Strange to be able to find a safe place to write and vent, without fear of discovery. It's taken a few weeks of writing and deleting things before I have found the courage to publish my thought. It's a little odd to write this as a first post. I have been triggered recently, and have not been able to reset to normality since. My mind keeps returning to my past, and in turn, I force myself into the future. Don't sit down! Don't relax! Go out, meet people. At all costs, do not be alone with your thoughts!
But this forced way of living has to stop at some point. And when I am alone, the inevitable panic attack and anxiety begins. The inability to eat, the vomiting and the crying. I hope that writing will help me to settle into a routine again.
I want to share a story about something that happened recently, something simple, something that most people take for granted. But for me, it was significant.
My coping strategy has baffled many of my friends, they don't understand that I need crazy, spontaneous, reckless moments to vent my pent up anxiety and anger. They don't realise that I need the danger and the excitement to remind myself that I am alive. They don't understand why I still want sex, why I still seek it. And it makes sense. Why would they understand? How could they possibly know? They don't understand that sex is, for me, not about pleasure, but about pain. Recently, I have been going through a period of one night stands. In a way, its a wonderful way to self harm. The knowledge that I am able to have sex, the very thing that destroyed my life, is power. And each time I have emotionless sex, I think about how little it means. It's just a body and a body. What happened to me was not that bad! Get over it! I am over it! Look, I am having sex!
And then, of course, reality sinks in. I am not okay. My life has been forever changed, and the mind needs healing.
After a quick succession of one night stands, i met an unusual guy. In another life, in another world, we could have been friends. He was also reckless and fun and loved adventure. I was drunk, of course, we went to my place, and sex happened. And during, and after, his sweet gentleness, and his kindness calmed me. I was shocked. The simple act of kindness, so unexpected during my night of pain and punishment and self harm, changed everything. For a night, lying in his arms, I felt peace.
Of course, he left, and I, alone in my room find my thought travelling down dark paths once more. How could I recreate that safety? Was it even possible to get that back? And WHY is my peace seemingly dependant on a man?
Feeling vulnerable. Feeling alone.