.
Today I wrote an impromptu song about the man I've been falling in love with. I hoped that he could hear my heart since he doesn't want to hear my voice. I believe that connection goes beyond physical actions. I believe thoughts can be heard by those we love. I try to hear his thoughts and understand without taking it personally.
We don't control our emotions and sometimes they overwhelm us. That's what this blog is for: to spill my overwhelming emotions into, to try to cope with feelings that I struggle to experience.
Life has grown easier in some ways as I experience more facets of it. I wouldn't go back in time.
It doesn't change the fact that I'm vulnerable. I'm not sure I'll find love, in fact I fear I won't. Maybe it's not for me. Maybe my purpose is just to spread love around rather than have it for my own.
Life is for me and all I can do is sadly carry on, until the sadness becomes less. Slowly, I can't force anyone to believe in love with me. But I'll continue to believe in it anyway. Silly me :) Forever hopeful. A blessing and a curse.
Tuesday, August 9, 2016
The Next Stage
About a year and a half ago, I went through therapy for some of my issues relating to this story. I participated in an art group therapy with 3 other women and it was really fantastic. We still send out group texts once in awhile and I cherish hearing from these women. I never told them this exact story.
Now what? I'm still terrified of the world in some ways. I feel that I'm a failure at romantic relationships. I don't know if it's because I move so much or because I conduct myself poorly. I don't know if my terror is part of the reason why I move so much. At this point I've forgotten.
I feel a darkness in me when it comes to romantic relationships, a fear that I'm not good enough, that I'm 'used up'. That I'm not lovable. The feeling of not being lovable started way before the rapes began. I used to come home and cry at night when I was 12 because I was certain that no man would ever love me. I don't know why, but that fear of not being lovable is still inside me.
I find myself bending over backwards for men whenever there's a romantic spark of some kind and it's something I really don't like about myself. But it's also something that has lessened over time.
Unfortunately, I recently found myself in a relationship with someone that was really controlling. It scared me. I was afraid to break it off with him. I was afraid he would come to my house and break in for weeks afterwards and hurt me or rape me. I overreact to a lot of things. And it sucks.
I'm about to do a 10 day solo hiking trip and I'm terrified for all these reasons. Even though I know realistically, it's only 21% of the time that a stranger will be your rapist. None of my rape experiences were complete strangers, they were always someone I had at lease hung out with once or twice prior to the rape and they always involved alcohol.
I'm scared, but it makes me want to go more. I want to confront this fear, and I don't know how changed I can be in the span of 10 days, but camping alone in the pitch dark woods is a challenge for me, and it's one I accept. One challenge at a time makes me a stronger, better person.
I know I will succeed. I know it will build my confidence in myself, and that is what I need to truly say no and follow through with my actions and keep myself safe for the rest of my life.
Writing about this experience and how it has dragged out in my life has helped me to understand it and hopefully will help me let it go. I don't necessarily want to talk about it, but I may want some people to know about it sometime and it's nice to have a written copy. I cried more than once during this writing and I went to work feeling quite depressed when I first started. But I'm feeling stronger now and I'm happy to free myself from this burden.
Life will go on and it already is.
Now what? I'm still terrified of the world in some ways. I feel that I'm a failure at romantic relationships. I don't know if it's because I move so much or because I conduct myself poorly. I don't know if my terror is part of the reason why I move so much. At this point I've forgotten.
I feel a darkness in me when it comes to romantic relationships, a fear that I'm not good enough, that I'm 'used up'. That I'm not lovable. The feeling of not being lovable started way before the rapes began. I used to come home and cry at night when I was 12 because I was certain that no man would ever love me. I don't know why, but that fear of not being lovable is still inside me.
I find myself bending over backwards for men whenever there's a romantic spark of some kind and it's something I really don't like about myself. But it's also something that has lessened over time.
Unfortunately, I recently found myself in a relationship with someone that was really controlling. It scared me. I was afraid to break it off with him. I was afraid he would come to my house and break in for weeks afterwards and hurt me or rape me. I overreact to a lot of things. And it sucks.
