Reasons For Why You Shouldn't Rape

STRONG TRIGGER WARNING AHEAD.

How do I start this?

How do I even begin to convey in words what I have recently been made to feel again, two weeks ago? I have found myself sitting here on occasion, these last couple of weeks, staring at this empty document. And today, I have found myself sitting here for hours now. I need to write this down. I don't really know how to begin. I'm just typing. Look, there we go, I have words now. Words are a start. This is a kind of in-the-moment, unplanned thing. I'm just typing. I guess that will suffice as a beginning.

Two weeks ago, my rapist sent me an email.

...

Where.. do I even begin? Truly? 

My rapist sent me an email.

My rapist.

The same rapist who raped me.

I was raped by a rapist and this was that rapist and he emailed me.

You know…? The same rapist who held me down while I cried that he was hurting me but he raped me anyway? That rapist. The rapist who raped me. Raped by a rapist. Violation. Rape. Betrayal. Rape. Abuse. Rape. Force. Rape. Trauma. Rape. Blood. Rape. Terror. Rape. Rape. Rape Rape Rape Rape Rape.

THAT rapist. The same one. That same rapist.

And he emailed me.

Can you just… take a second, and try to grasp what that.. is? What that means? To be raped? By a rapist?

The rapist who raped me. Held me down. Pulled down my pants. Raped me. I said it hurt. He kept on raping me anyway. And after I scrubbed myself so hard in the bathtub to get him off of me that I scraped the skin off and bled and the water turned pinkish but I still felt so dirty and then I dropped out of high school and tried to kill myself and became psychotically depressed with terror and wound up in a psychiatric ward and I bled and bled and bled and screamed and screamed and screamed daily. 

Yes. That rapist. The rapist who did that to me. 

The rapist who raped me.

Emailed me.

Can you just… imagine? Imagine what that would be like?

Can you imagine what he may say? My rapist? To his rape victim?

Take a moment. Take a brief moment.

What… would a rapist say, to his rape victim?

Three years after her rape? The rape that he committed?

Do you imagine that maybe

He would apologise? Maybe?

Maybe express regret?

Perhaps he was so guilty and tortured that he was trying to make amends before he did something awesome like end his pitiful and despicable fucking life or turn himself in? Maybe? God you would hope so, wouldn't you? I would certainly hope so.

Or maybe

He would say something along the lines of,

Hey (ex girlfriend that I abused and raped for three-four years)!,
Hey (ex girlfriend from a relationship that ended in incredible violence, that ended in the tragic death of inner-child)!,

How are you doing!? How has life been treating you these last few years?!

I've been good, myself. I've been doing pretty well in school and blahblahblah! I've actually been volunteering blahblah and working blahblah and I'm even on the student council at my college blahblahblahblah so I've been pretty busy. Still pretty quiet and shy though so it's hard to connect with people still lol (don't you remember? so funny). Anyway Tori (remember the cat we picked out together? Tori? Remember Tori? You remember Tori? Tori? The cat we picked out together? As a couple? Tori? We named her Tori.) is all grown up now and getting quite fat. She's definitely become a member of the family (remember my family? remember? when we were a couple? you came over all the time?).
Anyway I don't know if you will reply or not (because I raped you, remember? lol. Remember when I raped you? Ahh, the good old days, right? When I raped you? lol good times) but it would be great to hear from you again to see what you're up to! I'd love to catch up some time.
Anyway have a good one! (even though you won't now because I raped you and won't allow your terror to go away)

From,

Your Rapist.

..

No, never that.

You can't just…

lol you can't just

EMAIL the girl you raped after three years and go, HEY HOWS IT GOING REMEMBER OUR LIFE TOGETHER AND LOOK HOW WELL I'M DOING

he would never

he's not that INHUMAN right?

I mean sure he RAPED and that's just

an INHUMAN ACT to begin with but he just wouldn't

like

RUB IT IN like that, right?

Or forget it all happened or something?

Or just like,

Not… care?

Right?

Right?

So much normalcy...

I just…

For the last three years… I have been living in this delusional world where… He felt bad. That he had human in him. That the boy I dated for four years wasn't fully animal for our entire relationship. That I wasn't so naive. That I couldn't have known. That he had a moment of being inhuman but reverted back to being human and reflected on what he had done and what I had accused him of and was DESTROYED by what he had done to me, in destroying me. Wouldn't that be fair? He played so many mind tricks on me in our four year relationship that he had me protecting him to the very end, didn't he? I protected the shit out of that boy, when he raped me. I simply disappeared off the face of his world. I didn't go to the police. I didn't have him arrested. I didn't press charges. I didn't ruin his chances of getting into the university that I knew he worked so hard to get into. So it would only be fair that he took it upon himself, to punish himself, right? So tortured by what he had done that he would drop out of school, or fail, and need to quit his job, and perhaps get himself some help, because he realised that he has a monster in him that he needs to get under some fucking control.

Normalcy. So much normalcy. Like nothing happened. Like I didn't accuse him of rape.

I have been hoping for the last three years that he has been living in anguish over what he did to me. Because even though he was in denial at the time I accused, after reflecting back on it and wondering what had happened, what had gone WRONG?

ANYONE HUMAN COULD HAVE SEEN WHAT HE HAD DONE. I didn't press charges, but I had hoped that my accusation/declaration would have crushed him in the realisation of what he had done.

