We are all buildings and people inside
Jan. 20th, 2011 09:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rachg82So, I thought about something this morning. It's not just my birthday next week that's been a big deal as I try to shake off 2010 & start anew. It wasn't just Mom showing up. Or 12/31/10. It's also January 23rd, this Sunday. My stepdad's birthday. Every year: four days before mine. And almost a year since denial ceased being a possibility for me. You know paresthesia? When your hands start going all tingly & numb, and that's when you know you need to chill out, because your brain's freaking over something?
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keenai said in a recent entry of her own, feelings are stupid, but they must be dealt with.
But first I need to try to remind myself to breathe, because I do think I'm starting to panic a little. Nausea? Check. Tremor? Check. Palpitations? Check. Chest pain? Check. My muscles are all tensed up, like the emotions & thoughts are literally pressing out & trying to break free.
I do not want them to. It is not only exhausting to get upset, but I just DON'T WANT TO. It's too much. It's really, really too much. I mean, like frightening. I'm already starting to cry, just shaking, and I can't even THINK about the entire topic. It physically hurts when the tears come, because it's like my face just contorts into this involuntary silent howl. It's that *hard* kind of crying, you know? Like when you have the flu & you're throwing up so violently that it burns throughout your entire chest, and your shoulders ache, and you're just hanging there against the toilet like, "please, please. . .just stop." You just want to go back to bed, where the cool wash cloth & 7-UP are waiting.
I really have not allowed myself to deal with what happened, re: him, at all. I mean, I have, in the sense of getting away. I acknowledged who he was. So I'm not in denial anymore like my sister. And at least I can cry about it, unlike her, who just cried hysterically the one time & then locked it all away, proceeding to continue allowing him around both HER & HER CHILDREN, even after signs from my nephew that something weird might be happening. *suppresses oceans of rage*
But I am actually scared to allow myself to feel it deeper than that. Deeper than a level of aknowledgment & action. I mourned it in the sense of saying "he's dead to me & I hate him" and I cried, and I've of course talked some about him, but I have not given myself free reign to truly speak & feel & think about all of it without censorship, without stopping, without holding back.
When he emailed me last year, my reaction was vomiting. Literally. I had to run to the bathroom to make it in time. When I tried to write about it here later, it took me a half hour to type the first sentence, because I ended up lying on the floor, sobbing.
When I woke up this morning, I remembered his birthday, and I remembered the email, and I remembered his "I hope someday you miss your mother" remark, and I felt so angry, and I feel so angry thinking of it again now, that it's like I don't know what I can do with it. I know I should allow myself to put it to words, like I should put things that happened regarding him growing up into words, put how I feel about my mom still being with him into words, put how I feel about my nephew being around him into words, all of it, but it is so much, so much.
I have already hurt so much. I know in ACA they say that once you let yourself feel, eventually the hurting can stop. And it's absolutely what my therapist tried to teach me as well, to stop running from the pain. But it feels so counterintuitive in the moment. Like by turning *back* to the pain, you're somehow being all emo & self-absorbed and torturing yourself or something. But it's not like you were just walking around all fine & dandy & then bought a hammer to smack yourself in the toe with for no fuckin' reason. You've been through trauma, and sometimes that trauma is going to come up. And when it does, you keep turning away from it. To simply stay put & exorcise it--in the interest of moving forward & being honest about your own shit--that is totally different.
When you think about it, it probably is kind of unhealthy to be afraid of what you feel, isn't it? I mean, it's how I was until I was like 23 about being bi. Not only could I not admit it to others, I couldn't admit it to myself. Not in my own head, not on paper, not anywhere. I always KNEW, but I didn't KNOW-know, you know? DENIAL. It ain't just a river in Egypt & holy GOD am I good at it.
All I KNEW-knew was that there was something wrong with me. That, I always knew (when I say "knew", I mean that it felt like *knowing*. Not something I was thinking. It was fundamental, like a foundation upon which everything else was built. All I could do was try to make up for it). And it worked, because it applied to how I felt about everything in regards to myself, so the fact that it also fit with my confusion towards attraction wasn't really out of the ordinary. It was just one more thing that was wrong with me.
I believed, in time, I would get my act together enough to pass as a "normal" grown-up, even if only by sheer force of will. I didn't understand what I felt for girls, didn't understand what I felt for guys, and at one point even wondered if I was just asexual because of my lack of interest in both, compared to peers (I really was a late bloomer). My crushes as a teenager were enthusiastic--often to "fit in". I would look around at the beginning of each year for someone to "like", because I knew it was just what you did--but not physical. I didn't want to kiss anyone. Not beyond a peck anyway. The idea of lips & spit & tongue disgusted me, especially with the whole *forced awkward staring contest* aspect of it (even if you close your eyes, dude, they're like RIGHT THERE. Up in your grill). My first kiss left me crying afterward & I felt like a freak because I hated it so much (it was my first date & I was sixteen--he was 19. My mom picked me up, asked me how it went, and I said "he kissed me. I hate kissing. What's wrong with me?" The next day I asked my friends the same thing. None of them had good enough answers for me). My second "make-out session"--at 19--simply bored me (I literally wanted to check my watch or ask him if we could "just have sex & get a move on"). It took me years until I felt physically attracted to someone I knew in person, even while touching/kissing them (or thinking of kissing/etc), rather than just characters on a TV show (remember when I could only fantasize about other people? Never me? That lasted until my early twenties too). And even then, achieving further emotional/physical intimacy proved obviously too difficult. (fucking relationships, they're so complicated. Ugh)
Obviously, it seems to finally be working itself out--I'm just now kind of understanding what it means to be comfortable with your sexuality. I can find myself around town looking at either a man or woman & finding them sexually attractive. I can meet one in a conversational setting, find their personality cute, & think to myself, "I'd date them." I think I'm getting there. When I was 23 & living in my first apartment (withdosidella and Kevin), I sat down with a spiral notebook one day and decided to try to start journalling again. I wasn't back on lj yet consistently obviously, but I didn't have a computer in my room then & needed an outlet.