I'm about to do a 10 day solo hiking trip and I'm terrified for all these reasons. Even though I know realistically, it's only 21% of the time that a stranger will be your rapist. None of my rape experiences were complete strangers, they were always someone I had at lease hung out with once or twice prior to the rape and they always involved alcohol.
I'm scared, but it makes me want to go more. I want to confront this fear, and I don't know how changed I can be in the span of 10 days, but camping alone in the pitch dark woods is a challenge for me, and it's one I accept. One challenge at a time makes me a stronger, better person.
I know I will succeed. I know it will build my confidence in myself, and that is what I need to truly say no and follow through with my actions and keep myself safe for the rest of my life.
Writing about this experience and how it has dragged out in my life has helped me to understand it and hopefully will help me let it go. I don't necessarily want to talk about it, but I may want some people to know about it sometime and it's nice to have a written copy. I cried more than once during this writing and I went to work feeling quite depressed when I first started. But I'm feeling stronger now and I'm happy to free myself from this burden.
Life will go on and it already is.
Part II: The first rape
What is rape? Growing up I thought I knew exactly what it was, I didn't realize that the definition could get cloudy and confusing. It was a time before alcohol had made it's way into my life and things were a lot more black and white, right and wrong. At the time rape was when a woman was walking alone at night and a man jumped out and grabbed her and physically overpowered her in order to have sex with her. This was before I knew that only 21% of rapes are committed by a stranger (https://www.rainn.org/statistics/perpetrators-sexual-violence). Not a lot of people were talking about rape to me when I was a teen. In fact, not a lot of people are talking to me about it now either.
I was unprepared. I was 17 when I graduated from high school and that summer I had more freedom than ever before. I was about to go to college in a few months across the ocean, across the continent even. So I think my parents decided that there wasn't a whole lot left to do at that point, not that my mom didn't at least try to keep some tabs on where I was if I didn't come home. But I had older friends through my job and access to a lot of alcohol and unfortunately a car. It's god's gift to me that I only damaged the car in my drunk driving escapades.
I don't remember exactly how I came to be on the east side of the island in the vacation home of a visiting Canadian college student and his buddies, but I was excited because one of them even went to the college that I was about to attend! There was a lot of drinking, these guys were over 21 so they could purchase alcohol in the states, and there ended up being a lot of sex, wanted and unwanted, but I never really knew which was which.
That night I was drinking, I was tired, and I had a long drive home, so I was ready to sleep in anybody's bed just to avoid the tiresome drive home and the alcohol made Sean attractive to me. When I was 17, I thought that anybody in their 20s was automatically cool because they have life experience, they're independent, they know what they're doing. I wanted to be cool like them. Now I'm 28 and I realize the opposite.
Sean and I did it, it wasn't too unpleasant, but it wasn't exactly great either and for whatever reason, maybe as a brag to his buddies, he left a very large hickey on my neck. It wasn't a passionate, heat of the moment, accidental hickey. It was a purposeful, deep dark bruise of a hickey.
Kiko took it as an invitation. Kiko was from my island and somehow had come to know Sean and Julian who were visiting from Canada and they all partied together. So one night, Kiko hands me a rum and coke in an orange plastic cup filled to the brim that is literally a liter in volume. I say thanks, thinking it's nice of him to offer me a drink and it makes me feel included in the group. I'm naive and don't realize that he's getting me drunk.
Kiko fucked me all night long, and from what I remember it was fun for the most part. I thought that we were doing what people do when they fall in love. I'm sure I thought at some point, that maybe this would be the man I married. I didn't know it at that moment, but he was actually already dating a girl who was 2 years younger than me.
