3/11

Yesterday would have marked three official years with him. I wasn't quite sure how I was going to handle the day, so when I found out a friend's birthday party was going to be on the 11th, I dove in. I've been trying this new thing lately where I go out of my comfort zone. I want to better understand what I do like, and what I do not like. I lost that understanding a long time ago. It's also possible I never quite had that grasped.

As to be expected in a large group of people there was the creep. The first time he touched me I stopped breathing normally and my body clenched up. Then I rolled my eyes and got on with my life. Another day, another creep. Ummmm, no! That was the wrong course of action. I should have looked him right in his fucking soul and asked him, "Why did you do that?" It is quite a lesson to be taking into my 30s. You see, if men are going to harm us anyway then my silence has only allowed them to most likely have harmed me more than once.

He touched me again, and again, and by the time we stuffed 14 people into the hot tub he'd made sure to end up by me (yayyyyy in Bo Burnham's voice). He kissed my shoulder and sniffed me (trigger). He lifted my leg in the air in such a way that I was taken back to my last sensual touch from a man. A touch I wanted, and a touch that was reached through mutual understanding and through what I hope is mutual respect. I started to shut down. This is when he decided to start rubbing and holding my feet. I sat through twists and turns of anxiety before I got out of the hot tub and walked inside. I didn't care if I was a party-pooper. I didn't care if I was seen as moody. I just didn't want him to have access to my body any longer. (He was later told to get the fuck out of their house. I was not the only woman he was doing this to and once we all started talking his time was up. WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS SHIT, LADIES!!)

I remember the night HE first tried to kiss me. We were in the back bathroom at work, and I was doing drugs again (surprise, surprise). He just came at me. There was no hesitation, and there was certainly nothing done to lead up to this. He had a girlfriend and he treated me like shit. Why would I want him to kiss me? This memory makes me so angry. I remember feeling cornered and backed against a wall. So why, only months later, did I go on to give 3 years of my life to this person? I knew exactly who he was when I first met him. To put it simply: I did not like him.

I am fucked up in the head. However, as fucked up as I am I have never taken someone's choice away from them. I've never taken a body and made it my possession. I feel like this is important to document so that when I have another really awful day, I can read that back to myself. I know there are going to be so very many awful days. All I can do it take them as they come. I have survived everything up to this point.

As women, I must wonder how often we are surviving rather than thriving...

So yeah, I made it through what would have been our three-year anniversary and I am home reflecting a lot. I feel like shit, and I am exhausted; but I am alive, and I didn't drink. There are also some great things that came from tonight. I met some really rad people, and it didn't matter if I was hiding away in the corner or sitting on the floor. People wanted to talk to me about my tattoos, about my water bottle, and about my song choices for karaoke; something he often tried to make me feel stupid for. My love for music brought out other creators who just wanted to talk about and appreciate music. I've spent a lot of time carrying the shame of "bad daughter" and "bad girlfriend" and I think this started to bleed into me believing I am a bad person. That a healthy connection wasn't a possibility. That I am boring. That I am too much. I often disappear inside myself when in overwhelming social situations. Some have even gone so far as to label me as not funny, annoying, and a prude.

I'm no prude, let me make that very clear. I have also never had my body appreciated and adored quite like I have since breaking up with HIM. It has been enlightening, empowering, and orgasmic. I'm so grateful that I am sitting here right now. I am so grateful that I am free. Post-coital clarity has never been more spectacular, I guarantee it.

Heterosexual gals, leave your deadbeat boyfriends/husbands and go have someone blow your fucking mind and make you cum.

...or take care of yourself...

I recommend a rabbit. *chef's kiss*