Weekly Update: 2 Days

Monday again! I'd ask how this keeps happening, but we kinda know. I'm tired this morning. The kittens didn't follow me up to bed last night and I decided that meant I'd get a good night's sleep. Nope. Mina started attacking my leg/foot at around 3:45 am. I ended up sleeping the rest of the night on the couch because I had to come downstairs to use the bathroom and then was too tired to climb back upstairs. Not the most comfortable or energizing of rests, but better than nothing.

I'm trying to remember back over the past week to see if there's anything I need to write about. DHS denied me for food stamps again. They claim I didn't send in the required paperwork (total lie) and that Roger isn't an eligible college student. They also added my oldest back on and then said he wasn't eligible because he no longer lived with me. Well yes, that's why I removed him like a year ago. I don't know that I have the energy to fight with them about this. It's like they're going out of their way to lie and not be helpful.

I'm concerned about my income now, of course. I have a project on my desk, but I've already been paid for it. I don't have anything else lined up for after that. That's scary. It means not knowing how I'm going to eat, put gas in my car, or basically do anything. I'm trying to have faith that it'll all work out, but ugh. Of course, my brain immediately makes the jump to how I'll pay for Christmas. I swear it works hard at worrying about things that are months down the road.

Speaking of roads...nice segue, right? The other thing that my brain is hung up on is moving. I know that I'm going to have to in a couple of years, but my brain seems to think that now is a good time to worry about how I'll make that happen and where I'll be moving to. Part of me just wants to stay here. Then I remind myself that if I stay here, I'll be having to take the house down to studs to get the electrical fixed. Ugh. I really thought I'd be moving somewhere closer to Baltimore but the more I think about it, the more I realize that it won't be like I was promised. Of course, there's the option of moving back to Buffalo. That would put me close to Rob which would be nice. Of course, Roger reminded me that it'd mean moving further from them. He said he was joking, but I wonder if there isn't a lick of truth in there. I know that Ben sometimes worries about me moving away.  I doubt there's a way to make everyone happy.

Speaking of happy...yes, I'm going to use that again...It's just two days until my birthday. I wrote last week about how anxious that makes me. I guess I've had my meltdown over it because today it's barely bothering me. Of course, that's because I've barely thought about it. I still have no plans. I'll probably work, watch tv, watch some Twitch streamers, and that's about it. I think I'll have one present to open, but that's it. Nobody has asked me for my address or a wish list or anything. It makes me sad but what can you do? At least I know I won't be raped this year for my birthday like I was for my 30th. Do you know that sometimes I still look that guy up on social media? That's some weird ptsd stuff there, huh? Mostly if I type his name into Google it just comes up with Harry Potter sites though which kind of amuses me.

Let's see, what else? I wrote a few more stories for my upcoming book which is awesome. I'm still excited about the book which is really good. I have at least fifteen more stories to write though so it's going to be a bit before it's completed. My goal is to take it to Kickstarter in February so I have time, but we all know how fast time can slip by so I need to keep working on it. I have no idea what's happening with book 3 of The Tether Saga. Nick told me over a month ago that he was going over his notes for it, but if he did, he never sent them to me. I know he's busy with Awakenings, but it's been almost a year. I'm sure people have flat out given up on this book. In truth, I pretty much have too.

Oh! A bit of nice...Roger came over and he helped me some with the house. The kitchen floor is now cleared, the litter boxes have all been changed out, and the living room had some good progress made. It's mostly a matter of books being tumbled out everywhere. If I can get that under control and the bathroom cleaned this week (it's in progress), I can let the owner know that the kitchen floor is disappearing...well, so soft that you could fall through if you aren't careful. I'm not looking forward to that (severe landlord anxiety), but I also can't be falling through the floor and it's not as if I caused the leak or whatever has led to this.

So, I think that's that. Nothing new to report with Rob. He's gone quiet but now that he's healing, he's back to being someone who must keep busy at all times. We're alike and opposite in that. I need to be busy, but I also badly need contact with people and am happy at home. He needs to be busy and through his work, he automagically gets contact with people so he's always on the go. It's not personal, just how it is. I'm trying not to be desperately needy and I think he's just living his life. That sounds kinda cold, doesn't it? Maybe because I have a severe out of sight, out of mind feeling about other people...as in if I'm not in front of them somehow, they're not thinking about me. I'm sure he thinks of me sometimes, but doesn't feel the need to be in daily contact. Does that sound nicer? I hope so because I'm not trying to paint him as a jerk.

