Today should have been the day that drove me over the edge. Today should have been the day that I lost my mind.

Being back in Nova  Scotia is always hard on me. However this time I have prepared myself. I have wonderful lovers & friends waiting for my return. I have amazing friends here in the province giving me moral support. I am free of all this winter drama for a few weeks, no one sticking their nose into my healing business.

But as it goes I still have to visit with family. I managed to politely tell my father to go fuck himself when he tried to guilt me into doing something I wasnt emotionally prepared for. I did not blow up at my mother for talking to thin air, which is a miracle because I hate it when she does that.

Then my rapist contacted me. It has been 1yr 51wks since the rape. I told him what I thought of him. He apologized for giving me vaginosis but not for raping me,… Small. Angry. Steps.

But then Kitten needed me. He was having a rough 24hrs. And all of that other shit, well it was was just that other shit compared to Kitten needing someone to talk to. All of my anger towards my parents disappeared. All of the hurt my rapist caused fell away. This winter, never happened. Why? because someone needed my attention.

It sounds dependant, it sounds hollow. The truth is, for most of my life Ive been looking for people to take care of, and to take care of me. I love to take care of people in some small way. Not because I want them to be dependant on me, but because I want them to have one less thing to worry about when they close their eyes at night. It is just too bad so many people in this era seem to think that is somehow a bad thing, an unwanted trait in another person… Fuck them.

Living with anorexic tendancies is a lot like living with alcoholism. Everyday I have to check in with myself – Did I actually eat three meals? If no – Did I actually eat enough to sustain my body for the rest of the day? If no – DoI have food that I can eat in my immediate vacinity? If no – Where is there food that I can eat immediately…?

The thing that most people dont understand is that there is an addiction to anorexia. The addiction is not only in the mentality of the control. But the sensation, there is this burn in the pit of your stomach. When you feel it you know that your body is aching for something, but if you can just wrestle that feeling for another 3, 4, 5hr you will have won and you can reward yourself with that granola bar. Over coming that feeling, living in that burn, settling into that ache is masochistically comforting. Having people acknowledge that youve lost weight is addictive.

Dragging oneself out of an addiction is painful. This isnt someone just being lazy and not eating. It is an all consumming need to be in control of something, anything, whatever you can get your hands on, because you have no control over anything else. It isnt something you just “get over”. You dont just wake up one day and say “Nope not anorexic any more, TAH DAH”. People also seem ti think that once you are “better” that you are BETTER. It will never happen again, so why are you still complaining about it?

I walked into my local cupcakery, having not been there for 2 months and the first thing out of the girls mouth was “You lost weight, you look so good”. All I could think was “I could keep this up… no one would ever know. I could just keep living off 1.5 meals a day… Ive lived off less… I could do it…” I then smiled, ordered two cupcakes, took a swig of my extra large mocha, and sat down to a plate of gf pasta. Because I know better. I have lived through dragging myself out of anorexia 3 times.

3 times, people. Ive done it three times. It does not get easier. So if you know someone who has told you that they have been anorexic and they have triggers, please be careful. Tread lightly. Follow the steps they give you, so you don’t make things harder on them. Heart ache is bad enough. Heart ache + anorexia is pretty much the worst.

“I can turn any girl into a slut”

Sure you can buddy. Would you like a golf clap to go with that inflated ego? I have heard this all too often, and not to burst your bubble but you don’t turn them into sluts – they gift their slutdom to you. You just have a knack for choosing girls who enjoy spreading their legs. Don’t let it go to your head so quickly, either of them. Whether it is her first time spreading her legs so easily or not, a slut is a slut is a slut (and I say that with all the love in my heart).

There is nothing more off putting than receiving a message from an attractive guy/dom who closes with “And if you’ve ever been curious about being a dirty little girl, I can mentor/guide you”. Hold up buddy, you think little old me has what it takes to be a proper little slut *doe eyes* I am just so honoured that you think I could be added to one of your hoards of women. Except that I am already an established slut. And when established sluts get these messages, we roll our eyes. If our brains weren’t there to stop it, our eyes might roll all the way back into our skulls and just jangle around for the rest of time. But thankfully we have brains to stop that from happening.