I didn't call this experience a rape, but after writing this, I guess this was the first rape of this summer. I don't know if calling it a rape really helps me though. It's a scary word that I still don't know how to define. If you're drunk, but seem willing, is it a rape? If you regret it later, was it a rape? Are men to be blamed for 'raping' someone if it seemed like the person was interested at the time even thought they were wasted? At what age is one meant to take responsibility for knowing if it is an appropriate situation in which to have sex with someone? If the woman had an orgasm, was it a rape?
The rape that I felt traumatized by, was when I was solidly blacked out. I think we were taking shots of something and I had a friend with me this time, at the vacation home on the east side of the island. She had recently moved to the islands because she had been forcefully gang raped by a small group of boys that she went to high school with and she couldn't stay at her school with all the judgement and accusation that she was lying. She was taking refuge at her mother's best friends house, who was my drama teacher at the time. She too changed her name.
There were two reasons I pieced together that I was raped. The first was because of my friend's recount of me being pulled by the arm to a bedroom and saying to her, 'I don't know what's happening'. The second was because the following day Kiko bought me flowers and while he presented them to me, he made fun of how I was slurring nonsense while he and his friend fucked me during my black out the previous evening.
My first reaction was shame. I wasn't very experienced with sex and I didn't want to be bad at it. My second reaction was anger at my friend for not recognizing what was happening and preventing it. At this point in time, I'm sorry that after her own trauma that she was put in this position. I'm sure that she felt remorse about the situation as well, although I have not had the opportunity to discuss it with her, nor do I know if she wants to talk about it.
After all this, the other man I mentioned, Julian, whom I was so excited to meet because he went to the university I was about to attend told me, with entitlement, that it was now his turn to fuck me. I said no. He was so butt-hurt by the situation, that when I ran into him on campus thousands of miles away from all this bullshit, he continued to ask me for a couple of years. He even offered to have a threesome with me and his girlfriend at the time. He was really desperate to get his chance.
I literally could not get physically away from this rape. Kiko has tried numerous times to add me as a friend on Facebook. I got off Facebook for a few years because I was tired of his attempts. I felt harassed, I felt out of control, I felt terrified.
After the rape by Kiko and his friend, I continue to sleep with both of them, though never at the same time. I became close friends with the friend's girlfriend even because we were all hanging out together. Her name was Lauren and she was quite a bit older than me and I thought she was so cool and fun to be around. One night the friend told Lauren that he had been fucking me and she asked me point blank mid-sob if it were true. I remember her exact words because it was one of the most excruciating moments of my life, 'Casy told me that he slept with you to hurt my feelings, but it's not true is it?"
I said no. It hurt with my entire being, but to this day it feels like the correct response for the situation.
I felt like I had no free will that summer. I felt like I was being controlled by these guys who didn't give a damn about me. That summer Kiko went on to 'borrow' around $800 from me for various things. One time he came to my house for a few hundred to "bail him out of jail", and told me that his 15 year old girlfriend was waiting in the car and had made him pull over to fuck him before he saw me. He drove my car, he used me completely.
I just got back onto Facebook about 2 months ago. Kiko tried to add me as a friend. I finally couldn't stand for it. It's been over 10 years. I wrote him a message that I did not view the time we shared as a positive experience for me and that I wish he would never, ever contact me again.
I haven't heard from him since.
I was unprepared. I was 17 when I graduated from high school and that summer I had more freedom than ever before. I was about to go to college in a few months across the ocean, across the continent even. So I think my parents decided that there wasn't a whole lot left to do at that point, not that my mom didn't at least try to keep some tabs on where I was if I didn't come home. But I had older friends through my job and access to a lot of alcohol and unfortunately a car. It's god's gift to me that I only damaged the car in my drunk driving escapades.
I don't remember exactly how I came to be on the east side of the island in the vacation home of a visiting Canadian college student and his buddies, but I was excited because one of them even went to the college that I was about to attend! There was a lot of drinking, these guys were over 21 so they could purchase alcohol in the states, and there ended up being a lot of sex, wanted and unwanted, but I never really knew which was which.
