nissaayen: (Default)
 In my relationships i tend to be the person who tends the emotional labor. I'm the one that worries.. what work needs to be done to keep us together, to keep our household afloat, to make sure my children are being supported and grown.

Being a survivor of an abusive relationship means I'm hyper aware of other people's moods and i feel a strong need to smooth edges, question odd behaviour, decide if i can help or if i need to hunker down. I have to be constantly mindful of saying and doing the right thing because if i make mistakes i could be punished.. in this sense i dont mean deliberately but with the normal hot/cold way that people behave with moods that cuts at me like a knife.

Being the head of household is another set of emotional labors. Not only do i need to manage the moods of my household but i have to prioritize.  I have to keep the house clean, the bills paid, and manage food and diapers. I have to tell people when all we can do is sacrifice ... i have to sacrifice more so people can get what they need. Being HOH means doing without even when i need the deposit into my emotional bank account. Times 100 because im a mom.

Every day im giving more than what i have and not filling back up anywhere and I'm tired.. dead tired.. bone dead. I have nothing else to pour out, not sexuality, not emotionally, nothing.

I imagine right now I'm a shitty friend... a shitty partner because all my resources are used above anything i might still has goes to being the best mom i can be.  I want to be more but right now I'm so tired, empty,  and alone.  
nissaayen: (Default)
 Without trying to sound as -goth- as possible (hey is goth even a thing?) Ive been living under a black cloud a very long time. My ptsd went from child sized to adult sized at 13. That means rather than a child that was a little awkward and wanted love but mostly preferred books to people i was a woman who dissociated frequently, had night terrors and flashbacks, and all the little eccentrics of having a mental illness of your very own.

My eccentricities include a previously mentioned belief that i would die violently by the age of 27. This was fed by nightmares, intrusive, thoughts and occasionally by my own fantacies when i was tired of hovering on the edge of a panic attack. 

In addition to that is a powerful death wish that lingers to this day.  There is a fine distinction between being suicidal and having a death wish.  I made one suicide attempt which was aborted by cutting made me feel better.  Took me years to get over that addiction but that's a diffrent story.  Mostly a death wish leads to a high risk lifestyle when uncontrolled and a low level romance with a personified death figure when managed well. 

Beyond That The Specter Of Death hovers around through the people I Love.  Rhiannon had a heart condition her whole life. She had a pig valve and when we were together a murmer that made her heart go swish when I'd press my ear to her back and listen. She also had no insurance and couldn't work. This lead to many many trips to the ER because any infection could kill her and any panic attack could be a heart attack. Every trip could be the one that could kill her.  In the end her chronic heath issues killed her years after we were together even knowing that the help i gave extended her life it still broke me several times.

It did not stop me from falling for the sadist with his COPD and uncontrolled athsma same lack of insurance and less frequent ER trips where i wondered in fear about all the diffrent ways athsma can kill you. Higher risk that your heart gives out under the strain. Beyond that theres the fear that if his breathing requires him to use oxygen or lowers his quality of life.

It's a hard burden go carry. That is not to say it is as hard or as stressful for me as it was/is for them. That is not a complaint just a statement of fact. When you love somebody you help shoulder their burdens. People who have chronic health problems carry heavier burdens than others. In the end it's still my choice though. I choose everyday not to walk away from problems that terrify me and leave me wondering when i could be left alone. I choose not to blame their conditons on them or try to get them to do more than they are capable of. I chose to love them, commit to them, and be with them to the very end no matter how much that hurts in between. People who say love shoudnt hurt are not paying attention. You love somebody so much that their pain is yours and that is only emphasized as you watch them struggle through things you can't help with and go places you cant follow them.

And it's worth every second. 

Still every time the sadist goes to the hospital i wonder and worry about how i could possibly go through life without him and faced with the knowledge that someday (and I'll never know when) he'll leave me when im not  ready or prepared. I wonder who will take care if me and make sure my children are well. I wonder who will help me make the dragon girl and superguy understand and how i will keep them together when i have no rights at all in this matter.  There's a large portion of my relationship energy that is dedicated to accepting the thing i fear most will happen.

