koojiru0-blog

[koojiru0-blog]

If Killing is Sane...

Last night and for many nights I’ve had in the past 7 years, I can’t help but remember painful experiences. I dated a psychopath way back in the day, started 9 years ago ended 2 years ago officially.

When people speak of abuse they rarely speak of spiritual in the sense of an athiest abusing a believer (refuse to call myself any spiritual lable but if I must I practiced Wicca and now would lean closer to peganism). In Wicca, all life is sacred and to be honored which is where my title comes from. When I felt safe to, long long ago I was devout, and practiced much my faith taught. So devout even that I refused to kill a spider in my ex’s home, to which he killed it in front of me and went on a rant about ME being insane. Was the death of my spider friend particularly traumatic? Hell no! What was though was the constant meantion of my “religious insanity”. I used to call people like him “bible thumping athiests” figuring it suited much like it would for a God believer.

“Feel as I do about this world or else you suffer the punishment”

“Believe as I do less you be mad”

That sort of utter bullshit I refuse to keep inside, though often days even now it sticks. I back then felt more at peace, happier and fulfilled as a person. I felt spirits around me, energies, read tarot cards, something of which he never truly robbed me of something I still do. There were many aspects to me then, many parts that helped me cope and make sense of this world. There still are mind you, and I’m gaining back some pieces as religion is not everything we are. Much like being gay, bi, or trans does not make us who we are, but is simply a part of our identities and lives. Once that piece of you is robbed though, it cracks our souls and makes them easier to eradicate. Bit by bit we let other parts of ourselves go when facing such abuse, identity abuse I’ll call it (might actually be a term but I really don’t know).

Its so far and few between that people, no matter their faith are called out on this erasure of the self. Its because though, the victims, and survivors tend to be put into a mental emotional haze. We are trained like dogs to not even realize what’s falling away from us like a broken stained glass. We, are told that we are mad that we are the extremists and if we didn’t exist? This world would be at peace. I don’t have as much as I thought to say but let me leave you all with this...

Think about my spider friend. I *underlines I* was the one who lacked sanity, because I refused to kill a spider. He, dubbed himself the most sane because he was almost excited to kill it and rub it in my face. So to people like him (abusers, not athiests...my fiance is an athiest and he honestly gives no fucks about what I believe so long as we can agree to disagree) would rather end a life for a facade of sanity than to admit to their own inner demons.

So...be weary, of those like him.

Because if killing is sane? Then I’m the mother fucking queen of the nutcase tree.

#religious abuse #ptsd #memories #rant #shorter than I thought #emotional abuse

[koojiru0-blog]

If someone tells you they fear dogs, after being attacked by one, is your honest response "not all dogs bite!" If not, then I suggest you stop telling women who fear men "not all men hurt women". We know. We know. That doesn't invalidate our real experiences.

#not all men #fear of men #sexual abuse #emotional abuse #abuse #stfu #stop being a little shit #stop it #validation #its okay #fear happens #not all women

[koojiru0-blog]

Why is it?

Why is it, that men can throw temper tantrums for sex, and get their way...yet when a woman even requests its fine to say "no".

Why is it that my body is not allowed to be mine, that I am not allowed to take pleasure in sex? That I have to be haunted by physical and emotional memories with very little image to recall, due to my mind fearing seeing it happen all over again.

Why can one take what ever the fuck they want and I am not allowed to have even a fucking coffee. Why THE HELL am I not allowed to have my own shit? My own self my own fucking life.

[koojiru0-blog]

7 Years They Say

Trigger warning: death, suicide, sexual/psychological abuse, alchol abuse

Silverlinings/insperation=hopefully many/much...its long, but I hope it can be posted and read, because like "Silverlining Playbook" (the movie) the end I feel makes it worth the hell you'll come to know through this tale.

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I realized some painfully beautiful things last night, and though its not close to the actual annuversaries for me...it soon will be. So I figured I would share this story, MY story of 7 years ago...

7 years...they say it takes 7 years for your skin cells to completely shed, and become all brand new. 7...thats so long ago, yet every day I feel like those demons are right behind me, savoring the thrill of the hunt. I can remember so much, yet so little at the same time. The lines between living and dead so thin, for so long...so far gone are the moments that shaped me, destroyed me...and saved my life in crule lessons I needed desperatly to learn.

