I met a woman on a beach once in Canada, trying to sell everything she owned on that beach, laid out in the sand, everything, clothes, jewellery, even photographs. At first I was pretty intrigued by this woman, and why she was there selling all of her stuff, and being a bit of the blunt kiwi I am (so I was called by my Canadian friends); I asked her why she was there. She was leaving Vancouver to go back east, where she was originally from, to see if things had changed much there, she told us she wanted to get rid of all her stuff before she left because the last thing she needed when she was going back home was any extra baggage. My friends were still very confused, but I totally knew what she meant.
This is what drives me crazy about abuse and abusive people:
They screw up EVERY memory you have of childhood, to the point where I feel like smashing photos of myself out of frames in my house, because everytime I look at that kid I see what he did to me written all over my damn face.
They take and take and take untill your whole sense of self is so screwed up that you think thats all you can do for people, is give and give untill you realise oneday that that is all a big load of crap and that you wasted the majority of your life doing that when you could have, i don't know, LIVED?
Blinking in the dark at 4 am, pretty typical of a Monday. Sunday is a sober day, most of the time, nice, although sleep is a constant battle. Up at 6. All the in between is a blur of torturous silence, where some may find solace I find torment in my own company.
All those hour's but somehow I am always late for school, usually due to my inability to function without caffeine and nicotine. Damn the change I saved for parking, still at home tucked in the pocket of my other jacket.
Embarrassingly late to first class, and it drags, god it drags. I hate my glasses, yet without I can never see the board, never early enough to class to sit even remotely close to the front. More blur.
One thing I learnt from travelling is that sometimes you meet people that are just not worth getting into it with. I usually (well these days, usually :P) don't have a problem with expressing disagreement on certain issues, particularly from a feminist perspective, but I have learnt something about myself, and that is that when I am not heard or allowed to speak up it REALLY annoys me, more than it should. I know that is ignorant, because everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but I cant help but sometimes I am just not able to see where on earth they are coming from, and my inquisitiveness is often misinterpreted as me being very rude.
Today was an interesting day, to say the least. One of my classes at school is all about learning how to communicate with each other, it's almost like group counselling for student nurses, and today was our first session for that class. My group is mostly Women; in fact out of 150 students there are only 3 men in the whole course, which means I get to hang out with a group of very cool women every day at school, which is always a plus.
So, today my small group (which is about 20 of us) piled into a little class room to learn how to communicate with each other. At first, I must admit I was prepared to dismiss the whole effing thing as lame and intended on staring blankly out of the window for the entire two hours that I was required to sit there. Apparently this was not going to be okay. And yes, I do know that that is a terrible attitude to have, but I close off very easily with any mention of sitting in a circle with strangers and sharing my feelings, my personal life, Jesus, it took me months to figure out counselling with only one other person in the room. To begin the class we all had to go around the group and tell the class what our weaknesses were in communicating with people, and much to my surprise many of the girl's there voiced that they have a much harder time communicating with Women than they do with Men upon first meeting someone.
Today I got in touch with my counsellor again. Yes, me who is SO done with counselling finished forever and never to go back, yeah right. Apparently everyone but me was expecting this to happen.
I decided that the more I am travelling and seeing in the world, the more I realise how absolutely out of control sexual violence is. And I guess I realised that I am not the only person in the world who it happened to, and am also not the only person who feels ashamed that it takes SO much time and SO much help to rebuild some kind of normal life in the aftermath of abuse, whatever normal even means.
Here I am once again back in New Zealand, after managing to happily avoid christmas (which I just don't do) and take off to Asia for a few months. I wish I could say I am happy to be home, but that would just be one big fat lie.
I seem to just spiral into the same old patterns whenever I am back here, which I am trying hard not to let happen this time around, but god it is hard. Some of the places I travelled to in Asia saddened me to no end at how hard it is for Women there, and how frustrating it is for many of the young Women who i spoke to during my travel's to be told that they can either get married, or sell themselves to tourists night after night, as if their whole exsistance is to satisfy men.