Im lucky because im poly. If the worst were to happen the roman would be here as soon as he was able and he'd help me carry my share ao i can do what i need to do.  I know people will judge me for that and i know when he's insecure the sadist worries that im just waiting dir him to die so that i can move on. It's not true though. I never want it to happen. I need so many things that he gives me that are irreplaceable. I just need to know when the world ends somebody who loves me will be there to help me begin again.

I don't think that's remarkably selfish

nissaayen: (Default)
 "So he's married now... three kids. Is his wife okay?... she's probably okay it's not like he beat me.  There's so many things wrong with me that's probably why he hurt me, he probably doesn't even know he did."  Stop that .."but is she okay?"

"He's a fucking minister?!?! How is that a thing Mr. Alistor Crowley? ... sociopaths can be anyone they wanna be i guess. Does he still do drugs? Have kinky sex? *blush* there was some really good sex... *reads posts* but he's like a sane  religious leader.. like I'd be if i went that way... maybe he's been normal this whole time and it's all just in my head you know i have a problem with perceptions... "stop, " but why does he get to be normal when i have to fight for every peaceful moment"

"Does he think of me? Does he get sad and repent the terrible things he's done? Does he flip it and think of me as his psycho x? Is he greatful i finally was able to delete his number and let go? Is he sad i escaped? Does he know I'll never really escape? Does he ever miss me???"

nissaayen: (Default)
I spend 90% of my life in recovery for my ptsd issues. A lot of that is looking at the parts of me that are -not normal- and reframing them so nobody else has to be put out because im broken.  I really do know that my recovery is not your responsibility.

This one though is cost of doing buisness. I've been abused a lot. The punishment went from verbal abuse to sexual abuse with a little physical mixed in. A large part of my life is knowing that somebody is mad and trying to fix it before it hurts me.

So when you have to "get angry to get motivated" or you are so frustrated with the kids you are randomly cussing, If you had a shit day and are just are irritable, don't tell me its not about me so i shouldnt worry.

I will always worry and try to make things better. I'll always flinch when you yell. I'll always feel unsafe when the house vibrates with unspoken tension. I'll always want to cut and be hyperaroused until things can be made safe.

Don't tell me it's not personal because I'll  always be hurt by your anger. 

Im not asking you to change but maybe to understand after why im over sensitive after.  Why i flinch when you yell and when you yell at me why i shatter for days.

nissaayen: (Default)
 She alternately put me on a pedestal or vilified me.

She didn't believe me when i told her how sick i was (ptsd) and accused me of lying to her about everything when i could not control my symptoms.

She believed i couldn't feel as intensely as she did so she would push me until I'd break down repeatedly "trying to get me to feel what she did" (fyi feeling is not the problem its feeling safe when i do and knowing how to express it)
Even though she was supposed to be my best friend i couldn't tell her my secrets because of her emotional responses.

I quit feeling safe.
I quit feeling safe.
I quit feeling safe.

Every time i found center there was one more thing to push me off my stable place.

She used all the emotional resources in my household and when i found somebody else instead of turning to her with nothing left she melted down, raged, and sabotaged any chance for his visit here ro be good.

Even when she admitted she had made a mistake or broken something it was still somehow our fault. She reinforced the thought tapes. "There is something wrong with me," and "i am poison" all the time.

But the worst thing is when she pushed everything until our house could not stand.  She made her dramatic exit in a way that would continue to impact  our lives for years and now walks around as if she is the injured party.

Don't think i don't know what this is. I spent 3 years in a similar relationship hell. I hesitate to name it because with my PTSD i cant always be sure of my perception. I hesitate because she seems to be too kind to be that kind of person. I hesitate because no matter how long its been i still think "it's my fault" and if i were normal or less venomous people wouldn't hurt me.

But i know what this looks like and i know what it feels like.
I see you.
nissaayen: (Default)
 Something I've been working on learning for a long time is that relationships get this trap. I call if the "if you love me" sandpit of longevity....

