Letting the words fall out - Part Two

I'm sad and my heart is heavy.  I  saw a rape joke on a FaceBook page that I have followed for years and has never triggered me before; it's been a safe place. It blindsided me and upset me. I replied on the thread where the image was posted  - I addressed the person who posted the image in an attempt to start a dialogue to raise awareness about how painful it is to see other people mock and laugh at my (and every survivors) pain. Almost every man that I have discussed this with (and a few women) believe emphatically that anyone who can't laugh at a rape joke is just "too sensitive".
I knew it was likely that someone would respond that way when I posted what I did. I just really didn't think it would be the guy who ran the page. It's more difficult when it comes from someone  that I thought would actually care that their page triggered me. I tried to offer an alternate perspective (that of a survivor with PTSD) and felt I was very respectful about it. I sent him a direct message after there was no acknowledgement to my comment but he had replied to others and to let him know why I was "unfollowing" him. (These parenthetical , italicized additions are my reactions, but not something I got to share with him since he blocked me from replying after getting out everything HE wanted to say and  I guess not liking my replies) 

The message I sent him:

ME: You often post musings about why someone unfollows you - I will tell why I just clicked the unfollow button (and will be stopping the automatic monthly donation I have been sending) so there is no need to speculate. Your actions: Clicking on like on the rape joke pic and then clicking unlike after I posted my issue with it, and your inaction: failing to address it in any way (pm me and/or remove the image are 2 examples). If you are comfortable having images/"jokes" like that on your page then I am not comfortable being there.

ZD: I've been traveling -- and this is obviously something you are super sensitive about. (Making an excuse and then blaming me for being triggered. Saying someone is "super sensitive" is just another way of saying "It's not that bad" which is one the worst things to say)  I didn't interpret that image to be a "rape joke", nor do I think most naturally would. (So - if most people wouldn't see it that way then I shouldn't have a problem with it either?  This belief is also completely dependent on the company you keep and the people you expose yourself to.  If you exhibit through your words and actions that you condone something then people are more reluctant to share their dissenting opinion, so this speaks volumes about him, IMO) If it isn't a joke about rape, then I guess it could be called an allusion to rape, a trivialization of rape, the objectification of women by literally comparing them to an object to be empties and broken or a misogynistic joke -  none of which are ok by me.)  However, someone sensitive to such things would -- and I can clearly see how it could/is [SIC] interpretted that way. Which is also why I removed my [SIC] life from it.  (He meant "like") However, I have had a number of issues when trying to moderate things from my phone, (Another excuse, still no apology) therefore I chose to wait until I was able to do so from my laptop. Which I've been on for all of about 30 minutes now -- and have been tied up with non facebook related admin stuff. (If he understood PTSD, I think this would have been more of a priority for him to at the very least send me a message or give me a call - he has my phone number because I offered to listen when he was going through a difficult time. I don't have his or I would have been happy to have a telephonic discourse . Even a message saying that he will address it even if he couldn't feasibly do so at the moment would have gone a looooong way.)  So I do apologize  (Oooh - finally an apology?!)  for not dealing with an issue you are obviously sensitive about in a timely fashion or a manner you saw fit. (When an apology includes that many qualifications, it negates any meaning the apology may have intended. Basically - I'm sorry YOU have an issue, but it is YOUR FAULT for being sensitive about it. Blaming me for being too sensitive in the guise of an apology - disgusting - that is not an apology. An apology is " a regretful acknowledgment of an offense or failure. ". 
That doesn't mean I wasn't going to address it. (Back to defensive.)  I appreciate your feedback, however. So thank you. (Every statement of his  preceding this one indicates my feedback counts for absolutely nothing since it is all because I am "super sensitive".

ME: The assumption that most people don't see the description of assaulting a clearly female and clearly resistant ("I couldn't make him stop, I couldn't yell or scream") victim (which only in the last line is discovered not to be human as the prose suggests) as a problem IS a problem and the wording seems very clear that it is implying rape.

ZD: I've refunded your 2 last payments. That's as far back as I can go. (Money is the last thing I wanted out of this emotional transaction, a refund hadn't occurred to me, I just stopped the future donations because I do my best to "put my money where my mouth is".)  And I am aware that is IS a problem. (ALL evidence to the contrary - if you are aware there is a problem then why are you perpetuating it?)   No need to lecture me. (Lecture, Really? Just a minute ago you valued my feedback and now that I have disagreed with your perception of rape culture, I'm lecturing? FFS.)

