Deep Throat, Knot in Throat

When huge, emotionally charged things happen in my life, I have a tendency to sweep them under the rug and pretend they don’t exist. Surprise, surprise. Thanks to my Life Coach extraordinaire, he helped me confront and organize these silly little happenings from the weekend.

From having a tough conversation with my girlfriend, to seeing my family on Sunday, I continued to push shit under the rug and conveniently developed strep throat. Not okay. So stupid. What a waste of time.

The toughest thing for me to deal with was my family. I took my girlfriend to my cousin’s bridal shower on Sunday. She finally met the rest of the family—except for my brother. That would be interesting. Anyways, Michael’s (my rapist of a cousin) wife and teen daughters were there. It’s difficult seeing his daughters because I was once so close to them. His wife forbid them to have any association with me way back when. So, when I went to hug them and say hi, they didn’t know what to do as they sat next to their mother. They hugged me anyways. I hate his wife. She has treated me like shit for years. It was also hard seeing them because they look just like their father.

My girlfriend noticed how my family treats me. Sigh. It’s getting better. My stepmom is still….. who she is… but overall, it’s getting better. My brother’s wife hugged me at the end of the shower and told me, “I’m so sorry… I’m sorry I didn’t know, I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention. Especially being a woman. I’m sorry.” And hugged me twice more. That was really hard to hear, but also healing.

Sunday night the sickness kicked my ass and all of Monday I was pretty much stuck in bed trying not to swallow.

Despite my illness, I dragged myself out of the house and went to my first play rehearsal. It was great to be back in the groove, to be in a classroom. The script is very, very heavy. I mentioned before, the play is to raise awareness about rape, especially on college campuses. It’s raw, personal, and vulgar. While I’m excited to dive into this and use it to help others, it’s of course triggering. There was a part we went over about incest and rape. It hit. I didn’t realize how hard it hit until I got home, sat in bed, and started to cry. I didn’t know what else to do… I texted Michael:

“I just thought I’d let you know that I told my grandma what you did. I told my cousin. I talked to my brother and his wife and told the whole story—not just the vanilla bubblegum one you told them years ago. My uncle knows the truth. And it felt really fucking awesome finally getting validation from my family and apologies that they didn’t pay attention to the fact that I was getting molested.”

So, I reclaimed a little bit of myself. He didn’t respond, but that didn’t matter.

Okay. I made a promise that I would stop pushing shit under the rug and I would listen to him more often. I have a tendency to take EVERYTHING on all at once and I completely disregard my mental and physical health whilst doing it. I will listen. I will pay attention, and agree to accept help.

That’s really hard for me, but I’m getting better.

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