That night I was drinking, I was tired, and I had a long drive home, so I was ready to sleep in anybody's bed just to avoid the tiresome drive home and the alcohol made Sean attractive to me. When I was 17, I thought that anybody in their 20s was automatically cool because they have life experience, they're independent, they know what they're doing. I wanted to be cool like them. Now I'm 28 and I realize the opposite.
Sean and I did it, it wasn't too unpleasant, but it wasn't exactly great either and for whatever reason, maybe as a brag to his buddies, he left a very large hickey on my neck. It wasn't a passionate, heat of the moment, accidental hickey. It was a purposeful, deep dark bruise of a hickey.
Kiko took it as an invitation. Kiko was from my island and somehow had come to know Sean and Julian who were visiting from Canada and they all partied together. So one night, Kiko hands me a rum and coke in an orange plastic cup filled to the brim that is literally a liter in volume. I say thanks, thinking it's nice of him to offer me a drink and it makes me feel included in the group. I'm naive and don't realize that he's getting me drunk.
Kiko fucked me all night long, and from what I remember it was fun for the most part. I thought that we were doing what people do when they fall in love. I'm sure I thought at some point, that maybe this would be the man I married. I didn't know it at that moment, but he was actually already dating a girl who was 2 years younger than me.
I didn't call this experience a rape, but after writing this, I guess this was the first rape of this summer. I don't know if calling it a rape really helps me though. It's a scary word that I still don't know how to define. If you're drunk, but seem willing, is it a rape? If you regret it later, was it a rape? Are men to be blamed for 'raping' someone if it seemed like the person was interested at the time even thought they were wasted? At what age is one meant to take responsibility for knowing if it is an appropriate situation in which to have sex with someone? If the woman had an orgasm, was it a rape?
The rape that I felt traumatized by, was when I was solidly blacked out. I think we were taking shots of something and I had a friend with me this time, at the vacation home on the east side of the island. She had recently moved to the islands because she had been forcefully gang raped by a small group of boys that she went to high school with and she couldn't stay at her school with all the judgement and accusation that she was lying. She was taking refuge at her mother's best friends house, who was my drama teacher at the time. She too changed her name.
There were two reasons I pieced together that I was raped. The first was because of my friend's recount of me being pulled by the arm to a bedroom and saying to her, 'I don't know what's happening'. The second was because the following day Kiko bought me flowers and while he presented them to me, he made fun of how I was slurring nonsense while he and his friend fucked me during my black out the previous evening.
My first reaction was shame. I wasn't very experienced with sex and I didn't want to be bad at it. My second reaction was anger at my friend for not recognizing what was happening and preventing it. At this point in time, I'm sorry that after her own trauma that she was put in this position. I'm sure that she felt remorse about the situation as well, although I have not had the opportunity to discuss it with her, nor do I know if she wants to talk about it.
After all this, the other man I mentioned, Julian, whom I was so excited to meet because he went to the university I was about to attend told me, with entitlement, that it was now his turn to fuck me. I said no. He was so butt-hurt by the situation, that when I ran into him on campus thousands of miles away from all this bullshit, he continued to ask me for a couple of years. He even offered to have a threesome with me and his girlfriend at the time. He was really desperate to get his chance.
I literally could not get physically away from this rape. Kiko has tried numerous times to add me as a friend on Facebook. I got off Facebook for a few years because I was tired of his attempts. I felt harassed, I felt out of control, I felt terrified.
After the rape by Kiko and his friend, I continue to sleep with both of them, though never at the same time. I became close friends with the friend's girlfriend even because we were all hanging out together. Her name was Lauren and she was quite a bit older than me and I thought she was so cool and fun to be around. One night the friend told Lauren that he had been fucking me and she asked me point blank mid-sob if it were true. I remember her exact words because it was one of the most excruciating moments of my life, 'Casy told me that he slept with you to hurt my feelings, but it's not true is it?"
I said no. It hurt with my entire being, but to this day it feels like the correct response for the situation.
