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I have anonymously shared things on novni about my life. Not names of people or too much specifics, but I think it was sometimes just too sexually disclosing and honest.
My novni posts got removed or turned to private.
I struggle with things (kidnapping, years of teen slavery, sexual assaults, violence, exploitation....). My life is completely crazy. It's too unbelievable for others to believe.
I realize I am not at all like most people. I may as well have been born on another planet. No one really understands me, no one except some therapists, other survivors, and church people know me. Of course family and friends who were also raped know, but we don't talk about it. It's too painful and uncomfortable to discuss.
I used to even post sometimes my experiences, thoughts, and feelings on another rape center internet website. It's kind of a #me2 site where I could tell what happened. My posts would get pulled down. Apparently what I shared even for people who deal with sexual abuse, assaults, and violence assume my accounts I shared are lies.
I can tell it's useless to try to talk about certain things.
It feels like I don't matter.
I really don't matter.
I am not human, at least not like others.
I haven't been in a relationship or had a significant other in my life for many years. I haven't even kissed the lips of another person in years.
I actually was so lonely this past Friday night I sat alone in the dark with a paranoid Schizophrenic homeless lady for two hours at a train stop. We sat in the darkness together. I just listened to her utter her nonsense. But I listened. I wanted to be kind even if the rest of the world was unkind to her.
The homeless woman I spoke with made all kinds of convoluted statements.
She was definitely completely insane.
I realized sitting with the homeless woman that is what people think of me. The only difference between me and the insane homeless woman is I am younger, maybe some would say more attractive looks-wise, own a few more things. I take showers. I fit in beautifully hidden in society most of the time. I am not and have never been Schizophrenic, merely sad and worn down by my past.
It was really sad for me to sit with this homeless woman Friday night.
I saw myself sitting on that bench.
Me.
The homeless woman looked like an older version of myself. Wrinkled. Her long flowing hair was in tangles. She wore layers of clothes. Her feet had on maybe ten layers of socks. No shoes.
I got more from the homeless lady Friday night than I get from my family and friends. She accepted me. The homeless woman gave me for free a $12.95 Starbucks California drinking mug. She wanted me to have the mug. I didn't tell her I don't drink coffee or tea. I have a phobia of staining my teeth. I didn't want to hurt her feelings. She also gave me one dirty used pink cloth slipper. Right foot, if someone is missing theirs. Size 8.
The coffee mug she gave me was still packaged in the box. New. The homeless woman said the Starbucks employees had told her to leave the restaurant. She said she fought and yelled at the Starbucks employees. The employees told her get the hell off the property. I sensed the Starbucks employees either gave her the coffee mug or she stole it. Now I have a possible stolen mug or I robbed from a senile homeless lady. I'll regift the mug so I don't have to live with the memories.
I didn't attend my incest/child abuse survivor meeting Thursday. I didn't go to my language class Friday. I didn't attend my weekly eating disorder support group yesterday. Today I didn't go to church. I am starting to think there is no God again. If God is there, he definitely hates me. Tonight I am not going to my children of alcoholics meeting.
My therapist is away next week. She is so lucky. She is going on a weeklong vacation. I was too afraid to ask her where she was going to vacation. I don't like to pry into other people's lives.
I haven't been calling one of my female relatives like I always do each day. She is 16 years old. Although I am older, I identify with her. I actually learn from her. I envy her life. I wish I could start over and be 16 again. I was 15 when I was kidnapped from my family. Taken from my bedroom one night. It's been days I haven't called my younger 16-year old relative. It's obvious she doesn't want to talk to me. She hasn't called me in weeks. I'll be respectful and leave her alone too.
A very beautiful married neighbor who hugged me several weeks ago when I was going to commit suicide I never see anymore. I am too afraid to knock on her house door. She may think I want to hug her. She is right. The trouble is I want her to hug me again. I never get hugs like she did. She gave me Bear Hugs. With a capital B and H. Real huge loving hugs. Long embraces. Not the little pats on the back. Yesterday one of my brothers shook my hand. Who the fuck family shakes hands?
Mine.
We rarely even touch in my family.
I really don't want to have sex with my neighbor. Well, maybe I really do. She is beautiful. She has long blond hair and beautiful eyes. She looks like an actress or model. Maybe she is. I don't even know what she and her husband do for work. They are obviously rich. They are getting a swimming pool built in their backyard. I wish I had a family like hers. I'd even be a polyamorist or be a polygamist. Bisexual like I used to live before. That's how desperate I feel.
I just want to be hugged again. Feel her arms wrapped around me again like she did for me that night. Hold me and never let me go. I want to feel loved once more.
Anyhow, this message on novni will probably get taken down too. I am sorry if I hurt anyone by posting my experiences, thoughts, and feelings on this site. Sorry I express sexual feelings and memories. I wish I could just get hit on my bicycle by a truck or train and die. My problems would be solved.
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I hope you're safe now:)
From,
Someone concerned
ReplyIf I could, I would sit down and listen to your story. I would believe you. I would offer you a hug if needed. I'm sorry you've faced such resistance when trying to share your truth.
Reply