its aight ..

hear me :

by turning or weaponising any attempt at intimacy, as me being some dirty lil whore.

means you aint no different than everyone else. anyones whose attempted that. anyways.

although i feel strangely embarrassed and humiliated. which feels weird.

also unheard & misunderstood, again,  but then kinda meh ..

it aint nothing new.

that there has been so many who have taken the time to try and make me feel diminished, so as to make themselves feel better.

is tiring.

but to laugh, or make light of, my wound … on my trauma.

my gapping but healing wound ..

my, try every day to manage my reality, wound ..

is beyond what I imagined it would feel like.  does &  did , feel like.

youre not the first to dismiss, to try and minimise what you believe to be the issue.

youre not the first to try and validate your disdain and disapproval masked as disappointment. youre not the first with the inability to be truthful, fully.

& youre not the first to stomp your foot at my boundaries.

.

you are the last though.

.

& today im gonna rest.

.

& you can go fuck yo’self.


kpm©


 

Image

touchy subject

I don’t think I’ve written about this before … but feel the slight-ish need to now, due to recent events in my most fabulous life lol.

It’s the subject of intimacy.

I write and talk quite freely about all things awkward, painful and controversial – with the ease of a dissociative twat. But that s how I do’s it; it works for me. And instead of fighting that now, I roll with it.

But the intimacy thing … well that’s all 3 – all kinds of awkward, painful and controversial.

When I say ‘intimacy’ I don’t just mean sex.

I think the cruel ‘irony’ of PTSD by sexual assault as an infant, is that unless you are going to become a hermit, or hermit-tess, you have to be intimate in one way or another, sometime throughout your life.

PTSD comes with flashbacks … sight, smell … intrusive reminders of something you’d rather forget. Sexual assault, at its core, permeates through every little part of you, that is you … that is yours.

Your physical being, that should only be yours … to share when you want … to offer when you want … is invaded long before it should be … in a way that should never be experienced.

And if you believe that your physical being is connected to your spiritual being, as I do, then sexual assault permeates that as well.

And then when someone touches you; stands in your space; comes in for a cuddle; shakes your hand … what do you imagine happens in those few moments?

Thats right, you re-live everything.

Every-thing.

You see, I don’t have to be asleep to have nightmares. It happens all the time.

And in those moments, I have to assess what the danger ratio is, before I involuntarily dissociate or have a huge ass panic attack. Fight – Freeze – Flight.

“All she wants is a cuddle” “All they want is to say hello” “All they want is to be close to me”

That is my living nightmare.

And a nightmare I can see the results of everyday, on the faces of the people I care about … and who care about me.

Thats enough now.

I don’t like talking about this.


kpm ©