I remember it really clearly, because when I got to the part where I admitted--in writing--my doubts about my orientation, my hand began trembling so hard I could hardly write. That's how difficult it was for me. And trust me, that journal entry was really, really only for me. But it didn't matter. It was still that hard.
I kind of feel like part of that journal entry should be here, you know? Because it was a big deal, and not only because of the lgbtq stuff--it also deals with some of my other feelings about dating/relationships too. So, here are a few excerpts (if only as a reminder to us all of why it's good to let yourself feel AND speak about your own life--in safe spaces of course--without self-censorship):
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I honestly think my head is so screwed, I have no place in a relationship anyway. I'm afraid of the responsibility and commitment and intimacy of being with someone. Of course maybe if I found the right person, it would be something I'd want. It shouldn't be a chore. I just worry it would feel like one. Or he wouldn't be able to handle how distant I know I could be. It's not that I don't think I have anything to offer. I just think I have so much crap too, and I doubt many guys would want to deal.
I think it would take a really special, unique guy to both attract me physically and keep my interest emotionally. That's not even touching on the "would he be okay with me and my stuff" either. Would he be able to handle a girl who needs her space sometimes? Someone who doesn't find expressing love to always be that easy? Just, all of it. And I don't want to waste anyone's time. I don't want to go into something with someone when I'm not sure what I want, and maybe have it all go badly because of it.
. . .I'm not attracted to every guy out there. And I know I'm not every guy's type anyway. And I don't want to confuse myself even more by dating guys who are wrong for me, or when the timing's not right. I don't know. But I know I overthink everything, for one.
I also know sometimes I just wish I had someone to touch. Someone to care for me. And if I think about it much, I feel really alone, and it hurts.
Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me, on some deep level, and I'll never find happiness with anyone. The idea of a relationship isn't supposed to be scary and suffocating sounding. But then again, maybe that fear isn't that strange. Especially for someone without much experience, who also really values her independence, and who is very scared of not passing muster and whose anxiety often gets in the way of enjoying things because I can't stop being self-conscious and paranoid. Sigh.
. . .There's also been the bizarre sidenote wherein I've been wondering if maybe so few guys do it for me because maybe I'm secretly bi or gay or something and extremely unaware. I'd put a "heh" here, except I'm actually a little serious. Okay, so I know I'm not gay. There are at least some guys I've been attracted to. And I don't know if my curiosity is just that, a normal thing. I know it is normal for girls to have some thoughts of it, and even to have a fantasy is just that, a fantasy. Doesn't mean you'd actually want to really get it on with a female in real life. But the fact that I've had so many issues with guys and dating and intimacy has just made me paraoid wonder a little lately.
Plus, just allowing myself to wonder has just, well, made me wonder. I think, in reality, it's just a curiosity, just something I would keep as a fantasy thing, because I can't envision myself going there, being in a relationship with a woman. I'm not saying I'm a homophobic freak or that I'd be afraid to even experiment, but when I really think about it, I don't think it's more than just a fantasy or curiosity.
---
How many more times could I have repeated: IT'S JUST A CURIOSITY. LIKE, A FANTASY. LIKE, I WANT TO STARE AT YOUR BREASTS, BUT ONLY IN A CURIOUS WAY SO IT'S OKAY. I'M JUST HERE TO DO SCIENCE, FOLKS.
I also think it's very telling that I said "find the right person" in the first paragraph, without even realizing it at the time, I'm sure. Oh, gender-neutral pronouns, they get you every time!
(not to mention: "allowing" myself to wonder? Seriously.)
Anyway, I know this was a huge detour from my original topic, but I'm fine with that. My point to all of this was that it didn't have to be so damned hard to admit. Whether part of my difficulty with identifying my emotions & admitting my orientation was due to being a late bloomer--I'm positive it was--is another matter, as is the fact that part of it was also me not wanting to be any more "different" than I already felt I was (God, I just wanted to be fucking ACCEPTED and I worked so hard at it. Why do you think I was the high school senior capable of being on the honor roll, fitting into size two jeans with perky bleached hair & makeup, and coming back from missing a day a week from school/suicidal depression to grab that diploma with a smile on my face like it didn't matter that I wasn't going away to college and I was about to lose all my friends & it was all for nothing?). Part of it was internalized homophobia, despite me having always been--since I was a kid--one of the staunchest defender of gay rights you could've found (case in point: a friend's parents dragged me to Sunday School once in the seventh grade--I had to go in exchange for being allowed to sleep over on a Saturday--and I ended up in a heated debate with the teacher over whether there really was a "Steve" with Adam in the Garden of Eden, amongst other things. I was a feisty little thing, aaaaand was never allowed over again. Ha.) Sometimes it just works that way. "No, everyone else gets to be queer. . .but not me."
