The next 50 years

 http://www.pete-walker.com/fAQsComplexPTSD.html I'm reading along here, once again trying to find out how to ease off the constancy of triggers.  I guess I already have quite a lot of methods of coping already but I see there's need for more.  I'd like to see that I'm doing it before I get going, for instance, and remember to stop. I'm only just coming to understand the whole business of triggers.  Starting to understand that I'm being triggered. At this point I'm working on avoidance but it's incomplete. Sure I can stop watching TV entirely, but it comes up in the stupidest of reminscences.  Like a post on afros and the only afro I ever met in my entire life is tagged to a terrible time in my life and belonged to a queen bully. But I was too autistic to recognize the dynamics. Well with the CPTSD one of the symptoms is fawning, and I realize that's what's going on when I sit there endlessly trying to explain myself.  But others see it as making...

 A long time ago when the internet was wild and young and nobody was policing yet, I surfed some very dark back pages. Well really it was the newsgroups and file sharing sites. You'd find child rape. I think I viewed maybe three or four files before deciding my curiousity was served. I deleted them and never did it again. It was still awhile before the police formed ICE, but I really didn't want that stuff.  There were also snuff porn clips, cannibal and bdsm fantasy art, etc.  I was just really learning about humans. Well this one child has haunted me. Her eyes were so hollow and resolute, her expression flat.  Her pose was terribly uncomfortable but that paled in comparison to what the hairy male torso and arms was inflicting upon her. The title of the clip had indicated that he was demonstrating how well broken in this child was.  The child in question was not more than four or five. Perhaps six if tiny enough, and her face, and that expression, as the man di...

 "just be a good human, be humble, be kind, spread joy, peace and love."  Ok, I'm down with that, except that part about being humble. What the fuck does that actually mean?  Because far as I can tell, it means "and don't argue with assholes, let them have their way, or you're a bad person who thinks too much of themselves.'  It would seem that having self confidence prevents you being a good person?  Yeah, it's that dumb.  I think the humble part is the christian injection and christianity is all about making us chase our tails desperately trying to follow instructions that, while seeming good at first, in fact are impossible. How can you be a good human while still thinking you're a worm beneath the foot of anyone "better" than you. The whole idea of humility assumes there's "betters and lessers" and that the betters should simply pretend they're not better, so the lessers can feel ok.   IOW, I think Humility is a cro...

 So I have a tree problem.  As trees are, it's big. I can't be stuffing wood in the back of my smart car, to haul to the dump for burying.  Nor can I season it as firewood in my yard, it's manchurian elm.  I'm not sure if there's a penalty for that, but they conduct sweeps looking for elm firewood and maybe they take all your wood? Well so the trees got really big while I was sick. Out of control huge. Beyond my capacity even while well.  I was beginning to wonder what it would cost to get a professional to cut them. Well it would cost around two grand, maybe three.  Yeah, which i can't find in my wallet for any amount of wishing. Magic doesn't like money and you can't magic up money therefor.  You have to cheat people for money more than you've earned. Ok back to the story, so this one arborist pointed out that the electrical wires are all through the trees and he can't even go at it till the city does the "electrical clearance" part o...

 One of the happy things for me was that I loved and idolized my father.  That was a happy thing, a rock in my mind, a safe space.  Father's love, daddy's girl, my dad was amazing, etc.   But he wasn't perfect, for all he insisted he was. I forgive him, did he or didn't he get sexual, I don't know, there's no memories even now of anything improper. But now when I see "daddy's girl" and "daddy loves you" on things out there, I'm sad. Goddamnit, another trigger. Another thing to be sad about. How in hell do I go another fifty years in this head?  Memories don't erase. Knowlege doesn't go away. How do I just relax and be happy if everything I see, think or do reminds me of something sad?  I already accept that I have to keep apart from others for being too negative, but this? Am I never to be content and at peace, or even happy, ever again?

 So first the Jeffrey Epstien scandal broke.  Then Netflix put out a docu interviewing his victims, talking about his operation, and etc.  Then I came across Anneke Lucas talking about the european wealthy pedophiles and her suffering at their hands. Then I start to understand myself a little more. I do not believe I've been raped, but I do believe I've been molested.  I think I was molested in the evenings as a way of getting me to sleep. I think I was molested by a grand parent briefly, and that might have been oral? Or there wasa neighborhood boy who tried that on me. Probably because I was always sucking my thumb. BTW, late lasting thumb sucking is a symptom of childhood sexual interference.  Hanging onto juvenile behaviour like that for self comfort. But lots of other things can cause it. As with every other sign in myself of possible interference, other things could cause it. I think I remember the neighborhood boy. After that period, sexual assault took a...

