The Passage Of Hot Minutes ** Trigger warning for SA**

 

Deep in thought? Naw. Probably dissociating.

It’s been a moment, several in fact, since I’ve written something other than school related stuffers. It’s been a bit of a rough go of things, school being one of them, and some relived trauma from years past. They say small steps, but sometimes live is that forced side scroll function that you can’t pause and fails to take small steps. However, things are good. Let’s play catch up for a moment….

The ex bf’s mom paid his restitution. It’s odd how the threat of jail will motivate people. With that cleared, and the PFA expired, it’s over. Done. I cannot believe I’m in a place to say that I no longer think of him daily. When he’s granted that mental real estate of mine, its a small fleeting moment of actualization and wonder about how can someone keep repeating the same actions time in and time out. It’s a lesson in futility. It’s one that only he can shoulder. I sometimes shrug it off, and make on my merry way. 

I’ve pretty much decided to not date. I clearly don’t have the time to give to someone, and I really can’t put myself in a situation where I feel guilty for not giving them that sort of time, regardless of what they ask for. I know how I roll, and it wouldn’t be fair to them or myself. So, here I am. Single. Doing me, and okay with it. Absolutely okay with it. Though, it would be nice to have some help with those damn pesky incomplete tasks that I have been putting off for a while…..

With that said, my therapist and I are moving forward with a diagnosis with a psychiatrist. I definitely have a bunch of ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder) traits, but… guess what… I also have a metric fuck ton of ADHD symptoms too. YAY!! But for real, understanding the presentation of ADHD in adults and the difference between what it looks like in girls vs. stereotypical symptoms has really put me back in my seat. I just got to wait until August now. 

I mentioned reliving trauma. Yeah, its been not so much fun, and while I’ve written about it here before, I must add writing about it, accepting it, and realizing the mechanisms behind why and how it happened has been a separate layer to unravel. I've actually used the 'catch up' to avoid this very part. I'm pretty sure I've written about my sexual assault as a teen. Notice I said 'my'. I've written that very sentence 4 times, each time writing 'the sexual assault' and de-identifying it as my own. It is mine. It is what happened to me, but that act doesn't define me. It defined that finite moment in time, but not me as a person. It's something I'm still unpacking.

I recently learned that others knew about this because of the other party that was aware of what happened. I found out that they told another about it, but also lied about their actions and how they fictitiously 'saved' me. This didn't happen. There was no one to pull the perpetrator off of me. I understand they lied to protect their ego, but at what cost? I know I am speaking in riddle because I'm not ready to name names. I'm not sure it will do any good here in writing, but the people that matter know. 

I think one of the biggest issues I have with it goes beyond the actual act. It goes beyond the violation of me, of my body, or the idea that I owed him sex. It's the stuff that happens after. The 'lets sweep it under the rug' and keep it quiet. The lack of protection from those who were supposed to protect me. This is where I struggle. This violation was kept quiet to protect someone else. The people I would have normally gone to for comfort and support gave me a false watered down version of safety dressed as concern, but was really their own self preservation. I know this now. How do I know this?  .......

Because I had a child. 

For me, having a child changed my perceptions. What I once thought was love, safety, care, and concern as a child now looks like abuse, trauma, neglect, and the like. I look at my son and I know with every once of my being I do and would protect him, fiercely, with every fiber of my being. I looked back on my life, and thought, "huh, they let that happen to me?" And I asked myself why, and how. How could these things that happened to be be allowed to happen? The viewpoint as a parent made me realize how fucking problematic my childhood was. 

Lastly, boundaries. I've learned them. I've built them, and I will continue to do so. Some may not get it, but regardless of the nature of a relationship I have with someone, boundaries will be set. The once passivity of my voice has given away to strength. Some may not like it, some may welcome it, but this is the now, and it is here to stay. 

Back on this hard jam. Animism by Tanya Tagaq. It's a game changer.