Bit of a Complaint

So, my appointment with my therapist was cancelled today, which really sucks because I really needed to talk to her.  I know I could call but I don’t want to bother her.  Which is kind of silly since she said I could call her about stuff anytime and if she was busy she just wouldn’t pick up so it’s not like I would interrupt anything.  She was very specific about that because I had told her before that I didn’t want to bother her outside of session.

Honestly, a huge thing for me right now is my mum.  She has been playing this game called Freeso which is basically a free version of the Sims Online.  It really bothers me and activates anxiety and anger and flashbacks to shit that happened when I was younger because of her fucking goddamned computer game shit.  She would often ignore my brother’s and my needs, basic needs mind, to play her fucking games.  Mostly the Sims Online.

She just couldn’t be arsed to take care of her kids and instead she shoved all the responsibility onto us and nothing is ever her fault unless she can play victim.  It’s fucking ridiculous and I really do believe she fits into the Narcissistic Personality symptoms, ya know?

I know that I should really just be letting this go because it’s a bit ridiculous.  But if she wasn’t so neglectful of my brother and me, maybe I wouldn’t have so many issues.  I mean, I’m mad at my parents because they were/are both abusive fucks.  My mum was physically abusive until a few years ago I threatened to kill her if she ever laid hands on me again.  I feel terrible that I had to go to such lengths to get her to stop.  Mostly because I was dead serious.

If she wasn’t so neglectful and maybe if she actually cared, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so much shit from my dad.  Maybe it would have never happened because she would be there to protect me.  But she wasn’t.  She still isn’t.

Our relationship is only good when I stop thinking about her as my mum and I think of her solely as a bad roommate.

-The Sarcastic Autist

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Pieces of Memory

Getting a migraine again  I’ve been dealing with an aura for it for a bit but I’ve been doing all I can to keep it at bay.  I’m also in pain in my pelvic area and also soreness in my arm muscles.  I kinda am having an issue staying present, I guess.

So, I can’t remember if I told y’all this, but I’m working on remembering shit from my childhood, since I got huge gaps and all.  Biggest gap I can think of is having been in my 3rd grade class one second and the next I’m in the 4th grade.  Lost an entire summer plus.  That little bit between winter and spring and then bam, the next year in winter.

One of the things I really keep in mind while I’m doing this is fact checking, which translates into Drop Bear Awareness when I’m delving into my mind and poking at the edges of what I do and don’t remember.  I gotta make sure the pieces fit in together right.  I’m pretty good at telling if what I’m remembering is real or not.  Mostly because if it’s not real, it feels wrong, almost like the feeling I get when I’m lying.

I’m pretty sure, like 99% sure my dad molested me.  I was home alone with him a lot.  We slept in the same bed.  My entire family slept in the same bed because we were poor and my brother and I weren’t allowed to sleep upstairs for some reason.  I don’t remember why.  It was either the bed with my parents or on the floor by the foot of the bed, where it was damp and moldy and smelled bad because it was right under the AC that ran year round.

If one of us was in the shower or bath, other family members would come in to use the bathroom.  I didn’t really because I liked peeing alone.  I was kicked out of the bed the day I started my period and wasn’t allowed to go to bed unless my brother also went to bed.  So I went upstairs to sleep where the dogs would pee and poop.  I mean, they shat and pissed everywhere.  It was pretty damn gross.

People would constantly ask me if my parents ever touched me inappropriately when I was a kid.  I would always say no because I was taught that my parents could never be considered to touch me inappropriately because they are my parents and I am their child so they can do whatever they want with me.  Body autonomy was not really a thing.

Even when people didn’t ask me directly, looking back now, I can see that other adults believed it.  About my dad because my parents were divorced.  No one ever believed me about my mum being abusive.  Even now, no one really believes me.

My mum activated/triggered me the other day because she was so wrapped up in her computer that she wouldn’t do dishes like she promised.  She told me that her Sims game was more important than dishes at the moment.  It was just like growing up.  Honestly, it has always been like that, for as long as I can remember.  It sent me into a deep numbness and depression sort of state for the rest of the day and part of the next.

