Distant Memories of Past

The lightening hits unexpectedly, and it’s over within a flash…but the after shock – it resonates, of distant memories from the past.

The world was always cruel but in 2010 it took a turn, trusted so many people and all they seemed to do was sit back and watch me burn.

The boy who would force with words he claimed were ‘love’. The boy who couldn’t understand no, the simplest of words.
The boy who didn’t care, about everything he was given. And the boy who took it all…didn’t care for what was forbidden.

Vulnerable and weakened. Taken advantage, for granted…used, abused and worse.

Worthless.

Underserving of anything that could be love.

The world was once so cruel but in 2017 it took a turn. Lightening, ever unexpected, and an after shock that resonates, shaking right to the bones.

With every step moved forward, memories try to push it back. But with every step there’s a friend with a hand or hug – bringing new memories to replace the past. They bring out the smile and they pull out laughter from under the cracks. They hold a hand when its needed most and carry when its hard to stand.

One day you suddenly realise that, those distant memories of past…the ones that used to scream, and shout and tear apart…that’s all they are…distant memories of past. Still there. Still echoing at the back. But an echo nonetheless, are those distant memories of past.

And the one who gives a kiss, he turns the echo into a whisper. The one who stays on the phone all night, she brings laughter to beat the pain. The one who’s always there, giving endless hugs galore, she makes the world spin once more.

Distant memories of past that helped to shape the mould. Built the walls and dungeons, created that Demon war. Screaming. Shouting. So much pain. But distant memories of the past, they also shaped a path.

A path to more. A path back to who once was, who never left. Who can stand ever so tall.

Hand in hand with those who love, those who deserve, those, to whom, I give my all.

 

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Nightmare Realities

The illness crept up on me full force when I was reminded over an awful night that happened almost a year ago…wow, it’s almost a year ago now…one year…12 months…52 weeks…365 days ago.

Can I even call it an anniversary? Surely that day doesn’t deserve to have an anniversary? Nevertheless, the date is fast approaching and I can feel the pitch black darkness of that day catching up with me.

I’ve been running through mud trying to escape it and now I’m stuck. I’m stuck in the illness that’s got so much worse when the memories were triggered. When the pain came back. When the fear infested me all over again. When the nightmares became more frequent and more intense than ever before.

It’s like I can’t breathe. He’s there on top of me and I can’t move. I’m weak and I can’t get him off. My chest tightens and I can’t breathe. Can’t breathe, can’t move and it’s all because I’m weak. I was too weak to stop it then and I’m even weaker that I’m letting it affect me now.

That’s what the voice tells me. It was all my fault and I could have stopped it and if I had stopped it I wouldn’t be having the problems now. I wouldn’t be bouncing from restriction to purging like the broken boomerang I am. I let myself be in that position when I was vulnerable. I could have stopped it. I could have prevented it.

But no.

Because I was weak.

Because I am weak.

He’s there. His hands, his body, everything and I can’t get him off me. I can’t move, can’t breathe…I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. I just want him off me. I can’t breathe. Just get off me. Please stop. I can’t breathe. I’m dreaming. I need to wake up but I can’t wake up. It’s not happening again. It’s a dream. But it’s happening and I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

Can’t move.
Can’t breathe.

Eventually I do breathe but it’s a scream that escapes my mouth.

I wake up crying and shaking. I’m covered in sweat and my heart is beating so fast I feel like it’s going to burst out my chest. The fear sets off my epilepsy and I’m sat having seizures in bed. Crying. Shaking. Sweating. Fitting.

I smashed a bowl that was by my bed one of the last times. I actually reached out from one side of the bed and smashed it on the wall in my sleep because I was that convinced the dream was real.

Each time it happens I’m feeling weaker and weaker. There’s nights I’m scared to fall asleep and I feel so weak.

I. Feel. So. Weak.

I. Feel. So. Out. Of. Control.

I should have been in control of that situation, it’s my fault I was there. I should have known better. I should have been strong enough to stop it and I wasn’t. I let myself down. I wasn’t in control and I was so damn weak.

Fucking stupid girl.

I know my ED is based on control and feeling weak…maybe there’s a bigger link between my recent relapse and that upcoming anniversary I can’t avoid.

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Raw

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Hands tense, gripping what they can. Trying to stand tall but everything is crumbling.

Heavier weights to try numb the even heavier pain.

But it’s falling away. It’s being ripped away.

It hurts. Oh it god damn hurts.

The pounding starts. The voices come running. Whispers turn into screams.

Walls back up but still spiralling downwards. One step forward yet five leaps back.

Lift even heavier. Push through the pain. It helps the hurt.

But why does it still hurt?

Tears stinging. Why is it still so raw?

I’ll never see him again but why am I scared that it might happen accidentally?

How did one person take away all my strength? All my confidence? All my self-worth? Why did he have to take it, just to have sex with me for a few months?

I can’t do it right now. I can’t fix myself right now. Somebody please pick me up because I really can’t stand on my own right now. Anyone. Please.

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#NotAllMen but #YesAllWomen

He was clearly making advances. It was clearly indicated that this was headed to the bedroom but I knew I didn’t want to do anything. He told me he didn’t have a condom and suddenly relief poured all over me. If he didn’t have a condom then I could use that as an excuse to not have sex.

