Post sexual assault thoughts. 

After a month of hiatus, you messaged again. Here’s a recap of my last month or so.

Mother’s day eve a sexual assault shattered me to pieces. I thought I knew what rape felt like, I thought I was aware of everything that anyone could’ve taken from me.  I was wrong, i trusted blindly and he took an opportunity and wounded me. I sat in a state of shock in the hospital, I tried to comfort the two friends that went with me to the ER. I looked at the doctor and nurses in the eye and told them coldly and methodically what had happened. Not a tear was shed that night.

But then, grad school got tough(er), family financial challenges worry me and other family problems enhance the own shit I had going on. It’s like magick, in a bad way, trauma makes you overreact to overly simple things and make daily things even more challenging to deal with.

That night, after I got home from the ER, I tried to message and notify my other lovers that due to the sexual assault, we would have to wait and see for new std results. I told them what happened, how it happened and they were all aware I was dating this individual. Then again, the predators are often closer than what we expect, you fail to recognize it and that’s then they take out their claws. K and D, really did not offer emotional support and communication eventually died out with D. Waya also distanced himself. They, my lovers and people I am trying to form a personal intimate connection with, left for many reasons. Many reasons and many circumstances (which were explained later on) led them to distanced themselves from me and, thus, I felt abandoned and sick and broken.

It was emotionally a very hard month, but I focused on school and training mostly. I barely ate, barely slept and went to bed drunk almost every Friday and Saturday. I stopped all sexual contact abruptly. I cried myself to sleep almost every night. I, I, I, I. Yes, I definitely was emotionally abandoned by my lovers at that point. Or at least none contacted me for a while,  what hurts the most is not knowing where I stand with anyone. I love deeply and communication, open and honest, is very important between me and the ones I love. Not knowing why communication stopped and what was going on in their lives that made it that way was like a constant worry and constant “what the fuck is going on? Are they ok? Are we ok? Am I ok? Why me? Why this? Am I wrong? Are they right?” Worrying for my lovers never stops for me. It’s hard to not care, it’s hard to know they are most likely ignoring your calls and texts and you have no clue why.

I contemplated suicide but then realized that was the selfish “exit” and it would only bring a bigger burden to my family and friends. Sisscors in my cold skin felt amazing, seeing the blood coming out from my thighs in the tub was relaxing, not knowing when would be enough was the scary part. I knew I did not wanted to kill myself when I grab the scissors, but I also know that physical pain numbs my emotional pain. And so, I sent a snap to K (maybe that was my cry to help) and it was a picture of a slash in the thigh and that led to her trying to commit suicide. Again, for other reasons, but it triggered her to go back to slashing her own thighs. She had to go to the hospital to get assistance for that. And so my cry of help, harmed her deeply.

The last time I did saw her, at least we finally kissed. But then I flinch when she tried to advance. I’ve become sexually numb. And it’s hard to trust and let people in when I feel constantly abandoned. Why would I expose myself again? at what cost? how would I know I won’t be wounded again?


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