It’s pretty fucking important important, when recalling traumatic past stuff, to keep grounding yourself throughout. This means keep reminding yourself that this is the present and things are different now. Looking around and reminding yourself who you are now and not sinking back into that hole of who you were. That SUCKS and it’s hard to get out. Plus I’m at work and ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat!

But seriously, it’s some sanity-saving shit, and believe me, I’m doing it. 

Breaking the tension for myself.

I was drinking my ass off at a bar in Florida where I lived, he was some guy talking shit and he bought me some beers. He could have been Hitler or Britney Spears or an 8 foot squid. He bought me beers.

Crucial issue: I was like (in my head), sure, this hick fuck in overalls can buy me beers, absolutely!

You know how they say, one of these days you’re gonna fuck with the wrong person?

writing in between spurts of busy at work.

I’m just-a going with the flow.

So part of why the Kentucky got away with an awful lot was he picked women on the fringes of society (whatever that is) - in my case, hadn’t spoken to my family in five years, (because of my own drinking and subsequent assholery), bounced from boyfriend to boyfriend- each lasting about a year or so give or take, worked sporadically but not regularly- my point being, everyone in my life was used to not hearing from me for long periods. I could disappear and no one would miss me. 

After I got out of there, I was in the domestic violence shelter for about 6 months, then they helped me get an apartment. They would have given me a ticket back here, but I figured I don’t talk to my family, what would be the point? At this point I had no way to know that I was still significantly insane from my experiences and was unable to see hope. The shelter was in a top secret location (Kentucky violent offenders don’t fuck around, maybe even more than other places, so those protecting victims don’t fuck around either. If a snowflake fell on the driveway at that place 40 cops showed up.) Even going out to smoke we had to show ourselves to the camera to get buzzed back in. The apartment location was a matter of court record so Mr. Kentucky found out where I lived (he was out on bail) and stalked me, threatened, not to kill me, but to cut up my face, smash my teeth out, burn me with acid and break my kneecaps. 

I couldn’t take the post-trauma trauma and decided to drink until I died.

I tried.

Any questions about anything?

gordonshumway:

“Who knows how to make love stay?

1. Tell love you are going to Junior’s Deli on Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn to pick up a cheesecake, and if loves stays, it can have half. It will stay.

2. Tell love you want a momento of it and obtain a lock of its hair. Burn the hair in a…

One of my favorite books from one of my favorite authors.

Suprised?

atsirhc:

Tits!

THEY ARE UNCALM.

I’m more comfortable talking about it than writing about it. 

However the whole reason I started a tumblr was that I thought it might to be good for me to write about it. 

How many years ago was that?