I’m not a part of anyone’s world. And that has to be okay.

Among all the Disney VHSs that I wore out as a kid, there was one that I only remember seeing later in my childhood, loved, but never owned. My mother disliked the premise, so we never had it in the house, but seeing it on television later on was something that I felt echoed some of my struggles. One song from it, in particular: “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid echoed the dissonance between myself and the human world. For a long time, I believed I was less than human, because that is how I made sense of how I was treated. I was consistently excluded on merits I didn’t understand. I know now part of it is because I am a very different kind of person, comprised of many worlds but not accepted as a part of them due to only partial immersions.

I’m giving a few examples here but these are by far not the only ones. One of my favorite TV shows, that I’m sure I’ve mentioned here before, is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Buffy, whom I very much relate to, is marked, like vampires, by having to walk two worlds (human and demon) and not be part of either but having composites of each. It seems perhaps like a silly reference, but when adapted into a less dichotomous way of thinking, it’s another media reference applicable to much of how I feel.

Trigger warning for mentions of sexual violence and associated feelings as well as other sensitive material.

Continue reading “I’m not a part of anyone’s world. And that has to be okay.”

“Freedom is what you do with what has been done to you.” – Jean-Paul Sartre

I haven’t been hiding that the disease I am trying to manage right now (endometriosis) is both horrific and all-consuming and that I feel that is in fact quite literally killing me. I have had near-death experiences before and in April I did die for a time, or at least was closest to death than I ever was, being in a coma and consciously having to make the choice to stay alive. I didn’t choose to live because I felt I had to tie up loose ends. I chose to live because amindst all of the darkness, I was able to find hope that I could get effective treatment and live a life I wanted to live. That treatment is still far away even with the help I’ve been receiving and am very grateful for, and I may not get it before my insides are scarred beyond functioning or I develop serious heart problems[1] or cancer.[2] (That being said, I know I am being extremely annoying about this, but I am literally pleading for my life and trying to get the information out there to save others’ as well.) There are a lot of things I want to do and can’t, but I’m focused right now (and trying to stay focused) on what I can do.
Blogging has been helping me deal with this along with other issues, and I intend to start vlogging about endometriosis and my case specifically very soon. I will not let my suffering be meaningless when I have learned and experienced so much that can contribute to others getting help sooner.
Part of living the life I want to live is becoming who I want to be. I have many limitations right now of many varieties, but I can choose to continue working on myself, regardless of how little time I may or may not have left. Truthfully, I think that is the most honest motivation for this blog in particular. Helping others and advocacy are both integral to my soul’s survival, a huge part of who I want to become, and while this blog does not have a big reach and has probably not bettered anyone else’s life, it has helped me greatly, I have learned better to self-advocate, and so my entries here have bettered my own life, all of which have helped equip me with better skills and ability to reach out to others more effectively elsewhere.
Recovery is not a destination but a process.
This is, indeed, truly a recovery blog for me.
That being said, there are things I talk about here that I feel I need myself to embrace more fully. We are all hypocrites in one aspect of our lives or another, whether always or in certain instances, but hypocrisy is something I have been working very hard for years to get out of my system. I know it will never be 100% out. I am human. I am fallible. But I am human, which means I also have a great capacity to change and take charge of my own behavior.

Continue reading ““Freedom is what you do with what has been done to you.” – Jean-Paul Sartre”

Even if inspired by pain, inspire love – but always be inspired

Human beings are appalling and cruel and selfish and beautiful and flawed and complex and immature and I both hate and love that I love and value human beings so much. I can neither vilify or idolize, but I think the intensity of both my pain and love confuses others. Let me clarify this for you: When you are stalked — hunted as a wounded hare — a rabid dog at your heels and you hear their breath down your neck, you learn what a hungry, sick animal is capable of.