The pieces all fit.  I really don’t want them to.  I’m thinking about calling Charon because I don’t know how to deal with this.  I really need to talk to someone and I don’t feel I have anyone to talk to about it right now.

At least I know what I’m going to talk about in therapy Monday.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Lost Amongst Drop Bears

Okay, so I had one of the spiciest ramens in the world today.  It was amazing.  I will definitely be buying it again.  I really want the other spicy ones too.  The library in town is having this blind book date thing where they wrap the book like a present and only put the first sentence on it so you have to choose a book based on that.  I went through the dozen or so books they had and was telling the librarians what they were about and I got them all correct.  They were impressed.  I’m proud of myself for that

So, Charon said that my SUDs levels were low enough about the rape that we could move on to the next thing.  She said I can take this week to figure out what I want to do.  I’m not sure.  I really want to work on recovering the memories that I don’t have.  If that makes sense  There are just huge missing chunks of my memory.

I think that if I work on remembering stuff and then talking to Charon about them, it would be a more productive way to spend session rather than trying to get me to go over a thing over and over again.  Then again, maybe I’m not over the rape yet and I’m just focusing on these other things.

Honestly, it just really fucking bothers me the way I don’t remember things now.  I want to remember.  I don’t like not knowing things.  It bothers me.  I remember vague stuff about my dad and my brother but I don’t really truly remember.  It’s mostly hazy except that one memory of my dad kissing me in a way parents ought not kiss their kids.  Most of my memories of my mum are just her sitting in front of her computer ignoring me.

When I was meditating the other day, I had a full blown panic attack.  I guess it was a panic attack brought on by a flash of a flashback.  Like, a fully submersive one where I literally felt I was back there as a kid.  I’m going to continue trying to meditate, but I gotta level with you guys, I’m pretty scared.

I’m scared of uncovering what I’ve forgotten.  I don’t even trust myself yet.  How do I even know what I’m remembering is real or not?

I’m doing Drop Bear checks on everything.  I’m doing my best to truly figure things out instead of just blindly accepting them or pretending they don’t matter.

I kind of just feel lost.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Broken Normal Meter, Not a Broken Soul

As I’m gaining progress (at least I think I am) with dealing with the rape in an effective-ish manner, there seems to be a lot more shit coming up.  It’s like I focused so hard on keeping this all locked down tight by refusing to think about it, shoving it to the deepest recesses of my mind and pretending it never happened, that as soon as I opened the door, everything just decided to come out.

Just.  Fucking.  Hell.

I’m getting better at having ‘normal range’ reactions to things that would activate memories that are extremely unpleasant to think about.  They’re still unpleasant and, at the same time, they don’t send me into hysterics like they used to.  So, that’s progress right?

And so, my mind went “Hey, we’re doing good at not freaking out over this one thing, here’s another thing we can freak out over!”  Um… Thanks brain, but that is the opposite of what is helpful right now.  Since, you know, I’m still fucking processing the rape still and I don’t want to deal with my kiddie diddler fucktwat of a father yet.  Dumb fucking brain…

I guess the real reason for this post is because I’ve been having nightmares about it.  Not just one thing, but it feels like it’s all the things.  It all leads down to everyone blaming me and going “that never happened” while these things are happening and my mum looking at me and going “well, you deserved it anyway”.

I’m so angry with her right now.  She was supposed to be protecting me and instead she made me protect her.  What kind of bullshit is that?  Any time I try to bring my feelings up about experiences I’ve had, she turns it around so it focuses on her or tries to make it out that I’m over-reacting.  I’m still upset and have flashbacks from when we were living with my aunt and uncle?  I shouldn’t be because they were trying their best and they didn’t know how to handle Autism like they do now and they were so nice for letting us live with them and I should really just be grateful.  I bring up how unfair it was that she put leaving my dad on my brother and me and she goes “but I wanted to wait until you were old enough to understand”.  What.  The.  Ever.  Loving.  Fuck.