I know you think you are “padding” your sextastic dating resume when you say that, but all you are doing is being a creep. If I want to know about your penis, or its regular activities I will ask. Why, because I am a slut. Good sluts know when to step out of their slutty closets and get down to business. Maybe what you mean when you say “I can turn any girl into a slut” is – I can sniff out a closeted slut based on the brand of her panties and how uncomfortable she looks in todays slut shaming world. Which really isn’t really that great of a talent.

I see so many everyday joes (and josephines) that shame sluts who, I can just see in their heart of hearts, wish that they could be a proper slut. But they cant because of a choice they make they still feel the need “improve the world” by taking away my free choice to be a slut. What they seem to miss, as do you, is that I choose who I am a slut for. It has nothing to do with how convincing/coercive you are, but with my decision to gift you my slutiness. I wont give up my sex to someone who isn’t worthy. I actually love it when men feel the need to try to shame me into being a slut when they don’t meet my standards, by accusing me of being a prude. As if I need to prove to them my slut status. However I hate it when other women disregard my points of view as being invalid because I choose to have agency over my sexuality in a different way than they choose to operate.

Are there creeps who are coercive, and push young inexperienced sluts into doing things they aren’t comfortable doing, yes. Do you want to be one of those creeps, no. Why not? Do you really want someone to associate bad or unfulfilling sex with you? For a slut there is nothing worse than being promised a good time, and being left with a sense of ennui afterwards. And trust me, sluts talk to one another. There is a slut network, and we gossip about your bad techniques, and sloppy dismounts if you are unfulfilling. We suggest that our friends not see you. Just a few weeks ago I was asked by a new friend regarding a local guy who makes the rounds in the queer-slut circles. I have never fucked him personally but he has little to no respect for limits I have repeatedly set up – so in all good conscience I cannot recommend him to anyone.

If you want me to be impressed with your multitudes of talent when it comes to sluts, learn to be humble. Women aren’t girls anymore, we aren’t impressed with you taking up space with your ego. The very best sex Ive ever had has been with men who have never even mentioned that they are excellent at sniffing out a slut, but I know they are. A good slut knows when she has hit the GGG jackpot,and will not need your big manly help coming to that conclusion.

We could have been happy, me and those three other girls. You could have died. You could have stepped on a land mine. You could have done us the favour of being taken hostage and being shot on third world television by some extremists. You sexually assaulted all four of us. You claimed to be a feminist. That you worked towards bettering the world. But you sexually assaulted all four of us.

At first boys tried to convince me that it was my perception of what happened that was wrong. That I had just had a bad subdrop. But I knew that wasn’t it. Subdrops never made me feel ugly and dirty on the inside, they never made me feel raw or taken advantage of. Then I found my friend knew you. And you had done the same thing to her. We commiserated over it. We plotted your down fall… in word only because what could we do.

One of our male friends who overheard us introduced us to another girl who had the displeasure of meeting you and your wildly liberal ways. And then another… Four out of four women who had separate experiences with you infact all had the same experience. What are the odds.

So yes, you could have stepped on a land mine, or had an SUV roll on top of you. We would have thrown a parade on top of your grave. I would have baked “rot in hell” cupcakes for you and thrown them at your tombstone.

It is needless to say that I have trust issues now. I never really believe men when they tell me are feminists, all I can think is “Yeah, I heard that once… then I was raped”. So be proud, you changed the world. You changed the worlds of four women… probably more.

Why do I need to know why I am worth exactly $31.72? Because for 3 years I was told I wasnt worth much more than scorn.

A grocery list of offenses.