But regardless of all of that, and other reasons for that matter, it's also about the same issue that's at hand here. And the same issue thatkeenai talked about in her journal. The same thing we talked about in ACA. Feeling your feelings. Those of us from broken homes detach from them as children as a survival mechanism, which made sense then, but now--as adults--it's outlived its usefulness. And we end up in the cycle where we don't realize we feel something until way the hell after the fact. And usually, by then, (at least for me), it's become a way bigger issue than it needed to be. It could've been simpler if it had just been dealt with earlier, you know?
It's harder too when others have tried to stand in your way. When I got back in touch with my sister last summer, I mentioned one day to her that I was trying to stop detaching. I tried to explain how I usually *think* about things, and talk about them, but don't really feel them fully, only to a point. And she (weirdly/defensively) jumped in to disagree, like "you have plenty of emotions," like laughing, as if I have too many. Why must people do that? I HAVE AN OPINION & A FEELING. LET IT BE VALID. FUCK OFF. Especially when it's correct, God damn. Attention, Captain of the Douche Brigade (my mother is the Admiral): you have insulted me how many times for overthinking? And yet when I admit to it & want to change it, you dismiss it? WHAT IS WITH YOU.
All that really was, was her wanting to stop me from progressing, because it meant change. It meant her having to look in the mirror as well--which wouldn't have been good (if she finally cracks, it's gonna be mighty). This isn't a theory, it's just a fact. Mom threw her in a fucking mental hospital as a teenager, for God's sake. Wanna know why? Because Corinne threatened to tell Joe that Mom was abusing pills again (what kind, I don't know. She's never only abused pain pills, or even just ADD-type pills. There was also always other things like tranquilizers, etc. It's hard to remember exactly when it happened, but I know it wasn't long after Mom's own psych ward trip. I was either 11 or 12, which made Corinne 14 or 15). So they had a big fight--i.e. a physical one. That, I remember well. They were in the hallway, on the ground, *wrestling*, and I stood there, screaming for them to stop. It started because Corinne threw a hairbrush at her head, which Mom felt the need to "reenact" after she was gone by throwing it at MY head (no, really), so I'd somehow understand & be on her side, then apologizing as I cried & telling me I was her "baby" & saying how she'd never "intentionally" hurt me (WHATEVER, PSYCHO)--and Mom sent her away to the hospital, saying she was "crazy." I didn't know what the cause of the fight was until much, much later. On the way back from the hospital after her stay, I sat next to her in the car (right next to her, because I'd missed her) & asked her if they were going to stop fighting, and she just turned to me all glassy-eyed & said, "yes," smiling oddly in a way that I couldn't understand.
(sometime later, I think I'll probably come back to that period & try to remember more, because I know there's a lot more there. Just that last line, "because I'd missed her"--holy shit, the emotion that came out of me when I typed it. But I can only talk about so much at one time, in one night. Later though, we'll see.)
Point to this? Shit like that--shit like EVERYTHING we've been through--can't just be ignored. It can't. When you're still surrounded by it, you can try to ignore it, for at least a while. You just sort of deaden yourself to it, and become this shell of a person, with two faces. And you get so professionally adept at switching them on & off. But I just can't imagine how much longer my sister can stand to live in that world without going stark raving mad herself, or developing, like, a thousand ulcers. I can't.
Anyway, I'm REALLY getting away from myself here. I hope you guys understand what I'm trying to say here. Or, if not, at least don't mind my very verbose rambling.
Getting back to my stepdad though? I want to be able to express what's in me that's capable of causing panic-reactions like this. It feels deep & endless, but it can't be. That's how I used to feel about my mom, after all. When I first started writing in LJ. I still sometimes get that "I want to scream & scream forever" feeling about her, but not as often as back then. Certainly not every time I think about it. That's something.
Because, the thing is, when I started considering whether I even would write about all of this tonight? An SI impulse came across my mind, and I immediately banished it, but just the fact that the tension is obviously that much? I've got to find ways to at least release it somewhat in a healthy fashion. Which generally means verbally, as time-consuming as it is. Not to mention how vulnerable it can make me feel (I still sometimes worry people will hate me for writing so much. Heh. I JUST HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS.)
So. To start things out, but try to make it not overwhelming, I'm just gonna write a tiny bit of what his birthday & the upcoming "perversary" (like that?) makes me feel. This is automatic, knee-jerk, no Rational!Rachael butting her head in to censor-type feelings, 'kay? Just honesty:
I feel dirty. Dirty in a way that has nothing to do with dirt. Dirty in a way that goes beneath the skin, beneath control, rewinds through the years, and ruins memories, ruins everything.
