5 years

This march was the 5 year anniversary of my sexual assault. At fifteen, it happened at an incredibly formative time in my life, a time that is already so hard. At that age, there's so much work to be done to be ok with being a person, with becoming yourself. There's so much stress and self-hatred even for those of us who manage to magically escape trauma free. But when you throw that trauma into the mix, there's so much more work that needs to be done in order to be able to love yourself and accept the person you are as valid and worthy of love. I had meant to make a post here a month or two ago talking about how far I had come since then. I've genuinely grown so much as a person. I went from being a sad and broken girl who hated herself to a confident and happy woman. I have so much love in my life and a bright future, and I'm genuinely happy with myself and my life. I'll never forget the moment my senior year when my father told me, after a very rough time in my life, that he was glad to see me so happy again. But trauma isn't something that leaves you, despite time and distance and hard work.

He sent me a friend request on facebook today. I saw the name on my screen and immediately began to sob uncontrollably. I had no idea who to go to, my gf was taking an exam, and so I had to decide between seeking out someone who knew about my trauma but who might not be free or someone who I'd have to tell my whole story to. I'm thankful that that someone was there for me, she's one of my good friends who luckily lives right upstairs from me. She made me tea and held my hand while I cried and listened to my story with compassion. After I was able to stop crying, all I felt was intense anger. How dare he. After 5 fucking years, after all the work I've done to heal, he's lived his life free of consequence. He likely doesn't realize the upheaval he caused in my life, the pain, the isolation he caused me. I blamed myself for over a year for what he did. I felt worthless and alone and broken. And he thinks he has the right to my life after all this time. He is nobody, an insignificant man, but with this simple action he made me feel powerless and small again. I feel such intense hatred and a deep, deep sadness. When he had sex with me after I told him I didn't want it, he killed a part of me. Another part of me died again while we sat in silence and he made me tell him that I loved him. And today, by seeking me out, and having the audacity to try and connect with me without awareness of how I'd already died, he killed me a little bit more.

Warning: gross lovey feelings

I scared Em the other night when I told her that she was probably never going to be in a place with as many queer girls or as few cis men again after she graduated. It really is special being here, especially as a queer person. Just the knowledge of my own queer relationship combined with the existence of at least 4 queer relationships I’m aware of between people in my year (In my year!) is enough to make me smile.

She said I had a kindness that is rare. She said I was perhaps the most well-adjusted person she’s ever met.

We went to the farmers market and bought a huge loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese and apple butter and raw honey. We sat on the floor and listened to the Beatles w/out being concerned abt how cheesy it was. We cut the bread into huge slabs and covered it in butter and the cheese and the apple butter and drank wine and were just so so so happy

The snowstorm was the most snow she's seen in her life, we spent the day together playing in it, pushing each other into it, sledding, and drinking hot chocolate. The next day we walked into town to get sushi, it's not the best sushi in the world, but in the moment it was perfect.

We went to reading terminal market and stared at all the food on display, then to chinatown for almond bubble tea and hand pulled noodles

I like sitting in my room on Sundays with her, letting the light come in through my window, working on our own homework.

Writing this, I'm realizing food and sex are the pillars of our relationship.

She smokes and I don’t and it’s ok, we still have a really nice time together.

9 months between summer+study abroad is a long time to not see her in person. 9 months. That’s terrifying. I could conceive+give birth in that time. What the fuck.

I had been thinking about the idea of some kind of open relationship while abroad. She brought up the same idea to me the other day. Something about not wanting to miss out on the "full experience" or whatever the fuck. Idk. It’s a while away. Like yeah it makes sense and it’s what we both want so why does it make me feel kinda ehhhhhh?

I know how stupid this sounds but I honestly don’t want to ever stop spending time with her.

When I see her future, she’s working at a physics lab somewhere discovering how to harness fusion energy or whatever she talks about really excitedly to me that just goes straight over my head. I see myself graduating and moving back in with my parents. Like, she possesses an ability to deal with working towards her future that I’ve never been able to do without freaking out and shutting down. She applied to a large number of American universities/colleges from a school where there wasn’t a college counselor, where classmates are currently married with children. She’s applied to physics internships all over the world. I’m not doing any of the things I’m meant to be doing to prepare for my future. What the fuck even is a cities major. I just have a lot of trouble imagining a happy future apart from the context of other people. Like happiness is living somewhere nice close to my friends. Also, like, I know how harmful and Bad it is but god, when I think about my future happiness, I just think about her. Idk, it’s all just scary. I think everyone’s scared about the future at this point in their lives. Just so much uncertainty. I'm trying to remember to stay in the present.

Maybe more to come. Stay tuned.

Don't do drugs kids

So I've been talking about weed with people irl since I got out of school for break. I had smoked w Em a handful of times. At the best, it makes intimacy really intense. Beyond that though, I usually find it to be relatively boring, it makes me feel kinda slow and dumb, not necessarily in a bad way, but I don't particularly like myself when I'm like that. At the worst, like the last time I smoked with her, I got too high, and felt a deep sadness for about 30 minutes and just was crying for no reason. I was feeling kinda eh about weed in general, and like I wanted to distance myself from it, especially based on my own moral compass. But also I felt bad for feeling that way because Em really likes to smoke and it's something I wanted to be able to share with her. Over break though, I reflected + talked to my therapist about it, and began to kinda get over the moral part. I kinda thought of it more like alcohol, something I would do with her every once in a while as something fun. Getting back to school was great. I was so happy to see her after break, I didn't stop smiling for hours. On sunday evening, she asked if I wanted to smoke w her and a friend, and I said yes, thinking it would be fun. I guess I smoked too much again or maybe I just reacted badly to this type of weed but it was worse than any negative experience I'd ever had smoking before. I felt very intense, specific emotions with no basis. I felt as though I had lost a loved one. I felt a deep discomfort within my body. I saw her face distort into something unrecognizable. Each of these waves of emotion came and went like a rollercoaster, but the worst was the fear. I felt extreme terror, like something awful was coming for me. I just remember sobbing loudly, while Em had no idea what to do and just tried to talk me out of it. The fact that I could have been made to feel such extreme emotions for no reason really freaked me out afterwards, and made me question my own emotional reality. I feel bad because it was so scary and upsetting. I feel bad for making Em worry so much about me, and feel that fear of not knowing what to do. I feel bad because I was so ready to have smoking be a nice, fun thing for us to do together but now the thought of smoking again makes me so scared. I feel bad because I haven't really been myself since and I'm a tiny bit scared that after that night, something broke inside me and I'm going to be depressed/anxious/terrified forever.