Pure Rage

Let's start this post out nicely... I don't want any comments. I love you all, but no comments on this post. Mostly, I probably shouldn't be posting this but 1) I need to vent, 2) I'm trying to be straight with y'all about the struggles of life in case somebody out there in the virtual space of the world feels the same way, I don't want them thinking they are alone, and 3) there is too much rage, moving through my mind too quickly, for me to be able to hand-write the shit I'm feeling in a paper journal so that I can burn it later. Thus, my online outlet which you can choose to read, or not. Completely your choice. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF CURSE WORDS USED THROUGHOUT!!! Are they necessary? Not usually, but every once in awhile it is absolutely required. Right now, just know that this post will be long, and it could be about half the length if I didn't use so much profanity.

*****PROCEED WITH CAUTION*****ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK*****

No. I should be screaming these things from entirety of my being, into a canyon somewhere, where nobody can hear me, where I later collapse into a ball of a shell of a girl who's merely trying to hang on in a world where she doesn't belong living a life she does not understand at all.

Let's also preface this by saying that for the past several days, I'm in one of my moods. Yes, I have several moods that rotate throughout my days. None of them are really actually good. Some have "good" moments, I suppose, but I cannot find the good in my life. Present mood: contemplating the purpose of existence and how my life fits in with the plan of creation. I've been feeling dissociated and in a haze for the last week and a half also. I felt that necessary to point out as well.

Another nursing school buddy got married, I think today. Which, btw, is an odd day to have a legit wedding, seeing as it's Monday. But I digress and continue on with my ridiculously long post about things I've said in the past but am still mulling over in my obviously not healed mind...

Another girl got married. Now, I am happy for her, I truly am. She was a great girl, she's super smart, and she's been with this guy for a long time. She wasn't pressuring him to get married or engaged, and she seems relatively grounded.

I'm upset at the death of my future. I'm upset that my dreams of a future, and what I wanted for dating and marriage didn't even have a fucking shot at happening because two assholes decided that my wishes are not worth honoring. I'm fucking pissed that I didn't get a say. I'm enraged that nobody is fighting for me and that nothing will come of the pain I've been forced to survive. Can G-d handle it? Absolutely. Is He not the one who is in charge of revenge and setting wrongs right? He absolutely is! That's not what I'm saying. I don't even know what I'm saying any more but I know I'm upset.

The hand of tragedy and trauma is dealt randomly, I think. I don't know, maybe it's not. Maybe we are predestined to be forced to live through shitty circumstances that make us want to die on a daily basis, but somehow we're supposed to see how long we last before saying that we've had enough and throwing in the towel. Maybe, somehow, we're paying for the sins we've committed, or the sins that some person in our family tree committed a hundred years in the past. Maybe our suffering is somehow part of some atonement process that doesn't actually atone for anything because our suffering can pay for no sin or mistakes, but we still have to go through that. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! I do know, however, that even though I sin, I don't know what mistakes justify a person having to live through fucking trauma, rape, incest, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, gas lighting, constant ragging, the death of innocent people who have done nothing wrong, or any other trauma. Most trauma makes no fucking sense. Most of it has no noticeable purpose, no rhyme, no reason, nothing! Nothing! NOTHING!

Why, then, are we still having to live through such things. More importantly, why do some people go through life without ever experiencing trauma, or major life troubles, while others get clobbered around every FUCKING CORNER???!!!!!??? I'm not saying I'm necessarily one of them, but 3 people resulting in more traumas than I can count in a year and a half is a little fucking excessive to me.

I don't know, maybe that's just me. Eventually, I'll get over it. Except not. No. This shit never goes away until the day my heart stops and I get to be done. Perhaps then I will be free from these hellish memories and the pains that stab me in the chest. Hopefully, someday, I will be cut loose of the chains that bring me back to my pits of despair when I think of the beautiful wedding night I wanted, the dreams of being STD/STI free with no doubts in my mind about my status in that area, and I will put to rest my living nightmares that play over and over in my head, constantly. Did I have a choice of having a beautiful wedding night? No. Can I know for certain right now that I am presently STD/STI free? I have no fucking clue and I get panic attacks daily thinking that I may have one and not knowing. Yes, I can go get tested, but I'm still just not ready to drag myself to my death sentence just yet. Will I ever be free from these nightmare memories that run on loops in my brain? Not until the day I die or the day somebody develops an amnesia treatment that only lets you erase certain memories. Honestly, I'm not holding my breath for that treatment, but the end of my days is rapidly approaching, I'm sure.