  • I was 21, he was 30
  • My age/inexperience/childlike awe was always the base for our arguments
  • So I pretended, I pretended hard. I lost who I was in the process
  • I met his best friend who was in love with him
  • I told him about it
  • he denied it
  • I accepted his word at truth
  • He kink & slut shamed me because it “wasn’t his thing”
  • But expected me to have anal sex even though it “wasn’t my thing”
  • He mansplained how I wasn’t a feminist repeatedly over 3yrs because “real feminists wouldn’t want to get the shit beat out of them, it’s degrading”.
  • I fell in love with him and told him
  • He told me he would never be able to love anyone ever again. Too bad, so sad, you’re out of luck.
  • And everytime I said I loved him, he would repeat that to me.
  • When I decided to move from Nowhere Scotia he told me I would never survive in Mtl because my french was impossible
  • So I moved to Ottawa because he thought it would be better for me
  • Four months after I left, 2 weeks before my birthday he told me that there were rumours going around about him cheating on me with his best friend
  • BUT DON’T WORRY – They weren’t true!!!
  • I was expected to be calm about it. I was as calm as I could be. I never accused him of cheating. I took him at his word. Again.
  • He became an alcoholic because she shunned him when her boyfriend found out
  • I stood by him and tried to talk him through it
  • During one of our fights though I yelled “I’m tired of mollycoddling you, you’re a grown man!”
  • He didn’t talk to me for 24hr… I can understand that
  • He flew me home and pretended like nothing happened
  • He refused to come visit me, he was too busy for that sort of stuff
  • I convinced him that booze wasn’t the way, after week 12 of him crying into a beer bottle over the whole bullshit sitch.
  • I moved home 5mos later
  • We were looking into getting a place together
  • Until he told me about how he spent a drunken night with strange girls grinding up on him
  • He didn’t see anything wrong with it
  • or with repeatedly telling me about it while I was upset
  • On my way back, I had a 4hr overlay in Mtl
  • I considered just getting my baggage and running away to frenchland
  • I didn’t. I went back to him.
  • He wasn’t there when I got off the train.
  • It was the most heartbreaking thing ever.
  • I wished I had stayed in Mtl during the layover
  • I struggled for 4 months to find work
  • I was miserable
  • His old best friend was broken up with by her aforementioned ex and she wanted to be bestie’s again
  • I told him it made me uncomfortable but that I couldn’t stop him, he was a grown man
  • He would spend hours talking to her online
  • and then spend hours talking about her offline
  • Our sex life suffered, except when his Sexomnia was active
  • He refused to get medication for it because “Who knows what that stuff will do to you”
  • But repeatedly forcing me to cope with his neurological sex issues was FINE… apparently.
  • At the time I thought “Thank god I am good at compartmentalizing” I no longer think that.
  • Not once did I think there was anything strange about this.
  • I finally told him I needed to talk about the past with her
  • He lost his shit at me, didn’t understand why I needed to talk about it cause it didn’t involve “me”
  • I got a job in a cafe
  • So did she, I had to work with her every day
  • And her sister who was equally frustrating
  • For my birthday that year I wanted to go to an island off of NS that was only open for a week out of the year
  • He said no
  • Three weeks later he mentioned 2 days before my birthday that he was going to it with her
  • But didn’t want to invite me because “that would make it awkward”
  • CANCELING my birthday effectively. (she personally ruined 2 of my birthdays)
  • And then didn’t understand why I was so upset during dinner when he wouldn’t shut up about it
  • His solution was to tell me we could do it next year
  • I have still never been.
  • He pressured me into going jogging with him to ‘bond’
  • He wouldn’t shut up about how SHE was making so much progress with jogging
  • He would sneak away in the middle of the night to spend time with her
  • He always came back smelling like beer and girly shampoo
  • Read what you want into that, I have
  • He broke up with me about 6weeks after my birthday
  • And insisted we be friends
  • 3 days later I saw him holding hands with her in the street
  • I called him on it
  • he said “we aren’t dating, but we aren’t not dating” which was how he explained our relationship for 3 years
  • He would come into the cafe and practically sit in her lap during our overlapping shifts
  • until I told him to fuck off because it hurt me
  • his response was “I’m so disappointed in you, you are so much stronger than that. I expected better. I didn’t think you would be this immature about it”
  • This is where I lost my mind for a while.
  • I got better
  • Recently he started “referring” me on linkedIn. It may have been his way of trying to talk with me again. I blocked him. Cause -> Panic Attacks

 

So, here’s the thing. I know I have a lot of work to do. I know I hold onto a lot of trauma from *makes hand motion* this… crap. And I am doing the best I can. But this past week was hard. It was his birthday on monday, it is 1.5 mos until it has been a year that I was assaulted. I’m not exactly sure where I stand… or if I can really trust my sense in that I am standing at all.

Last night I started crying about last years assault, I ended the cry fest with crying over every single time I woke up in the middle of the night with him smelling like beer, and her, and hearing him call me her name. It wasnt a pretty sight. But it is the first time I can actually remember crying over it, letting some piece of it go. Letting some piece of it outwardly affect me. I’m hoping it will let me heal.