On Bad Experiences

This post should probably contain some sort of trigger warning about sexual violence and assholes.  Or something.  Anyway, you've been warned.

I've used this blog less and less frequently over the past few years, to the point where I don't really write here much and very few (if any) people still read it.  Which is good, I think, because if anything it means that it's become that much more anonymous.  And while normally I'd put this sort of thing somewhere else, it's something that right now I feel needs an audience, even if it is a tiny one. 

As a bit of background: I kindof hate the idea of feminism.  Conceptually it's all well and good, but I hate seeing it all over the place, on facebook, tumblr, ranted and raved about by most of the women I know.  I'm just tired of it.  I want people to stop shoving the phrases "enthusiastic consent" and "rape culture" in my face.  I hate it so much because I fucking get it.  Okay?  Trust me, I understand full well what you're saying so please for the love of god stop talking about it because not only is it annoying but sometimes also downright triggering.

There is a history of sexual violence in my past.  Some long ago, some more recent.  Some very much forced on me, some consented to despite a lack of interest, and some when I was just too drunk to remember.  And I take full responsibility for each of those situations.  If you even think the phrase "victim blaming" in my general direction, I will punch you so fucking hard right now.  Stop.  I take responsibility for the choices I made and the actions I took that led to each set of circumstances.  Accept that.

The point is, I feel like I've thought through each of these experiences, considered the circumstances, pondered the outcomes, and have come to terms with them.  I like to think that I'm not traumatized or haunted by the past.  I don't have an anxiety attack when I hear the word "rape," and I have no trouble reading countless graphic depictions of sexual violence (don't ask, people post too many things on facebook). 

But as much as I like to think I'm "over it" and "not affected by it anymore," the one place where this always seems to catch up to me is, of course, in bed. 

I'm not comfortable saying "no" to things I don't want.  Sometimes it's out of a feeling of obligation or reciprocation.  Sometimes it's because I feel like I don't know the person I'm in bed with well enough to make my feelings clear.  Sometimes it's because I fear the reaction.  Regardless of the reason, it's exceedingly difficult for me to say no.  And I've been trying lately to get better about it, to be more okay with turning away and making my disinterest clear.  And some people have been very good at accepting that, going so far as to apologize (which in such cases is generally not necessary, in my opinion).  And that's something that I appreciate very much, because it makes me feel like it's okay not to want to do certain things sometimes (or at all) and that I can take my time, and get my head screwed on right before I do whatever it is.

The problem is when people don't accept that.  When I get to the point of straight up saying "I am not interested in having sex with you" (which is very difficult for me to say, in case that wasn't clear) and am met with responses like "are you sure?" or "maybe later" or "come on, you should try at least once."  And especially when I have to repeat that.  I shouldn't have to make it clear that just because I wanted to do something when I was too drunk to remember, I might not want to do it when I'm sober, or even when I'm drunk on another occasion.  When I turn away and have to slap at hands that keep trying to touch me.  When I am literally squirming to get out from under someone.  That's hard to take even for me, and to be perfectly honest it leaves me feeling like shit the next morning.  I feel bad for not doing whatever, and I also feel bad for spending time with someone who doesn't listen to me. 

In case it wasn't clear, that's coming from a very specific recent encounter.  And although this person is someone I would have otherwise been interested in maintaining a friendship with, this has resulted in my ignoring their messages and effectively severing contact.  You know the worst part?  I still feel bad.  I feel that it's rude of me to cease responding without an explanation.  And yes, I know, the feminists will be screeching "you can't let this person do it to you or to anyone else, you need to make it explicitly clear to them that this behavior is not acceptable and doesn't respect people."  Yeah, I got that.  Thanks.  But I can't do it.  I can't have that conversation.  Saying "no" was hard enough, I don't have the emotional energy to have this confrontation.  And frankly, I don't want to.  I just want to move on with my life and forget that any of it ever happened - drunk, sober, whatever.

I'm not looking for pity.  I'm not looking for advice.  I'm writing it out so I can put my thoughts down, so I can process my emotions and get over it.  I'm working on "getting better" right now, whatever that means, and a large part of that for me is getting over the issues I have with sex.  So I'm working on it.  I'm working on saying "no" when I don't want to, and not feeling bad for not wanting something, and being more okay with the fact that I still have a lot to figure out in this respect.  I'm trying to take my past experiences and learn something from them, so I can get back to a healthy, functional sex life. 

I hope it's actually going somewhere.

Something

I'm doing this thing right now, where I try to get better.  It's such a useless and vague and nebulous term, but I don't have a better one.  The point it, things slid down far enough that it was time for a change.  So I'm trying to make one.

I'm trying to stay hydrated (because that's something I've had trouble with before, so now I'm keeping a waterbottle on my desk at work and at home...even though it means I have to run to the bathroom five times as often).
I'm working on getting more sleep (which means going to bed at a reasonable hour, even though that's hard).
I'm trying to eat healthier foods (by not letting myself buy [as much] junk food).
And I'm especially working on drinking less alcohol (because that's led to some problems lately).

The idea is that maybe if I can do something right for my body, if I can try to treat myself well physically, it'll translate to being kinder to myself mentally, spiritually, emotionally.  And that's been something I could use for quite a while now. 

I don't know if this is going to go anywhere.  I don't know if it'll work at all.  But I'm trying.  I hope that counts for something, at least.

On Life and how fucking strange it is

Some of you here know who I am.  Some of you probably came across this randomly.  Some of you may have sought this out and be unsure of my identity (though I doubt that describes many, if any, of you).  Actually, I'm aware of only one person who still reads this, so I don't even feel bad for never blogging.  It's just not something I really do anymore.  Not here at least.  This place ran its course and I haven't really needed it. 

Anyway, I think the reason I'm writing this here is in case anyone is wondering about what's going on in my head right now.  Actually, it's probably to sort out what's in my head and make it available to you if you're interested.  God knows I could have put it elsewhere, but there's no reason not to drop it here.

I don't know what I'm doing with my life.  I used to have it all planned out.  I knew what I wanted and how to get it, I knew where I was going and how to get there.  I knew.  And everyone encouraged me because I was good, I was legitimately good for a long time.  And I had lofty goals that were achievable.  And so people told me that I was on the right track.  As if life just follows the set of rails you set up.  But I was happy with that for a long time.  I did what was expected of me.  I followed the rules.  I did impressive things.  I kept up this facade of excellence because I could, because I had reasons to.

And now I don't care.  Pin it on being subject to bad influences, or having too much independence, or reading things that encourage rebellion, you'd still be wrong.  Though I couldn't explain why or how.  But it's not any of that.  It's me.  And maybe it's because something broke a long time ago, or maybe it's because I was always fundamentally flawed and it just took time to emerge. 

Anyway, I lost my train of thought  The point is I have issues.  And I don't know what I'm doing with my life, or what I want to do with it.  I think those two are unrelated, but who even knows anymore.  Also everything is weird.  People are weird and events are weird and thoughts are weird and ugh.  I don't know anything anymore.  I haven't felt this lost in the middle of it all in a long time.  And it's probably just tonight, right now.  It'll almost certainly be better in the morning. 

But no matter how much my life changes, I keep ending up here every once in a while.  It's something I can't escape.  I think it's a part of me by now, something I can't really get away from.  And I like moping in my bitterness sometimes.  I just worry about being too bitter, taking it all too far.  Which honestly sounds worse than it is, I promise.