ME: Being "super sensitive" is a valuable quality depending on your point of view. Starting out with blaming language towards me for being super [SIC] senstive doesn't seem like you are aware 


ZD: I take issue with the fact that you think that it is something I am "OK" with. (That is generally what it means when someone clicks that Facebook "Like" button) And rather than open up a discourse with me to address it,  (I addressed the person who posted the image on a thread YOU posted on a page YOU operate in social media -wouldn't that be considered opening up a discourse? ) you chose to make it personal (Maybe if you went home from what was supposed to be a date with your ass bleeding from being forcibly sodomized you would take people laughing about it a tad personally, too) and disconnect from me as a means to deal with it. (Removing myself from places and situations that trigger me is a HEALTHY thing to do. For you to expect me to stay in a community that posts such harmful material further indicates your lack of empathy and understanding of the situation. ) All you had to do was talk to me. (So you could tell me that I'm being "super sensitive"? Yeah, that was not helpful.)
 ZD: You really took a leap of bad logic there.  (Not according to professionals who are actually familiar PTSD)

"In regard to external triggers, we can take some steps to manage our environment (for example, not going to certain places that we know will trigger us)"

ZD: And gave me not a shred of the benefit of the doubt. (When you clicked "Like" on such an offensive image, didn't click Like on my response to it or acknowledge my issue in any way but took the time to reply to someone else on the thread after my post, you -quite reasonably in my opinion - lost the benefit of the doubt. )  ZD: Again, I apologize that I didn't deal with matters as you saw fit. (For anyone looking to issue a meaningless and insincere apology, that line conveys that message perfectly. )
ZD: Good luck to you. (Again, with everything else that he said in this message prior, this reeks of insincerity.)

When I tried to reply i got the notification that he had blocked me. He has removed the picture although I'm not sure why since he didn't see the problem with it, and didn't think " most naturally would. " 

The entire conversation was so contrary to the public image he presents of himself and what I have seen of him online over the last few years and the inspirational quotes and images he posts. He takes the time to graphically enhance wonderful quotes, many of which I agree with. I have learned, however, that people show you who they are by their ACTIONS not their empty words.  If he had taken his own advice or lived by the content he was posting I think the conversation would have been very different. Maybe he would understand that I was coming from a place very similar to this: 

Or if he had actually been coming from this point of view:

“It’s not that bad.”

This is a wonderful piece by Aaron Paquette who also has a free PDF book available here.

“It’s not that bad.”

Said in compassion, these are still four words that nullify another person’s experience.

It takes away their right to mourn, to grieve, to experience defeat or loss. It says, “YOU don’t know how you feel, but I do.”

I used to be guilty of this, and probably will be again at some point if I am not present. It’s natural for us to want to minimize someone’s suffering or to offer a different perspective (especially if WE are the problem!) and so we say:

“It’s not that bad.”

If you really want to connect with someone and help them, you have to be willing to take a risk, to open yourself up, to be okay with pain.

Instead of taking away someone’s right to their experience, help them understand it on their own terms, in their own way.

Ask, “How bad is it?”

And allow the reply.

It might be uncomfortable to hear the truth, but it’s the only way to get through something, really process it and grow.

“How bad is it?”

Now you can have a healing conversation.

Because sometimes it’s really bad, and a burden too hard to carry.

And sometimes it’s not so bad after all, once someone is allowed to look at the situation without constraints or conditions.

A lot of people feel that you must NEVER focus on the bad or bad things will happen. Just keep your mind exclusively positive ALL the time.

That is denying the very purpose and path of experience and growth. That philosophy can be unhealthy when taken to extremes.

If you don’t freely acknowledge where the struggles are and what they are, you simply steal your opportunity to learn!

This also works for the state of the world.

And it’s a very good way to diagnose something honestly and then to work toward making it better.

After all, once you know how deep it goes, you have the map for getting back out again.

And so, “How bad is it” can eventually become, “So what’s left that’s good?” And “How much more amazing can it get?”

There is hope for you, for me, for All Our Relations.

And it starts by allowing the truth of the moment, of a struggle, of a feeling, to be expressed.

It starts with that level of gentle kindness and humility.

Hiy hiy

Out of suffering...

There have only been a few books that when I encountered them I was simply compelled to buy, without any prior knowledge of the author.  The Prophet, by Kahil Gibran is one of those books. I saw it in a thrift store in Virginia in the 90's and although I couldn't tell what it was about at first glance, it immediately resonated with my soul.

Books have been one of my favorite escapes for as long as I can remember. I've been told that my mother read to me often when I was very little and I was reading by the time I turned four. When they were loading my mother in the ambulance I was calmly perusing my bookshelf to decide which books to bring. During childhood summers I  remember reading about a book a day.  Lovely fantasy worlds that I needed to visit frequently to survive the reality of mine. One of my favorites that I read over and over again was about a teenage American girl who found out that she was switched at birth with a princess. By the time I was in junior high I had turned to Stephen King and RL Stine. Even when I was grounded from everything else (which was often)  my mother still allowed me to read; she recognized it's importance and I am grateful for that. Not all of my memories of reading are happy ones...