I feel lied to. I feel stupid. I feel worthless. I hate him & I want to rip his face off. That smiling predator face of bullshit & manipulation & artfully planned fake love & lazyness & abuse & stomping & yelling; suppressed intuition & nighttime tuck-ins that felt too touchy-feely, creepy hugs & wandering gazes, strange compliments that weirded me out and hurt my mother's feelings; his hands around my sister's neck for saying "you're not my father", but then focusing the camera on her breasts whenever he had the chance & laughing it off/not denying it when it was brought up; the video cameras he installed in the house without telling anyone until years later (I still don't know where they were); chipping my mom's tooth in the parking lot for cheating; pretending to be the hero & martyr for staying with a mentally ill woman, but doing everything he possibly could to continue driving her crazier, getting off all the while on the control like a slave master who thinks he's "saving" his slave from savagery; never doing a fucking thing when she emotionally abused me; insulting both me & my mother & my sister; and most of all, for SEXUALLY ABUSING A LITTLE GIRL AND THEN SOMEHOW MANAGING TO CONVINCE AN ENTIRE FAMILY LATER THAT HE HADN'T DONE IT, DESPITE BEING CONVICTED. Fuck you, Joe. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU FOREVER. I don't know where that girl is now, but UGH.
And after all that, what happened last February? Ohhhh, how he groomed her (and me too--remember how I thought he maybe loved me like a father? HA. What a dumb, fucking idiot I was. He molded us all like clay. God damn't god damn't GOD DAMN'T. It makes me so angry I want to punch a fucking WALL). And then, just at the right time, he pounced. Right when he thought she was vulnerable enough. Like he'd been waiting all those years & BAM. Here was his chance. She was finally broken down enough. This "daughter" of his, who'd finally started seeing him as a father figure after 23 years of effort, after she'd already been betrayed & abandoned by her biological father twice--at five years old and again at fifteen--was ready for him to violate her. AT LAST. And even better, she & her mother were so fucked up at the time, between pills & a drunk/violent husband running amok, that it didn't even MATTER what the reaction was. No one would take it seriously. He knew that. And guess what? He was right.
THE MOTHERFUCKER WAS RIGHT.
No one in my mom's family took my side. No one. Not even my sister in the long run. I was the only one who said, "That's it. This shit is fucked. I'm done." Everyone else was like, "He didn't really mean it. It's not a big deal. He can't hurt you. Your mom can't leave him; she can't change; this is your problem & you have to accept her & tolerate him & I hope you know this is killing her[/enabling]. He's done so much for you. . .bla bla bla."
Dysfunction Junction, what's your function?
It's like my whole damn life just blew the fuck up. Which, really, was a good thing, because it NEEDED to get blown up. But, Jesus, was it traumatic. And coming up on a year now, coming up on his birthday, just. . .yeah. She's still with him. My mom is over there, most likely high and/or nuts and off her meds, sitting there with him. On Sunday she and him & my sister & the kids will get together for cake, and they STILL WON'T GET IT. Mom & Joe will fight, I will be blamed for shit that's not my fault, Jayden will ask why I'm not there, and my sister will try to leave as quickly as she can without seriously considering the fact that she shouldn't even be there in the first fucking place.
It's predictable because I played the role with them for years--minus my departure--and it's depressing as Hell even imagining it continuing now. I'm glad I'm not there, but I hate that my sister is. But I am WAY over trying to change her, especially considering how verbally abusive & controlling she can be to me ("you're weird! You're not normal!" FUCK YOU), so oh well.
I think that's enough for now as I'd like to go grab some dinner & watch some TV (BOOOOOOOOONES! Heh), then work on my fic. I didn't end up really getting terribly emotional here afterall, but at least I let myself talk freely. I do feel calmer now (still tense & bothered, but calmer). If, over the next few days, additional stuff comes up--more emotional or not--I'll try to allow it to be expressed naturally as well. I want to keep moving forward. It's okay to feel your feelings, and lose control a little. It doesn't have to equal falling.<---this is what I think I'm starting to get, which is a big deal.
For my Vid of the Day, I'd like to actually do something special. I have a handful of vids I'd like to share, each of which relate to my last few entries in some way. To spare my flist's servers,
First up, this is one I've liked for quite a while, but don't remember ever sharing here before. Obviously, depression isn't quite this simple, but in a way, sometimes it is a bit like this. You're in the black for so long, doing the same things, but if you just hang in there long enough, you come out of it, and you're *still* doing some of the same things, but it's like someone changed the lens. Everything looks different. Not only on the outside, but on the inside as well. Again, recovery is more complex than just waking up one morning, all "tada!", but the point is valid, and I think any of you who've been on both sides like I have will know exactly what she means. It's nice to be reminded of it when the lens isn't quite in focus for you yet. Plus I love the part where she's kicking the bunnies. Hee.
The next few vids are somewhat self-explanatory, based on what I've been going through lately, but they're also meant for others a little bit too. As I've mentioned here before, I've never seen a psychiatrist & thus never had a chance to know whether I'm on the spectrum (it was a psychologist I saw in 2002/2003, & he specifically dealt with anxiety disorders & depression--this would've been way out of his element, especially since the criteria for the diagnosis had only been established roughly seven years ago at that point. Last year I saw a licensed social worker/counselor at the same place), but it's something I highly identify with, and I've found it comforting & helpful to research it. Regardless of whether one even relates to the symptoms, I don't think it even matters when it comes to these videos. The reason I'm sharing them is because the issues being dealt with--sexual maturation, eating disorders, meltdowns, depression--are issues friends of mine on here struggle with as well. If there's a chance someone else might get something out of it, and not just me? (i.e. a perspective they might not see in non-Asperger's vids?) Then I feel they're worth sharing.