I have been living in this fantasy for the last three years that he was suffering.

And now reality has hit. No. He never emerged from the denial.

My rapist, the rapist who raped me, he's doing well. My rapist is doing better than I am.

I protected him to give him that.

I had hoped that I hadn't have been successful in giving that to him.

But I was successful..

I snapped. I fell so hard. I had never in my life of mental illness broken that fast and that completely in such a short amount of time. I went from smiling to confusion to screaming. So quickly. My post-traumatic stress disorder overcame me, overwhelmed me, crushed me before I even knew what had really hit me. (Please can't you see that this destroyed me. Someone?)

And so I re-lived, again, my rape through post-traumatic stress disorder flashbacks. I was raped again that night, in my mind, by him, so real. He pulled down my pants and held me down and I cried and he raped me again that night. I have fought so hard for so long to break free from his power over me and in ONE message all of that was reversed and I fell victim once again.

Fucking… hell and I was so powerless.

I didn't even stop to think I just deleted the email and messaged him without thinking that I should probably keep it as evidence god damn it and that I should have fought BACK. Because here is my CHANCE! To fight him back! Like I wasn't able to do physically, three years ago. All of those years with him.

But it didn't work out like that, did it.

God fucking damn it this post is full of melodramatic bullshit but fucking hell I want everyone to SEE WHAT HE DID. I feel increasing anxiety that I'm not conveying my emotions well enough. They are so intense that it's hard for that to come across in words but I WANT it to. I want someone to picture me legitimately laying on the floor screaming and crying with blood on my arms and be moved to tears and anger and a need to reach out to me through that image. I want someone to know, through my words, without experiencing the trauma themselves but KNOWING enough through my words, what I went through.

I just want someone to understand that I was RAPED.

Do you understand what rape IS!?

I want someone to look at me, 5'2", 115 lbs, talented, quick to smile, intelligent

And I want them to imagine my heart-shaped face being pressed into a pillow while my blue eyes cried as he forced 'himself' into me. INSIDE of me. INSIDE of ME. Of ME. ME, something that /I/ should have complete and utter control of. MYSELF. MY possession. MY body. And he forced something INSIDE of it over and OVER again against my will. It wasn't SEX, it had nothing to do with SEX, it was about taking away my CONTROL so that he could be POWERFUL. It was RAPE. I was RAPED.
And,
How does that make you feel!?
Can you imagine!?

How INVASIVE that was. How much of an understatement the word INVASIVE IS. The VIOLATION. The TRAUMA. The NiGHTMARES. How BETRAYED I was. I trusted him to NOT rape me. But he RAPED me.

And I do not want someone to go, "aww, I'm so sorry.."
I do not want someone to be silent,

but to be fucking MAD

Like, really fucking ANGRY on my behalf

Because this fucker RAPED me and had the GALL to fucking MESSAGE ME with his NORMALCY BULLSHIT LIKE NOTHING EVER FUCKING HAPPENED LIKE HE DIDN'T FUCK ME UP.

Because he did fuck me up.

So badly.

I just can't wrap my mind around how FUCKED UP he made me feel, how fucked up the situation is, how fucked up my life is, how raping me set me YEARS behind everyone else. It's on a COLOSSAL scale, how fucked up I have been, and how my life has been. ENORMOUS. Unmeasurable. So. much. destruction and chaos.

How have I been? HOW AM I?

I'll tell you how fucking well I have been since you RAPED me, RAPIST.

First of all I went from being a straight A student to a fucking high school DROP OUT who couldn't even leave her fucking house and flipped her shit over the locks on the doors because you tried to break in that one time after you raped me.

So thank you for making me the DISAPPOINTMENT of my family.

Yeah, there's the second thing.

Thanks for destroying MY FAMILY TOO.

Thanks for fracturing the tentative relationship with my mother, thanks for destroying my relationship with my sister, for OBLITERATING my relationship with my father. Severing me from my father's side of the family. The weddings and births I have missed because I am too GODDAMN AFRAID TO REACH OUT.

Thanks for the POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER and the SLEW OF OTHER MENTAL DISORDERS that I now have to fucking deal with. Thanks for triggering a PSYCHOTIC BREAKDOWN. How have I BEEN? Well, let's see, I've only tried and almost succeeded in killing myself a few times, that's all! I only succeeded in getting myself locked away against my will in a psychiatric ward, no big FUCKING DEAL OR ANYTHING.

How. Have. I. Been.

Well my skin is no longer beautiful on my legs because I've slashed my thighs open to bleed out the pain that you put me through. I only have scar tissue upon scar tissue upon scar tissue, no biggie. I only cried until I literally choked and dreamed of dying and had nightmares of living. I was only kicked out and pretty much homeless for a little while there because no one understood what the fuck I was on about and I wasn't healing fast enough for them so hit the road, rape victim! Get out of here! You're crying too much.

I only lost EVERYTHING that I held dear to me, most of my closest friends, any potential friendships that could have bloomed. You were only the cause of the disorders that were the reason for why I was threatened, and successfully threatened, into a surgery that I did not WANT.

Forced to get a job and move out on my own before I was ready for it. While I was still dealing with the trauma. Over 40 hours a week, minimum wage, while I cried most nights for being raped in my dreams over and over again.