We may have our technological advances and our philosophical ideas, but we are still animals. We can be frightened, traumatized, sick, and weaponized too – and, moreover, as the human animal specifically, when frightened, traumatized, and/or sick, we have the unsurpassed ability to both consciously and subconsciously weaponize ourselves.

 

Sometimes, people seem very surprised by how moved I am by small acts of kindness. When I am vulnerable especially, I can often burst into tears at how moved I am. Reading articles on GoodNewsNetwork regularly evokes floods of “happy tears,” but also even in public, I’ve caught people off guard with sometimes perhaps too effusive of reactions towards small acts of kindness, even when not directed towards me.
Because while I am excruciatingly painfully aware of what people are capable of I am perhaps even more agonizingly aware of how much better people are capable of and yet are often uninspired to do.
That being said, I would like to end this post with a quote by Anne Frank, “How wonderful it is that no one has to wait, but can start right now to gradually change the world.”

Bullying vs what people actually go through in school

First, let me state:

I have never liked the term “bullying” when it comes to a student’s peers. It diminishes the effect of their abuse and harassment. There are definitely an infinite amount of “grades” (as in severities) when it comes to “bullying,” but many of these “grades” are enough to damage a person. I understand we are all responsible for our own actions, but even in CBT the general consensus is that you can control your thoughts and invariably take charge with your feelings, but feelings themselves are natural and often do what they want.

Continue reading “Bullying vs what people actually go through in school”

An Open Letter.

Hello, traumas.

Let me begin simply by saying you are no longer welcome here.

Your abusers’ language and actions are motivated by a voracious hunger for control, lack of conscience and/or lack of empathy, and deep insecurity. Thus, with me having recognized this, your abusers’ behavior will no longer find my empathy, fear, or obedience. I am not yours to do with what you want. I am not yours to damage.

I am simply not yours.

The people whom you’ve saddled me with have all had problems; it’s true. No one would try to destroy someone else out of a healthful self-love. You’ve sent me ruins of trauma. You’ve sent me shells of people. You’ve sent me killers, rapists, pedophiles, torturers, and bone-breakers. You’ve sent them my way and promised me to them as a way out. But you must understand, traumas, you don’t have that right, and you don’t have my permission.

Let’s get some things straight.

The way I have reacted to you has not been free from guilt or scandal. I have hurt people myself. I have acted impulsively and have even tried to exact revenge–a laughable concept, by the way, since revenge still puts me under your control even though I am tied to it by my own responsibility. I’ve walked down that path and have jumped that bridge. You cannot kill me through me.

That being said, I have attempted suicide in your wake–many times. I have been hospitalized in wards and hospitals both medical and psychiatric in your wake. Many times. I have slit my wrists, overdosed, tried to drown, tried so suffocate, tried to choke myself to death because of how I’ve felt with you.

And consider this:

I am still alive.

There is a girl whose birthday is in a few days. She just found me on facebook, although I’ve only had a facebook under my real name for… less than a month? You remember her, traumas; I know you do. She groomed me well as a kid and early teen: isolating me, hounding me, controlling me, manipulating me, breaking me day in and day out for years. She may have been abused. I do not know. At this point, I do not care. She has had a hard life, I know, and at this point, I do not care. I cannot care. I must be indifferent, traumas, because you will understand this:

Nobody owns me.

I care about the people who could become like her, sure. If I had different neurochemistry and a different situation, I could easily be like her. We all could. But I don’t pity her, and I certainly do not owe her empathy. I do not wish her ill. I no longer wish for her to understand what she has done. She will never understand it, just like I’ve learned I will never understand her. But I don’t cater to or cower beneath these caustic crowds anymore. I don’t feed the snakes, as I’ve learned a lioness needs no pride but her own.

I have a birthday coming up soon, too.

My twenty-fourth is the first birthday I am excited for. One of hopefully many more.

So, goodbye, traumas.

You’ve granted me wisdom and understanding I sometimes wish I never had but am better for. I am still learning; I am always learning. You come back; I come back harder.

You aren’t going to win.