How sad is it, that I felt I needed an ‘excuse’ to refuse sex? That I couldn’t simply say no and expect him to stop what he was doing? That my first option was to find an excuse rather than saying no and risk being forced.

No means no.

That didn’t stop him though.

Both the excuse and me saying no didn’t stop him a few hours later.

Apparently no didn’t mean that no that day. Not to him anyway.

The mass molestation in India with the corresponding hashtags: #NotAllMen and #YesAllWomen on Twitter got me thinking about this. I appreciate #NotAllMen are rapists. #NotAllMen take advantage of women. #NotAllMen play with women and hurt them. But #YesAllWomen have experienced this or will experience this.

I have been forced to have sex when I was in a relationship. I have been sexually harassed by a friend. I have been taken advantage of when I was vulnerable. I was spiked not too long ago. I have been sexually assaulted. And yet, I am the one who feels dirty and ashamed of this.

Why? Because we teach women to feel this way. We teach women how not to get raped rather than teaching men that pressuring advances are wrong. And we are told that we simply shouldn’t have put ourselves in such situations. That if we find ourselves in those situations then we’ve probably done something wrong somewhere along the lines.

Society has told us that it’s our fault.

Not all men do these abhorrent acts and some men are, indeed, victims. However, all women do lead lives fearing that, one day, we might get raped. One day we might get assaulted. One day we might get physically or mentally abused.

The friend who sexually harassed me couldn’t understand why I felt scared in my house with him there. He thought he was having fun. The ex-boyfriend couldn’t understand that me having sex because I gave in to him pestering me was wrong. The guy who sexually assaulted me genuinely has no idea that he did, he thinks he did nothing wrong. That I wanted it.

But I didn’t want it. I said no.

#NotAllMen don’t understand the word ‘no’. But #YesAllWomen understand and fear the consequences of saying ‘no’ to men in this 21st yet still very backwards century.

I’m still standing though. We all are.

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I Was Spiked Last Night

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Well, there’s an attention-grabbing title.

Nothing  else can sum up the thoughts spinning in my head right now about my world that was literally spinning last night.

I went to a house party with my housemate, Tom and it was perfectly normal but true to party style it got hectic. I’d had a tough day yesterday and knew I didn’t want to get too drunk in those circumstances so I was good with my alcohol. I just drank my wine and had loads of fun with Tom’s friends.

No problems there.

I went to get a soft drink when I finished my wine. I remember walking up to a table and saw a bottle of lemonade and asked this guy stood there if he could pass it to me. He made some joke about wanting something in return to which I actually clearly remember saying, ‘I’m not looking for anything, just looking for a mixer’. He laughed and took my glass and proceeded to fill it for me.

It’s a strange feeling to remember this small conversation but I cannot for the life of me remember his face. I even remember he kept hovering around and I kept catching him looking at me. The problem was, I thought nothing of it, I knew me and Tom would be leaving shortly and I just sat and drank my ‘lemonade’.

But the room started spinning and my speech became incredibly slurred. My instinct when my speech slurs is that I might be about to have an epileptic fit so my reaction was to find Tom. I stood up and fell over almost immediately and I think it was the lemonade guy who caught me. I broke free and luckily bumped into Tom who was coming into the room.

When I spoke to him this morning he told me that, I said ‘something’s wrong, take me home’ and that he has never seen anyone look the way I looked last night. I’m so glad I found him in time. The drugs were only just starting to kick in and I don’t even want to think of what would have happened had I not found Tom and passed out somewhere.

I remember little bits of the journey home. I remember Tom carrying me at stages and I remember throwing up badly at the tube station. I remember that I couldn’t stand let alone walk and I kept passing in and out of consciousness. Tom pretty much carried me to my room and got me into bed.

I’m unbelievably grateful to have him in my life ❤

The whole situation has kinda shook me a little bit. I’ve been…you know…still can’t find the strength to say the word but the thought that the night could have ended so much more worse than me vomiting at a tube station scares me.

It got me thinking bout how I victim blamed myself in that situation and even last night. That it was my fault. That I put myself in that situation. I let that guy pour me wine and I let someone give me ‘lemonade’ last night. That it was my fault, that I could have prevented it but didn’t because I’m an idiot. Because I’m a stupid girl who should have known better.

Why do we try to teach girls how to not get raped rather than teach people not to rape?

But somehow I still feel like its all my fault.

That I asked for it.

I won’t know who spiked me. I won’t know if they’ve spiked someone before or if they’ll do it again. The thought of what could have been scares me but my housemates truly looked after me today. We spoke about it a lot and that’s definitely helped me come to terms with the event. I suppose I can only try to learn from the situation which would be to always pour my own drinks. But even then, should I have even considered this person was going to slip me something?

To think someone could happily drug someone, treat them as a piece of meat and sleep with them passed out is such a horrible thought. That would have made me feel ten times worse than after that guy…

I try to pretend it didn’t happen.

The nightmares from that night only stopped about 2 months ago.

Can only try to move on from last night.

Just be grateful it wasn’t worse.

Be grateful for Tom’s quick thinking and his actions.

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