I only look over my shoulder EVERY GOD DAMN TIME I AM OUTSIDE because I am TERRIFIED of seeing you. TERRIFIED of being chained to this area that I know is nearby YOU. I know you frequent HERE and I know that you know that I am HERE and so I am TERRIFIED of leaving my own god damn home. Not that my home would stop you, nothing could stop you, as is evident by you RAPING ME.

How have I been…?

Sad… and so very angry. And depressed and misunderstood and so very alone and disconnected and detached and feeling way too much.

I learned to mistrust and I learned suspicion and silence and literal insanity.

I learned to distance myself from everyone around me.

I learned to channel my sobs into convulsions so that my father wouldn't hear me in the other room. I would just convulse instead of scream.

I learned how to get bloodstains out of bedsheets and how to properly tend to wounds.

Once you have been raped it... changes you. You become mistrustful in the worst way possible. People who are not victims, who do not know victims, they go about their lives giving away trust to others. They simply trust. They trust that they will not be raped.

But the moment you become a rape victim... that disappears. Your entire outlook completely changes.

Now, people have to EARN your trust in them that they will not rape you.

As a rape victim, you live your life in fear of other people, in fear of rape. Mistrusting other people and mistrusting their control over themselves.

You never completely trust again.

Every new partner falls under your suspicion and scrutiny.

Are they displaying the signs?

How do I trust this person?

Do they have the potential to rape me?

So I have learned to mistrust people.

I have been taught, in such a brutal way, through such a brutal lesson, to not assume the trust.

To withhold it from others until they can PROVE to you that they will not hurt you in that way.

You have to EARN my trust to not rape me. Isn't that bizarre? Can you imagine that?

I wouldn't have been able to conceive of something like that, a mindset like this, pre-rape....

All on my own, through my own strength of will, I have climbed from the depths that you threw me down to. I earned my high school diploma two years after I dropped out. I  applied for and was accepted into college. I just received my grades and I achieved a 4.0 GPA in college. I've held my job for two years. I was promoted to supervisor a year ago. I started building up relationships again. Reaching out a little bit more. Almost enjoying myself. That was what /I/ did. That's MY strength. It took me THREE YEARS to even climb to the STARTING point of where you merrily are, rapist.

And then you just

thought you could just

message me.

And you destroyed all that. You messaged me the night before my biggest exam.

I am a straight-A student and that day, when I went in and wrote that exam, I received 55%.

That's just fucking… HIGH SCHOOL all over again, what you did to me.

FUCKED me over so that I went from fucking AMAZING to fucking

destroyed.
How fucking...

DARE YOU!?
HOW FUCKING DARE YOU EVEN THINK TO ENTER MY LIFE AGAIN AND CAUSE THE SAME FUCKING BULLSHIT THAT I SO PAINSTAKINGLY FOUGHT AND RECOVERED FROM, ALL THESE YEARS? ALL THESE YEARS SINCE YOU RAPED ME?

RAPIST?

HOW DARE YOU.
I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE YOU HAD
THE NERVE
to
message
me.

And no.

You didn't act the way I had been hoping, all of these years.

Tormented and anguished.

No. You didn't.

Because you're not a compassionate human being.

You're not a reasonable human being.

You don't care for me or for others.

I was merely a possession all along.

Something to control.

You objectified me. Stripped away my identity as a person.

I suppose doing that made it easier to rape me.

Because if I was a human being with thoughts and feelings it would be harder to rape me without feeling really bad about it, probably.

But I was just a woman. Your woman. A woman that you controlled. Right?

A possession.

Raping possessions isn't so bad, right?

It's like, it's not rape at all, and you can like, just… get on with your own life afterwards.

If I was just a possession and not a human being with thoughts and feelings.

Right?

I'm the one living in torment and in anguish.

That's just not fair.

It's just really not fair at all.

You should be the one living in torment and anguish.

But there you are.

With your normal life.

Your successful life.

Congratulations, rapist.

You represent rapists everywhere.

"Family" and "Blood Relations" Part 1

I am rather quiet in my beliefs as I have not found the confidence to voice many issues that my heart breaks over on a daily basis, though I hope this will change throughout my journey of self-reflection that will occur within this blog. I am not an asshole. I generally do not push my concerns on another unless I can do it in a cowards way behind an anonymous screen unless it is truly such an injustice that I cannot allow for it to continue in my presence or otherwise. Usually, though, I allow people to get on with their lives as long as they allow me to get on with mine. However, it just boggles my mind as to how many people will NOT allow me to get on with my life, and must insist that their opinion is above my grasp and definitely above any that I hold to myself.

The other week I had the misfortune of encountering an issue that left my jaw wide-open on its hinges.

First of all, a little speculation on the issue at hand is in order. I have always been very good at leaving people behind in my life, shunning and shutting out individuals who have cost me my happiness. I have found this to be a rare strength and I can completely understand how the majority of other people cannot even conceive of this being an option for them, especially when it comes to the thought of estranging family members; after all, your blood runs through their veins. Cutting people out of your life is a defensive mechanism. We all have such mechanisms, and they all differ from one person to the other. This mechanism is a rare one and it is actually one of the few that I possess that actually work for me in bettering my life. The more I have come to understand abuse and my own personal tolerance levels regarding abuse, the more I have found my world becoming a little smaller in my isolation. This is sort of okay by me. I may be a rather lonely person, but I have shaved the riff-raff out of my life so that I can begin my fighting process with positive forces by my side. You would not go to war (and I would describe this battle with my own mind as a war for certain) with a host at your back that has the potential to drive a spear through your bowels, would you? Well, I would hope not.

