I’ve had a lot on my mind the last few days. I decided to give you something light yesterday because I had been away so long. Plus I was still riding the dopamine rush from having a good weekend and didn’t want to kill the buzz. But let’s go back a few days to what I was saying about control.
Control is the reason I do things sexually. It is rather in reverse of reality. I seem to have convinced myself if I say “yes” I have control and they are not hurting me. The more control I can have at once the better the moment.
I have done things I am ashamed of. I have done things that have hurt me emotionally and physically for the sake of having the control and saying yes so some guy wasn’t hurting me.
I was looking at Facebook events this weekend and I saw someone familiar: Brad the Metaphysical Crystal Healer. He is apparently still doing crystal, and not the meth kind. I guess no one has found a body yet.
If you’ve forgotten the cast of demented surreal characters in this walking horror show of a life I have, Brad the Metaphysical Crystal Healer had been stalking me for 4 years, texting me every single day after we went out on one date, and I had a moment where I said to myself, “okay, so this is how I’m going to die,” when he touched me.
In January of 2024 I then, after a hard breakup with LawyerBoy, decided to go out with Brad the Metaphysical Crystal Healer. He told me I was a fairy warrior and deity and that’s why he was obsessed with me. I then followed him willingly into a soundproof room in a storage unit in the middle of the night. You know, the type of thing you see in a movie and either scream “NO GIRL, DON’T GO IN THERE!” or, if you’re like me, “bitch deserves to die if she follows him in there.”
I followed him in and had sex with him willingly. Didn’t give it a second thought until three days later when I woke up in the middle of the night and pieced the events together logically.
So why the fuck did I do that and why the fuck did what happened with {D} happen a week later?
I think about this a lot. What is so scary about rape? What do you fear will happen? For me, one of a hundred guys gets off and goes away and I go home. It’s not like I’m protecting precious virginity or something.
So if you say no, what’s it matter?
{D} told me after the soundproof room, “you didn’t say he raped you.” I said, “I had sex with him willingly.” And {D} and I laughed and agreed no one would ever have to rape me and I said, “yay! I’m alive thanks to being a whore!”
So seriously what the fuck was my actual fucking problem that night with {D}? The answer has to be pain. If I wasn’t in such excruciating pain there is no way possible I would have reacted like that. It was purely the fact that he was causing physical damage to my body repeatedly and without remorse. {D} told me it was the screaming he liked later. I tried to stop screaming.
{D} is a true psychopath. He was intent on causing me pain. He enjoyed it. He enjoys causing pain. He enjoys hurting people physically and emotionally. He loves it.
I didn’t know that. I also didn’t consent to that because that is my actual fear of rape — pain. The rest, whatever. It was the pain.
Now here is the problem with that theory, sorry for the logic flow here being messy: what about Tim? What about the guy from group therapy?
Group therapy guy was annoying the shit out of me. Recapping that one: it was December of 2023. I had talked about how much I was abusing my own body through sex with random strangers. Our boy decided he was going to ask me for a ride and I gave him one. He whipped out his dick and we struggled while I drove because he was trying to put my hand on his dick. I drove home fighting the whole way. Didn’t stop and kick his ass out, just drove him to his house.
I wasn’t afraid, well maybe a little of crashing the car. Like how does one explain that car accident to the insurance company? I don’t even think forcing someone to touch your dick with their hand is sexual assault legally, is it? It shouldn’t be legal, but I don’t think Progressive or the police would have believed me.
But the guy was just pissing me off. I didn’t feel “violated” in some way. Just “oh not this shit again.” I was annoyed by it and that was it. Is that a normal reaction? I don’t think it is.
Now we step back a month to the reason I was in group therapy in the first place, Tim the Sex House Guy.
Again to recap: Tim was a guy who would throw private parties and I was doing a lot of drugs and having sex with a lot of people. Tim was of course utilizing my self-destructive spiral after I found out I was going to die slowly and painfully and I was trying to die like a rock star with sex, drugs, and rock and roll, literally.
The Tim thing was he and I had agreed to no sex, I was just too depressed to even do that. He told me he was my friend and he would listen while I cried. He did. He listened all night. When I went to leave however, he said, “where do you think you’re going. I’ve been listening to your bullshit all night. You’re leaving until you suck my cock.”
I got on my knees. I couldn’t stop crying. I kept puking. He finally came and I ran the fuck out of that house. I couldn’t remember how to drive my car and I called LawyerBoy who I was dating (note: he had been to parties at Tim’s with me and we had an open relationship). But I called him hysterical.
He said something I will never forget: “I’ve interviewed victims before, I understand.” And I was very clear that he didn’t physically force me. He physically threatened me. I did it because I thought I owed him. He wasn’t hurting me. I was crying and puking because I was emotionally devastated by what he said and that he expected that of me and the thought process of how transactional life is. Why would anyone be friends with me without some sort of sexual payoff? Why would anyone want to spend time with me?
I reacted more like a sexual assault victim for something I did willingly than I did having my vagina shredded unmercifully while I screamed and begged and said no.
The how’s and whys of that are definitely not linear. I have no real way to explain it. I grew up with my body not being my own. I grew up serving. I grew up into the person I am because of the repeated trauma. It’s old hat. Autonomy is not something I have ever known. No is not a word I use.
What happened with Tim is what led to the therapy which led to me deciding I was going to start saying no. I wasn’t just going to take it anymore. All of these events, including the breakup with LawyerBoy which led to the desperation I was feeling enough to go out with Brad the Metaphysical Crystal Healer who then turned around and told me he didn’t want me, probably because I had sex with him and he thought I was a slut and not a deity, which led to this culmination of events where {D} physically harmed me and raped me and told me he loved me so I stayed with him and thought that was love.
There is not a sentence in this that should make sense to anyone less damaged than I am. I am severely damaged and traumatized. This is what trauma — repeated trauma — makes feel seemingly normal.
It wasn’t until I watched the video and realized how fucking horrific and grotesque and heinous the whole event was. Part of the breakdown was realizing I didn’t realize and questioning how many fucking times it had happened in the past. How many times has a man literally ignored my pleas like I was nothing? And how many times did I not react?
The realizations that accompanied the video were the biggest trauma. I still wasn’t even there yet until others started reacting to the video. I knew it was bad but it was just me. I traumatized others with that video. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think it would. The best way I can explain it is it went from being a flat 2D photograph memory to a 4K 5D live action video of someone actually raping me.
I can’t look away anymore.
How the fuck am I going to argue this in court myself? How? I don’t know if I can do this.i don't know if I can emotionally take having to watch that video publically and narrate it at the same time I'm either going to be hysterical or I'm going be so drugged I'm slurring my words. I don't know how exactly I'm going to do it. I wish it didn't have to be me doing this. I wish anyone else could do this.
Signing off because I’m hysterical. Will write more tomorrow.
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