Open

Our relationship is open, but with the understanding that it hurts me when xe does anything sexual with anyone else. I thought xe wouldn't do anything anymore, but, well, I'd never say that xe couldn't. I wouldn't take away the right to consent. Yesses and nos are both important parts of consensual actions. I'm just hurt now.

I feel sad. I knew the practical wasn't right for me. And I thought it wasn't right for us. Xe said, or at least implied as much. But, well, here we are. Yet again. Xe's been with someone else. Again. And I'm sad. Disappointed. Upset. Hurt. I feel alone. I wish that xe hadn't done this. But I've no right to be mad or anything. Thinking back on it, xe never promised not to. Just implied xe wouldn't. Implications and technicality mean I'm the one in the wrong here.

I'm nor sure how much I like my life right now. Earlier today, I thought everything was great. Was in a good mood for a long time. Now, I don't know. I kind of feel empty, sort of hollow and broken. I kind of want to sleep, but I also feel wired, so no sleep for me. I want an escape. I hate this place. I don't want this to be my life. I guess it is.

Xe's implied and promised again and again to stop. xe never does.  I promised not to leave. That it wouldn't be a deal breaker.  Plus, I love xyr. I want xyr to love me.

Abuse?

This is currently a meditations post. I will reorganize it more logically to make sense at a later date.

I have been abused. I think. Mildly. Emotionally. Physically, only by spanking. My dad is a jerk. But is he an abuser? I think so. I mean, he always made me feel like I wasn't worth it. His time. His effort. He got mad when I couldn't do things right. He taunted me when I failed. He let me chose things only to call my choices stupid.

I used to get to pick where to eat. That was one of the common events. And every time, I managed to pick wrong. He'd tell me I could pick anywhere I wanted, then, as soon as I did "well except there! What kind of idiot would pick there to eat in the first place?!" The same was true of picking out toys when there were different types, such as electronics. I remember wanting a pink and blue handheld CD player when I was maybe 7, and he called me every name in the book, and my choice a ridiculous waste of money, because there was one that would play better quality and hold up better that was plain grey and black. I should've gotten that one.

But so many of those things, he was right about. It was a bad idea to get a CD player for aesthetics. It's more the way he went about it. The red in the face, vein popping yelling he did about these things. I was a child and I wanted pretty things. And that made him so mad. It's not that he told me mcdonalds wasn't a good meal every night, or that I should get something that works rather than something that's pretty, it's that he yelled at me, implicitly called me stupid and an idiot, and that he made me feel like I wasn't worthwhile.

I was spanked. It was pretty hard, but it wasn't common. It was usually for particularly dangerous things, like the time I crossed a road with only a 7 year old when I was 6. It made me feel pretty miserable, but I generally accepted it as a fact of life.

I don't know. I don't think these things are bad enough to count as abuse. They instilled in me a sense of helplessness, and a reluctance to make choices. They made me second guess my every decision in a relationship, and made me feel like one wrong move can change me from just being Brittany to being some total idiot who can't say anything worth listening to.

Different Worlds- Nina

I was at my Mamaw's today. We don't see her often, because she's an alcohol abuser and fairly emotionally absent, and my mom and dad have never seen much reason to go see her, as she doesn't much care if we're there. However, she is considered by the neighborhood, competent to watch children, and when we showed up today for about 20 minutes, there were 6 children there, running about the house. Two belonged to my uncle Adam (well, one really, and another who has his name on her birth certificate as the father,  but that's not the point.) three to one neighbor, who was there at the time, but shut off in another room, and one to a different neighbor, who'd let her wander out of the house, and all the way in to Mamaw's house. Anyway, talking to one particular girl, I had this conversation.


Me: Hi, those are neat princess cards you're playing with
Nina: Yeah, I like them. What's your name?
Me: My name is Brittany. What's yours?
Nina: I'm Nina, but my mom calls me Sissy.
Me: That's really cool. My mom calls me sissy too.
Nina: Oh! You have a mom too! Cool!


It's so common in this child's world that someone is abandoned by their parents, that I didn't even have to say "my mom calls me sissy too" to have a common experience to bond about. All I had to say was "I have a mom too" Andrea helpfully chimed in "everyone has a mommy. They just don't always live with you" What she meant was that they abandon you. Not that you live with your dad in a divorce or anything like that. It essentially happened to her too. Her mother moved away and left my Mamaw to watch them. She pays lip service to loving her children, but doesn't see them often at all. I was in a room full of children who considered it an oddity to have two loving parents who actually paid attention to you, and I was at a loss for words. 

Darkness

My girl is dark. She has a scary place inside her mind that sends out some of the most fucked up things I've ever seen. I debated on this a long time ago. Is this a problem? Is it a symptom of a problem? I thought long and hard and realized that no, no it is not. And I haven't had a regret about them since.

Maybe it would be helpful to describe in a bit more detail what I mean by these "things". Her stories, the ones she comes up with in her head are dark. And I'm not saying someone dies in some. I'm saying that in her stories, every character has been orphaned, abandoned, whipped, beaten, scarred, raped, enslaved, in whatever way, everyone comes with extreme damage. When left to wander, her mind goes darker places than I ever could have imagined.

Just last night we had a namic where she was a slave and I was the kind daughter of his owner. She wanted beaten completely bloody, til she could barely move, and once I fixed that, she wanted to be raped and beaten again, turned into scars upon scars. This is her idea of fun. And it's deeper and darker than I could ever come up with on my own. 

I don't know where it comes from. I don't know if it comes from her history of abuse or from something else. Wherever it comes from, I know it in and of itself is not hurting her. And, to tell you the truth, that's all I care about. I love her regardless. In fact, knowing her mind can go to such incredibly dark places makes me feel good about her love for me. I mean, if someone who can be so dark can giggle with me, play with me, give me kisses, feed me touch me with such gentle hands, snuggle me and enjoy herself, that really shows she loves me. She's not just that light and fun with anyone. It takes some real love to pull her mind out of that and into my heart.