I digress. What I am getting worked up over is the disrespect I receive for having this ability and the offence that many around me have for observing this ability put into action so many times, and the fear from those same people who believe that it will be applied to them. What I am also discouraged over is the belief that many have that their opinions can change mine, and that what I am doing is wrong, for the major changes that I have made within my life is cutting out certain members of my family. It is popular belief that family can do no permanent harm to one another and that all can be forgiven at the end because, well, you are bound by blood and simply cannot cut such a tie.

Well, I am here to tell you that this belief is quite in the wrong.

Take, for example, my father. Or, as I have come to lately think of him as, the 'sperm donor'. There are reasons for why my relatively level-headed mother divorced this sorry sack of useless cells, and it is for these reasons that I have decided to exclude him from my own life for the last year, and intend on continuing to do so for a quite a number of years more. This man has smoked in the presence of his asthmatic child, making her suffer through the horrible sensation of not being able to breathe; of choking and being unable to draw the life-giving breath. Even when begged to stop, there he would sit, cigarette in hand, without a care for me but only for the care of his own comfort; going outside was simply too much of a bother. In fact, he told me flat-out that he had every right to smoke this cigarette in HIS home. Not mine, he emphasised, but HIS, in the suggestion that I was an expendable object that has no home, like a stray animal that had been allowed in for a bit of warmth and food. Also, he, a man who lives through his own mental illness, told his mentally ill child that she was faking her suffering to gather attention around her. I won't even begin to reiterate on how ignorant such statements coming from him were. He portrayed himself as the embodiment of the mentally sick, the truly suffering, someone who suffers through his career with his own illness and how it bogs him down. No one else was allowed to be a sufferer. To him, he was in the most pain; no one else could dare challenge him or empathise with him. I was not allowed to be 'the esteemed fellow sufferer'.

Anyway, another digression.

I will put it as my dear friend, Emma, has: there is a certain amount of assholery a person is allowed to have before they cross the line into being abusive. Anyone can cross that assholery line. A man such as my father is a son, a boyfriend, a brother, a cousin, an uncle, a father. Just like how the boy who raped me is a son, a cousin, a brother, a boyfriend. These people with abusive mind-set don't just pop out of the bog to roam the earth in search of victims; these are people who have stemmed from families, have families, and, quite possibly, abuse their families first to 'test the waters'. My father is a father, for lack of a better word other than 'sperm donor', but my father is also an ignorant man and an abusive man and a TERRIBLE father. My father/sperm donor crossed the assholery line with me, his own daughter, and is therefore abusive towards his daughter.

Let me reiterate on my use of the word 'abuse' here. There is a difference between the occasional heated arguments/disagreements and, how Emma has also put it, as "a continuous, ongoing, constant state of emotional or physical or psychological battery." The former is being human and having human relations and occasionally being the dumb human being that we will all inevitably be at times. The latter is abuse.
Example number one: My mother. She has inflicted some significant hurts on me, but those all stemmed out of simple ignorance and common human flaws. My mother gave birth to me, but in becoming a mother, was not given a sudden epiphany and enlightenment on life and education and wisdom to impart to me. She remained the same person. So she did some things and said some things that hurt me. But she never really 'crossed the line'. She came pretty close to nearing the line, but it felt very different in those moment, compared to the other relationships I had where it felt intentional, rather than just being blind. My mother was ignorant but has since enlightened herself on my conditions and who I am as a person, and has since apologised and made the effort to rectify her wrongs.
For a truly abusive person, however, such acknowledgement and apologetic nature is beyond them.
Example number two: My sister. My sister has inflicted significant hurts on me, and HAS crossed the line. My sister was fully aware of my conditions and how much effort it took to get where I am now. My sister inflicted hurts on me for her own benefit and used what she perceives as my weaknesses to get that feeling of superiority. Knowing that my social anxiety made me fear being unlikeable, she would put me down as being that unlikeable person, and imply that our family has talked about my being unlikeable behind my back with her, that she was the likeable one of us two sisters. Knowing my struggle with abuse, she would manipulate me into thinking that I was a cruel person, that I was just as much of a monster as the people who have abused me. Knowing my loneliness, she would emphasise my friendlessness and seed doubts within me on my ability to make friends. My sister will likely not apologise for any of these things, for doing so would admit being wrong, and someone who is abusive are under the delusion that they can never be wrong. That they are powerful. They exert that power over their victims to feel power, to fuel this delusion. The more that they successfully fuel their delusion, the less likely they are to admitting they have ever been wrong in it, and my sister has been VERY good at fuelling this delusion. Not only with me, but in bullying others with her sharp words. My sister is an abusive person, my sister is a bully, and I do not have to have abuse and bullying in my life. My sister is those things, it is who she is, and I do not need those things, so I do not need her and who she is. And yet it is looked to me by my family to rectify the situation, because I was the one who cut her out, therefore I'm the only one who can fix it.

My father is the same way. My father has since tried to contact me, but has been ignored by me. I have received no apology or acknowledgement on the wrongs that he has done by me. As far as I am concerned, this means that he does not believe he has done wrong, that he believes that there is no need for apology, that he shares the similar mind-set as my sister that I wronged them by cutting them out. I am not obligated to respond to your single ignorant message that you send on Christmas Eve. I am not even obligated to go to your funeral if you keep this up. You allowed someone to sexually assault me and go unpunished in order to keep the peace between you and your girlfriend. You put your relationship with your girlfriend above your relationship with your daughter and this is not okay with me. You are a selfish and abusive man.