Lastly, this is for my fellow lgbtq friends, and even more so any possible queer person who might come across this entry that is not yet comfortable with their orientation/feels lost.
Sometimes everyone needs a pep talk (I used to watch this over & over, back in the day):
As
keenai said in a recent entry of her own, feelings are stupid, but they must be dealt with. But first I need to try to remind myself to breathe, because I do think I'm starting to panic a little. Nausea? Check. Tremor? Check. Palpitations? Check. Chest pain? Check. My muscles are all tensed up, like the emotions & thoughts are literally pressing out & trying to break free.
I do not want them to. It is not only exhausting to get upset, but I just DON'T WANT TO. It's too much. It's really, really too much. I mean, like frightening. I'm already starting to cry, just shaking, and I can't even THINK about the entire topic. It physically hurts when the tears come, because it's like my face just contorts into this involuntary silent howl. It's that *hard* kind of crying, you know? Like when you have the flu & you're throwing up so violently that it burns throughout your entire chest, and your shoulders ache, and you're just hanging there against the toilet like, "please, please. . .just stop." You just want to go back to bed, where the cool wash cloth & 7-UP are waiting.
I really have not allowed myself to deal with what happened, re: him, at all. I mean, I have, in the sense of getting away. I acknowledged who he was. So I'm not in denial anymore like my sister. And at least I can cry about it, unlike her, who just cried hysterically the one time & then locked it all away, proceeding to continue allowing him around both HER & HER CHILDREN, even after signs from my nephew that something weird might be happening. *suppresses oceans of rage*
But I am actually scared to allow myself to feel it deeper than that. Deeper than a level of aknowledgment & action. I mourned it in the sense of saying "he's dead to me & I hate him" and I cried, and I've of course talked some about him, but I have not given myself free reign to truly speak & feel & think about all of it without censorship, without stopping, without holding back.
When he emailed me last year, my reaction was vomiting. Literally. I had to run to the bathroom to make it in time. When I tried to write about it here later, it took me a half hour to type the first sentence, because I ended up lying on the floor, sobbing.
When I woke up this morning, I remembered his birthday, and I remembered the email, and I remembered his "I hope someday you miss your mother" remark, and I felt so angry, and I feel so angry thinking of it again now, that it's like I don't know what I can do with it. I know I should allow myself to put it to words, like I should put things that happened regarding him growing up into words, put how I feel about my mom still being with him into words, put how I feel about my nephew being around him into words, all of it, but it is so much, so much.
I have already hurt so much. I know in ACA they say that once you let yourself feel, eventually the hurting can stop. And it's absolutely what my therapist tried to teach me as well, to stop running from the pain. But it feels so counterintuitive in the moment. Like by turning *back* to the pain, you're somehow being all emo & self-absorbed and torturing yourself or something. But it's not like you were just walking around all fine & dandy & then bought a hammer to smack yourself in the toe with for no fuckin' reason. You've been through trauma, and sometimes that trauma is going to come up. And when it does, you keep turning away from it. To simply stay put & exorcise it--in the interest of moving forward & being honest about your own shit--that is totally different.
When you think about it, it probably is kind of unhealthy to be afraid of what you feel, isn't it? I mean, it's how I was until I was like 23 about being bi. Not only could I not admit it to others, I couldn't admit it to myself. Not in my own head, not on paper, not anywhere. I always KNEW, but I didn't KNOW-know, you know? DENIAL. It ain't just a river in Egypt & holy GOD am I good at it.
All I KNEW-knew was that there was something wrong with me. That, I always knew (when I say "knew", I mean that it felt like *knowing*. Not something I was thinking. It was fundamental, like a foundation upon which everything else was built. All I could do was try to make up for it). And it worked, because it applied to how I felt about everything in regards to myself, so the fact that it also fit with my confusion towards attraction wasn't really out of the ordinary. It was just one more thing that was wrong with me.
I believed, in time, I would get my act together enough to pass as a "normal" grown-up, even if only by sheer force of will. I didn't understand what I felt for girls, didn't understand what I felt for guys, and at one point even wondered if I was just asexual because of my lack of interest in both, compared to peers (I really was a late bloomer). My crushes as a teenager were enthusiastic--often to "fit in". I would look around at the beginning of each year for someone to "like", because I knew it was just what you did--but not physical. I didn't want to kiss anyone. Not beyond a peck anyway. The idea of lips & spit & tongue disgusted me, especially with the whole *forced awkward staring contest* aspect of it (even if you close your eyes, dude, they're like RIGHT THERE. Up in your grill). My first kiss left me crying afterward & I felt like a freak because I hated it so much (it was my first date & I was sixteen--he was 19. My mom picked me up, asked me how it went, and I said "he kissed me. I hate kissing. What's wrong with me?" The next day I asked my friends the same thing. None of them had good enough answers for me). My second "make-out session"--at 19--simply bored me (I literally wanted to check my watch or ask him if we could "just have sex & get a move on"). It took me years until I felt physically attracted to someone I knew in person, even while touching/kissing them (or thinking of kissing/etc), rather than just characters on a TV show (remember when I could only fantasize about other people? Never me? That lasted until my early twenties too). And even then, achieving further emotional/physical intimacy proved obviously too difficult. (fucking relationships, they're so complicated. Ugh)
Obviously, it seems to finally be working itself out--I'm just now kind of understanding what it means to be comfortable with your sexuality. I can find myself around town looking at either a man or woman & finding them sexually attractive. I can meet one in a conversational setting, find their personality cute, & think to myself, "I'd date them." I think I'm getting there. When I was 23 & living in my first apartment (with
dosidella and Kevin), I sat down with a spiral notebook one day and decided to try to start journalling again. I wasn't back on lj yet consistently obviously, but I didn't have a computer in my room then & needed an outlet. I remember it really clearly, because when I got to the part where I admitted--in writing--my doubts about my orientation, my hand began trembling so hard I could hardly write. That's how difficult it was for me. And trust me, that journal entry was really, really only for me. But it didn't matter. It was still that hard.