I guess the one good thing about all of these shitty revelations concerning my parents is that it really helps me understand more about my reactions regarding traumatic events or dangerous situations.  And it makes me feel more grounded and whole.  Less dissociated from everything and everyone.  I still doubt myself about a lot of things.  I’m going to have to learn to trust myself because my parents and upbringing totally broke my ‘normal’ meter.  And like the lovely lavendandlevity said to me in a comment, it’s worse in a way for those of us who are not neurotypical since we rely so heavily on others to show us what is and is not okay.  Since, you know, it’s super hard for us to figure it out on our own.

So, yay for broken normal meters. Fuck that noise.  Just.  Fuck.

Anyways.

What I’ve learned in boating school  Exposure Therapy so far is the following:

  • I really really do not like the dark.  The dark is fucking terrifying.
  • I don’t really know what my rapists’ faces look like so meeting strange men freaks me the fuck out.
  • I don’t like being surrounded by people because I don’t know what their intentions are and therefore they are dangerous.  I’m afraid of other people because I’m afraid of getting attacked again, even if situations that are totally safe.
  • I really don’t like remembering unpleasant things to the point where I will go off track when talking about them so I don’t have to deal with it.
  • Running away from bad memories only lets them fester inside.  This is not effective.
  • Refusing to deal with them or accept them makes me feel less connected with my current self and makes me more judgemental and less compassionate towards myself.
  • Holy shit, I was raised in a cult.  Fuck, that means I have to unbrainwash myself.
  • Reality sucks.  Seriously sucks.  But it is also so fucking awesome when I accept reality as it is because I’m more present with the now and less entrenched in keeping myself from remembering my past.
  • ‘It is what is is’ is a very true statement, no matter how infuriatingly repetitive it is.  A pen is a pen.  A memory is a memory.  Pretending something never happened doesn’t make it so.
  • I don’t put as much effort into things as I want to, as I feel I need to, because I’m afraid of drowning in emotions.  I’m afraid of drowning in emotions because I’ve always been told my emotional reactions to things were inappropriate because of gaslighting.  I’m allowed to have my emotions and I don’t have to let my emotions dictate my actions.  I don’t have to let my actions dictate my emotions.  And my emotions are my emotions and no one can tell me that they aren’t.
  • I’m really good at putting puzzles together.  I like learning things.  I like figuring things out.  I like doing puzzles.  I both don’t like putting the puzzle pieces of my life together and I love doing it because it makes sense and makes everything about me fit better.
  • I’m a strong and capable person with plenty of imperfections and that doesn’t make me any less.  I’m brave and courageous because I refuse to back down and hide anymore.
  • Emotions are not the enemy.  The enemy is in rejecting my emotions and therefore myself.
  • I don’t have to understand something to accept it.  I’d like to understand, but it isn’t a necessity.
  • I don’t like being calm and being at ease.  I don’t like letting my guard down because a lot of people have taken advantage of me that way.  Not allowing myself to be calm and at ease in any situation makes me unable to live my life to the fullest.
  • I freeze when I try to talk to people, especially Charon, about the deep shit.  I panic.  I believe it’s partly because I was raised that everything was my fault because I was the family scapegoat.  Still am.  It’s also partly because of the gaslighting and so I doubt myself and I don’t want to bring it up because I don’t want to be accused of lying.  And partly because, especially relating to sexual assault and sexual abuse, I was raised that it’s always on the woman for tempting the man because men obviously have no self control over their sexual impulses and therefore I’m a slut and deserve to be hurt.  (This is not true.  I’m an amazing person and no one deserves to be hurt.)
  • I don’t always feel like I can do this.  That I can deal with all this shit.  I can.  I totes mcgoats am perfectly capable of doing this.  I am doing this.  Go me.

Anyways.  That’s all for now folks.  You have a good one.  I’m off to see if I can’t figure out how to use my printer when I’m out of black ink.

