I didn’t think I had anything to say about this one. But I googled it to get the definition:
- limit someone in their movements, senses, or activities
- put out of action
- prevent or discourage someone from doing something
Some of the synonyms: incapacitate, impair, damage, put out of action, render/make powerless, weaken, debilitate.
So yeah, I thought disable….what? which one of us came up with that? what the hell can I say about that one? But actually I feel like just writing out the definition says enough. Yeah, it’s yet another response to one our words that revolves around the abuse, but there you go.
Being sexually abused is disabling Being abused is disabling. The sexual stuff, the verbal stuff, the physical stuff, the emotional stuff. The living with a narcissistic mother, the having a father that parents with his fist, the having a father that isn’t there to parent the vast majority of the time, the inappropriateness that you can’t find the words for, the scary stuff that you know the words for but nobody wants to hear.
I have anxiety, I have OCD, I am scared of people, I dissociate. I have always been too scared of dating once it feels like it will move into being sexual. The one person that I have had sex with since being a kid is a man that hurts me. I’m scared of putting myself out there in a difficult job. I don’t like being noticed, I don’t like people seeing me. I don’t feel worthy. Attention scares me because attention doesn’t feel safe. I hide away and keep myself small. I get scared when I do things, I feel like I can hear everybody’s thoughts about how awful I am and how they don’t like me. I assume I will get hurt all the time; it’s my basic assumption.
This shit is disabling.
Trigger Warning – this post contains graphic details of abuse
I’m 25 years old. I’m alone in my house, perfectly safe. The doors are locked, I know I am alone. I am an adult, I have a voice, and I have control. It’s sunny outside. There’s all sorts of noises outside from cars and people milling around shopping, walking barking dogs, talking to each other.
Only I’m not 25 years old and I’m not safe. I’m only 8, I’m on his bed, and he’s put my knees up high after getting me to take my trousers off. I’m really panicking, I don’t want this, I really really don’t want this. I start to squirm, I make a noise that isn’t a cry but not far off. He looks at me with hatred and anger, pushes my legs down. The message is clear: this is happening, the more you try for it not to happen the more angry and the worse I’ll be. He goes in again, mouth against me, and I need him off. I NEED HIM OFF. I put my feet on his shoulders and I push really hard. He’s way stronger than me, but I have caught him off guard. I push him away, and I think I stop it happening. Or I stopped that happening at least. I can’t remember what happened after that, but I have a feeling I was forced to do things to him. Anyway my victory was short lived, and this was a regular thing for him to do to me. Want to hear something disgusting? Sometimes I didn’t mind it so much. Want to hear something even more disgusting? When the guy I have sex with sometimes tries to do this to me I get triggered. The thoughts going through my head…you’re not as good as my brother.
I tell myself I’m safe, that I’m feeling these things in my body but they arent really happening. I try to keep pressure against myself down there so that I know that it’s just me there, nobody else, and nobody can get access. And I’m 25. A triggered 25 year old that read a book that was too much, and now has the word “mouth” going around and around in her head, and in her body.
I’m not an adult, I’m 9 years old and he’s locked us in the bathroom, hes shoving his penis down my throat and forcing the action, and not letting me pull away, however hard I try. I gag, I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating and I can’t pull away. I blame myself because I suck my thumb and doing that made him think of it.
I’m an adult and I’m safe, and yet I’m not. I’ve spent days feeling sick, being tortured by all of this bullshit, and a whole lot more. I’m not just thinking of it, I’m in a ball, unable to move, its happening, and I keep my jaw locked and my legs tight shut. I fucking hate it.
I adore my friend. And I adore how sometimes when I ask her if she loves me (because I’m little, because I need her to say it, confirm it, so I can believe it), she’ll sometimes say she adores me.
“Do you still love me?” ….. “I adore you”.
Such a small little difference, but it makes my heart feel big and full. Makes me want to hug her really tight.
Guess what? I adore her too.