I kind of feel like part of that journal entry should be here, you know? Because it was a big deal, and not only because of the lgbtq stuff--it also deals with some of my other feelings about dating/relationships too. So, here are a few excerpts (if only as a reminder to us all of why it's good to let yourself feel AND speak about your own life--in safe spaces of course--without self-censorship):
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I honestly think my head is so screwed, I have no place in a relationship anyway. I'm afraid of the responsibility and commitment and intimacy of being with someone. Of course maybe if I found the right person, it would be something I'd want. It shouldn't be a chore. I just worry it would feel like one. Or he wouldn't be able to handle how distant I know I could be. It's not that I don't think I have anything to offer. I just think I have so much crap too, and I doubt many guys would want to deal.
I think it would take a really special, unique guy to both attract me physically and keep my interest emotionally. That's not even touching on the "would he be okay with me and my stuff" either. Would he be able to handle a girl who needs her space sometimes? Someone who doesn't find expressing love to always be that easy? Just, all of it. And I don't want to waste anyone's time. I don't want to go into something with someone when I'm not sure what I want, and maybe have it all go badly because of it.
. . .I'm not attracted to every guy out there. And I know I'm not every guy's type anyway. And I don't want to confuse myself even more by dating guys who are wrong for me, or when the timing's not right. I don't know. But I know I overthink everything, for one.
I also know sometimes I just wish I had someone to touch. Someone to care for me. And if I think about it much, I feel really alone, and it hurts.
Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me, on some deep level, and I'll never find happiness with anyone. The idea of a relationship isn't supposed to be scary and suffocating sounding. But then again, maybe that fear isn't that strange. Especially for someone without much experience, who also really values her independence, and who is very scared of not passing muster and whose anxiety often gets in the way of enjoying things because I can't stop being self-conscious and paranoid. Sigh.
. . .There's also been the bizarre sidenote wherein I've been wondering if maybe so few guys do it for me because maybe I'm secretly bi or gay or something and extremely unaware. I'd put a "heh" here, except I'm actually a little serious. Okay, so I know I'm not gay. There are at least some guys I've been attracted to. And I don't know if my curiosity is just that, a normal thing. I know it is normal for girls to have some thoughts of it, and even to have a fantasy is just that, a fantasy. Doesn't mean you'd actually want to really get it on with a female in real life. But the fact that I've had so many issues with guys and dating and intimacy has just made me paraoid wonder a little lately.
Plus, just allowing myself to wonder has just, well, made me wonder. I think, in reality, it's just a curiosity, just something I would keep as a fantasy thing, because I can't envision myself going there, being in a relationship with a woman. I'm not saying I'm a homophobic freak or that I'd be afraid to even experiment, but when I really think about it, I don't think it's more than just a fantasy or curiosity.
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How many more times could I have repeated: IT'S JUST A CURIOSITY. LIKE, A FANTASY. LIKE, I WANT TO STARE AT YOUR BREASTS, BUT ONLY IN A CURIOUS WAY SO IT'S OKAY. I'M JUST HERE TO DO SCIENCE, FOLKS.
I also think it's very telling that I said "find the right person" in the first paragraph, without even realizing it at the time, I'm sure. Oh, gender-neutral pronouns, they get you every time!
(not to mention: "allowing" myself to wonder? Seriously.)
Anyway, I know this was a huge detour from my original topic, but I'm fine with that. My point to all of this was that it didn't have to be so damned hard to admit. Whether part of my difficulty with identifying my emotions & admitting my orientation was due to being a late bloomer--I'm positive it was--is another matter, as is the fact that part of it was also me not wanting to be any more "different" than I already felt I was (God, I just wanted to be fucking ACCEPTED and I worked so hard at it. Why do you think I was the high school senior capable of being on the honor roll, fitting into size two jeans with perky bleached hair & makeup, and coming back from missing a day a week from school/suicidal depression to grab that diploma with a smile on my face like it didn't matter that I wasn't going away to college and I was about to lose all my friends & it was all for nothing?). Part of it was internalized homophobia, despite me having always been--since I was a kid--one of the staunchest defender of gay rights you could've found (case in point: a friend's parents dragged me to Sunday School once in the seventh grade--I had to go in exchange for being allowed to sleep over on a Saturday--and I ended up in a heated debate with the teacher over whether there really was a "Steve" with Adam in the Garden of Eden, amongst other things. I was a feisty little thing, aaaaand was never allowed over again. Ha.) Sometimes it just works that way. "No, everyone else gets to be queer. . .but not me."