I felt like I had no free will that summer. I felt like I was being controlled by these guys who didn't give a damn about me. That summer Kiko went on to 'borrow' around $800 from me for various things. One time he came to my house for a few hundred to "bail him out of jail", and told me that his 15 year old girlfriend was waiting in the car and had made him pull over to fuck him before he saw me. He drove my car, he used me completely.
I just got back onto Facebook about 2 months ago. Kiko tried to add me as a friend. I finally couldn't stand for it. It's been over 10 years. I wrote him a message that I did not view the time we shared as a positive experience for me and that I wish he would never, ever contact me again.
I haven't heard from him since.
Monday, August 8, 2016
A Root of Pain
I recently read a book by an author that dubs herself Aspen Matis, called "Girl in the Woods". I'm a big non-fiction writer and I'm somewhat obsessed with reading about distance hikes such as the PCT and the AT. I bulk ordered a bunch of books that I had made a list of through looking them up on amazon and then checking out the, 'these people also bought' section. I ended up getting more than I bargained for.
The premise: Aspen, aka Deborah, was a freshman in college when she was raped. Raised by an overbearing mother who didn't know how to foster independence in her child, she felt helpless in the situation. In order to gain the independence she lacked, and overcome this experience, she drops out of school and hikes the Pacific Crest Trail.
It was hard to read this book because I could relate to this girl's rape experience almost exactly. From the hanging out with a small group, having just started college, and ending up in a situation where I too felt helpless. I even ended up changing my name as well. It sucks in more ways than one, because now I kick myself wondering why didn't I just kick that asshole out of my house. Hah. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, didn't.
It became long and drawn out because Francois was butt-hurt that I didn't want to be his girlfriend, after he pressured me into having sex I didn't want to have with him. So he decided to punish me by harassing me with phone calls from him and his buddies about how they wanted to fuck me and slut-hate notes addressed to me on the door of my friend's dorm room. I eventually went to school services and they threatened to kick him out of school unless he left me alone.
But that wasn't my first rape, and it also wasn't the most painful.
It's unfortunate that these situations present themselves. I mean I think back now and I wonder why in the heck would someone want to have sex with an unwilling partner? How could we have been so on a different page that he thought that we should walk to school together the next day holding hands, when I couldn't wait for him to get the heck out of my house? Why didn't I feel that I had the power over my body to kick him out after the first few 'nos'? Questions that haunt me.
If this story isn't too difficult to read, then continue to Part II: The first rape.
The premise: Aspen, aka Deborah, was a freshman in college when she was raped. Raised by an overbearing mother who didn't know how to foster independence in her child, she felt helpless in the situation. In order to gain the independence she lacked, and overcome this experience, she drops out of school and hikes the Pacific Crest Trail.
It was hard to read this book because I could relate to this girl's rape experience almost exactly. From the hanging out with a small group, having just started college, and ending up in a situation where I too felt helpless. I even ended up changing my name as well. It sucks in more ways than one, because now I kick myself wondering why didn't I just kick that asshole out of my house. Hah. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, didn't.
It became long and drawn out because Francois was butt-hurt that I didn't want to be his girlfriend, after he pressured me into having sex I didn't want to have with him. So he decided to punish me by harassing me with phone calls from him and his buddies about how they wanted to fuck me and slut-hate notes addressed to me on the door of my friend's dorm room. I eventually went to school services and they threatened to kick him out of school unless he left me alone.
But that wasn't my first rape, and it also wasn't the most painful.
It's unfortunate that these situations present themselves. I mean I think back now and I wonder why in the heck would someone want to have sex with an unwilling partner? How could we have been so on a different page that he thought that we should walk to school together the next day holding hands, when I couldn't wait for him to get the heck out of my house? Why didn't I feel that I had the power over my body to kick him out after the first few 'nos'? Questions that haunt me.
If this story isn't too difficult to read, then continue to Part II: The first rape.
Monday, August 1, 2016
So I have a little love obsession...
Full disclosure, I came on the blog just now to rant about love, and saw my previous post. HHAAHAHA! Hilarious. A drunken rant about love that I had forgotten about because I had been drunk when I wrote it.
