Prior warning this is going to get a little dark so trigger warnings but it isn't going to start that way. I apologise for typos but for not wanting to reread certain parts of this post there will surely be errors.
I can say at last my leather face finally arrived! And I took a photo to share with the world including your lovely selves whoever you may be if you are in fact really there.
moviepilot.com/misslola
There we go, the chainsaw wielding cutie himself. As I had promised myself and may have mentioned (my memory has a habit of failing) I posted my review of the original film The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) but I doubt it will make me as proud as my Ash Vs Evil Dead post which has seemingly been welcomed by fans of the franchise. Maybe they just like that I adored it or maybe they like my writing, I doubt it is the latter but who cares right? I don't feel as if I'm just throwing my words into the abyss and recently that is becoming very very important. The down spells are getting harder to fight and harder to notice before they've enveloped me and I need dragging out.
On the book challenge front I have finished Saint Odd, the last book in the Odd Thomas series and it is that shall bring me into discussions of more sensitive matters. The book lacked some of the glory of the other books however there was a scene where physiological shock is described and I realised that it was shock that I felt in September and my friends were not just exaggerating or simply wrong. This is where the trigger warning will be given again and in the next paragraph the explanation of this matter shall continue. I shall put trigger things in italics so it can be avoided.
I have been assaulted twice as an adult and the second happened Christmas 2014 in the house I shared with five friends. Now I had not been a good person, I had involved myself sexually with one of those friends who happened to have a girlfriend as I always felt some strange draw to him that has since ceased. It was this friend who assaulted me, someone I cared for and still care for attacked me whilst drunk in my own bedroom after head- butting a hole in my wall and going on about his girlfriend. We were talking, we had just had our house pizza Christmas party where secret Santa gifts had been exchanged, he had gotten me vodka and cookie dough ice cream, I disliked the ice cream but the vodka was gladly welcomed as I self medicated my way through misery, guilt and being unloved. We were both drunk and he with guilt says he cannot remember but I can and have begun to remember more clearly, most clearly in September. I guess I am rambling a bit but I have never really talked about it so I am sorry if it is as pathetic as I suspect. If it helps it all comes without self pity. To continue, after the event, as soon as I could get away from him I ran from my room in tears that had begun just before my face was buried in my pillow. He got himself to the doorway before collapsing whilst I jumped in the shower washing away blood I did not wish to see and warmed my body until the physical pain stopped. Some part of this had woken another flat mate and as he came upstairs I remained in the bathroom listening and hiding behind the noise of the shower. I got to my room eventually, stepped over the slumbering drunk and went to bed before texting a friend and passing out scrunched up on the part of my bed where it had not happened. The next day one of my friends and housemates noticed the oddity of my mood and pain that I explained as mysterious, painfully aware each time I hinted, praying that someone would guess and ask but they didn't. Not for a while.
When it finally began to get out, after telling the man himself the morning after and advising him how to cope I persuaded myself I was ok. It had happened before and although I locked myself away for days when it first happened I could cope now. Been there, done that. I continued to drink and indulge in substances no one should become friends with, I spoke about it casually at times or in whispers that always warned of tears to come. Friends were told, I was blunt, honest, open. I was ok and I would get him help, I would make sure he got help and then we could act like it never happen. I defended him to my friends and then, months later, after meeting Sam I moved in with him away from the house and room and bed where it happened, away from my friend who I still cared for and friends I had fallen out with for doing so. I would cry now and then if I dwelt but I rarely if ever did, I told myself I got what I wanted after having a strange fascination with the guy for months and helping him cheat. I had blown him willingly on times before so this was just a misunderstanding despite my clear recollection of my voice repeating no, his silence and tears. I was for all purposes doing alright, only occasionally not wishing to be touched but I put that down to a multitude of things and moved on with my life. Sam knew and we bumped into him at a mutual friend's BBQ where I curled into Sam after hugging and greeting the guy who had hurt me as if nothing happened. I was ok but when a friend from the same shared house moved in with Sam and I I did not want he who shan't be named helping, he could not come here, to my home, my safe space he had never reached. That was natural, I was coping but months later during an internship and my old unit and his current unit I was working one day when I saw him during a meeting and he saw me and it all changed. I felt dizzy, cold, sweaty, I couldn't breathe as shivers erupted and I shuffled on the spot to disguise whatever it was from others. I could barely describe it but put it down as an intense panic attack until I discussed it with others... they told me it was shock and it was only then that I realised I was not ok. He had simply been somewhere I did not expect and I had to vaguely make my excuses to my boss before rushing home to Sam who I was already desperately texting. It was a sense of vulnerability like I've never known, terrified and out in London, moving among crowds who could be like him... I admit now it may be the cause for my new discomfort in crowds and how quickly I notice men watching me, I assess possible threats now and throw my experience's energy into distractions.
This is the most I've ever said about it and I'm sorry but I felt the need to get it out. I do and don't regret every action and inaction. I blame myself still as a thing of fact not opinion and I blurt it out on occasion for reasons I'm unsure of even now. I still care about him but I hope people realise how common sexual assault is all over the world. I'm only twenty six and I was assaulted as a child before experiencing the later incidents. I think about whether I'm just an easy victim and the thought embarrasses me as much as the recognition of what my fascination with that friend had been before that night. He reminded me of E, the boy who had introduced me to the world of sexual practices and quite possibly twisted me forever (it is part of the reason behind my diagnosis shift from bipolar to borderline personality disorder) because I don't hate him even now and never did, remembering several years ago thru things I had repressed I felt a strange specialness even now. He had never caused me pain despite the things he did and no matter how inappropriate my friend acted towards me I felt special, interesting, worth the attention of people who were superior to me. It's so ducked up I know but Tada. A lot of my recovery (if that's what you call it) is down to Sam who has shown me so much including that love doesn't hurt and doesn't need fights. It is cliché but so there, it is the truth.
Sam is now concerned due to the state of my mood whilst writing this but I told him he would understand should he read the post but I don't blame him if he doesn't get this far.
In general news the pain has been horrific but this injection contraception has caused my periods to cease apparently so hell to the yes there. Money is now the fresh issue as it so often the background one too and despite my lack of job and current help from the government due to forms remaining incomplete (I don't have all the details I need yet) I am determined to get to America this summer after planning with Sam and Pj that we would go. One got help for the trip which I told my mother in recognition of my grandfather's lack of interest in my help and she has stupidly and wonderfully put aside money for the trip despite me already owing her s great deal not only in cash but well... anything. You know how it is, she's been an amazing single mother and I will forever owe her. To help myself I will be asking for donations for handmade things such as art or jewellery so keep an eye out if you're interested.
I guess for now farewell, sorry for the purge confession ramble. I hope you're all happy, healthy and safe wherever you may be and if you suffer endometriosis too, you're a badass, trust me, this thing is hell.
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P.S. a song that has really helped regarding this issue and the person without name is
Sia, Elastic Heart.
Also if you're one my acquaintances or friends and did not know I apologise for the lack of explanation for my behaviour if I have acted secretive.
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