But regardless of all of that, and other reasons for that matter, it's also about the same issue that's at hand here. And the same issue that
keenai talked about in her journal. The same thing we talked about in ACA. Feeling your feelings. Those of us from broken homes detach from them as children as a survival mechanism, which made sense then, but now--as adults--it's outlived its usefulness. And we end up in the cycle where we don't realize we feel something until way the hell after the fact. And usually, by then, (at least for me), it's become a way bigger issue than it needed to be. It could've been simpler if it had just been dealt with earlier, you know? It's harder too when others have tried to stand in your way. When I got back in touch with my sister last summer, I mentioned one day to her that I was trying to stop detaching. I tried to explain how I usually *think* about things, and talk about them, but don't really feel them fully, only to a point. And she (weirdly/defensively) jumped in to disagree, like "you have plenty of emotions," like laughing, as if I have too many. Why must people do that? I HAVE AN OPINION & A FEELING. LET IT BE VALID. FUCK OFF. Especially when it's correct, God damn. Attention, Captain of the Douche Brigade (my mother is the Admiral): you have insulted me how many times for overthinking? And yet when I admit to it & want to change it, you dismiss it? WHAT IS WITH YOU.
All that really was, was her wanting to stop me from progressing, because it meant change. It meant her having to look in the mirror as well--which wouldn't have been good (if she finally cracks, it's gonna be mighty). This isn't a theory, it's just a fact. Mom threw her in a fucking mental hospital as a teenager, for God's sake. Wanna know why? Because Corinne threatened to tell Joe that Mom was abusing pills again (what kind, I don't know. She's never only abused pain pills, or even just ADD-type pills. There was also always other things like tranquilizers, etc. It's hard to remember exactly when it happened, but I know it wasn't long after Mom's own psych ward trip. I was either 11 or 12, which made Corinne 14 or 15). So they had a big fight--i.e. a physical one. That, I remember well. They were in the hallway, on the ground, *wrestling*, and I stood there, screaming for them to stop. It started because Corinne threw a hairbrush at her head, which Mom felt the need to "reenact" after she was gone by throwing it at MY head (no, really), so I'd somehow understand & be on her side, then apologizing as I cried & telling me I was her "baby" & saying how she'd never "intentionally" hurt me (WHATEVER, PSYCHO)--and Mom sent her away to the hospital, saying she was "crazy." I didn't know what the cause of the fight was until much, much later. On the way back from the hospital after her stay, I sat next to her in the car (right next to her, because I'd missed her) & asked her if they were going to stop fighting, and she just turned to me all glassy-eyed & said, "yes," smiling oddly in a way that I couldn't understand.
(sometime later, I think I'll probably come back to that period & try to remember more, because I know there's a lot more there. Just that last line, "because I'd missed her"--holy shit, the emotion that came out of me when I typed it. But I can only talk about so much at one time, in one night. Later though, we'll see.)
Point to this? Shit like that--shit like EVERYTHING we've been through--can't just be ignored. It can't. When you're still surrounded by it, you can try to ignore it, for at least a while. You just sort of deaden yourself to it, and become this shell of a person, with two faces. And you get so professionally adept at switching them on & off. But I just can't imagine how much longer my sister can stand to live in that world without going stark raving mad herself, or developing, like, a thousand ulcers. I can't.
Anyway, I'm REALLY getting away from myself here. I hope you guys understand what I'm trying to say here. Or, if not, at least don't mind my very verbose rambling.
Getting back to my stepdad though? I want to be able to express what's in me that's capable of causing panic-reactions like this. It feels deep & endless, but it can't be. That's how I used to feel about my mom, after all. When I first started writing in LJ. I still sometimes get that "I want to scream & scream forever" feeling about her, but not as often as back then. Certainly not every time I think about it. That's something.
Because, the thing is, when I started considering whether I even would write about all of this tonight? An SI impulse came across my mind, and I immediately banished it, but just the fact that the tension is obviously that much? I've got to find ways to at least release it somewhat in a healthy fashion. Which generally means verbally, as time-consuming as it is. Not to mention how vulnerable it can make me feel (I still sometimes worry people will hate me for writing so much. Heh. I JUST HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS.)
So. To start things out, but try to make it not overwhelming, I'm just gonna write a tiny bit of what his birthday & the upcoming "perversary" (like that?) makes me feel. This is automatic, knee-jerk, no Rational!Rachael butting her head in to censor-type feelings, 'kay? Just honesty:
I feel dirty. Dirty in a way that has nothing to do with dirt. Dirty in a way that goes beneath the skin, beneath control, rewinds through the years, and ruins memories, ruins everything.
I feel lied to. I feel stupid. I feel worthless. I hate him & I want to rip his face off. That smiling predator face of bullshit & manipulation & artfully planned fake love & lazyness & abuse & stomping & yelling; suppressed intuition & nighttime tuck-ins that felt too touchy-feely, creepy hugs & wandering gazes, strange compliments that weirded me out and hurt my mother's feelings; his hands around my sister's neck for saying "you're not my father", but then focusing the camera on her breasts whenever he had the chance & laughing it off/not denying it when it was brought up; the video cameras he installed in the house without telling anyone until years later (I still don't know where they were); chipping my mom's tooth in the parking lot for cheating; pretending to be the hero & martyr for staying with a mentally ill woman, but doing everything he possibly could to continue driving her crazier, getting off all the while on the control like a slave master who thinks he's "saving" his slave from savagery; never doing a fucking thing when she emotionally abused me; insulting both me & my mother & my sister; and most of all, for SEXUALLY ABUSING A LITTLE GIRL AND THEN SOMEHOW MANAGING TO CONVINCE AN ENTIRE FAMILY LATER THAT HE HADN'T DONE IT, DESPITE BEING CONVICTED. Fuck you, Joe. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU FOREVER. I don't know where that girl is now, but UGH.