Anyway, long post again but that's healthy for me. It lets me get stuff out of my brain. I hope that those few who do read keep coming back and that these posts somehow help you too. Until next week...or I need to write again...

Weekly Update: Ups and Downs

I wanted to come in here today and tell you that everything is alright, but it's not and I don't want to lie to you or to myself. Things aren't okay. I go outside of the house and it's easy to pretend that they are. I guess having years of experience has paid off. I talk with people and nobody knows that as soon as I'm alone again, it will all come crashing down.

I've cried so much this week. Most of the time I didn't even know why. I find it harder and harder to hold back when I see something that bothers me. Facebook is really hard because I need to not lose it there. I can't call people fucking morons when those are the words in my head. I've posted a couple of posts that were rawer than usual and it's been okay, but there's a difference between people wanting you to be honest with how you're feeling and you putting it right there in their faces. If I can't reign it in, I'm on a crash course to having no career. Sometimes I just have to close my laptop and watch tv...but nothing I need to invest in because I can't pay attention for that long. My show of choice lately has been Law and Order: SVU. It's an hour with a lot of brain breaks (commercials) in there.

Last night was hard. Yesterday was hard for no discernible reason other than my brain hates me...and it's always a little bit worse at night when you're more alone and it's harder to hide from your demons. I came across (by accident) a podcast done by Nick Gibson, the man who had harassed me, who had lied to me. I told myself to leave it alone, but I couldn't. I watched all 42 minutes of it. I screamed at my phone at the lies that he told, at the compliments that the host gave him. When he said that he had intentionally not send out my replacement book and shrugged it off, I stared in shock. I kept telling myself to turn it off, even when I started to cry, but I couldn't. It broke me, but not because of him.

In the grand scheme of my life, he's a nobody. In the comics community, he's less than nobody, no matter what he claims. People aren't flocking to him to buy his books or to tell him how great he is. I've seen his social media. He's invisible. His only true fan is himself and I doubt that he's even that. I doubt he loves himself. So often we treat others the way we have been treated or even how we treat ourselves. Often, it's the way we want to be treated, but I think it's far more one of the first two for him. It's sad really that he's never been shown the proper way to treat people and when he was, he lashed out and abused that.

I've written here before about my rape. I've mentioned my parents and their behavior. When I'm depressed, demons appear that I thought were long gone. This whole thing with Nick was like the key to Pandora's box. It opened it up and suddenly I've been dealing with things that ought to be done and over with. I feel incredibly fragile, as if I could break at any moment. I long for someone to just hold me and tell me that it will be okay, but there's nobody here to do that. I'm on my own. Some have tried to reach out to me and I so appreciate that. In those moments, I feel stronger. I feel as if this won't swallow me whole. They're the reason that I'm not in bed, but instead am on the couch writing this post.

I may be in tears, but I'm still here...

#MeToo

For a couple of weeks now, I've been feeling called to write this post, but I kept putting it off because I was afraid. I was afraid not only what people would think, but also of what it may do to my own mental health. After a week away and time spent with "the man", I had a bit of a revelation as I was driving home...one that had me in tears, but tears that were washing away the last ugly remains of a terrible thing. Tears that left me thankful for the man I have in my life now who helps give me the strength to be brave and to be bold, to tell my story, to stop hiding, and to show the world my amazing. What's to come is my story...and it isn't fun and it isn't pretty and if things like physical abuse and rape are going to harm you, please stop reading. Please put your own health first. What's next is raw, but it's me...

I don't think that I've ever really talked about this. I'm 99% sure that I've never written about this. Up until this point, I couldn't handle the reliving of what happened to me, but the time has come and I'm thankful for those who have helped in my healing. Please forgive me if this is a rough start because how do you tell the world that you were raped and it left you damaged for years? I guess just like that.

I was raped and this is my story.

About three months before my 30th birthday, my marriage was officially over. I have given ten years to it and lost myself in the process. In the year or so before it happened, I had discovered internet radio and became a dj and even a station manager. I loved it. I felt as if I'd found a community where nobody knew and I could just be fun and happy, even if it was pretend a lot of the time. Not long after my divorce, I met a man named Larry through internet radio. Yes, that's his real name. There is no one innocent here to protect.

