The Curse of The Thinker

The Thinking Man sculpture at Musée Rodin in Paris

Image via Wikipedia

*I feel I should say that something here may be a trigger for some but the tricky thing there is – I might never know what is a trigger, they can be almost anything.  I am sorry. I don’t want to upset anyone.

I think too much.

The feeling today is a tightness; in my chest, my jaw and strangely, my back is really sore and aching.  I’d like a massage to force my muscles to relax.  I know it works.  But get this…

I worked up the guts to get one not too long ago.  It’s the eyes closed part – I don’t like it any more.  But my GP said I should do it. So I go into one of those random places at the shopping centre (maybe my first mistake, sure, but finances versus need, you know).  I just closed my eyes and tried to relax.  Going ok until he stands to the side of me and I can feels his crotch up against my arm.  Not rubbing or really pressing, just there.

I want to say that I don’t believe it was on purpose.  There was no…sign…that it was on purpose.  But if I could feel him, couldn’t he feel that he was touching me?  Am I being stupid to think that he didn’t know?  Or am I being over-sensitive, assuming sinister motives?  Do I sound stupid even asking that?  Do I want anyone to answer me, because I’d feel stupid to hear the answer?  Argh!

I actually feel like asking a male, If you were standing so that you were against someone’s arm, you could feel that you were against them, couldn’t you?  I imagine if I did, they would laugh.  My face is scrunched up as I type.  Yuck.  But that wasn’t what upset me the most about that day.  What upset me was that I didn’t move my arm.  I froze.  My body was frozen (AGAIN, learn a lesson, ffs) and veeeery slowly I was thinking, ‘Is he touching me?  Does he know he’s touching me?  No.  He must.  This is so awkward’  That’s what I was thinking.  It was AWKWARD.  What the hell is wrong with my brain?  I thought, ‘If I move my arm, he’ll realise he was in contact with me. He’ll be really embarrassed‘.  What.  The.  Fuck?  I can feel it still. And I didn’t move my arm.  I’m so mad at myself now!  How is this logical?  I spend many days inside the house because the thought of people SEEING me completely terrifies me.  But someone is making contact with their genitals and I DON’T WANT TO CAUSE TROUBLE. Don’t want to get it WRONG.

This is really shitty.  Can this be true?  It has taken me this long to accept that my body didn’t react with FIGHT earlier THE OTHER TIMES.  For me, it becomes like an out of body experience.  Like trying to run underwater…I think in slow motion, but my brain is at least faster than my body.  I am paralysed.  Just at the times I should kick and lash out…

This is terrifying news for myself, I have to say.  How am I supposed to protect myself when my internal systems fail, even after all that happened?  Shouldn’t I know better?  

That makes me think of a time not long ago when I had forgotten to put the bins out and they were overflowing.  I didn’t want to put them out after dark because my unit is at the back and I have a long walk in the dark to get to the curb.  But I talked myself into it.  As I reached the curb I noticed a man.  I don’t know where he was going.  He might’ve been a neighbour.  But he walked right behind me all the way to my front door.  So if he was a neighbour, he was a thoughtless or pervy one.  I was trying to be cool, DIDN’T WANT TO LOOK SILLY IF I GOT IT WRONG.  As if getting it ‘wrong’ would be worse than being RIGHT about it.  Anyway, I didn’t change my stride, just kept walking and thought, honest to god, ‘I really hope he doesn’t rape me.  I can’t be bothered with that‘.  It was like fatigue.  Can you have that? Assault fatigue?  Can it really go through your head like ‘ugh, that’d be annoying…’?  I’m so angry and hyper-vigilant in my day to day life, everywhere I go and even when I go nowhere.  Then I’m confronted or feel threatened and I think, ‘ah, this will be really shitty if I’m correct‘.

It is crazy but sort of makes sense to me in a way.  Like there’s another voice saying, ‘You’ve tried your best to be safe.  If they go for you here, there’s nothing more you could’ve done’.  Fucked up reasoning.  No one could understand unless they had felt the exact same way.  It’d make me feel better if someone did but I don’t really want someone to feel that tired of trying to stay safe that they give up a bit.  It’s sad.  I can see the ‘well, if he tries when I’m putting my own bins out…’ defeat but why didn’t I instead think, ‘I’ll punch you in the face’?

Someone ‘playfully’ pinched my chest recently (someone safe, no danger) and I flipped the hell out.  Nearly spat on her.  Said in a low, threatening voice, “Don’t.  You.  Touch.  Me!”  But I thought that night, ‘I really hope he doesn’t rape me.  I cannot be bothered with that‘.  What??

Okay, didn’t know I was consciously thinking about that.  This post is one for the next counselling session.  It doesn’t sit very well in my stomach…*face still scrunched up*

Makes me want to head straight to the kitchen to eat until I feel sick. Which is what the last counselling session was about.  I’m trying, after more than a year of scratching the skin off my wrist, to let the poor thing heal.  But I am eating so much.  And it’s a change in my behaviour enough for me to bring it up with the counsellor.  Like the alarm bell is going off (one system still works then) so I’m verbalising it so I don’t let it go too far.

I really don’t like admitting major weaknesses in what I once considered a pretty tough, intelligent character.  You know?  I WANT to feel good and strong and RELEASED again.  I don’t feel hopeless.  I feel pissed off, like my grand plans for living a great life have been hijacked by that really shitty man and a really shitty process to pursue some form of justice.  Feeling really hard on myself now.  Stupid.  Oh dear, those Tim Tams have no chance.  So I’ll go to bed feeling sick and full and that I’ve tried to punish myself.  For what?  Fark it’s hard to have your emotions in their raw state, then your brain analysing them and deciding if they’re valid/smart/worthwhile enough.  I mean, I take pride in the fact that I’m a ‘thinker’ but that can really come back to get you sometimes.

Night is worse.  Day time you have things to do.  There’s routine, I guess.  Easier to be distracted.  Night time?  It all swirls around in my head.  It’s like someone flicking through all of the radio stations and not picking one…does that make any sense?  Just bits of thoughts. Too much.  Have to focus to shut it up.  I’ve got to stop for now. Blah.

Tonight I watched ‘Outnumbered’ out of the corner of my eye while I typed this and the little girl, Karen, said this:

“Your head has lots of drawers in it…and at night all the stuff just wiggles around in your head and makes weird films for you.  It’s just like…I don’t need that”

What she said!


2 thoughts on “The Curse of The Thinker

  1. This is why i can’t sleep. I cannot turn my head off! Sounds like the wee girl has got it right. Turn off the freaky films! m xoox

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