Well suffice to say, I'm not as baby obsessed. I'm sure it'll come back, but hopefully it'll wait a few years. I don't want to mate. I don't mind having regular sex. And I currently am, which may be the reason I'm feeling a little less obsessed with love.
I don't feel as occupied by it. Though, as always, I still feel like I could be even less occupied by it. But less will suffice.
Part of it is that I have a lot of other stuff on mind mind anyways.
I'm about to move, I'm about to do what is, for me, a fairly serious solo camping trip. I'm trying to sell a house and get rid of 50 years of accumulation of someone else's treasures. My eye won't stop twitching and I've become somewhat obsessed with exercising, but I'm still getting enough sleep.
I've actually been spending quite a bit of time alone, despite the feeling of being busy. Exercise is a lone activity for the most part. Even when I'm at the gym, it often feels like we're all in our own lone little worlds. I like it. It's like being at the library in a sense.
But love, love is stressful. Love is a hassle. Love is about convenience. Romance doesn't exist. Bah to love. And luckily love isn't bothering me too much at the moment.
Well suffice to say, I'm not as baby obsessed. I'm sure it'll come back, but hopefully it'll wait a few years. I don't want to mate. I don't mind having regular sex. And I currently am, which may be the reason I'm feeling a little less obsessed with love.
I don't feel as occupied by it. Though, as always, I still feel like I could be even less occupied by it. But less will suffice.
Part of it is that I have a lot of other stuff on mind mind anyways.
I'm about to move, I'm about to do what is, for me, a fairly serious solo camping trip. I'm trying to sell a house and get rid of 50 years of accumulation of someone else's treasures. My eye won't stop twitching and I've become somewhat obsessed with exercising, but I'm still getting enough sleep.
I've actually been spending quite a bit of time alone, despite the feeling of being busy. Exercise is a lone activity for the most part. Even when I'm at the gym, it often feels like we're all in our own lone little worlds. I like it. It's like being at the library in a sense.
But love, love is stressful. Love is a hassle. Love is about convenience. Romance doesn't exist. Bah to love. And luckily love isn't bothering me too much at the moment.
Friday, January 29, 2016
Damnit
I feel like a lot of my posts are about love. And I wish that alot was a scrabble word because I would've used it twice in the past couple of weeks. Disclosure, I have had a couple of drinks and I'm about to rant, so if you're not into hearing a rant from a drunkin' fool about my disappointment in love then this post is not for you.
I'm trying. Really trying to do right by myself. I feel a little disappointed from time to time, but I can't be perfect and I recognize that though, I'm still disappointed in myself for not being perfect.
I mean really. Am I not supposed to have found a legit partner at this point in my life? I'm 28. When is the 'right' time? Who is the 'right' partner? Some people say that the best and most successful relationships have come out of them being friends with their partners first. But I'm just like...bleh. All the guys I start out being friends with I'm not attracted to at all. So am I just supposed to end up with someone that I'm not attracted to at all? Is that just the situation? That you're not supposed to be sexually attracted to the people that you're ending up with and having children with? Sexual attraction is just some tease that lures you away from the actual situation of getting along?
I mean, I like to feel and believe that my goals are unselfish. I want to feel that I'm getting along thinking that I'm working towards a greater good. But really I want to find the perfect man for me and I want to get it on with him, over and over and over again. I want to mate. I want to create. I want to make babies.
I worry that it's not going to happen. I worry that I will rush it because I'm so busy worrying that it's not going to happen.
HAHAH it's all so insane...and I know it. Or do I know it? That is the question.
I'm trying. Really trying to do right by myself. I feel a little disappointed from time to time, but I can't be perfect and I recognize that though, I'm still disappointed in myself for not being perfect.
