Perhaps, I have been too humble
Earlier, I’d reached out to a few friends asking for help with gas. No one responded. No one. I quickly crumpled up and trashed the idea that I was being ignored on purpose. Not because it was untrue, but because regardless of its validity, that particular truth wasn’t going to stop my anxiety attack or bring any kind of relief.
Still, the collective silence aided my paranoia. I was over myself. I was so ready to be the person who never had to ask anyone for anything in regards to my survival. I yelled at God, “I’m over this stupid fucking lesson WHY WONT YOU LET ME TAKE CARE OF MYSELF”
I was so angry. I am angry. I’m furious.
And I don’t know if it’s the truth, but perhaps I’ve been too humble all along. Perhaps in my carrying the weight of responsibility for my assault I was stopping myself from manifesting the very best. I was energetically punishing myself and it wasn’t humility at all, it was punitive and prohibitive and for that, Jessica, I am so sorry. I didn’t know.
The Weight of Truth
I don’t have the energy to keep fighting for things I’m bound to lose. All I can do is let them go. I can’t keep worrying about paying rent when I know I am not in a position to do so and trying to do so has only cost me in other ways. It’s time to pivot. It’s time to lean not into my own understanding. It’s time to ACCEPT that right now? I’m a broke ass charity case but that is not the end of my story.
The Love You Make
In a conversation with my friend Courtney, I shared with her that I was always a smart child who didn’t really get into trouble or cause many waves. However, I think because I was smart and well mannered there was an assumption that emotionally I was just as intelligent. In my adulthood I’m learning that is not the case at all. I told her “...by the time I realized I wasn’t as mature as I was supposed to be, I was an adult.”
It Happened Today
I guess it seems rather simple to some, I’m going to love myself. But it’s more than that. It’s, I’m going to honor myself as though I were the love of my life. I’m going to cater to myself. I’m going to adorn and adore myself. For one simple reason: I deserve the love I have to give.
TW/CW: Rape, Sexual Assault, PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, Self Harm, Eating Disorder
I did not “ask for it” in any way. My clothes were not provocative. I said “no” to the point of tears until I was physically made to keep quiet. It was not just “rough sex” as the detective would ask me the day after when I made my police report. This wasn’t a misunderstanding, this was rape. I said no. He told me it wasn’t my place to tell me no. I’d never been in a fight before that night. No grade school scuffles or screaming matches. My first fight was for my life with a 6’8” 300+ lbs sexual predator. Now, when I’m provoked, I go back to that place. He’s still inside me, and that was the thing I NEVER wanted.