And after all that, what happened last February? Ohhhh, how he groomed her (and me too--remember how I thought he maybe loved me like a father? HA. What a dumb, fucking idiot I was. He molded us all like clay. God damn't god damn't GOD DAMN'T. It makes me so angry I want to punch a fucking WALL). And then, just at the right time, he pounced. Right when he thought she was vulnerable enough. Like he'd been waiting all those years & BAM. Here was his chance. She was finally broken down enough. This "daughter" of his, who'd finally started seeing him as a father figure after 23 years of effort, after she'd already been betrayed & abandoned by her biological father twice--at five years old and again at fifteen--was ready for him to violate her. AT LAST. And even better, she & her mother were so fucked up at the time, between pills & a drunk/violent husband running amok, that it didn't even MATTER what the reaction was. No one would take it seriously. He knew that. And guess what? He was right.
THE MOTHERFUCKER WAS RIGHT.
No one in my mom's family took my side. No one. Not even my sister in the long run. I was the only one who said, "That's it. This shit is fucked. I'm done." Everyone else was like, "He didn't really mean it. It's not a big deal. He can't hurt you. Your mom can't leave him; she can't change; this is your problem & you have to accept her & tolerate him & I hope you know this is killing her[/enabling]. He's done so much for you. . .bla bla bla."
Dysfunction Junction, what's your function?
It's like my whole damn life just blew the fuck up. Which, really, was a good thing, because it NEEDED to get blown up. But, Jesus, was it traumatic. And coming up on a year now, coming up on his birthday, just. . .yeah. She's still with him. My mom is over there, most likely high and/or nuts and off her meds, sitting there with him. On Sunday she and him & my sister & the kids will get together for cake, and they STILL WON'T GET IT. Mom & Joe will fight, I will be blamed for shit that's not my fault, Jayden will ask why I'm not there, and my sister will try to leave as quickly as she can without seriously considering the fact that she shouldn't even be there in the first fucking place.
It's predictable because I played the role with them for years--minus my departure--and it's depressing as Hell even imagining it continuing now. I'm glad I'm not there, but I hate that my sister is. But I am WAY over trying to change her, especially considering how verbally abusive & controlling she can be to me ("you're weird! You're not normal!" FUCK YOU), so oh well.
I think that's enough for now as I'd like to go grab some dinner & watch some TV (BOOOOOOOOONES! Heh), then work on my fic. I didn't end up really getting terribly emotional here afterall, but at least I let myself talk freely. I do feel calmer now (still tense & bothered, but calmer). If, over the next few days, additional stuff comes up--more emotional or not--I'll try to allow it to be expressed naturally as well. I want to keep moving forward. It's okay to feel your feelings, and lose control a little. It doesn't have to equal falling.<---this is what I think I'm starting to get, which is a big deal.
For my Vid of the Day, I'd like to actually do something special. I have a handful of vids I'd like to share, each of which relate to my last few entries in some way. To spare my flist's servers,
First up, this is one I've liked for quite a while, but don't remember ever sharing here before. Obviously, depression isn't quite this simple, but in a way, sometimes it is a bit like this. You're in the black for so long, doing the same things, but if you just hang in there long enough, you come out of it, and you're *still* doing some of the same things, but it's like someone changed the lens. Everything looks different. Not only on the outside, but on the inside as well. Again, recovery is more complex than just waking up one morning, all "tada!", but the point is valid, and I think any of you who've been on both sides like I have will know exactly what she means. It's nice to be reminded of it when the lens isn't quite in focus for you yet. Plus I love the part where she's kicking the bunnies. Hee.
The next few vids are somewhat self-explanatory, based on what I've been going through lately, but they're also meant for others a little bit too. As I've mentioned here before, I've never seen a psychiatrist & thus never had a chance to know whether I'm on the spectrum (it was a psychologist I saw in 2002/2003, & he specifically dealt with anxiety disorders & depression--this would've been way out of his element, especially since the criteria for the diagnosis had only been established roughly seven years ago at that point. Last year I saw a licensed social worker/counselor at the same place), but it's something I highly identify with, and I've found it comforting & helpful to research it. Regardless of whether one even relates to the symptoms, I don't think it even matters when it comes to these videos. The reason I'm sharing them is because the issues being dealt with--sexual maturation, eating disorders, meltdowns, depression--are issues friends of mine on here struggle with as well. If there's a chance someone else might get something out of it, and not just me? (i.e. a perspective they might not see in non-Asperger's vids?) Then I feel they're worth sharing.
Lastly, this is for my fellow lgbtq friends, and even more so any possible queer person who might come across this entry that is not yet comfortable with their orientation/feels lost.
Sometimes everyone needs a pep talk (I used to watch this over & over, back in the day):
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2011-01-31 12:10 am (UTC)Why is it making you feel [x] is good. Because the root of our feelings! This is how we FEEL. Darn it.
You have Bones on the brain, lady.