I mean really. Am I not supposed to have found a legit partner at this point in my life? I'm 28. When is the 'right' time? Who is the 'right' partner? Some people say that the best and most successful relationships have come out of them being friends with their partners first. But I'm just like...bleh. All the guys I start out being friends with I'm not attracted to at all. So am I just supposed to end up with someone that I'm not attracted to at all? Is that just the situation? That you're not supposed to be sexually attracted to the people that you're ending up with and having children with? Sexual attraction is just some tease that lures you away from the actual situation of getting along?
I mean, I like to feel and believe that my goals are unselfish. I want to feel that I'm getting along thinking that I'm working towards a greater good. But really I want to find the perfect man for me and I want to get it on with him, over and over and over again. I want to mate. I want to create. I want to make babies.
I worry that it's not going to happen. I worry that I will rush it because I'm so busy worrying that it's not going to happen.
HAHAH it's all so insane...and I know it. Or do I know it? That is the question.
Monday, January 11, 2016
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Muzak makes the people...come together. Yea?
Tonight I starting contemplating the idea of not playing music anymore. Jam night took the direction of prepping for an open mic and we spent quite a bit of time just trying to pick songs. We only were able to agree on one, but decided we needed three. If I want to give up already, then what does that mean? Why is music so hard? Am I only meant to play alone?
Playing music with the idea of being an entertainer in mind is such a different experience then doing it for the sole purpose of your own enjoyment. It changes the way you play, what you play, and the whole experience of music. I don't think being a performer comes naturally to me. I'm an introvert, why would I want to get up on stage?
I always thought I wanted to be in a band, but maybe that is not the case. In fact, it is likely not the case. It is a very highly regarding thing, to be in a band, but the nitty gritty of actually regularly playing music with people is unbeknownst to me. (great word by the way...unbeknownst) If it's anything like tonight, I could imagine it being quite tedious.
Of course it also depends on how the people playing together relate to one another. But what is music for? Who is meant to perform it and why? Is it entertainment? Is it soul food? Is it both and much, much more? What role does it play?
I know that when I play by myself it relaxes me, puts me in a better mood, and makes me feel productive. I find it difficult to ever be truly satisfied with most of what I play, but from time to time I have a moment. Is it worth these few and far between moments? What else would I do with my time instead? What am I working toward? Do I need to be working towards something in particular?
I sometimes imagine myself on stage, sounding beautiful and my true love sees me and falls in love with my voice. Voices, they're so personal. I know that when I feel shy, it is truly reflected in my voice. My voice becomes thin and tight and self-conscious. I feel kind of as if I'm choking. I don't have the kind of confidence in my voice and sharing my thoughts as I would like to have.
Something to work on. Room to grow.
Playing music with the idea of being an entertainer in mind is such a different experience then doing it for the sole purpose of your own enjoyment. It changes the way you play, what you play, and the whole experience of music. I don't think being a performer comes naturally to me. I'm an introvert, why would I want to get up on stage?
I always thought I wanted to be in a band, but maybe that is not the case. In fact, it is likely not the case. It is a very highly regarding thing, to be in a band, but the nitty gritty of actually regularly playing music with people is unbeknownst to me. (great word by the way...unbeknownst) If it's anything like tonight, I could imagine it being quite tedious.
Of course it also depends on how the people playing together relate to one another. But what is music for? Who is meant to perform it and why? Is it entertainment? Is it soul food? Is it both and much, much more? What role does it play?
I know that when I play by myself it relaxes me, puts me in a better mood, and makes me feel productive. I find it difficult to ever be truly satisfied with most of what I play, but from time to time I have a moment. Is it worth these few and far between moments? What else would I do with my time instead? What am I working toward? Do I need to be working towards something in particular?
I sometimes imagine myself on stage, sounding beautiful and my true love sees me and falls in love with my voice. Voices, they're so personal. I know that when I feel shy, it is truly reflected in my voice. My voice becomes thin and tight and self-conscious. I feel kind of as if I'm choking. I don't have the kind of confidence in my voice and sharing my thoughts as I would like to have.
