De A à C, passez par-dessus B

28 novembre 2007

so I went to my meeting this morning. I had a meeting with a nice woman from an organization that helps victims of crimes and I thought I was taking way too much of her time, it lasted two hours. I took the day off to go there and have the day to myself so I could go through my emotions alone if I needed to. But we didn’t really go into details…yeah even in two hours. I got phone numbers, documents, references for places to go to and meet people about this. It’s good, I wanted that.

I guess that’s why I need help. I just circle the subject, don’t really say the words, hint at things, I have trouble really talking about what I lived through. There is just sooo much ! I just can’t get it out and I’m alone with it so I do what I always do when I’m really stressed. I forget. It’s unconscious but my body just finds a way for me to forget or skip over stuff, block out emotions. I can’t talk about it with anyone around me so I have to find ways to cope by myself. Therapy is useful but I’m there once a week and sometimes I should be there every day !

You see, I talked about one of the firsts sexual attacks I had and since then I ate at restaurants more than three times a week, started eating chocolate again, slept more than ten hours once and feel like sleeping more every morning. That’s the way my body and mind works when all my post-trauma wakes up. I eat and sleep. Yoga is good for relaxing but it doesn’t help me spend my energy so I’ll have to go to toning again so I can just grunt the pain away.

I also bought a bra today. Impulse buying. Very big when stressed out. But I really needed a new bra. I keep pushing this aside because shopping for underwear is like going to the dentist. I hate it. So I finally bought a new bra and the lady says I’m a C cup. I can’t beee !!!! Last time I was a C was when I weighed 160. So I have to check what I eat and drink and exercise cause there is no way I’m going back up to 160. NO f*** WAY. (Au moment où je vous copie ça de mon ancien blog, j’ai dépassé le 160 parce que je vais au gym plusieurs fois par semaine alors je suis moins ronde qu’avant). No wonder that guy said I had a nice rack last time…I still thought I was an A. I also wear 38 instead of 34 and 36. Am I blowing up or something ? is it all that unspent sexual energy that goes to my boobs to attract males and populate the planet ? Am I going to look like a pidgeon soon ? I should test if I can put a glass between my breasts or a plate on them as if it was a shelf.

You’re wondering why I’m freaking out at having bigger boobs. AH. Have you tried girl’s clothes lately ? It’s like trying on kiddy clothes. Everything is made for twigs. You can’t have a butt, breasts, round arms or thighs. You can’t be a woman. You have to be anorexic or twelve to fit in what is in stores. OH GOOOD will I have to go shopping in Plus sizes now that my boobs are ten times the size I thought they were ?!

Pfft. It’s good to have some drama in non-existential places of my life. It gets things in perspective. Let’s forget about death threats, police arrests, rapes, harassment, my supposed future and my budget and let’s focus on my weight and boobs size !

I don’t have to complain. Last time I measured, in the last two weeks, I still was pretty okay. But phew…C cup.

Vrai…ou pas

16 mai 2008

Have you ever thought something to be true to discover it was not ? And then discover you may have been right all along ? If there is a time to eat chips, it’s now and lots of it. Instead I eat butter pecans. Not the same at all…

I have felt like there was something wrong about me for the major part of my life. Not as bipolar wrong. Sexually wrong. There were signs that pointed to sexual abuse from before I was 16 and I always thought « something » had happened but I never had any proof.

Then I learned that my mom had lived something incestuous but she wouldn’t tell what and my therapist said that maybe she had transmitted this to me psychogenealogically. I felt relieved. I have no souvenir of anything happening to me that would explain my feelings and fears. So a psychogenealogical explanation kind of popped the balloon of questions I had over my head.

But tonight, in therapy, I talked about what I lived through and what I felt about my different rapes and abuses and the therapist said that it felt like I was transposing another event onto the events that were happening to me at the time. I was talking about what I wrote about in a previous story, last week I think. This paralyzing fear of angering the man, of being hurt and of dying when I wasn’t yelled at, tied down or I didn’t have a gun or knife pointed at me. She asked when did I fear for my life. I had nothing to say. But I asked if babies could fear for their lives and she said yes. Then maybe being shaken and yelled at by my dad when I was a few months old could explain it.

Then I continued talking about my stuff. And I told her about my outer body experiences while having sex. I say it’s outer body because I feel disconnected, not there. I talked about the pain I feel when I have sex, the doctors that say it’s psychological, the sexologist I saw. The pain went away but is now present each time I try having sex. Not the same pain.