Dear Diary,
I have restarted this entry way too many times already. I am reminded by a friend that journals/diarys don't have to be perfect, or even coherent... its a method of helping you think, a tool. It's not an art project or media to be consumed. So I am going to stop trying to articulate my jumbled dreams of flashes of events, that goes forwards and backwards in time... and just talk about that it makes me think and feel...
My dream earlier in the day (since I work night shift) was this back and forth, blow by blow mess of memories. It made me think, and wonder if I should give credit to SS for doing what he said he was going to do. That he was going to introduce me to a cathartic way of dealing with things that happened to me before he met me. I guess he did in a way. As he passed me around his parties, all the things people would do to me, I would relive the events, cry about them, review them, ingrain them in my mind...I would close my eyes and it wasn't the people at that moment doing things like hitting me, or holding me down and thrusting into me, it was the prior people doing it... At the same time my mind really took in all that was going on too. It really screwed me up. In so many ways. In both cases, I would cry, and beg, and say no, or safe words and was punished for it, and would be hurt for it. I learned that it was pointless, and started to put myself in a different frame of mind. SS was so sweet at times, and so mean and dismissive at others. He was like this wonderful person that just wanted to make everything better, would be very stern like a father and make punishments feel like it hurt him more to do it to my then what I was going through and his disappointment would make you hurt deep in your heart. It was easy to want to make him happy. It was harder to realize that it was all bad for me. He seemed like he cared, bathing me, treating my wounds, taking me to the hospital when things went too far, picking out food he wanted me to eat... He made things cathartic alright, and beyond. Today I don't want to credit him with anything other then ruining me. When he would put me in the cage that he used as a nightstand, and when I was crying or sleeping he would throw cold water on me, when he would take me to the socials (aka silent auctions) and turn his back on what other people would do to me. It's a rough and turmoil time and it's even harder to describe. I tried sometimes to just not be available, or to make plans and be away, or sometimes I just wouldn't go home to avoid them. I was able sometimes to get away for a little while, but they always eventually waited me out, or found me. So do I owe him some credit? yes and no... credit for breaking me, credit for changing my life, credit for the cathartic experience, credit for taking years of my life I will never have back, but I refuse to want to believe anything good about it.
Am I a good person? How could I let that happen to me? Did I let that happen, did I have a choice? When things happened the first time and people blamed me, when things happened the second time, and no one would listen, when things happened again, there was some justice but not till after alot of pain and people still telling me that it was my fault, when things happened with SS I knew no one was going to listen... I even tried to tell people a time or two, and they just said I was seeking attention. When things came crashing down and the cops started digging into things, they held my past against me, they even thought I was in on it for a while. It wasn't still his wife started to blame me for things, and yell at me, and talk about things did they even believe me. Then when other things started to happen like with MW, I didn't even try to tell people. When someone outside saw it, and reported it, it was still just as bad, it went from "why did you provoke them" or "why did you do that" to "why didn't you report it"... many reasons. I didn't want to deal with the questions, and exams, and probes and people... plus no one would listen, or believe me. It was easier when I was away from all that and I was no longer in that job... cause when things would happen, and no one was around, I could just let it happen, and walk away. Oh well kind of mind set you can say. It took a long time for things to bother me again, and when it did, it floored me. Spending hours in scalding hot showers, crying, and wishing things would stop, or people would leave me alone.
At other jobs, people that would hurt me, or touch me. At clubs or bars...parties, or even shopping...it's like it's everywhere. I haven't found or been anywhere where I haven't been hurt, touched, or fucked...till I met my husband. Now living and working with him, he is my protector, he listens to me and loves me. He has saved me, so many times...and so many ways.
This was alot longer than I expected it...I guess I had more to get down and say then I realized. I probably get repetitive...but I just need to get it out. There were so may events...so many parties...so many people...6 years is a long time, and even then, there were some events before and after the hell.