You know what's hilarious to me, though? (Now, keep with me because that was solid fucking sarcasm). I have watched over 5 stand-up comedians over the past couple of hours that are on Netflix and all of them make jokes about rape and molestation within the first 5-10 minutes. 

Back to being serious, there is absolutely nothing funny about rape, molestation, incest, sexual assault, domestic abuse, beating your wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/child/parent/etc. There is nothing funny about abuse, at all! There's nothing funny about PTSD, war, slavery, or any other things like that. What bugs me the most, is that people who have never fucking lived in my damn shoes is going to make jokes about my life being ruined because the act that cause my life to be ruined is apparently funny to them. It's hilarious to them! The whole crown erupts with laughter when these people make these jokes! It makes my blood boil, it sends me into immediate flashbacks every time, and then I look at how our society deals with such troubling topics and the lack of sentencing and punishments make sense. My life makes less and less sense, but it makes sense that the fucking statistics grows for the events of rape that occur each day because it's all just a joke. 

My suffering is a joke. It's something I have to keep hush hush, because it bums people out. Nobody wants to hear my woes. I'm just regretful of allowing the guys to enter my body, because I let them do it. I must have wanted them to do it. My response to that: NOBODY WANT TO BE FUCKING RAPED!!! NOBODY WANTS THEIR LIFE TO BE RUINED AT THE HANDS OF SOME ASSHOLE WITH A FUCKING PENIS BECAUSE THEY FEEL THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO ENTER MY BODY. NOBODY WANTS CONSTANT WORRIES ABOUT THEIR STD/STI STATUS WHEN THEY HAD WANTED TO REMAIN VIRGIN, OR EVEN IF THEY WERE WILLING TO HAVE SEX AT SOME POINT, THE ONE TIME THAT THEY SAY NO AND THE GUY DOES NOT RESPECT THAT, THERE IS TRAUMA. SOMETHING, IN THAT PICTURE, IS NOT RIGHT.

What's so hard to understand about that? Apparently, it about as difficult as rocket science to understand... for many people who have never experienced rape, sexual assault, abuse, or any of the other many listed things already mentioned, or one of the hundreds of things I never even mentioned because there is too much!!! There's too much.

What has rape cost me? It's cost me: friends, family, sanity, sleep, good dreams, peace, any hope of love, joy, gladness in my adult life, excitement for post-graduation happenings, hope of having children, and my future, among other things.

I'm angry that some people live such beautiful, wonderful, sweet, amazing lives while I'm stuck in this. I'm overwhelmed at the constant waves of shit washing over me. I hate that just when I start to feel like I'm doing better, I get bombarded again with my hellish reality. I hate that I don't feel worthy of a happy life, and I feel guilty even, for what has happened, even though I can rationalize the events as me not being at fault for the actions that took place.

While most girls my age are dreaming of their futures, I'm sitting here wondering what I have done to deserve such shit. I wonder why it is that I'm here, what purpose my life plays in the Grand Scheme of things. Mostly, I'm left feeling overwhelmed at the magnitude of evil rising up around me on every side. I am suffocated by the fears of what a health check would bring. My past haunts me and chases my happiness away. The simple joys of life are completely lost on me, and I'm simply treading water in the middle of the biggest, stormiest ocean in the universe. I find myself praying that 1) I am free of disease and health complications and 2) that my life ends soon and that somehow, somebody remembers me with fondness.

I've been thinking about all the people I've lost in my life. They didn't die, most of them haven't, but they've left me or I've left them for various reasons. If my former friends heard I died, or came across my obituary, would they say I got what I had coming? Would they be glad I was gone because they didn't like me? Would they be sad at how things ended? Would they mourn the loss or get over it quickly by saying "Oh, that's sad. Was it suicide?" Would they come to a funeral, if there was one, or would they visit my grave and visit/yell at me the way I do with Country Boy? Would they remember me for being sweet, kind, and dreaming of a bright future? Or will they recall my bipolar, my grouchiness, and the way in which I made them upset by enforcing boundaries and refusing to take their shit. Would they ask how I died, prying for if my death were self-inflicted? Or would they hope that suddenly, my troubles were gone and I no longer lived with the shame and pain and scars this life has given to me. What would my obituary say? Who would even read it? How could my family even invite anyone to my funeral? Nobody would come except family, and then friends supporting my family. I would have no friends there because there is nobody left.