Now for the event that inspired this blog post:
Great-grandmother, GG, your ignorant comment at Christmas, condemning me as a rebellious teenager with no Godly concept of family for blocking out my sperm-donor, was unwelcome. Your firm belief that I should subject myself to abuse because I share this man's blood does not reflect well on your regard and care for me as a person. You have condemned yourself to being the subject of my hostility because you, like my father, believe that I should be okay with abuse so long as it keeps the peace. You have exhibited a disregard for what I have gone through. You have implied that you are okay with me, your great-granddaughter, being hurt. You have taken such little time over my life to know me, else you would know me to be self-sufficient and independent and rather mature. Well, with my father out of my life, and you, my life is quite peaceful, thank you.
Well, I don't even think this woman knows that I live on my own, so her opinion hardly weighs, but my great-grandmother's reaction to my father's lack of presence in my life makes her the embodiment of all the rest of them who have reacted in a similar fashion. The fact that this woman hardly knows me and is making these judgements is precisely the point that I am trying to make. This woman is the example of every other story I have seen on the forums that I frequent, all similar, in the fear of judgement should one block ties with their blood ties.

You do not have to be subjected to any form of abuse, and family most definitely can be abusive. Family is actually a very subjective concept. You make your own family. You make your own support systems and you love who you choose and leave behind who you choose. Your family is who you perceive to be your family. Blood relations, to me, is a very different thing from family. A sperm donor is not family, neither is a bully, so I will not count them as family. Someone else's opinion that differentiates to yours is simply another perception on a very subjective concept. They have no right to press that personal creation of an idea on you. There is no right or wrong way in perceiving family. But I guess that isn't going to stop someone from trying to tell you otherwise, because they believe that their perception on subjective matters is definite and righteous. Oh well.

Just do what is best for you.

Selfish

This issue has cropped up today through my own personal reflection as well as through a little run-in I had with an ex-boyfriend today through text. This got me thinking about the control that had been exerted over me throughout most of my relationships in my lifetime, romantic or otherwise, and just how they were able to extend that control over me and keep it there. I used to be a wilful girl who was beginning to come into her rebellion stage. I still had that stage, but to a very different extent from other young teenagers, because my rebellious nature had be squashed so thoroughly by those seeking to control me. I had been subject to abuse for all of my life, but I recall quite clearly that, as a fourteen year old, I was beginning to be a little more vocal about my beliefs and opinions and acting upon them. Immaturely, I will grant you, but it was a budding that would have blossomed into quite the flower had it been able to be nurtured, rather than become the bitter weed it is today.
Anyway, I was beginning to take charge of my life in small ways and I was beginning to develop my own ideals and morals on my own. So what was it that stopped that development within me in its tracks? What could possibly have turned me around from that path that is so vital to the development of the self?

I have been thinking quite a bit about this sudden back-track of mine, and after the encounter I had today, I realise now what it had been, in my early teenage years. It is only one word that stopped me then, and still makes me hesitate to this day. The word 'selfish'.

Reflecting back on my past relationships, I realise how much weight this word carried with me. I look back and I see the same trend within any abusive relationship I had been in: I had been called selfish. This word horrified me. To have such a word attached to my person revolted me. I was an exceptionally selfless person, looking back. I was happy to help anyone in any way that I could, much like I am trying to do now, as I am writing this blog for the benefit of the reader as much as for myself. I am still a selfless person. Dangerously so. I hardly allow time for my own growth of happiness before I plunge my efforts into building someone else's.
The problem with the word 'selfish' is that it, by very definition, is what human beings are, even should they be selfless most times, and yet it has such a negative stigma attached to it that makes it a horrifying word to be associated with. We associate this word with being hand-in-hand with egotistical, self-absorbed, narcissistic. It is an all-encompassing word that holds such a weight, and it is a lethal weapon when in the hands of someone seeking control. We, as human beings, do not like being faced with the possibility that we are creatures who only think of oneself. We know there is a goodness within us, as good people, and this word acts as a weapon that seeks to undermine whoever holds these values to their person. To suggest that someone is selfish when they actively seek to prove otherwise is a successful tool for the abuser. The reason why this tool is so successful is because of how vague the definition of concept can truly be, coupled with the negative stigma attached to the word.

An example of one such definition is one from dictionary.com:

"characterized by or manifesting concern of care only for oneself: selfish motives."

Now, that is a pretty general and ominous statement right there. By this definition, it is extremely hard NOT to be selfish. This is exactly the issue, however. An abuser who seeks to undermine their victim can pull the selfish card to force their victim into making a decision they would not otherwise have made, and they can pull this card with this source as a back-up to show how the receiving end of this insult is, by dictionary definition, a selfish person. (Never mind that the word 'only' could potentially change the entire definition, depending on how much weight is put on that singular word. Of course, for the abuser who is experienced at what they do, that word slips away quite quietly in the face of the rest of the damning passage.)

In the face of screaming wrath and threats, or in the face of that soft disappointment with vague suggestions that you are not good enough as a person, once the 'selfish' card is pulled, the abused, someone who is trying to defend their good nature as a selfless person, will give in to the demands made of their abuser.