 Oh the skeletons, the skeletons that rattle in my closet.  The clicking and the clatter beats my brain into a batter I only asked what's the matter now they cannot still nor shatter. I had to clean the closet out you, see, the smell was much too odious to me. I needed the light, the air and the space, I wanted to put some clothes in their place.  But now they dance about the place, alive as live can be. They meddle and they clatter and they do so bother me.  The knitting's all a-tangle, the loom it's gone to dangles, and I can't find my readers even if they're on my lid. You must clean out your closet or the bugs will never quit, you must shovel out every ounce of blood, tears and shit. It's a thankless task and most wait too late, and the wash water is tears for all the grief that you ate.  It won't be pretty and it won't be nice and the empty closet will feel cold as ice. The grief that you know feels safer than this, but courage won't count if yo...

 There's literally a slide picture that my mother took where my father's hand disappears under my lucky blanket, my pants are partially down, he's slouching, I'm sucking my thumb, he's got his eyes closed, face relaxed, as if asleep.  I may not specifically have memories of abuse, but that's about all I don't have, really.  It's possible that the early sexualization, so early in fact I didn't know to hide it at first, started the isolation that led to my becoming socially deprived and unable ever to catch up. The extra whammy of a narc mother pleased to support the bully agenda and keep me to herself was not to my advantage! By age eight I was already feeling suicidal. I remember trying to imagine myself to death.  I also found it a good way to go to sleep. I suffered such terrible insomnia. Sometimes when I tried to sleep, I'd suffer a weird night mare that would seize me out of sleep instantly and leave me bolt upright staring in the dark. The ...

 I'm listening to someone's story.  It's a story of horrific proportions. Something out of the trashiest smut novels that ever occupied the space under a mattress.  I've read too mny fiction and fantasy accounts not to believe her story. I also keep needing the comfort of "she could be an actress with a good script."  But I do believe her. Well of course her story isn't what I"m here to work on, but my response to it. First off, I feel better about my life becuase it truly could have been worse. I wonder how my sweet cousin was treated.  She's touched ever so lightly on the fact that she wasn't untouched, but this kind of thing is so heavy. So damn heavy. If it wasn't for the foul fiction I've face, from age 11 onward, I wouldn't be able to stand to hear it at all.   My mother read novels with severe sadism and rape scenes intricately described for the purpose of pornographic enjoyment.  I got my hands on them, well before I should...

 I've been studying up on queer history.  Because youtube has it and it's there. But what's coming out for me is how much of my life has been subtly affected by straight moral codes. I've been SO queer, as a woman, queer.  I mean, all the queer man things, the bright colours, art, outrageous fashion sense, sensitive emotions, and on and on.  Queer as it gets. But female. Which made it feminine.  Ultrafemme sometimes. Yet not. Because I'm not. I'm a man. Even queer men get masculine sometimes and it leaks out. Which is fine when you're a man. But not so fine when you're a woman.  What would you get if you dropped a queer man, not a transwoman, mind you, a cisman. He is male and thinks of himself as male, etc., but straddles the middle of the gender scale with feminine qualities. Now were these inherent in my character or created by my experience? After all, I was being raised to be feminine.  Well at any rate I see the sexin both genders so I can't ex...

 I see better why people try to keep others out of isolation, more or less. I mean, they put people there to punish them for poor social behaviour, but then talk about how inhumane and damaging it is.  It's a funny world. So one of the things I just learned is that when you're alone that much, this much, like me, it causes face blindness.  When I was young, I had a knack for faces. I was proud of it.  My social skills were far better too, I could slap on a smile and work my way through some compliments and the rest.  Nowadays I can barely talk enough to complete a transaction. Funny thing is, it results in further social isolation.  People just don't want to deal with it.  They'll all have reasons, none of which will be valid.  Kind of like I've fallen into the Uncanny Valley where I am too human to not be human enough. "Something wrong with them."  And of course I also have a ton of side effects from the isolation, such as lack of conversati...