-The Sarcastic Autist

 

Fucking Gaslighting

Hey, all.  It’s me, the Sarcastic Autist.  Lately I’ve been feeling a lot like crying.  Partly because Exposure Therapy is hard as fuck.  Partly because I’m remembering some really nasty ass shit about my childhood.  And partly because I just feel lost.

I feel lost because I realized, or rather, came to discover that my mum (and probably most of my family) has lied to me most of my life.  Gaslighting, you know?  I didn’t know for sure they were actually doing that.  I thought maybe I was just making shit up in my brain.  Because gaslighting someone is pretty fucking cruel.  It creates doubt about everything.  I’ve doubted my memories and have been unable to trust myself, and therefore anyone else, because I was told that my experiences were not true, that they never happened.

Now, I know I kinda figured it out before.  But back then, it was more of an idea.  Not really a concrete thing, just an abstract.  Thing is, I caught my mum in a straight up lie and she tried to gaslight me on it.  I stood my ground and told her that what she was saying was completely contradictory to everything else she had ever said about the situation and you know what she said to that?  “I don’t remember saying that.  I don’t remember that.” She got a cat-butt-face, the same one she gets when I call her on her bullshit.  The one that used to make me feel like a terrible person because she would get it when I was arguing with her about my well-being coming second to hers, about how she was a terrible mum and that’s why I won’t call her that, I call her by her first name.

Gaslighting is lying.  I hate lying.  Lying makes me feel gross inside.  It gives me a bad taste in my mouth.  It’s a literal bad taste.  I’m so deeply upset with her and with everyone who enables her.

Because everything is true.  My memories are my memories.  This shit actually happened.  I mean, it does give me more motivation and makes me feel a helluva lot more willing to continue and actually work with Charon with the Exposure Therapy stuff.  So there’s that.  On the other hand, this shit actually happened and I can’t just ignore it by saying I’m lying to myself and I’m a terrible person because my dad would never do such awful horrible things.  My life can’t possibly have sucked that bad.

It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest.  I keep finding myself tearing up randomly.  My mind will start showing all these different memories of shit and I don’t feel like I can slow it down.  I don’t feel like I can ever get calm and relaxed.

I don’t feel like I know anything anymore.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Truths and Lies

It’s cold.  Like, double negative digits lately.  I got so excited when it was finally warm enough to snow.  Yup, that’s right, I live where it gets too cold to snow.  It’s friggin’ ridiculous.  It’s been so cold that my asthma is acting up because of it.

A few updates on random things before I get into the  nitty gritty.  First off, I had to go see my gynecologist because I’ve been having really bad pain again.  As a reminder, I have no right ovary.  I had it removed and it was riddled with cysts and endometriosis.  I have endometriosis.  It’s this disease where the endometrial tissue (basically the inner lining of the uterus) grows where it isn’t supposed to.  It’s can get very painful to have and it can cause a lot of other problems besides just pain because it acts like glue.  Anyway, I saw my gyno yesterday and she had to do a pelvic exam, which I hate, and then she sent me to get an ultrasound where they stick a fun stick up my cooch to see if I had any cysts.  Next step, if they don’t find anything wrong visually with the ultrasound, is getting a CT scan.  After that, it’s surgery.  I’m not excited about that.  It’s not fun.

My phone had gotten stuck in a boot loop last week so I had to switch to my back up phone (which I just severely cracked the screen of).  The cat needed to go to the vet so I didn’t know if I could afford a new phone or not.  Cat ended up being a lot less expensive than I thought.  She has dry skin and also food allergies.  Just like me.  So I was able to get a new phone.  It’s supposed to be arriving later today.  I got a Google Pixel 2 XL.  I’m pretty excited about that.

I’m planning on attempting to do Habitica again this year with my friends.  We have a hard time sticking to it because of depression.  We are going to do it though.  I have faith in us.

Now, onto the real hard stuff.

Let’s talk about how I’m probably never going to be able to have kids.  I’ve always wanted to have little crotch goblins.  I’ve always been told I’d make a great parent and that I have great birthing hips (creepy as that is).  The fact that I have endometriosis and PCOS and one ovary and also the gay… It just seems like a sign from the gods that I’m not meant to have children.  At least not biological ones.  It’s deeply upsetting for me to realize that.