Something to work on. Room to grow.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
Driving into Technology
So I recently got my first iphone. Until now I was using a flip phone and there was a brief stint in time where I had no cell phone at all. Since my new phone capabilities have become a part of my life, I also decided to sign up for facebook and instagram. I thought, why not just embrace the lifestyle? So far it's been around a month and I've been thoroughly enjoying it. I have reconnected with a couple friends that I have not spoken to in years, and have upped my communication with others that I have only spoken to occasionally in the past. I feel as if I have expanded my friendship circe and support system. Geography is not as much of an obstacle. I can be a part of these people's lives, whom I love so much.
As far as instagram goes, I have mostly been using it as an artistic documentary of my sporadic art projects. I enjoy having a portfolio of my creations and watching it grow. I enjoy having friend who also value their creative outlets as they like and comment on my artwork. It's like my own private gallery.
I still don't completely understand the point of twitter, doesn't really interest me. Pintrest annoys me because I always see photos on google images that I want to click on and then they won't me look unless I sign up. I hate being coerced, but I understand that it's a superficial feud and perhaps one day I'll decide to join as well. For now I think I have enough on my plate. Which brings me to the other technological change in my life.
It's not quite a recent advancement in the human life, but definitely one in my own small one. I am about to purchase my first vehicle. The idea of owning my own mode of transportation is really a lifestyle change for me. I'm not sure how it's going to go. I tell myself that I will still walk to work, which I'm sure I will, as it is across the street. But there are times I need to go somewhere after work in which case would I walk to work and then walk home to my car? These are the thoughts going through my head.
I feel morally conflicted as I have been very much a part of the bicycle culture before this. Bicycle culture is innately linked with environmental protection and a "nose turned up" attitude toward motor vehicles. I have a couple of old friends from the city whom were quite shocked when I even mentioned that I thought I might like to own a car. Of course, they live in the city, which is extremely easy to navigate via bicycle or public transportation.
I'm looking forward to my freedom. I'm curious about having such a financial burden and how I will survive once I will again have the expense of rent in addition to the expense of a car (as I am currently house-sitting). I am curious how I will cope with the biggest financial burden that I have ever experienced. It is an adventure. At least I can always sell it, as it is a Subaru which is extremely coveted in mountain towns. That is my saving grace.
More later on the adventures of owning a car...
As far as instagram goes, I have mostly been using it as an artistic documentary of my sporadic art projects. I enjoy having a portfolio of my creations and watching it grow. I enjoy having friend who also value their creative outlets as they like and comment on my artwork. It's like my own private gallery.
I still don't completely understand the point of twitter, doesn't really interest me. Pintrest annoys me because I always see photos on google images that I want to click on and then they won't me look unless I sign up. I hate being coerced, but I understand that it's a superficial feud and perhaps one day I'll decide to join as well. For now I think I have enough on my plate. Which brings me to the other technological change in my life.
It's not quite a recent advancement in the human life, but definitely one in my own small one. I am about to purchase my first vehicle. The idea of owning my own mode of transportation is really a lifestyle change for me. I'm not sure how it's going to go. I tell myself that I will still walk to work, which I'm sure I will, as it is across the street. But there are times I need to go somewhere after work in which case would I walk to work and then walk home to my car? These are the thoughts going through my head.
I feel morally conflicted as I have been very much a part of the bicycle culture before this. Bicycle culture is innately linked with environmental protection and a "nose turned up" attitude toward motor vehicles. I have a couple of old friends from the city whom were quite shocked when I even mentioned that I thought I might like to own a car. Of course, they live in the city, which is extremely easy to navigate via bicycle or public transportation.
I'm looking forward to my freedom. I'm curious about having such a financial burden and how I will survive once I will again have the expense of rent in addition to the expense of a car (as I am currently house-sitting). I am curious how I will cope with the biggest financial burden that I have ever experienced. It is an adventure. At least I can always sell it, as it is a Subaru which is extremely coveted in mountain towns. That is my saving grace.
More later on the adventures of owning a car...
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