Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Archive for the tag “dealing with the effects of domestic violence”

Water Safety

drowning-girl-sea-water-favim-com-112419-1

 

 

 

 

 

 

the water is closing in
but i keep flailing my arms
i try to will my legs to move
try to remind myself
that there are people who need me
i must fight to stay afloat
swim
i tell myself
swim
you pathetic, weak bitch
you haven’t survived this long
to go down without a fight
but
the shore is nowhere in sight
how can i save myself
if i can’t see the land
and
i wish you were here
to pull me out of the waves
but
the reality is
you can’t save me
you’re not my life preserver
or my personal flotation device
and
your own boat
threatens to capsize in stormy seas

 

 

*Originally posted on The Fat Bottom Bard

 

 

 

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Warning Labels

warning

 

 

I lived in a walled fortress most of the time. . . with a moat. . .and a dragon.  But no knights.  My life doesn’t currently have, and has never had a knight, or a true partner.  Mind you, I know knights don’t exist in anyone’s world except Walt Disney’s, and truth be told, after the shit relationships I’ve subjected myself to, I should probably come with a warning label.

If any man ever happens to express interest in me again, here is what I would want him to read on my label:

  1. I don’t trust you. Most likely I will probably never fully trust you. If I come to trust you, it will be because you’ve backed up your words by deeds.
  2. Don’t ever think scaring me is funny.  It’s a trigger for me, and you might possibly be met with a slap to your face or a knee to the balls because I will feel as if I need to defend myself.
  3.  No yelling. EVER. Yelling sets off an immediate panic attack in me, and then when the yelling is done, I immediately dissolve into a puddle of tears.
  4. PTSD.  I have it, though I hate to admit it.  There’s no shame in having it, but I constantly try to minimize the situations I was in and deny that I have it.  It will rear its ugly head, and you will need to love me through it, or you will need to leave.
  5. Touch.  I will need to sense your presence before you touch me, or I will be startled, even if you’ve never put your hands on me in anger. I can be a very affectionate person, but it will take a little time.
  6. Jealousy.  Don’t get psycho jealous with me, because I’ve been there and I won’t do that again.  It is possible I might experience some jealousy and read something into situations which are harmless because I’ve been cheated on numerous times and lied to too many times to count.  See #1 for further clarification.
  7. Guilt.  Because I’ve been told numerous times that everything that goes bad in an asshole’s life is my fault, I still have a hard time believing that it isn’t, so I will always feel like shit is my fault.  I will always assume worst case scenario in every situation and will prepare myself for the blame, so don’t be an asshat–you own what’s yours, and I will own what’s mine, and we will forgive each other and move on.

 

I think this about covers the basics.  If you’re still here and have an interest in understanding more about me, then maybe you give a shit and you’re interested in sticking around.  If not, that’s cool too, and I get it.  The rollercoaster isn’t for everyone.

 

 

Friday Mind Fuck

vase

I learned a valuable lesson today. I will never step foot in another gun range.

I was raised in Kansas. I grew up around guns. I have enjoyed shooting guns.

I don’t enjoy it anymore.

I’ve been “on edge” since my first go-round with abuse. I don’t like people sneaking up on me and touching me. I don’t like people jumping out from places and trying to scare me.

And after being beat up this last time, I really don’t like loud noises. They make me jump. They make my heart race.

I tried to go to the gun range with some co-workers today. I put the ear plugs in. I picked up the weapon.

Someone fired next to me. I jumped.

I fired. I jumped. T

The person next to me fired again. I jumped again.

I laid the weapon down and walked quickly out the door, escaping to the street.

I’m still shaking inside. I want to go home and lay down in my bed, where I still keep a baseball bat at arm’s reach, and sleep and forget how the sound made me feel.

I don’t want to be broken. I don’t want for stupid shit like this to mind-fuck me.

But one thing I’ve learned since going into therapy is that broken can’t be fixed.

Broken can only be mended.

In Search of Respite

The weekend looms. I have decided I will not miss him. I will not allow myself to miss him. I will surround myself with friends and family and laughter. I will let it all go. Like the bruises are disappearing from my face, so are the prevalent thoughts of him. I now try to think of him only in the negative; of his downward, spiraling out of control alcoholism. It’s easier for me to think of him lost in his sickness, than to think of laughter we’ve shared.

I hope this isn’t just a phase. I hope that I am truly dealing with it, and not just pushing it to the back of my mind for sorting out later. I am afraid that is what I am doing though; pushing it into a dark corner. But really, isn’t that okay too? Just to leave it there for a little while, so I can come back to pick it up when I am rested and ready to fight the demons? Right now I am still so tired.

Similar to my view this weekend. Photo Credit:  www.lasr.net

Similar to my view this weekend.
Photo Credit: http://www.lasr.net

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