Points A and C from the previous post are related … and a relationship I hadn’t recognised till me and the partner got talking / arguing.
When I had the bitch ass flashback … because that was what it was … a filthy fucking flashback … I consciously made a decision NOT to tell the partner. There was a moment after our intimate moment, where the partner asked if everything was alright … he didn’t expand on his question, but I knew he knew there was something off in my universe.
He’s pretty sensitive to that sort of shit …
But instead of being honest … I consciously chose to not tell him what had happened … that I had had a flashback and was reeling from it. Instead I pretended like it was OK and that I was being positive … and that I didn’t need to talk about it.
And maybe that was true.
But I didn’t take into account how that would make Mr Sensitivity feel.
He clammed up.
Hence the co-relation between A and C that I also didn’t pick up on because I was too busy with my head in the sand.
I’m not completely dissing myself … I get I couldn’t deal with it … but what i didn’t want to do was cry. That’s it. I didn’t want to be upset. And that’s what I should have said. But instead I lied and said I was OK.
And that right there is what I cannot do.
Most peeps do this in some form or another … whether we dismiss our bodily warning signs or the dreaded anxiety indicators … there’s always … always a payback. And for Me … when I ignore ‘my truth’, I get nothing but trouble.
But somehow I still forgot my most basic rule … Be True To My Dam Self.
So when we finally got to talking … through my snot and tears … I told the partner about the flashback … that in one of our most intimate moments I had heard the voice of the pedo cunt and had relived one of the most shittiest forgotten experiences ever … that my body had frozen … my mind had left the building so to speak … but the smell and pictures and sounds of that moment resounded in my being for days after.
Through his snot and tears, the partner got it. He empathised. And said something interesting … that if I had’ve told him at the time, he would have taken offence and been disturbed … so even though it had taken all this time to spit out, he understood why I hadn’t, even if I didn’t realise at the time.
It brought up shitloads of other things … that I have never told him exactly what had happened to me all those years ago but that he could see it all over Me … all over my paintings and pictures … all over my writings … and that hurt him; but he still hadn’t been open to knowing … that like everyone else in my life … He Hadn’t Wanted To Hear It … Or Feel It … They all just wanted me to forget it and ‘move on’; not because it was better for me but because it made them feel uncomfortable.
Imagine how it made Me feel!
And that is the essence of pts(d)ness … there is no getting away from it … the cruelty is in the kick of teeth that comes with intimacy … that sexual assault assaults more than your body … it assaults your memories; your soul.
So we cried and talked and snotted all over the place for a large portion of the day and finally came to some kind of understanding and agreement.
If at anytime the partner feels Me switching off … he will stop, wait and ask. That if I can’t answer or he feels that the answer isn’t true, then he is to gently keep on probing for an honest answer … whether that be a ‘i can’t talk now’ or ‘i don’t know whats happening’ … whatever …
And I am to do the same … to the best of my ability …
That whatever is going on or happening … we both need to use that instinct we have and roll with it.
For Me and Him, this is huge. It’s a turning point. And it’s a place I didn’t think we’d ever come to really. And a place we needed to get to as well.
It’s what I have been scared of, ever since the bitch ass flashback happened.
At it’s worst, it is nothing but a memory now … something that happened to Me. That I can’t undo. I’m not sure what else I can do. And I’m not sure what I’ll do when another one happens.
But I think we’ll be more prepared.
It’s a very cruel thing … but at least I know what I’m dealing with now … and as much as it frightens Me … as Nan used to say … ‘It’s better Out than In’ … and thats all that I can hold onto really.