I dunno if this sandpit just happens to me more because im damaged and i tend to pick damaged people but after the honeymoon is passed and you contemplate building a life together you start wanting them to change, not out of malace but out of love.  Quit smoking, eat healthy, start doing the things that will keep you here with me longer. Take care of yourself... but the thing is... the things that need to be changed are things that cannot be born from the love of another person but have to come from your love for yourself.

Like- I'd like the sadist to take better care of his athsma, excersise, lose weight, get insurance, file for disability

I'd like the roman to go back to school, get a job, build a social circle, go to the dentist...

I want those things  not because i want to benifit from them but because it will better their lives, make them happy, keep them with me.  It doesn't work like that though. I can get somebody to buy me a gift because they love me, or probably do the dishes when im tired and sick, i can get somebody to try new things and explore with me....but you cant get somebody to stop being an addict because they love you, as much as popular media tries you cant single handedly pull somebody out of a deep depression because they love you. 

The things i want from my partners can only change because they love themselves enough to let go of the self destruction in their lives. I hated myself when i tried to get the sadist to quit smoking. 

When i was cutting i lost a lot of people who were trying to save me  because " if you love me you'd stop" very quickly turns into  if you can't im leaving.  Really, my answer was  . That in no way helps me want to stop. I had to stop because i wanted to for me.

A lot of my current family drama and loss is a because you love e kind of stress. Honey needs constant reinforcement of that ove so every issue becomes "if you loved me" and the resulting stress therein broke us to pieces. After the nemisis my response to that question is... fuck you i love me more.

Anyways, I've run out of where i was going. 

nissaayen: (Default)
 I miss my BDSM relationships terribly right now. Over the course of the last two years ive gotten into a radical acceptance place about i cant demand from people what they arent able to give but it hurts.

It's not entirely about sex. The largest component of bdsm play for me is that it quiets my mind. The more chaotic my life is the more i need it. It's an hour or a day or an afternoon that thinking and planning.. deciding is off the table.  All i have to do is feel and listen.   It's endorphins rushing through my distressed body and teaching it how to relax. It's exercising my ability to trust my partner.. not to hurt me more than i like.

Of all the things about my failed triad it's the one that hurt the most. The sadist quit being me daddy and my dom and while he still had those energies for her he had none for me. I remember clearly during my pregnancy on my knees begging him to help me with this thing i needed badly.  And hearing no.  It broke me.  I was too much work for him and even though she was getting all the best parts of him she was jealous of me.

I dont know how it broke really. Honey's subbing style was different than mine and he got more extreme with me. He was defensive and angry when i tried to get him to change what he was doing so i could feel safe with him... so gradually it just stopped.

"You're a bad sub," the voice in my head says, "you don't surrender enough. You don't serve enough, you require too much prep work. You dont listen and you're not worth it."  

And i cant help but hear that subtext everytime the sub in me needs and does without.

What does she do for him that i don't? How toes she make it clear it's something she needs? What can i really change.

In the end nothing... she's leaving and im not. So hopefully someday when all this is over i can have it again.

But im lonley and needy now.  Nobody csn help with that.

Cake yesterday, cake tommorow, but never cake today!
nissaayen: (Default)
 I've got terrible TMJ this week. I wanna smoke all the pot, and take vicoden and a xanax for good measure i cant of course but i want to. I posted about it on Facebook and out of the blue the dream doctor messaged me. Talking about his experiences with tmj and his semi recent admission to himself that he had PTSD.

We got to talking about Nebraska and why I'd never live there again. Mostly because the people who knew me from there cant really ever know me now and the nemisis. That the memories were too strong and i really cant live anywhere within 500 miles of where the nemisis lives. Even today i dont know that faced with him i could tell him no or manage to hold anger in me around him. I still fear id be the meek obedient mouse he made me.

Except he didn't know about the nemisis. I've always been good about keeping my history of abuse away from my people. Bad things might have happened and ie feel guilty like i was lying. Or nothing would have happened and id feel unloved and unprotected. When i said that he never met the nemisis the dream doctor responded that was a good thing.