Yet, in April...I will be a new, every tainted skin cell from unwanted touches gone...evaportated into dust. That morning...a distant nightmare now, haunting me still...yet much less.

April 9th 2011:

I had opened my eyes to see sunlight, noticing that I hadn't moved since they shut, not even knowing when that was...and after 3 days no sleep with my world in complete shambles around me, I felt distant...far away into another galaxy filled with nothing but reapers, all whispering my name. My body felt like lead, and I couldn't think my mind was viscus as molasis. HE had lead me the night before to his bed, the only place I could sleep he'd told me just hours ago. Lies maybe, perhaps this death of self had been planned right from the begining, every step before calculated waiting for this moment to slip inside of my body and soul one last time to rip what humanity I had left out through my chest, shattering my heart into such small pieces that there would be no hope in putting it back together. Plans, to finish what my family could never do...complete death inside, leaving a hollow shell to roam, feeling nothing and becoming just that.

That moring...he did just what he had set out to achieve, with simple motions that once symbolized pleasure he made it pain. Took me in my state of detachment and fear. Fear...that my ways of saying no had been ignored, so I couldn't fight...I thought to...to scream, to bite him anywhere I could, to say the word no outloud yet every inch of my physical body remained frozen, my voice gone, stripped away like everything else he loathed within me. At some point in my disbelief I ended up playing along, all the while my child self screaming kicking and spewing every word I hated to think myself as...and once he was done discarding my essense of self he smiled, pleased with his actions...and began talking to me as if he didn't just break me in a way I never thought would be possible. The words floated through my mind, everything had gone dark, and that beating heart I fought so hard to keep alive died with the inner fires that once gave me the nickname "Flame". Everything was lost. My best male friend sadly saw me not even an hour later...his words still echo through me when he saw my face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" I, said nothing in return, all I could do, was shove his dog away. So unlike me...no matter my struggles I had never been capable of rejecting an animals love...and yet I pushed the dog away, angry at him for coming into my personal space. My friend knew then, that something was very wrong. He, that friend? Was the first to know, hours later after pestering question after question, the words slipped off my toung and hung in the thickened air between us. I however was no speaking, at least I felt so far away...every detail. I still vividly recall him stopping dead in his tracks, face turning as pale as mine as the truth I didn't want to face came from his lips.

"Thats rape Scarlett..."

As the months rolled by, I began to drink, as much and as often as I could. Words coming from me like machine gun fire, to all who dared ask "how are you?" Mistakenly to our mutual friends as well..."friends" claiming for years that they loved me so turning on me, saying bullshit things to avoid the grusome reality that HE was capable of such horrors. "For comfort" one tried to explain HIS actions this way, another inviting us to the same party, getting furious with me for losing it then. My own grandmother, and boss mad that I dare call assault, how could I?! It wasn't violent, I didn't fight so, how could I call it rape? And so, for a year I was never sober. At first it was...oddly an attempt on my life, trying to destory my liver, or at the very least work up the nerve to down every pill I could while drinking, yet always passing out before I could get there.

Then...one day, the sun was shining, me and my best friend sharing some beers, all may not have been well...but until my phone rang, I had thought things at the very least couldn't get worse.

What little we know, in moments like those.

June 29th or so, 2011...I picked up a call from my grandmother...her tone of voice one I couldn't register yet had I known? I would not have hoped as I foolishly did.

"Your uncle Jack tried to kill himself, and it looks like he did..." her words swam through my mind, landing in the relm of disbelief. I told her I was on my way, my best friend came with me. The whole hour long bus ride lasting what felt like months as I fought between hope and ice cold terror. I mean, I'd done a lot to try to end it by then, and if I lived, how could he die? He would pull through I was certain this was fact by the time we reached the hospital. My family all cracking jokes, laughing and smiling...he wasn't going to die, I was certain...

Even when we were told to come say our final words, I felt this an over cautioned reaction. I was still alive, so he would live too.

