follow on from the internal fuckery …

woke up in the night & recognised a few things that seemed to have sparked off a few things … hence the internal fuckery post

note: think its a good thing: i just haven’t quite dissected the fuck out of it enough to know that fo’sure.

.

i joined a womans online pts(d) support group about 4 days ago. it seemed like a good idea at the time.

pause.

yes you read right.

i thought it was a good idea to join a support group. after writing a post a few days ago, whereby i stated that support groups for sexual assault were not the one for me?!?

what? did i all of a sudden think it was gonna be a whole lot better cos it’s online?

un-pause.

.

i guess i thought i might find some kind of ‘support’, but instead its just completely fucked with my feng shui. & please note: its not the people in it per se, its just that me & that sort of mixture, really don’t gel. i get that now.

yah see, my support team, for most of my life, has been my logic, my lack of feeling & my ability to improvise. to some, that my seem like an unhealthy trio, but its saved my life on multiple occasions.

as the years have strode on, i’ve had peeps show up @ certain times & i’m able to offload verbally, or connect & find support with them. but by enlarge, i’ve done most of this ‘journey’ alone.

to get into a group where there are multiple talking about their trauma like its a friend, is bizarre.

but not unusual.

what i discovered over the last few days, is theres this habit or comfort or something, that most people do. they talk about ‘my abuser’, ‘my pts(d)’, ‘my rapist’, ‘my trauma’.

now no disrespect intended, but for me, none of those fucking things are ‘mine’.

theres no ‘my abuser’, theres just the cunt that inflicted his sickness on me. theres no ‘my pts(d)’, theres just the result of that cunts sickness inflicted on me. there is no ‘my rapist’, theres just a filthy rotten fucker who enjoyed tormenting children. there is no ‘my trauma’, there are just results of someone else neglect or actions.

does that make sense?

i found it kind of sickening that ‘we’ should be on equal terms so to speak with a piece of shit that deliberately harmed us.

then there was the fear of emotions.

now i kinda get this. i’m not big on emotions or random feelings, at.all. but take anger for instance. my fuck, that shit can be as empowering as fuck!

yet in this group, i noted that the cure all for anger was prescription medication.

really????????

which got me thinking about how much the world is afraid of an angry woman & they would prefer that we shut up rather than vent.

like, literally. & wtf?

i’m tired of being muted. with drugs. with words. with actions.

i’m fucking over it.

& maybe thats part of my internal dialogue taking a turn for the better. cos if no other cunt is going to let me be angry or voice my disdain for rapists & racism or hear me when i scream in pain … then i sure as fuck am not going to join that crew.

if i cant let myself speak & express myself, then i really am well & truly fucked.

ps: i un-followed the group xx


kpm ©


 

shhhush.

sometimes i cant speak. not cos i dont want too. but literally, the words won’t come out of my mouth. they get stuck in my throat.


kpm ©


 

thought.

needed to know i was important to you.

in My language. not yours.

yours sucks.


kpm©


 

speaking …

listen, ascertain, seek clarification

.

you know, theres more said in whats not said.

.


kpm ©


 

unity? collective?

Just ‘adult’ words for:

do it my fucking way.


kpm ©


 

oh, im sorry

you thought

did you

that i was more

elegant

fluent

fluid

tempered.

ahh

not sure where

you got that

idea.

not ideal

you say,

not co~sure

for sure

you say,

not polite

say you.

brush up on

the language,

the annunciation,

translation.

oh,

I’m sorry.

NOT


kpm ©