So other than screaming while drunk and high on coke in college about this, I haven't spoken or written or thought much about the sexual abuse. Childhood. I don't like to write the three words in their proper order, not if I'm going to refer to it properly. I can lay it out there, dangle it like bait, but I always throw the fish back.
I think I'm going to take advantage of the locked blog to try to write about it. It's the only thing in my life I've ever struggled to make words for. In ways, I think my inability to make words for it accounts for my need to make words upon words for everything else.
I didn't really remember it properly until I was older. I don't know how to explain what I mean by that. I don't know if I remember it properly now. I don't know if it ever happened. I don't know how it couldn't have happened. I don't know how else I'd have these images and feelings and associations, like ghosts. Like less than ghosts. I don't have to see them.
I don't have to write about this.
OK. Looks like I'm not ready.
I don't know if I'll ever be ready.
Funny, I started this post like a bull...charging headlong. It was just a few minutes ago. I was ready then...but now, there just aren't words.
And then again, I don't know if I ever have to be. I'm doing well, now. I don't have to conquer every demon. I'm not doing drugs or cutting myself or fucking everyone. I'm not interested in dying anymore. I'm, strangely, happier than I've ever been.
So maybe I don't have to deal with it. I've lied to every therapist I've ever had, except for the first one, and told them that I've already therapied the sexual abuse. Childhood. out of my system. I have never done therapy about it. I don't want to. I never mentioned it to the first therapist, and I've told all subsequent therapists that I was done.
But lately, I've been so interested in being the boss of my own narrative...I like editing my life story to make it the best story that it can be, and I've found this new power in embracing the positive things in my life. There are so many positive things. I don't want to be damaged goods. I want to edit that phrase, a phrase that has haunted me for years, to "vintage item" or "has character." I've thought for years that I am a very pretty woman who can be purchased by a very fucked up man at a discount rate. Take away the abuse. Sexual. Childhood. and all my husbands wouldn't be able to afford me.
But I don't want to think that anymore. I want to think that I am a vintage item. I'm a Vargas pin-up in a 1964 Playboy. Beautiful, ephemeral, and perhaps a little cum-stained.
There is that movie about cavemen. I always liked the rape scene in that movie. The cave woman is gathering water. She's being watched by a cave man. He sneaks up behind her and fucks her. She struggles, but finally lets him do his business. He leaves her, and she goes back to gathering water.
I can't remember what movie that is, but I know I watched it in high school. I'm not even sure if I'm remembering the scene right...but that's how I like to think of it. I just want to go on, gathering water.