I, still not registering anything told him of my regrets of not coming to know him better...second last to say anything. We were never close...so I didn't see any of what happened nexy coming. His ex wife, stroked his head softly, and all I can remember before that shattering moment to come, was her telling him "its okay now, be free". Almost instantly he went, the sound of the machine flatlining rang shrill through me breaking what I thought was true. I remember, trying to stay strong yet all I could feel and be was the horrific reality...I looked to my usually stoik aunt for strength, and saw before me a broken little girl, lost in the same ringing hell as me. It wasn't until my grandma came to me, grabbing my arms eyes wild uttering words I can never forget that I saw the most terrifying thing I could ever imagine. I, saw myself in that hospital bed...everyone I loved and who loved me in our places...

It was then, that one second that all I came to think as true shattered. Reality slapped me harder than any other time in my life, with the weight of what I had nearly done. Even to this day, I must cover my ears in medical shows.

7 years...so long ago, and still so fresh. It dawned on me last night, that I made it though. I, thanks to that day in June, am still here, and how far I've come...I can feel love again, I have a sense of self...I am...

Alive

Alive to tell you my story, the story of my apocolypse, this tale of earth shattering moments I thought may never stop even for a monent.

And yet, within my interal warzone, came days od cease fire, seconds of deafening calm and rebuilding serenity. Those moments, made me stronger than I phathomed possible and gave my passion direction to breath and grow once more into a roaring fire within.

They say after 7 years, every old skin cell gets replaced, leaving yoyr flesh a new. Though there were many more horrors and mistakes to come over the years, I'm still here, still standing, speaking when at a time, I felt scilenced.

It may never fully come to an end, I can't and will never promise you that. But the promise I can make for other survivors is this:

One day, you will grow into brand new skin, skin never owned by monsters and demons.

And like a pheonix, our tears will heal others, and from the ashes we will come into a more beautiful life, one where we will know of our strength, and one where we can safely mourn, our past selves

#sexual abuse #7 years ago #7 years later #hope #tragedy #love #sin #it changed my life

[koojiru0-blog]

IMO, Margaret Atwood was ultimately right: The Handmaid’s Tale is not a sci-fi story. She just had the wrong idea about why it wasn’t. (”It doesn’t involve spaceships and aliens!”)

No, both the book and the TV show feel scarily like documentaries at times. 

They are not sci-fi. 

Cause a Star Trek dude fighting Khan or Luke blowing up the Death Star in space could never really happen. It’s escapist silliness. We all know that. 

But hanging gay people, voting for child molesters, genital mutilation and jailing women for miscarriages? That has happened in the world. A bunch of times, in fact.  

[koojiru0-blog]

Pitty, is it pitty that drives people close to me? I don't want that...I want them to trust and believe in my strength and resolve. Pitty is pennies.

#pitty #i dont want this #my own quote #sad thoughts #depressing thoughts #lifes a journey

[koojiru0-blog]

I wonder, if there’s a duality to it…if one isn’t simply one flower, but perhaps a bouquet of beautiful flowers each hand picked to become part of who we are. For me I have found the rose, daisy, and dandelion.

#rose #frost #daisy #dandelion #winter #thoughts #my muse #instagram #filter #pondering

[koojiru0-blog]

Let's Make This a Thing!

Hey Tumblr peeps! I have an idea...one that I hope catches on!!!

I am going to start doing this, calling abusive "men" boys. Why? Because abusive boys go against what I feel it should mean to be a man. Men are strong externally as much as mentally and emotionally. Men are honorable, kind, caring, good people who do their damndest to uphold morality. I believe this because I know and have known REAL men. Also I think it's high time we changed what it means to be a MAN. Not entirely, not a 180 change by any means but one where we separate horny desperate fucks who use their "masculinity" to oppress anyone who isn't like them (which would include real men, toxic masculinity).

Abusive male people's? Shouldn't be called abusive "men" I think...because they aren't men and we shouldn't give these boys the ego boost of mistaking them for men, they do not deserve this title.

So join me? In calling these types boys, and hopefully reuniting what it is to be a real man.

#boysabusemendont

#real men #boys #change #men #abusive men #abusive boys #letschangeshit #letschangewhatmanmeans #boysarentmen #boysabusemendont

[koojiru0-blog]

Amnesia

People change, this is life and this is fact. Like catapiller to butterfly, we shed the old to become something new and beautiful, just out of everyone's reach never to be destroyed by another, because by this change we come to know who we are, out of what we once were.