I expect when i casually admit ive been in an abusive relationship the people i tell imagine lifetime movies and bruises that need to be hidden. To me, it was so much worse. I ddint know i was being abused. Fool that i am i thought he was helping me, guiding me and i was so lost.  I dont suppose i could ever explain why it was so bad but he was a master of taking my past and my insecurities and leading me around by them. He'd drive me into a panic attack and drop me a block from home... he raped me.. a lot he forced me to do drugs i disnt want to do. And i was so obsessed about him. 

When he left me id cry and scream over the phone. I was hopeless and inconsolable. There was nothing i could do alone but i had to.

I remeber the last time vividly. He'd come to omaha to see a concert and he stayed at my house. I let him use me because i still wanted him.. needed him but then i slept in the living room on my couch.  I had to draw a line and it was thin and shakey but it was mine. He called to me from the bedroom.. my comfy bed where he'd fucked me not to long ago and id ignored him and went to sleep.

Even now sometimes i miss him.  And then i immediately feel ashamed.

The memories are here today though. My pain is hovering around a 7. Its been a rough ride.
nissaayen: (Default)
 So i had a dream about the hard rock boyfriend and while i could have quietly added him to the whose who list i dont expect he'll come up often and he deserves more than a little blip on a list of people who impacted my life.

Before i dated him sex was just something i did because i wanted to be in a relationship. Parts of it felt good, others meh but i didn't really have a sex drive i just wanted to be loved. I wanted to be loved and i wanted to feel protected so... relationships and sex.

I'm beginning to suspect im anorgasmic but perhaps a tale for another time.

The hard Rock boyfriend and i had an exceptionally childish courtship. It took me a long time to be comfortable with wanting somebody to touch my body and he wouldn't do it unless i said so.  I could be cute, it could be code, but in the end it had to be a very clear indication that i wanted him to touch me, to have sex with me.  I may not have been a virgin when we met but it was in this relationship that i learned how to explore my sexuality in terms of what felt good to me.

It's bittersweet to think of. It only lasted 6 months or so between 2001 and 2002 before the strain of my mental illness, school and work, and traveling 3 hours to see him became too much for me.   We were from different worlds and at the time i didnt know how we could possibly make things work long term.  I wanted so many things that he could never give me.  Except i think he would have in the end.


Because he deserved better than me.

Because to this day i miss him terribly 

Because I'd really like to get drunk with him soon.
nissaayen: (Default)
 An intrusive thought is... something that slides up in between the moments of conscious thoughts. They are immutable, persistent, and unchangeable.  When you are low they pull on you and echo. They are the thoughts that make it hard to keep walking... keep hoping.


My big thoughts 
1. I (was) going to die violently before 27
2. I would never be able to cary a healthy child... that i would die in childbirth.
3. There is something wrong with me.

That first thought has dictated my life for a long time. I took big risks, went to dangerous places, loved dangerous people. I am lucky to have not created a self fulfilling prophecy.  I tried to.  Not that i wanted to, i just thought it was unavoidable. Thoughts  that follow this thought are always fear based. I usually have terrible reoccuring thoughts when i break up with a guy that  they would rape me and beat me, ever though they've never given any indication that they would ever hurt me. The sole exception to this is the nemesis and instead i worried that he would kidnap, torture and brainwash me. When i passed 27 i was completely unprepared to still have a life. Ive spent the last few years trying to figure out what you do once you've passed your expiration date.

The third thought is one i tripped across during emdr. Im working on it now  i notice it l. Beyond that processing is still a work in progress.

But the real miracle is the tiny little super guy.  I had two chemical pregnancies. That means i was pregnant enough to know i was but not pregnant enough that a miscarriage was physically traumatic. I was 16 and 20 i was really sick then.  There's no way i could have made it through or been a good mother. I never thought I'd be able to get off Ativan, cutting, smoking .. long enough to have a child. I wanted to more than anything.

