- I cannot keep working two jobs while taking eighteen credit hours.
- I cannot listen to family members, who claim to be feminist, going on about how I’m a huge heinous bitch for setting boundaries and cutting toxic people out of my life.
- I cannot listen to “you’re going to die alone, with no one who loves you, and a huge house of cats.” Not from anyone, but especially not from family.
- I cannot pretend to like people who are misogynist, racist, or classist for any reason, but especially not for the sake of people who want me to perform femininity according to their exact specifications.
- I cannot keep living in South Dakota.
- I cannot deal with a former co-worker, who once pushed me against a wall, held a paper towel over my mouth, and asked me if it smelled like chloroform—who used to follow me around making jokes about murdering women—who made numerous rape threats—I cannot deal with this person harassing me on the dance floor, following me around, and forcing me to stare at his stupid weasel face while he thrusts his bony pelvis out. All I can think about is being shoved against the wall with all the hanging knives pressing into my back while he presses the paper towel against my mouth and tells me he’s going to follow me home after work. I cannot deal with this person; I hope he dies.
- I cannot shake all the terrible things I heard from terrible Mike, all the semi-consensual physical encounters, all the hurtful bullshit he said.
- I cannot eat like a normal person, and I want to. So fucking much.
- I should not blog while drunk.
Hi, I Haz a White Whine.
Again my comment about making things personal, and people have less to say.
To add, it’s easy to have high-minded conversations about racism and misogyny and class warfare (ha) and, yes, rape and sexual harassment. It’s another to be faced with people who either a) are the bigotry and violence made flesh or b) pretend it’s not happening and refuse to see otherwise. It’s exhausting at “best” – and completely crippling at worst.
And, again, I don’t have the words to sooth it when it’s personal, because words no longer help. However, truly and honestly, I believe everyone needs counseling and therapy at some point in their lives – I wish this would be available to you right now, since I can’t help. Of course, I already assume the answer is a lack of access and funds.
But… help is often necessary to get past sexual trauma, and, in my experience, critical for dealing with ED.
I know too many women proof of the former, and my sister would be proof of the later.
Completely agree, and thanks for the comment.
I think there is a sliding scale therapist in town, and there’s also student health (when it’s not packed with football players needing physicals); I just need to pick up the phone and call! (Sometimes that’s the hardest part. Siiiiiiigh.)