What happens though? When your not a butterfly, but a moth? A symbol of death, a pest to others that worship the butterflies of this world...not something beautiful lime everyone else?

Perhaps I was once a butterfly, my grandma did tell me I was...before though, long before I was ripped apart into a nothingness. A nothingness that haunts me every day pieces float back into my vision. Memories that are only recently returning to the best of my knowledge. I can't keep looking back though, the past holds nothing but ghosts for me. It's hard though, to feel it...unwillingly it creeps up like a terminal illness that takes you in the night. Wasting away into a skeleton of what was once a life.

Left crying over dryers to hide it, knowing it will just earn you more anger...crying alone at night praying to God to take you into his gentle embrace. Losing all of your senses is one fucked up kind of journey. I do sometimes remember, but I never know...

If that is who I was...the spit fire that let no sexual predator hurt her, stomping on feet in clubs just to escape a clingy piece of shit thinking his dick had shit to offer me. Never though, did I reciprocate this bullshit I fought back. When men would hunt me down in my nabourhood looking for the working women, I would always run, dial 911...they often ran before I hit the final 1...once I even picked up an ice chunk and aimed for one fuckers windshield...one who knew how to defend herself...

Is gone...shes dead...and hasn't been alive in nearly 7 years now...destroyed in one moment in time...

Second weekend of April...in 2011 she died and to this day I am still not fully aware of this demise. She almost lived...until June rolled around when they all hated her for being fucked up beyond repair after...when he died before her eyes, the same way she had been hoping to die...she saw the aftermath and died again. Sometimes I think she breaths but in all honesty I'm just staring a corpse rotten by years of passing. She saved me so many times...she was strong and then she shattered...lost me screaming for her to fight, to scream to bite anything to escape the things she never wanted to do.

Maybe I shouldn't have called her those names, maybe shed still be alive if I had kept my mouth shut that morning she was destroyed.

Desperate whore...

Stupid delusional slut...

I was so mad that she froze and withdrew, hearing only my angry voice. Her final days she blamed herself, hated herself thinking if she fought harder she would have never have sustained fatal wounds to her soul...bleeding out before my eyes...and finally she vanished. I thought she lived still, holding the hand of a ghost for a time after, until another lied about going through such misery, one who told her he knew how she felt then...

But she wasnt really alive even then but it brought back the moment she died. Viciously ruthless emotionless a lie that brought back her death and made it appear current...my illusion my soul hope shattered in an instant of memory...she was never alive though, not for 6 years. Stroking her hair, as her flesh decayed I didn't even notice the smell...

Now? I'm trying hard to live...but only she had life in her. Me? I am rage, sorrow, death and everything that's made to destroy...everything void of life...everything people hate...a nothingness trying to become human. Human...I don't understand what that means, never did...but she knew, she thrived even in adversity she didn't hide away and cry like me, not until he pushed her into her illness. Her parents weren't great and her parents left her with wounds I felt catastrophic, but we didn't know catastrophe until that day...upheaval and death...is how I was born. That's when she left me alone inside...and I just realized this truth recently.

Dead...

Gone...

I've forgotten

Her voice...

#memories #ghost #haunted #lost who i was #amnesia #who was i #who am i #what am i #where did she go #what happened #ptsd #new self #death of self #i miss her #im lost #2011

[koojiru0-blog]

It wasn't real. It was the past. It wasn't it wasn't.

