Rape and Recreation

Rough week.

I had woken up yesterday morning with a feeling of complete despondency. Yikes—that thick depressive sludge. Though, I must admit, I’m doing better at keeping it under control. Tiny slip ups here and there… nothing too drastic. INTENSE cravings for heroin and pills. What’s new?

More on drugs…(brief tangent) through our fun inner journey over the past couple of weeks, we are beginning to see that it’s not so much the drug that I want, but rather it’s the altered-state of mind. I want a jolt. I want to be scared. I want to feel. The adrenaline, the illusion of danger. Like suicide, I don’t want to die. I’ve never wanted to die. I just want to kill myself.


I push my limits through self-harm (of any kind) because I live for the JOLT. Unfortunately, I tend to cross the line past the point of the “illusion” of danger, because by then, it’s dangerous. I’m working on constructive self-punishment with the end goal of release and growth. It’s working.

Thank God for my therapy appointment yesterday. And for my lesser-professional therapist.. what would I do without you and your sanity? Thank you for keeping my head above water and for the hourly reminders of how fucking badass I am.

I’ve lately been having recurring dreams linked to fertility and pregnancy. Last night, I woke up from a nightmare- or rather, perhaps a flashback- of my D&C. Vivid images of blood and flesh filtered through my thoughts at midnight…my stomach began cramping, I was cold-sweating profusely, and I cried for a very, very long time, huddled in a ball beneath the sheets, clutching onto my stuffed animal.

This entire week has been a series of blurry patchwork. Despite the situational barriers and challenges, I’ve been handling things very, very well. So well, in fact, that Goldie was talking about make me the Protector of the system. That’s pretty fucking huge news. I was excited and I have been preparing myself for it.

Well, I auditioned for a play last night. It’s called “The Rape Show.” It’s an original play written for the college and weaves slam poetry, public speaking, and acting together to raise awareness of the prevalence of rape and rape culture on school campuses.

That being said, this play is damn near perfect for me. Some quotes from the script for you to ponder:

Rape is a coward hiding its face in the make-up of silence.
A murderous fruit, that grows best in the shadows of taboo.
A murmur of bodies left vacant
by the souls that spend years, pills, poems, and death
trying to learn to reclaim them.

Tell Elizabeth Fritzl
How pretty the flame of her skin was,
that turned her Father a torturous moth of incest
‘til she gave birth to 7 choices she never had

From smothering cat-calls,
to quickened pace of trek home
Rape with a dress on.
Rape without a dress on.
Raped as children, who couldn’t even dress themselves.
Tell them how ugly their consent was.
Tell the depression, the post traumatic stress

Humor helps trauma. We just want to know that you are laughing with us.

We can joke about it because it is ours to joke about, similar to how our bruises are ours to poke at, and yours to keep away from.

You’ll be there when I cry (until my eyes get puffy and red).
You won’t be tearing off my lace panties (because they were expensive, and they make me feel like I’m worth something).
Once you figure out that the only time I deep throat is with the feeding tube at the psych ward, you’ll be gone.

So, I auditioned for that last night. Sure…. There’s lots of concern for the state of my psyche. The second I picked up the script and started reading from it, I could feel everyone within me stir.

Then, Goldie took the Protector away from me. I think that’s okay though. I feel like I’ve been through the wringer.

Overall, I’m doing alright. Minor slip ups. Baby steps. I’ll be okay.




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