It was the hardest thing ive ever done. Trying to write about it caused a mental side trip which i will write about next.

It make me feel like at times i did not have control of my body.  Everytime someone told me there is no way i could give birth without an epidural was triggering. It fed the fear that i would die in childbirth. If i cant even decide what feels safe for my own body how can i possibility live through it. I got super emo and felt all alone. I felt like nobody would ever touch me again. I did all the therapy... emdr... talking talking dbt. My PTSD friendly ob was out for 6 months and the one i had was prejudiced against big girls and had me obsessing over every ounce i ate.. because i needed to lose and then I lost too much.  I got gestational diabetes and had to check my sugars 4x a day and somehow not backslide into cutting...

It was ugly.. it was borderline unbearable and unless i had more support I would never do it again... 

The miracle is that i did what i wanted.. my ob came back and  he was amazing at keeping me calm about the diabetes. I had no damn needle in my spine and i had a natural birth... i felt as if all that trauma didn't belong to me anymore... not to this body that created life and brought it forth... i stopped hating it quite as much.
They are little things.. that ive accomplished but amazing to me all the same

nissaayen: (Default)
 Before you raise the flag of transphobia let me say this. It's not their fault or responsibility to address my comfort level it's mine. In the United States i have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. You will notice that my comfort level is not included in that list and nor should it be. 

I have tried to (and plan to) raise my children to understand that your emotions are rarely about other people. It's things about yourself that bring up those emotions.

This issue has been rolling and rolling in my head for a long time. Being as liberal as i am several of my friends and strangers have come out to me as transgendered and while i did not plan to alienate them i was likely not good support for them and this lead to distance in our relationships.  

But why? Im pretty firm with while i would never alter my body it's everybody's right to decide what's best for them. I literally want no say in anybody other than my children until they are able to make decisions for themselves. Ive rolled it or rolled it and wondered what it is that gets me so stuck on something that i firmly believe is none of my buisness.

But noodling about how i feel about my developmental process through my femininity finally clicked it in place. Being a survivor of sexual abuse through my childhood and early adulthood have left me with a somewhat adversarial relationship with my gender identity. I've been a victim and i sharpened my sexuality into both a weapon and a form of currency, and then it was a means of controlling me. I really never felt all that comfortable with my femininity until the little super guy came along. 

How does that relate to transgender issues?  Femininity itself makes me uncomfortable.  It's not my people deciding/discovering they are more feminine then masculine i havent had much experience with the other way around.   It's not that i don't think people have a right to change or redefine who they are. It's that im not all the way there to the place that i can explore how my femininity is a part of me.

This is a me issue not a you issue and it's my job to get better at that.  I think that it's hard for people to just be honest about being uncomfortable because there are so many assholes out there but i promise I'm not trying to be.

nissaayen: (Default)
The thing about being out is... you can be out to 95% of the people in your life and you are still not really out. I really admire the people who can be 100% real in 100% of their life. I had dissociative disorder NOS for a long time so I'm not really entirely comfortable being 100% real with myself all the time clearly.

I'm working on that. I might never get there though.

It hinders my desire to participate in activism because how can i fight to make the world safe for other people when i can't even make it safe for my true unfiltered self?

Maybe that's my privilege speaking. Maybe because I'm white and the people i happen to love right now are men and one of them lives far away i do have the privilege of looking normal without crisis moving it forward. It's hard for me to view it that way when the dissociation was impacted by the need to look normal as a survival skill. If i wanted any needs met at all i needed to fit the standard.

Honey (introductions are next i swear) belives that we owe it to the world to be out. That things will never get better if everyone refuses to let go of their masks. In this I'm neglecting the community (just as i neglected her) by keeping my shit private. I do in fact see her point, however, in my humble opinion the primary imperative of any survivor is to continue surviving. Survival is one of my best things and I like to drag other people along whenever possible. I'm just sociopathic enough to continue to survive alone if i cant bring anyone else with.

Well okay I'm rambling again (get used to that)

So I'll just say... i might not love my closet but it is safe here and I'm not ready to leave.
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