It wasn't...coercion, there were no threaghts. He was just vaild in being upset. I did interrupt his attempt to "take matters into his own hands" I thought he left the area to hurt himself. I was wrong I was just projecting my own personal wants to die onto him and as a result i stopped him from relief. He wanted a blowjob...and I...wasnt feeling up to it as per usual. I said some but not till the end though because I want to make him happy. I figured a little or as much as I could stand...that shit often makes me feel ill but that's not his fault. He does things for me so I wanted to try. My stomach hurt though, still does. This angered him to learn. So he walked off to take care of it himself and I interrupted. I made a mistake in my anxious paranoia of him dying, when really that was me wanting to die. I didn't say no, I didn't. I was trying to compromise and agree...but he's right he does so many things for me...I just was worried I'd be sick which I guess I should have crossed that bridge when I got there...which we did. Remember I said nothing, no no, no fighting. I had already agreed previous to the blow up. So the way I'm reacting now isn't the present, it's not real and it's all in my memories, a nightmare long over. Anyways, he pointed out that I had real cigarettes that day, when because of some horrific actions on my end I was told to roll my smokes out of butts because I'm the one who spent even the rent money on drugs. I can't remember when, when he pointed that out but if I were being honest I kinda don't even know why that was important when he'd been watching me smoke real cigs all day saying nothing. Maybe...no...i can't feed this memory delusion.

We got into a fight...a sexless relationship he said. I felt hurt by that, rarely did I say no to sex, just complete blow jobs. I had even tried to initiate like twice recently, something that terrifies me and makes me go ice cold. But he's right I should initiate more I don't want him to think that I have no interest, or less interest than I actually do. So I had thought I was doing better in that regard, better in letting him know this isn't and won't be sexless as a relationship.

He was mad though when I interrupted his personal matters, and it made me cry and my head spin. Sincerely I thought he was going to hurt himself. But I understand his anger. He did try and comfort me when I completely lost It, I felt so confused. My head was spinning and my already upset stomach hurt worse. I was trying but I can't play the victim here, I could be doing 10×better I really could. I'm lazy sometimes, caught up in my own little world sometimes. And I often get lost in the past. Which reared its ugly head and clouded my understanding of the whole situation even when I woke up it made me believe in a delusion. Sure I was crying as I performed my task, but only a few tears that never made it to his skin and were whipped away, "my face was itchy" you see. That's a good way to hide tears by the way, subtle and few tears are easy to hide when your face is itchy. So he still has no idea I was crying if he did he wouldn't have let me go so far if he knew I was losing it and being thrown fast back to a bad time and place.

That time was filmed. The domination over me...that sick and twisted man who left bruises all over my body...that, THAT was real. My interpretation of last night was not. My mind was just stuck back then, a little back with my ex too...

Why? Why do men beg so much? Why do they persue until you give in when originally your trying to sleep? Not all men, believe me it's not all men. My boyfriend now was rightfully upset. I'm not the victim. I'm just expressing the flashback in order to bring myself back to here to now.

I told his friend what happened, and one of mine I shouldn't have though, shouldn't have said a damned word because while I'm living here in past land? It's all going to come out wrong, it's going to make my boyfriend now out to be some asshole but he's not I went along with it. I didn't say yes but I didn't stop him. When he told me to do something with his body I did almost right away. That was me consenting and somehow I fell into the past. I don't remember or even think I ever knew where I was going with this. I just feel weak and sick...but he did have a stomach bug not even 3 days ago. I threw up but that's just the bug.

I know...I know I sound like I'm trying to hard to convince myself it was Okay, I also know many will see this and think me the victim, think him a person who coerced me but don't think that. That would be feeding a delusional mind. You, me, anyone who thinks it was bad, were all delusional if we honestly could call it bad. I've been through bad, I've been coerced it's not the same it can't be and it isn't.

Maybe I need serious help...the past felt so real in the moment and I wanted to die. But it was fake it wasn't real.

I told his friend what I thought were the details...and now all I could do was beg him to ignore me and that anything that isn't in agreeance with the past theory is to fees a delusion so I can only pray that he listens and ignores my flashback.

That's all it was, and I guess that's why I'm posting is to resolidify that, wrap my head around the truth.

It. Was. The. Past. A. Flashback. A. Bad. One.

I don't know how to figure out who can help me with that, like a doctor...my psychiatrist isn't exactly steller (put me back on a medication that made me severely depressed and one I tried to use to end my life. An endevor that I had almost completed that time. The medication is pretty toxic) and last time I told her I was having relationship issues she just said "leave him" like...its that easy when your mind lives in the past and mistakes it for the present. Last appointment she called him my teddy bear.

So I've done it again I've realized reality. He wouldn't and couldn't do that to me, not knowingly not on purpose. It was my doing.

I consented. He might have gotten angry before, I may have cried and perhaps even he told me to do things to his body soon after I detached but I still moved, I still made that choice.