Does my life even make a difference? For anyone? (All rhetorical questions, you don't need to comment.)?




So what is the point of my sufferings? What is the point of anyone's sufferings? I know I'm not the only in pain over the hand this life has dealt. Of the numerous times I was supposed to die over the course of my life, from the time I was conceived until now, why was I not allowed to just fucking die??? I could have died free of pain. I could have died pure. I could have died and not even experienced the fight of life. Instead, I was kept alive. I keep having to be kept alive. I keep having to fight another day and suffer through.

I know the Good L-rd provides. He provides for my needs, my happiness, my joy, and everything good in this universe and beyond. He gives every good things. I know He gets me through the trauma, He gets me through the night, and He keeps me alive for another day. What I don't know, and what I don't understand, is why the hell I cannot just go ahead and cease breathing so I can be put out of my misery? Why can my heart not just take a permanent break and allow me to slip away? What is the purpose of allowing me to continue to suffer with the after-math of the consequences of sin. Not even just my sin! I'm suffering from the consequences of other people's sins too!!! Shit like this happens every day. Not so good people suffer no issues, while others suffer for personal sins as well as for the sins of the not so good people.



I keep feeling compelled to start working on forgiveness so I can try to move on. I think it's from the L-rd. I want to be ready to do that. I want to be ready to shoulder the pain and move on, but right now, the baggage is too heavy to be able to move away from anger and head towards full forgiveness. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

I deal with being scared of what problems I have with health and my mental well-being on a daily basis. I fear the future because I see little chance of my story ending well any time soon. I know I'm not supposed to worry about the future, because what will I change by worrying about the future? Nothing. However, a happy, good future will take a billion and five miracles and I feel that's just too excessive for one person to be given in a lifetime. It doesn't matter what I feel I deserve or don't, it's ultimately up to G-d. I have no say. I'm just saying that statistically, the odds are not in my favor and I long for release from my pains and struggles bestowed upon me in this life.

I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

Odd Feeling

I've been feeling strange for quite some time now. It's hard to explain, but it's one of those things that you can just sense you, yourself, are "off".

Looking through Facebook tonight, because I have very little to do in Small Town without a current graduate nurse permit... anywho, it occured to me that I have had to train myself to live in the present moment for the last several months. Actually, about a year and a half now. Don't get me wrong, I'm excellent at "tuning out" and dissociating. However, my dreams of the future have been dampened dramatically to trying to focus on the "here and now" so that I can get myself through each new hour that I am left breathing here on this planet.

There are still days I wake up startled from nightmares.

I still have several panic attacks a week/month (on a good month).

My eating and self-care is not nearly where it needs to be.

Flashbacks still occur several times every hour.

I don't like people at the door, it freaks me out.

Even in a different state, the sight of trucks freak me the fuck out. Doesn't matter if they're red, green, purple, neon orange, any color of the damn rainbow; they freak me out... again...



Ragardless, these things have become my new normal. Flashbacks and nightmares and trucks still frighten me to my core, but I am not as notably shaken to everyone else because I've been battling this shit for over a year now.

For a year I haven't been able to dream for my future. I can't think about a time when I'll be completely free of these burdens because that day will never come, until the day I die. The suicidal thoughts have subsided a bit. I've been able to cut down on my self-harm and the way I used to take mass amounts of Benadryl, Tylenol, and Ibuprofen to self-sedate my brain into sleep for a few days. Most days, I am able to get myself something to eat and I'm drinking more water than wine, again.

Still, my hopes for a future are essentially nonexistent at this point. On one level, it's a little nice to not keep getting my hopes up, just to have them crushed year after year. On a deeper level, of me as a 22-year-old young "lady" (quotes because let's be honest, I'm a complete tomboy besides these past few months of ridiculous whiny posts) still wants to be able to dream about G-d providing a husband for me, a white gown and walking down the aisle. Someday having children, continuing on with my nursing education, teaching my children how to live with lots of animals and teaching them about the various things in life. This, teaching them about life, is usually where I shift into reverse and convince myself a future needs to not happen.

Getting to the point in my imagination that there is a husband and there are children is a long, long process. It used to be something to look forward to, ponder, and pray about. Now, it feels like pulling teeth and I find myself begging the Good L-rd to have someone who is patient and kind enough to be able to handle my crap baggage. Then it slows even more because I get to thinking about how being with me would not be fair to a single soul. That's about the time that all past roommates and all the negative comments about how badly I suck start playing through my mind...