We were on a long road trip, I was about 7 or 8, my parents were arguing in the front seat. I was reading in the back seat. It was approaching dusk and my dad told me to stop reading because it was bad for my eyes to read in low light. I closed the book and looked out the window for awhile. When the arguing got too much for me, I picked up my book again; escaping to another world in my mind was my only coping technique at the time. I tried to be sneaky about it and no one noticed for awhile, but eventually my dad realized it. He pulled the car over on the side of the freeway and told me to get out as he took off his belt. I wasn't really surprised, I knew this was a risk I was taking by disobeying. He had me walk around to the back of the car and put my hands on the hood; the familiar sound of the belt sounded different in the open air than it did inside the house. I looked around as the belt hit me again and again, we were almost to the overpass, but I couldn't quite see if there was water or another road beneath it. One car passed, he kept hitting, the rest of my family sat silently in the car. Another car passed. I stared at the back of their heads through the rear window; they didn't even turn around. Another car, and another.

Writing and waning...

"If you bring forth what is within you, what is within you will save you. 

If you do not bring forth what is within you, 

what is within you will destroy you."

  ~Gospel of Thomas

The secrets within me are indeed destroying me and the time has come to bring them forth. I just signed a contract for some of my writings to be published - in an actual, printed on paper- hold it in your hands- feel the weight of it in your arms- book. I've been writing for years,  but mostly for myself and  never with a deadline as important as this. I knew it would be challenging but I didn't realize the degree of difficulty that would be involved. I had been nightmare free for about 3 months, which  is the longest I've been without them in more than a decade.  After only a few weeks of recounting the realities that have been recurring in my nightmares for more than 20 years I stopped being able to sleep at night or even in bed at all. For the last 2 and a half weeks I haven't been able to fall asleep before the sunrise, usually about 5 or 6 am but sometimes I'm up until as late (or early?) as 9am. 

Countless times I catch myself having to unclench my hands and my jaw or have to remind myself to breathe. Which is difficult when it feels like a boa constrictor has permanently set up residence around my ribcage. My shoulders refuse to stay at shoulder level and instead insist on climbing as close to my ears as they can. I try to  distract myself with movies or games in hopes that it will help me relax. My body is alert and awake while being simultaneously exhausted and much more so at night that during the day. When I'm finally to the point that I'm ready to attempt sleep having a favorite movie on helps me be able to close my eyes. The audio helps keep me anchored in the present and when I have a flashback or intrusive memory I can open my eyes and hurl my mind into the movie.  Eventually I close my eyes again and hopefully fall asleep without another flashback, but most nights this cycle repeats several times.  

Then there's the fact that I have been nauseated for at least part of every single day for as far back as I can remember. Doctors haven't found a medical reason and have prescribed 4 different anti-nausea medications over the years - none of which had any effect except when relieving the nausea caused by morphine in the hospital. Today it was 10:30pm before I realized  I hadn't eaten anything since getting up at noon. I managed to drink some milk and entirely too many glasses of Dr Pepper but the thought of swallowing food ...ugh....not happening today at least.  Once or twice a week a particular food will sound appetizing but after a few bites it usually doesn't seem worth the effort of overcoming not only the nausea but also the craniofacial issues, which are myriad. 22 screws in my jaw and a septum that was mangled in the jaw surgery and later crushed in 2 separate car accidents. Despite the original septoplasty and revision septoplasty where they placed bone grafts to hold open my nasal passages, I can barely draw in air through my nose. Luckily I'm usually eating home alone & my pets have yet to complain about me eating with my mouth open.

"How Secrets Sabatge:
Although we encounter secrets in every area of life, they are perhaps most destructive when kept in the home. Families are support systems; our identity and ability to form close relationships with others depend upon the trust and communication we feel with loved ones. If family members keep secrets from each other--or from the outside world--the emotional fallout can last a lifetime.   A person who seeks to undo the damage caused by family secrets must accept that revealing a secret is not a betrayal but a necessity ...the secret wedges a boulder between those who know it and those who don't."   

I've been questioned by extended  family as to why I don't speak to my parents, even scolded for not doing so. I have always been afraid of answering that question honestly because the reaction of the other person is so unpredictable and my honest answer would make me feel very vulnerable. There are so many members of my extended family that I would love to have relationships with but with this secret wedging " a boulder between between those who know it and those who don't.", it is impossible to establish a wholly authentic relationship.  Those who don't know have a different version of family history than I do and therefore have an entirely different expectation of my role in familial interactions. 

I went into foster care because because I couldn't handle the secrets anymore. When I went into foster care I had already told my best friend and my boyfriend everything- they were safe to tell - but I wasn't able to tell anyone else that I had been molested on a regular basis for years. In court ordered therapy they had me take 6 hours of tests. When the Dr discussed my results, it was with me, my brother and sister in law (who I was living with in kinship care by that point) in the room. So when he said the tests indicated I had been repeatedly sexually abused, I wasn't able to tell them the truth. I told my mother the first time it happened and she didn't believe me, I had no reason to think my brother or sister in law would be any different. I told my brother and sister many years later after I had moved to the other side of the country. It wasn't well received by either of them so I stopped telling family.

"Since individual well-being takes a backseat to group fidelity, being the family member who challenges internal secrets is difficult. Taking the risk of opening a long-held secret to friends and loved ones may seem like an act of betrayal. The anticipated catastrophe of exclusion from the family stops many people--often long after leaving home."