We became close and through him, I started dj'ing at a BDSM radio station. It was tied to a popular club and the people all seemed really great. Like I said before, I'd lost myself in my marriage and during this time, I was lost and when Larry showed an interest in becoming a dom to me (if you need more information about BDSM, please don't hesitate to ask/educate yourself), it sounded perfect. He could help guide me as I made my way through a very confusing time of my life. He was willing to help me make decisions, no matter how big or how small. People seemed to like him and after months of talking to him, I felt safe and like he was someone I could trust.

After a lot of talking, we decided that I would fly to where he was and spend my 30th birthday with him. For some reason, I always knew 30 would be a tough age to turn and with what felt like my failure lying all around me, I was thrilled to be spending that weekend with someone who could distract me and that I could have some fun with.

When all flights out of Chicago got cancelled due to a tornado, I should have taken it as a sign and gone home. I didn't though because he kept encouraging me not to give up and that if I ended up at another airport, he would come and get me. So, I hung in there and ended up landing at another much larger airport and sure enough, he was right there to greet me. By the time we got back to his place, I was ready to fall asleep, but he had other ideas. He wanted to give me birthday spankings. The idea amused me and I was curious about the physical side of BDSM, so I went along with it. Except, he didn't spank me. He took a wooden paddle to my bare ass and hit me hard with it 32 times. Then, 10 more because I'd corrected him on my age.

Then, he proceeded to turn me facing the wall and started touching me. I was okay with this at first. After all, I had known we would probably have sex if I went there. Except, he wasn't touching me to turn me on. He was touching me to turn himself on. Then, with no warning, he anally raped me. I'm not going to go into the details. We all know what anal sex is and we all know what rape is. Combine the two and that's what I experienced. Then, he pulled me close, told me how much he cared about me and went to sleep.

I laid there until exhaustion took over. The next morning, I was confused. He was acting as if nothing bad had happened. I knew I hadn't imagined it. I had been to the bathroom to see the black and blue welts covering my backside and to clean up the blood that would happen every time I went to the bathroom for the next week. Emotionally though, I was lost. Was this normal? Was this how these type of relationships were? He did everything he could to reassure me that nothing bad had happened.

That night, I went into the bedroom first and was reading on the bed wearing my pajamas. He came in and removed them from me, reminding me that he had told me that his rule was no clothing in bed, none at all. He then proceeded to hit me with the paddle again, right where he had the night before. This time though, when he forced me down onto my stomach, I went non-responsive. I completely disassociated from what was happening. I was in the air looking down as this man did what he wanted to my body. When he didn't get the reaction he wanted from me, he pushed me over to the side of the bed, turned away from me and went to sleep. The next morning I actually apologized.

I would love to say that I never saw him again, but it would be a lie. I flew out there again the following month. This time, he not only raped me again, but also starved me the entire weekend. I didn't go back again. Not long after that, I was approached by the manager of the radio station to ask if he'd ever mistreated me because others were coming forward and accusing him of rape, of keeping them hostage until he was done with them, and other things. One girl, he would wait until she took medication that put her to sleep and then rape her while she was out of it. No charges were ever pressed against him by any of us.

Why? I don't know. For me, it took me a long time to come to terms with what he had done to me, how he'd used me, taken advantage of me, and then took away the one thing that I had felt I had control over in my life. For the others? Perhaps there was a fear of having to tell officials about the lifestyle and the belief that they wouldn't be believed.

I don't think I've spoken to this man in about 11 years. Not long after the second event, he got married to one of the women that he'd been screwing around with. From everything I saw posted, she enjoyed being treated how he had treated others. As for me, I had friends who flat out forbid me from having contact with this man. It's taken me twelve years, but that's my story. Writing it all out has left me feeling sick, but I know that this is the final step in closing that door forever.

It's taken me a very long time to feel as if I could freely trust anyone with my body again, but I've found that. I have been blessed to have found partners who have treated me with the love and respect that I deserve. I now have an incredible man who without knowing has helped heal some of the worst of it and has helped me to be braver and bolder than I thought I'd ever be able to be again.

I know there are people that mock the #MeToo movement and who have said some horrible things about the women who have spoken up. That hurts me because I'm one of those women, especially once I post this. Remember...all of us deserve love. All of us deserve respect. We may not always agree, but we're all human and deserve to be treated with decency. Treat each other with kindness and compassion. The stories are real. The people are real and sometimes the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Not this time, but sometimes.