However, the abused will not consider this little tidbit until well after the abuse: by this definition, every. single. person. on. this. planet. is. the. absolute. embodiment. exact. definition. of. selfish. You CANNOT escape this definition no matter who you are or what you do to redeem yourself. But the abuser is going to hide that fact with whatever method of manipulation they use to their advantage. They are going to make this definition about YOU, solely YOU, and YOU are the only one that this definition of absolution refers to, never mind that they are pulling any string they can to make you do something you don't want to do for their own benefit.

And then there is this lovely little definition found on another corner of the interwebs at merrian-webster:

"concerned excessively or exclusively for oneself : seeking or concentrating on one's own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others"

BINGO! The definition of 'selfish' has thus just been completely transformed into something a little less damnable, just by sticking that last little bit there on the end. The 'only' has been changed from one itty-bitty little wordy, easily silenced, into an enormous screaming HELLOOOO THIS IS AN IMPORTANT PART OF SELFISHNESS part of this 'horrible' word. One word has been changed to four and has been placed at the end of the sentence for emphasis. The definitions are EXACTLY THE SAME, just worded differently! With emphasis where it is supposed to be! Holy damn, where was this definition when I needed it?

This is an empowering definition for those who have been suppressed by the previous one. The culprits of selfishness have just been narrowed down to people who are ruthlessly going forth in their life seeking only for themselves without thinking of others. I.E. the person standing in front of you, or contacting you through your computer screen, or the voice coming through the receiver of your phone, or the short little messages buzzing and bleeping on that same phone, trying to convince you that you are a worthless person for not doing what they want. They are not regarding your feelings over the matter. This is what they want and if your feelings and your sense of worth have to get hurt through the venom they spit at you to achieve that, well, that's exactly what they are going to do. You, precious little selfless thing, who has struggled and strived for a balance in selfless and living your own life, are now exempt from this definition, do not you worry. What makes you unselfish is that you weigh your decisions carefully and you are aware of the consequences that they could bring. You were already aware and sensitive to the fact that, no, you did not want to do what this person wanted, but you felt compassion for rejecting them anyway. You weighed their feelings and recognised them and made a decision against it, and you feel sorry that you had to make that decision. If you did not have that initial compassion for rejecting this person, they would not have been successful in swaying you over or forcing you to change your mind. You are not a selfish person.

So I have some letters to write, it seems.

Dear slimy high school boyfriend: You assaulting me repeatedly throughout the course of three to four years was not acceptable. Calling me selfish as a tool of coercion into sex because you knew how much I feared that word and using it as leverage over me was wrong and illegal. Convincing me that I owed you sex and how shirking that duty to you was selfish of me was DISGUSTING. I wish I had put you away.

Sincerely,

The-bitch-who-wouldn't-say-yes-so-I-ignored-the-nos-and-pretended-it-was-a-yes.

Dear sister: You calling me selfish for standing up for myself was unacceptable. Get off your pedestal and face the real world. I took you in to my home, fed you my food, allowed you to 'borrow' (take) my money for your lunches, and turned the other way when you engaged in activities that were immoral. I did not have to do this for you. I am not your mother, yet I took on that role for you. I PROTECTED you. You stripped that away. I'm sorry for your loss. Because you lost a DAMNED good sister.

Sincerely,

Your-bitch-sister-who... the hell did I ever do to wrong you? Guess I'll just sign this as Your Bitch Sister.

Dear father: You calling me selfish for 'imposing' myself on your life was unacceptable. I am your daughter. I inherited your family's mental disorders, something you yourself suffer from, and FUCK YOU for saying that I was faking it. You calling me selfish for requesting that you stop smoking in my presence as I suffered from asthma was INAPPROPRIATE. Turning the other way when your girlfriend's son (which one? hmm..) molested me was INAPPROPRIATE. YOU are an INAPPROPRIATE MAN and a POOR FATHER.

Sincerely,

Your-messed-up-attention-starved-natural-liar-drama-queen-daughter.

Now, to respond to the shameful ex-boyfriend who texted me today.

Dear recently-ex'd-boyfriend: You calling me selfish because I refused your advances was unacceptable. Saying that I am selfish for applying my past experiences of abuse to innocent ol' you was unacceptable. Saying that I should be striving in my life to help everyone that I can at the cost of myself or be doomed lonely was unacceptable. Implying that I should shirk my judgement and all the work that I have done lately to further myself in my life all for the benefit of your feelings was unacceptable. When I turned you down, I had your feelings totally in mind. I felt bad that you still advanced upon me. I felt bad that your feelings were hurt and offered my condolences and my friendship. I was NOT, by definition, selfish to you. Your stone-set belief that we should be together is your own delusion and forcing that delusion upon me to change my mind was unacceptable and selfish on your part. Defending the wrongs that you had done by me as nothing more than what any other 22-year-old would have done was unacceptable. You need a reality check and your mother needs to slap your face and tell you that you treat women horribly, including her. Your assumption that women should wait on you and make themselves available to you at your own messed-up schedule and leisure is wrong. Unfortunately, with the world we live in today, in this imperfect world where misogynists are accepted in most places, you will find your place in the world and you will probably never realise how wrong you are. Only when you look back on your life and how absent it is of women who have stuck by you for long periods of time will you maybe clue in that something is amiss with you. Or maybe it's just the women! Women, they just don't know what they are missing out on. Yeah, you will probably blame the women. You will still never fully understand why they abandon ship once they see who you are and what you think of them. For that, for your ignorance, I feel sorry for you.