I'm Okay now.

Fucking flashbacks.

#flashbacks #ptsd #it wasnt #he wouldnt #it was all a dream #all in my mind #false beliefs #past

[koojiru0-blog]

Hungry? Get $10 off your first order on #UberEATS with my code: eats-crystals14229ue.

[koojiru0-blog]

But first I’ll make you strong.

[koojiru0-blog]

When escaping mental and emotional abuse give this a listen

[koojiru0-blog]

[koojiru0-blog]

Too many young people still aren’t getting any sex education at all, or they’re getting shaming abstinence-only-until-marriage programs. 

Sign on to fight for better sex education: http://p.ppfa.org/2fXmT5s

[koojiru0-blog]

If language was a perfect tool every thought and feeling could be put into words. – Michael Lipsey

[koojiru0-blog]

Revenge

Today I discovered a whole type of movie called "rape revenge" movies! This was sparked by recalling one of my favorite movie quotes from Arang, if you haven't seen it OMFG please do if you can handle horror! It's a Korean horror movie/rape revenge film. Anyways this got me thinking about revenge, and everything I've learned about it in my past, my obsession to have justice where the system failed me and people I care deeply for. I've taken to heart many quotes on revenge and ending the assailants life, like Ciel from Black Butler, Kakashis wise words from Naruto, Pensituckys outlook on her own assailant in Orange is the New Black (k that one she was just gonna.....show him how it felt but idk if you haven't seen that part of the series do watch it XP she became one of my favorite characters after that arch). And, over the past 6 years I've listened, I've worked hard to put those moments into practice. My mother always said that the best revenge is to live a happy life. However, is that truly revenge? Why would I strive to be happy for the sake of vengeance? Is that not still letting them consume my mind? Isn't it just surviving for the sake of someone else? How could one truly be happy with that? Honestly if I was going to do that I would have killed at least one of the various mofos who fucked me or hurt me against my will. Because to me it's that level of letting them win. Kinda like in Wentworth (spoiler for season 1 read with caution)

Where B stabs that lady (Jaks?) And the woman dies smiling because right before she went on about how she knew B was like her. And I don't want that. If I live to seek revenge they win! I'm not truly living if it's all to spite these people. If I live for me though, if I distance myself from their memories (as much as I can anyways it's not always with in my control) and one day forget their faces, their voices and their touch upon my skin that's when I win. When I live for me, that's when I will succeed. I think that this whole concept of getting revenge is bullshit honestly. I also think though forgiving them is equally as bullshit because to me that's like forgetting. Letting it go, letting it slide drives me just as insane as thinking about justice. I can't forget I will never forget. But would killing them or putting them in prison and finding a way to "make sure theyre treated right" (which in theory I could do if I got them thrown away) really change the past? Would it undo this past 6 years of painful memories, of crying when I realize what i lost, of being preoccupied with this concept? No, and it wouldn't change the ice in my veins from the sure terror of reading about psychopaths and finding too many matching symptoms with my ex (first assailant within memory, 3rd over all) it wouldn't change the bile rising from my stomach every time I thought someone looked like one of these fuckers. Forgiving them would change just about the same amount of shit. Forgetting may lead me to forgive and let them back in, because that's how I am. My ex apologized after 4 years, when I finally told him my side of our parting 6 years ago. And I forgave him, i let it go, and what happened after that? We got back together, he abused me mentally again, used me again, and pestered me until I gave him what he wanted every night I was over. So no I won't forgive again I don't need to. I don't want to forget ever again either, but I also don't want justice. I just want it to be like your small home town as you venture off to college or uni, something that fades away with each mile taken, each inch you go away from it. That to me isn't Forgetting, it's more like letting it all seem like a horrible nightmare. I don't forget my nightmares if they're scary enough but I also don't walk around letting them tie me to the why's, how's, what's. And that's all I want, to live for me, to live away from it all. I will never have my justice No, but I will never become them. As I said in a short story I wrote

"Live, because survivings not enough"

<3 thank you

#revenge #nightmare #past #letting go #memories #i will never forget #i will never forgive them #i will not seek revenge #live for yourself #survivor #strength #killing is pointless