I really want to talk to Charon about it.  First I have to confess to her that I lied.  I had told her I had never been pregnant before and that’s straight up not true.  I just really don’t like talking about it.  In case you guys didn’t know, I had gotten pregnant after I got raped.  It was a huge factor in why I decided to go into drugs and risky behaviour.  I wanted it gone.  I did end up having a miscarriage and I still blame myself for murdering it.  (For the record, I’m pro-choice.  The things I did to ‘kill the thing inside’ me was not what I would consider a healthy choice.)  I was 15 and I really couldn’t handle having a kid.  Everyone would have known that I was a whore and sexual deviant.  Knowing I can’t have kids now makes me feel worse about my decisions back then.  Regretful, I guess.

The other thing I wanted to talk about was the flash thing I had of my dad forcing his tongue down my throat.  I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s real or not and all sorts of things.  When I’m lying to myself or other people, I get this feeling that I can’t really describe, but it makes me feel gross.  When I think about that memory thing, I don’t feel gross.  All the supporting evidence leads to it being a possibility that it actually happened.  I’m pretty sure it did.

I’ve been trying to remember a bit more about it but it’s been hard.  Mostly because I keep pulling away because it makes me cry.  I don’t know.

I’m going to go listen to music because now I’m all upset again.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Flashback or Falseback?

So I finally finished reading The Body Keeps the Score the other day.  Good book.  I really recommend it.

I have so much that I need to write about, so bare with me if I seem to meander all over the place.  I’ve been sleeping like shite lately.

First thing, I don’t really remember what Douchebag and his friends look like.  What with it being dark and me not wearing my glasses.  I can remember their voices and that’s it.  I think part of the reason I’m so afraid of strange men is that I don’t trust that I would realize it was them.  Even though it’s been years and I don’t think I’ve ever run into them again.  But now that I recognize that, I can work on that better.

Second thing is that I really, really don’t like sitting still and being calm and peaceful and shit.  The last time I was truly like that was just before the rape.  Anytime I start feeling calm I start panicking.  So I’m going to work on being calm and being still by meditating without music for a few minutes each day.

Third thing and the thing that is bothering me most right now is that I have this memory, more of a flash of memory, that I can’t get out of my head.  I’m not even sure it’s real and it’s really bothering me.  I don’t trust my memories all the time (probably because of all the gaslighting I’ve endured).  I was reading The Body Keeps the Score and it was going over some of the things family has said when a kid tries to speak up about abuse and the book said that common statements are “That would never happen.”  “They would never do that.”  Stuff like that.

When I read that, I got that flash of memory.  I’m not even sure it’s a memory or I’m just making shit up.  But I can’t get it out of my mind.  It felt like a flashback.  It feels like it really happened and looking at the facts and supporting shit, it does feel real.  It seems like it could have happened.  I really don’t want to believe it did though.

I’m young and my dad is kissing me with tongue.  Like, shoving it in my mouth and he’s holding me down and I am thinking “I don’t like this”.  Just “I don’t like this” over and over and over again.  I can see his face and I can feel his face stubble and I can feel his tongue in my mouth and his hands and just holy shit.  What a horrible thing to think my dad did.

But that’s it.  That’s all it is.  Just a short flash.  Maybe 5 seconds long.  It’s giving me nightmares and it makes me get all panicky and it won’t go away.  I just want it to stop.

I keep thinking to myself that my dad was verbally and mentally and emotionally abusive, just like my mum.  He would never do something like that.  How horrible of a thing to think my dad would do.  He loved me (before I came out as gay and he disowned me).