Sincerely,

The-bitch-how-dare-she-reject-someone-as-awesome-as-you

I believe that is the last time that I will let the word 'selfish' get under my skin. It is certainly the last time I am going to waste my breath defending myself against it. The truly unselfish have nothing to prove to someone using such petty tricks designed to undermine their confidence in their decision, by using their compassion for others against them. To those who have fallen victims to this scam, I can only hope that you, too, will awaken to this dramatic attempt at manipulating your opinions and have none of it ever again. In order for this trick to even work on you, you are not, by definition, a selfish person. Having this wool pulled over your eyes even just once disproves the abuser's allegations on your good nature.

Sorry for your hurts, pals, but I have to look out for myself too, you know.

Good god get over it.

Psychiatric Facilities/Wards Pt 1.

I had planned on touching upon this subject further along the road, but inspiration has taken hold, and this matter cannot wait.

I am here to tell you why in-patient psychiatric wards do not work.

Of course, that is not to say that they can NEVER work, but they would need a complete transformation and revamp on their current policies and understanding. I have taken a keen interest in the stories that people have made available to me of their seeking for help in a supposed 'safe place' for mentally ill patients, people who enroll themselves into a hospital in order to escape the chaotic world and into the arms of professionals who are supposed to be understanding and helpful, only to face the same stereotypes and judgements in this supposed safe-haven. Except this time, it is worse: you are now isolated, cut off, and in the care of 'professionals' who have the authority to do, essentially, whatever they would like to you, without question. Why? Because they are the ones with the degrees, the masters, and you are the crazy in the crazy house.

I am here to voice my concern and to urge realisation of the poor conditions these psych wards offer and for change in the facilities that are located all over the world. And Canada, although quite lacking in their mental health care compared to the other services readily available, is supposed to be the leader of health in all the world, and their institutions considered some of the top in their efficiency. I cannot even imagine, as someone who has been committed into a psych ward in Canada, what that must mean for the institutions in the rest of the world. London especially, with the local world-renowned University of Western Ontario, is held in especial esteem for their modern-day health care provisions. And the psych ward I was admitted into is in London.

I will not get into too much detail of how I came to be there or other minor things, as this blog will simply consist of the issues that arose. To truly explain what had happened and the circumstances would take quite a while. Basically, all that you, as the reader, need to know is that I came to the hospital as a suicidal teenager finally reaching out and seeking help, at the urging of my friends and family. So here are a few of my memories of this modern-day, highly-esteemed, top-quality hospital that I had the honour of experiencing, and how everything was absolutely wrong with it.

First off: The Lies

You walk into the hospital and you say you are suicidal. You are immediately treated differently. You are not a life-threatening case and they have better things to attend to, physical agonies and injuries that require their immediate attention. You are seen as a nuisance, really. You are seen as a call for attention that they could better direct to those who come to the hospital for REAL emergencies, but they cannot turn you away, so they get around to you in the waiting room eventually and, sure, we'll give you a room we suppose... It's been a few hours that you have just been sitting there, waiting, so I suppose you're SOMEWHAT serious about your claim. Sort of. But we really don't understand anyway. Basically, you're treated as though you just walked up to a surgeon in the middle of surgery with tears rolling down your cheeks and a bruise on your finger.
Here is the mistake I made: goddamn movies and their visuals of 'suicidal watch' and 'in-patient' as you simply relaxing in bed with a nurse hovering over you from time to time to make sure you're not, like, you know, killing yourself or anything. And the occasional visit of the psychiatrist who looks so sympathetic and caring and they make all your problems feel all better and they set you up with some real goddamn help so you can go home with relief in your heart and a smile on your face. Finally, a smile.
Nope. I was asked if I was still suicidal, over a long period of time. 12 hours or thereabouts. When they finally realise that I wasn't going to give up my damned claim of suicidal, they ask me if I'd like to be an in-patient. "Oh, yes." I was young. How was I supposed to know? There were no DETAILS. I was a nuisance, after all. I've used up some of their precious time and so I did not deserve an explanation of what that entailed. And me, too stupid to see through the cinematic haze, I do not offer up any questions.
A couple more hours later and they arrive with paramedics and a stretcher and inform you that you will be moved to a more comfortable location best suited for this type of 'problem'. A little alarmed, I go along.
Fast forward quite a long ways: I am in the office with the head psychiatrist. We'll get to what happened in between a little later on.
Do I still feel suicidal? For the thousandth time, YES. Or, well, no, if you gave me means to kill myself I wouldn't do it in FRONT of you, but I strongly feel that if I was to go back to my house I would probably turn my thoughts back to it.
Alright, well we have a place for you here and we can take you in for the care that you deserve. You walked in here freely, and we are so proud of you for that. You can see for yourself if this type of care is the right thing for you and, if not, we'll make arrangements for you to get out-patient care as soon as possible. You are voluntarily admitted into the hospital, we just want you to understand that, so you are free to leave at any time. Here is a contract just to say you understand this and, oh, don't worry about that part, THAT won't happen, don't worry. We won't extend the right we have to keep you involuntarily. You ARE here voluntary, don't worry.

Just sign here.

