I’ve had a hard time blogging lately for reasons and it’s frustrating. This is usually some of my therapy. While my traditional therapy works well and the work D and I do works even better, my blog has always been a place to let go and say whatever I want and not give a fuck who reads it. This has been my personal journal that I offer to the world because when it’s out there for all to read, it feels like there’s no reason to worry anymore. But lately, this hasn’t been so. I keep censoring myself and no matter how hard I try, I’m still doing it.
I find vulnerability beautiful. Sharing my journey is part of what gives me strength. If I can’t write what’s on my mind—free of worry—then I’m not getting this fix that I’ve come to rely on. So I’m going to blog about what’s been bothering me and share a bit about why I’ve not been blogging so much. This is really the only way to get past it. So now, even though I should be sleeping because a bit ago I was so tired, my brain is wired with ‘you know what needs doing’.
And I do. So here goes…
Not that long ago someone read this blog and used it to hurt me. I’ve always been pretty open about who I am and the things I’m into, so while people are occasionally surprised, it’s not that big of deal. What I didn’t expect, though, was for someone to tell me I was ‘sick’ because I shared about my sexual abuse. I’ve heard it before over being pansexual or kinky or poly, yeah yeah, whatevs… I know that when people judge, it’s about them. So that, while irritating, makes me shrug.
But to be called ‘sick’ because I referred to my abuse as sex trafficking, even though it is a textbook definition, cut deeply. There was never a question as to whether or not I was okay. No other questions around it at all. Only accusations based on assumptions, lack of knowledge on the subject, and false information given by someone else. I would have been happy to explain it all but that’s not what happened.
I think I’d even have been able to accept an, “I just don’t believe you.” While shitty, I know from many talks with others and my therapist that this happens. Especially when people didn’t see it and feel blamed or responsible for not seeing it.
I also know it took many years for me to accept what happened myself. Despite my memories and evidence. It feels so far-fetched, outlandish, insane… And it’s that way by design. The more crazy it sounds the less likely people are to believe you. I get that. It’s why I’m in therapy and public about all of this. If I said I was molested sitting on Uncle Joey’s (not a real uncle, btw) lap, that is easier for people to accept. But sex trafficking? Not so much. People assume that means being sold overseas or sold outright as a sex slave. They don’t realize that it can be as simple as a drive ten blocks away and being returned afterward.
It’s not the nonbelieving that bothered me. It’s the accusation of being sick. And not even for my Complex PTSD—which would at least make sense—but for speaking up about the abuse itself and labeling it properly.
It’s been bothering me a lot and I’m done letting it. If this happened to anyone else, my advice would be ‘fuck that person’. Because people that judge and label and accuse and assume aren’t worth our time or energy. Life is hard enough to let people in that are cruel. Yet I allowed myself to get caught up in being hurt by this. So I haven’t wanted to be vulnerable on here. I haven’t wanted to share when I’m struggling and what I’m struggling over. But that’s going to stop.
The truth is, I’m honest about what happened not because I need people from my past to believe me, but so those in the same boat I was—who are afraid to speak up because ‘it’s so far-fetched’, who are afraid of repercussions from telling, who don’t realize what’s actually happening to them because they don’t understand the terminology—know they aren’t alone and that they have a voice.
I do it for the victims. They are what matters.
Tonight, D and I had a great talk and that led to me coming in the most delicious ways, which then led to me coming to these understandings afterward. This has been weighing on me for a while now and hopefully, this pushes me past it. I have far too much to do and too much that needs my focus and this has been a distraction from what’s important to me. People need me to be me. They need me to write about the vulnerable things and be honest about what happened to me. I know, because they’ve told me. So thank you, D, for helping me get back on track.
I suspect it was all the coming… 😉