InvasiveThoughts.com

January 2008

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ArchiveTable of Contents

1 Premier Issue

2 Travel

3 Erotica

4 Death

5 Music

6 Looking Back, Ahead

7 Love & Black History

8 Women's Hist & Stories

9 Art of Expression

10 Neither Here Nor There

11 Social Injustice

12 Social Injustice II

13 Anniversary Issue

14 Green Winter

15 Elections Perspectives

16 Books

17 From the Streets

18 Abuse

19 Abuse Part II

20 Audiophile

21 Heart

22 From the Past

23 Community

One Woman’s Rage Journal Excerpt

— anonymous


 

Entry: I have realized that my anger-triggers come from two sources: my childhood abuse and the subsequent illness tragedies in my family, and from my promiscuous encounters. When I was young, I could defend the encounters as youthful exploration. Now older, the encounters have become more damaging. I feel out of control and used and taken for granted or rejected. This causes hurt, then anger, then explosions of rage. Being rejected feels like being banished from the life of another, the fun and joy of that life. It pricks me like my first rejection from the boyfriend SD, whom I had admired and whom I thought of as a great guy. It also pricks at the teenage banishment and rejection of being kicked out of the house I had lived in since birth. Always being reprimanded and ridiculed as a child and teenager took from me the power of my voice as relevant and important. I stopped being able to effectively communicate my feelings and needs to others. This allowed men to come on to me when I did not want the attention. My inability to vocalize my true needs allowed me to let many various men take from me what they wanted without me demanding consideration. I essentially became a caged bird, like Maya Angelou wrote of, allowing degradation and arguable rape situations to occur. Like Asha in The Prisoner’s Wife, I engaged in these encounters but yet I separated myself from the actual event. My soul was absent most of the time. I acted in a way I thought I was supposed to act, sexually. I did things I thought the men would like. I relied then, on the men to be good to me, instead of requiring it. Many men have used me for sex and nothing more. Some men I became tenuous friends with. Mostly, I shut down so that I wouldn’t feel I cared that they were using me. Some still contact me and to this day they have no idea that I feel they hurt me. I don’t understand, yet, why I have behaved the way I have, why I have let myself be abused. Maybe it is because I became accustomed to abuse as a child so that abuse seemed to be natural. I have also noticed that I have almost a compulsive urge to argue and disagree. I almost feel unsettled when things in an intimate relationship do not include battle. If there is nothing to fight about, I push a fight. I allow my discontent with myself to fuel the fire. I believe this has everything to do with growing up in turmoil and constant bickering. If all you know is fighting or passivity, you fight or you are submissive. Both are extremes. Each perpetuates abuse. One is the abuser, the other allows for abuse. These are some of the issues I must work out. The first step is to stop having sex because it is when I have sex that I begin to feel I lose control of a situation and am unable to express who I really am. I must engage everyone, at this point, on a level only of friendship. I have to find out what that means, though. 


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