Something fucking magical and demonic happens when you sign that paper, I swear. You sign your fucking life away. They begin to explain the rules to you. One of them hits you quite badly. "No cellphones". But.. but my friends are all online, they are my support, I will be completely isolated if I don't have that, please don't take that. I'm sorry, it's policy. Please, if it's your policy, I don't want to be here. I can't have my support system taken away from me. They are part of my healing process. Tears form in your eyes, as you realise that your support system is just TOO important to you to have it removed. You are upset, because you realise that this will not be the help you want after all, and you are disappointed that you had just spent the last 24 hours getting here, only to know that it just won't work after all. The doctor sees the tears and your distress. The doctor quietly takes his leave for a moment while you chat with the nurse in a sad, shy manner. He returns some time later with a frown on his face.
Hmm... I just got off the phone with your father. He is under the impression that you should stay here. He mentioned a painting you had been working on that had... some rather disturbing images on it. Of course, I can't keep you here based on a painting, but hmm.. it sounded quite disturbing indeed, and you must be in a lot of distress to paint such a thing. But we can't use it as a reason. But we will anyway.
No, doctor, I can't stay here. I have to have the support of my friends and my phone is the only method of communication that I have with them right now.
I'm very sorry you feel that way. Are you SURE you won't reconsider?
I can't stay here. I have to leave. I want to go home.
But you SAID you were suicidal.
I know that I said that, but I feel like I will be better off with other forms of help. I believe that I have the strength to hang in there until I find the help I need now that I have gotten the ball rolling.
Unfortunately........ miss...... you seem to be in distress right now.....
I'm just a little upset that this isn't what I expected it to be.
I understand, but, hmmm.... No, you appear to be in near hysterics, actually.
Silence.
I'm afraid I cannot let you leave, yes. I cannot with clear conscience let you walk out the door knowing that you are capable of taking your life. You have been committed to this psych ward for a 72 hour watch, and once that is up, we will determine if you are.... safe enough to leave.

----

I cannot tell you how many stories like my own have been experienced by others such as myself all over the continent. I estimate perhaps 80% of the stories had this exact same bullshit happen to them. The 'voluntary' safety-net that they use against you, until you sign away your rights on that bullshit contract upon admission. I am not the only one this has happened to you. This is a scheme that seems to be a regular practice within the psychiatric wards. I do not actually believe that they actually get many 'involuntary' patients, who are forced from the get-go to endure the '72 hour watch'. From what I have seen, the majority of the patients who opt for the in-care walk in free and voluntary, and are confined against their will once they realise the true isolation they will be confined to should they stay. Their observations and refusals don't matter in the end. Once you sign that paper, and once the doctor deems it so, your word is rather worthless. Who are you, deranged person, to question the word of the head psychiatrist?

You become nothing when you enter the psych ward. You are voiceless. Anything that comes out of your mouth is unnatural and damning. You are now an in-patient to your local psychiatric ward.

Next to come:
-Disregard for Patient
-Isolation and Imprisonment
-Abuse of Sedatives and Drugs
-Lack of Psychiatric Care
-Post-traumatic Stress

Here Enters but a Fragment

Insert obligatory introduction.

I am unsure of how to start one of these things off. I feel like the first post of a blog should convey the person behind the keyboard with an accuracy that would allow for any potential reader to immediately grasp the sort of person this blog features; yet to channel all of myself here, in this one singular post, would be a twenty year journey in itself. Unfortunately for any audience that I may gain, the task of summarising myself where the whole of these twenty years defines me is an impossible one. Unfortunately for you, reader, you will have to simply wait for this blog to unfold to truly comprehend an inkling of my identity; you will have to actually frequent my blogging to grasp any concept of who I am, and you will have to wait to see if this mind and these words are worth following. It will be a treacherous journey indeed. My posts will be muddled and incomprehensible at times, but there will be other times where there will be a glimpse of enlightenment. They will not be in chronological order; I will be jumping from one era of my life to something entirely different. Not only will I have to take you through the twenty years of my own life, but I will have to reveal the people who have influenced me who, for good or worse, have defined me. You will be baffled and you will likely cease in your efforts and gradually abandon the project of understanding this complexity; the fleeting moments of understanding will be too small and too far in between for your own sanity. You will not make it far in this journey.

Well, I can only hope that my words set you up for taking such a challenge and perhaps sticking to it for a while longer than you usually would bother to. How manipulative of me.

What urged me to begin writing my blog is my realisation that I have lost my voice. Queue foreshadowing: I have suffocated within relationships so abusive that my life and my pleas have gradually gone quite silent from misuse. After many long years I am finally beginning to wake up and be the fighter that I once was, before I was reduced into a meek little thing who was silenced and shamed for being that sensitive and emotional woman. Which leads me to my second reason for starting this blog: I am at a turning point in my feminist realisations that are progressing at a faster pace than usual within these last months. Through my sudden change of perception on women and how we are treated as women, I feel isolated from the rest of the world as they paddle along in blissful ignorance. The dawning of inequality is an important and long-needed change within me; I will not be able to break free from the chain of abuse if I do not change my perceptions on myself and what I deserve as a human being; however I am feeling increasingly discouraged by the world around me as my epiphany and enlightenment grows. I need to voice my concerns in my own little space to avoid being kicked down for them in the real world, which would inevitably cause me to abandon my new-found philosophies for the sake of acceptance.

So here is the start of my journey. I start here, perceiving myself as a victim; my goal is the perception of survival, a concept that I have not yet been able to grasp. Hah to that, I say. Good luck to me.