Anyway, in the off chance I get to the point where I think about the things to teach my imaginary children, I come to a complete stop when I think about them being any older than an infant. How can I handle them going to a sleep over where I'm not there? What if the friend has older siblings? Are those older siblings supervised? What happens when we have to have the "sex talk"? Do I tell them about what happened to me? Will that cause trauma? Will that make them over-paranoid? When they are in high school/college, will they be able to stay safe from the horrors inflicted upon me? Will I have days where I stay in bed and call my mom or mother-in-law to deal with the kids because I simply can't? How do I explain to them the days when I'm weepy, dissociated, sad, numb, or completely unable to function? How is this fair to kids? How would this be fair to a husband?

How the hell is any of this shit fair to me? I didn't ask for any of these assaults.

A year and a half ago, I was going about life, excited to be a nurse and to see what my future had in store. One absolute shitty year changed it all for me.

I'm still taking my life hour-by-hour, sometimes I work myself up to a day-by-day mentality. Those days, where I'm not living hour-by-hour, are surprisingly my "good" days.

Maybe someday I'll get to a point where I can dream about a future. Maybe, someday, I'll have a future.

June 12 was supposed to be my "wedding day". Haha, that was the date I picked for the wedding of exfiance and I. That day came and went and it was one of the best, most freeing days I've had in a long time. It was a day where I woke up knowing that I dodged a bomb. No, he was not bullet to dodge, he was a fucking bomb!!! I'm by no means completely safe, and I have a long way to go before I am healed, but I am free. Praise the L-rd for that.

Daylight Savings, Again

Stupid Daylight Savings Day was trying to throw me off. Too bad for it, I'm exhausted from my battles with insomnia, flashbacks, and anger. Ha! You can go try to mess with someone else Daylight Savings.

Next week is spring break. This week was not supposed to have much going on for school.

Roomie's boyfriend is coming into town for a week... tonight. She should be back any moment from the airport with him. I don't handle strangers well. I handle strangers in my place of residence even more poorly. I'll probably go up to visit my parents for a couple days this week. I guess we'll see because Dad is upset with me again.

I "ditched" class today because we had a guest speaker and my brain is in no way prepared to be able to learn anything because my sleeping is getting worse, my nightmares and flashbacks are getting worse, and my attention span is shorter than it's ever been. I have no mental faculties. I was getting better but last weeks fiascoes set me back about 2 months of progress and put me back even farther than I was when I had not even begun counseling yet.

I was told that a friend admires my ability to blow life stressors off. Well, y'all know the truth about my thoughts, I just don't keep harping on things when around her so as to not stress her out or bore her to death. It's also probably not healthy that I blow everything off. My counselor tells me I'm really good at dissociation which is a fancy way of saying that I get into auto pilot when I become stressed because I no longer have any ability to deal with stress. I've been maxed out for my little brain's threshold of bad things happening so any type of stress shuts ME off and I don't know where I go, but I'm not in my right mind.

I asked my friend what she meant by saying that blowing things off was a good thing. She said she wished she could do it because she feels like she becomes too emotional. Well, I don't have emotions anymore. Honestly, it's a good day if I can start crying when I become overwhelmed instead of going about life numb. She doesn't understand but I decided to take it as a compliment and know in my brain how dangerous her comment was. She meant it as a good thing, but I know that it is because I'm sick and my brain is messed up. That'll be our secret. Yes, this friend knows about what happened with the guys and she knows I'm seeing a counselor. However, those who do not live this life do not have any way of understanding the struggles and dangers I'm facing.

Counseling is tomorrow. I'm going back numb. Counselor is going to say that it's normal to go back in steps. She's going to tell me it's okay and that I'm getting out of the numbness and other steps faster than I have before. I'm still frustrated that I had to go back. I am frustrated that I'll never be okay, I'll never be fixed.

Lately I keep noticing couples around me. I know that I'm not ready for a relationship. I know that the last two ended horribly and I'm now messed up for the rest of my life because of them. However, I'm getting discouraged because all I wanted was a prospect of a future with a possible husband and potential children. Lately my future looks bleak. I know these are negative self-thoughts and I'm supposed to work away from these. I've gotten tools to try to help me fight these bad thoughts. However, they seem totally rational and understandable to me. I know they are negative, but they feel so real. Who is anyone to tell me that my life will have a happy ending? Who's to say that there will be some guy, someday, that will treat me with respect and forgive me for my checkered past? I'm pretty certain I wouldn't believe it if an angel of the Almighty were to come to me and show me a vision of a happy future for my life with a great guy and children. I just don't believe it and it's okay. I don't want to be told otherwise. My brain will cycle through and eventually have hope for a short amount of time, but for right now my brain is angry and hurt and overwhelmed with negativity.

