This has been a hard week for me. When I first disclosed sexual abuse to my counselor, we planned for the possibility of triggers bringing back memories. I never know when a particular sound, smell, or event could remind me of past abuse. For instance, Friday morning when I learned of Speaker Pelosi’s husband being attacked by a man looking for her, I lost it. As a girl I had no value to anyone other than what I provided them, be it free manual labor, a punching bag, or sexual pleasure. Any time I dared show some backbone I paid dearly.
This is the dirty truth the Toxic Positivity Pushers will never tell you about healing. It’s not all quaint quotes and beautiful young women wearing flowing dresses chasing butterflies in fields of wildflowers. It’s hard, It’s frustrating. It’s sometimes humiliating. And I resent every moment of it because while I didn’t cause this, I’m the one having to do all the hard work. One of the things that keeps me going is Muhammad Ali’s famous quote: “I hated every minute of training, but I said, ‘Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.”
One way or the other, I’m gonna be a winner. Fuck anyone who says otherwise.
Not scared of goblins hobnobin' in my garden. Frightened of angry men, the born again, festered wen. Can’t just be competent, confident, cognizant. Have to be diligent, vigilant, observant. Concept is immature, juvenile, infantile. Hating strong women’s acceptable, haute couture. Just want to live my life, unconstrained, unconfined, not always on alert for attacks from those jerks.