At the same time, there’s a lot of supporting facts.  Like how I have such huge empty spots in my memory from when I was a kid.  How my dad suddenly said I had to stop sleeping in the bed when I started getting my period. (Bit of history on that: my brother and I slept in my parents room from when we were kids to until I moved into my own room after my period started when I was 11. We would either sleep in my parents’ king size bed or on the floor underneath the air condition where everything was wet and freezing.  Yeah, looking back it was all sorts of shades of fucky, but eh.)  He stopped being affectionate at all after that.

I was home alone with him a lot since my brother went to friends’ houses a lot and I didn’t really have friends and my mum worked all the time.  My dad was a drunkard.  All sorts of things.

I don’t know.  I don’t know what to think anymore.  I want to stop thinking about it but it won’t go away and I don’t know what to do.  I’m going to try to talk to Charon about it later but I’m not sure how well I’ll get it out since my stutter is real bad lately.

At least my phone should be working later today.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Had a Meltdown

So, I had a meltdown yesterday.  My phone got caught in a boot loop Thursday and I was given incorrect information on how to activate my back up phone.  I thought I would be able to use my phone yesterday and now I can’t use it until Tuesday.  So I had a meltdown.  I yelled at my mum and ended up crying and I hyperventilated.  I lashed out at everyone who tried to talk to me and got stuck in my own loop of misery and not being able to cope.

So I decided it would be best if I just ignored everyone and isolated until I got myself under control.  Which made me realize something.  I don’t let myself feel things a lot.

Something I remember Charon saying in group many many moons ago was that everyone in DBT was big ‘feelers’, meaning we all experienced heightened emotional responses and stuff.  I remember thinking to myself that that was ridiculous for me, since I was largely apathetic or numb.

Well, truth is, I just don’t let myself feel.  I shut down and push away most feelings.  I’m not 100% sure why, I just do.  It’s something I’m going to have to look into.

Honestly, I’m not really feeling up to talking to people quite yet.  I’m still recovering from yesterday and I feel like if I push it, I’ll end up further shutting down.

You all have a good one.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Processing the Pull Back

I have this thing where every time I start having a flashback, I pull back.  Any time I start having really strong emotions or I’m doing something that reminds me of the rape or anything unpleasant or traumatizing for me, I pull back or I shut down, dissociate.

This is the opposite of helpful in therapy, I’m finding out.  I can’t exactly process emotions or anything if I’m not allowing myself to feel them, you know?

One of the things I’m working on in In Vivo Exposure (doing things that remind me of the rape to show that it’s not a dangerous thing and I’m totally capable of handling it) is going to the spot where the rape occurred.   And every time, without fail, every time I start having a flashback or start panicking, I pull back and scold myself.  I tell myself that it’s a perfectly safe spot, especially during the day, and that I’m being utterly ridiculous.

I mean, in my defense, the flashbacks are getting worse.  Harder to control.  But I think that’s the thing, the more I try to control them, to pull back and shut down and pretend everything is okay and get mad at myself for being so weak and shit, the worse it gets.  I kind of feel that I’m just going through the motions of therapy without actually doing the emotional aspect of the work.  Like, I’m doing the homework and filling out the worksheets in my own special way.  I’m just not doing it fully, with my heart and mind and body.  I’m just doing it with my body.

I got to admit, I’m mostly just scared.  The rape is why I got into drugs and shit.  It’s a huge contributor as to why I left the Mormon church.  It’s part of the reason why I let myself get abused and assaulted and treated poorly because I felt like I deserved it.  So I’m scared that letting myself feel those feelings again, the utter helplessness and the breaking of my heart as I realized that there was no turning back.  That, no matter how much I may have wanted to stop going to church and stop being Mormon, I couldn’t stay and fulfill my Patriarchal blessing because I was suddenly tainted.  My choice of whether or not I wanted to be Mormon was ripped away from me.

When I have a flashback, I get pulled into the memory.  It doesn’t always have the same severity, where sometimes it’s just a flash of his featureless face (not knowing for sure what he or any of them look like is probably a huge factor for my fear of strangers), other times it’s a full blown it’s happening right now.  More and more I feel like it’s tilting more to the full blown it’s happening one.  It feels like I’m drowning and I get pulled under and I’m there with all the sights and smells and feelings and instead of being numb and shut down, I feel everything.  The nice little barriers (that are totally 100% ineffective and probably detrimental to therapy) that I had/have put in place are chipping away.