Forgiveness?

I have found, in the past few years, it is easier to forgive others than it is to forgive myself.

I keep waking up with panic attacks because I feel like I have failed my future husband, G-d, and myself. I feel unlovable and ruined. The nightmares and flashbacks are becoming too much for me. I keep playing what has happened in the past year, over and over again in my head. I could have fought harder. I could have prevented so many problems by breaking up with these boys when I had originally wanted to, if only I had had the guts and the strength to do it. I am quite convinced that I have made too many mistakes to be able to have any kind of a future like the one that I wanted so badly.

I wanted a sweet guy, who waited for marriage before having sex. I don't deserve that anymore because I allowed my body to be used by guys other than my husband. I wanted to save my first kiss for my wedding day and I blew that on a guy who was 5 years older than me because I was feeling pressured and didn't stand up for myself the way I needed to. Granted, I have learned a lot, but at a steep price.

I have lost the little sanity I was born with, and I feel as though I've been trampled.

I keep going back and forth between wondering if what happened to me was my fault, or if I did all I needed to and was able to at the time, to protect myself and my purity.

I am downright disgusted with myself and the way I have turned out.

Counseling starts Tuesday but I'm scared that I won't be able to work out all that I need to in the time I have a counselor. Maybe light will be shed and it will show me that all of these things were my fault. Maybe it will prove to me that believing these guys had any control over their actions was futile and I deserve to be locked away.

My nausea is back full force and I've almost lost my stomach a few times today. I can't escape my life, especially in my dreams. I keep breaking down and sobbing because I feel as though I have no hope left in a future, let alone a happy future. Flashbacks are constant and no longer just intermittent. Nightmares are guaranteed every night once I finally fall asleep around 3-4 a.m. from exhaustion. But I was with panic attacks around 9-10 a.m.

My head hurts from the whiplash I give myself by believing everything was my fault and then knowing that I had no control over these guys. They had their talons in deep and made me believe I made them enter my body. That's what they've told me. I was told it was my fault because I didn't say "no" seriously enough. It doesn't matter that I repeatedly said it and tried to push them away.

I don't think I'll ever be able to sleep normally again. If I ever do get married, will sex even be enjoyable? Or will it be a source of too much pain that I push my husband away and avoid it all together?

Should I even hope that I find a husband? If I were a guy, I wouldn't want me. Especially if I were the guy that I wanted before I was ruined and I found a girl like how I am presently.

I am unworthy, broken, dirty, impure, unlovable, and completely damaged goods. Maybe this is the Adversary saying mean things to me, but it's believable.

Some days, I want to know what a jury would say. Would they say that I am making stories up so that I can hopefully clear my concience? Or would they understand that I am telling the truth and see that I never wanted any of this? Would they see the hours of being yelled at over the phone for not being willing to "try" sex because I was waiting for marriage, only to be fed drinks all night until I was unable to walk and puking? Would they say it was my fault because I wasn't smarter that night and I kept drinking? Would they believe him when he says I started it? Would they believe me that I had told him a million times I never wanted to, but then woke up next to him, completely naked, next to him in a hotel? Would they believe it was my fault? Is it my fault?

The dozens of times he came onto me after that and I said flat out "no" several times, but he still "went in", do those count in my favor or his? Were those my fault too? Does pushing him away but not being strong enough to actually be able to get him off of me count for him or me? Why does he believe all of these are my fault because he was "thinking with his penis"? Are they my fault?

Why was I allowed to be able to meet him? Why would the L-rd allow this to happen again? More than that, I don't believe it was G-d's fault, I believe I made so many foolish choices that this is all on me. I believe He cares for me and tries to protect me, but where was He all those nights? Was He watching when I tried my best to keep my pants on as these guys ripped them off? Or did He turn His head? I believe I was set apart for Him, but if I was, why was I not protected? Am I that bad that I was banished to be able to be used by any guy that just had a hankering to get his rocks off? Why is this supposed to be my fate? Why was I not allowed to die when I wanted to in the 8th grade? If I had been allowed to, I wouldn't have had to live through this. What did I do that this is justifiable punishment for my sins?

WHY ME??? What did I do?