It’s terrifying and it’s making my SUDs (Subjective Units of Measurement) levels go higher and higher.

Then again, breaking down those walls is a huge part of processing it all.

-The Sarcastic Autist

Explanation of Lies

Hey all!  So, I’ve been trying to figure out why I blame myself for stuff emotionally, even if I know logically that whatever it is isn’t my fault.  What core inner beliefs do I have that, even if they are 100% lies, cause me to go through a whirlwind shitstorm of should’ve, could’ve, and would’ves?

  1.  I should have known better than to be out late at night.
  2. I should have known better than to engage in conversation with a clearly inebriated man.
  3. I should have fought harder.
  4. I should have run.
  5. I should have screamed or yelled out for help.

Let’s go through the process of killing these lies that I tell myself.

First off, I’ve been out late at night tons of times since then (Although never in the park alone.)  I had been out late at night tons of times prior to that.  I’ve only gotten attacked that one time.  A one off.  Yeah, it was fucking terrible and terrifying and I’m obviously still trying to work on dealing with it.  And it was also just one time.  A horrible time.  But once.

Second off, I did grow up with an alcoholic drug addict father.  Whether I talked to him or not when he was drunk, it didn’t matter.  He would get mad regardless.  He was unpredictable.  So, engaging in conversation with an inebriated person was sort of a normal thing.  Better talk to them rather than ignore them.  Otherwise it would be worse.  Totally understandable that I would stop and be polite.

Third.  I had undergone years of anger management at this point.  I had a lot of anger growing up.  Mostly displaced emotions that got expressed through physical outbursts.  I still like physically expressing emotions by touching or hitting or spazzing out.  It gets rid of that energy.  Also, like I stated before, I grew up with an alcoholic drug addict father.  The best course of action with him was not to run because that made everything worse.  If I could run and hide physically, that was great.  I could hide until he passed out and when he woke up he would forget.  If running away wasn’t an option, then becoming as compliant as possible was the next course of action.  Compliancyemeaning retreating far into the deep recesses of my brain where I couldn’t/didn’t have to process what was actually going on.

How does the compliance with my alcoholic father and the years of anger management relate?  I had no reason to be angry.  (I know otherwise now, I had and still have every right to be as pissed off as I want to.)  I was told that it was my fault that my dad was a drunkard.  Or it was my fault I got hit. I shouldn’t have done that or been there or said this.  When I expressed (whether effectively or not), how unfair it was or how I wasn’t comprehending why it was my fault, when I got mad and frustrated because no one would listen to me that my dad was hitting me and my mum was hitting me and touching me in ways I didn’t like or my brother was touching me weird or anything, I got in trouble.  “That’s not happening.”  “You’re making things up.”  “Stop antagonizing them.”  “Maybe if you behaved.”  “Getting mad isn’t helping.”  “Stop fighting and you won’t get hurt as bad.”  “You deserve to get hit because it’s the only way you listen.”

I act out, I got blamed.  My actions, yeah, I don’t like that I acted out so much as a kid.  I don’t like that I was angry and hurt.  I had every right to be.  No one listened to me.  I was forced/brainwashed into believing that I was responsible for how others treated me.  To further clarify this to you, dear reader, I was explicitly told that I deserved it when I got hurt because I clearly did something wrong.  It didn’t matter what the context was.  It was my fault.

So, fighting back beyond the initial attempt… I just did what I was trained to do.  Take a step back mentally and stop fighting.

Fourth on the list.  I guess it kind of ties into number three.  Fight or flight wasn’t an option since I was brainwashed into freezing and dissociating.

I guess number five also ties into number three’s explanation.

In tomorrow’s episode (or later tonight, I don’t know, I keep getting distracted), I will go through and take those blaming statements and turn them around.  So I stop blaming myself.

Or whatever.

-The Sarcastic Autist