How Did I Get Here, And Where Is The Next Turn?

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Brought up Jun 16, 2013

Body Functions

I've been stewing on this all night last night, and today, and I just have to get it out the only way I can: here.

Something that burns me up to no end is when some insensitive jackass makes the comment, "It's over. It's the past. Get over it and move on," or, that old nugget, "You wear your heart on your sleeve."

Whether it is abuse, a physical illness, or grieving the death of a loved one, the healing process takes as long as it takes and is dealt with how ever it works for each person. It isn't the same for everyone because we are all individuals with our own way of coping.

With abuse, if the person tries to bury it, pretend to 'move on' to pacify the jackasses in their life, it becomes like a festering wound. You can cover it up, but eventually the poison builds up and has to come out, or it will kill you. Sometimes, that wound bursts open at odd moments, when least expected.

You see, one of the many things some survivors of sexual abuse have problems with is certain bodily functions. I think it is because it has to do with that particular region being the 'site' of the abuse. I'm no where near an expert on this sort of thing. I only know from my own experience with that, so don't quote me or anything.

For me, it isn't just the usual functions, but the body it's self. I still get a little embarrassed if, say my shirt rides up, or pants ride down enough to show skin. And heaven help if the neckline is low. I am better about that, but it has taken a lot of conscious effort. Lately, I think, if anyone's looking, it's their problem, not mine.

Having kids helped with that a lot. I mean, just the delivery can do that. A marching band led by the president and his two Martian buddies could come through the delivery room, and you would not care when you are in full labor. Then, there is the whole breastfeeding thing. Now, there is a poor shmuck out there, that I went to middle school, with who still carries a scar from my metal lunch box for snapping my bra strap. Girls hate that crap, but I was overly sensitive because of the abuse that was happening at the time. I didn't need attention drawn to my changing anatomy.

Still, it gets easier when you have a brat who lets you know he's hungry by trying to nurse through your shirt, in public. \

Once I had been puked on, crapped on, peed on, had green pea baby food ththththted in my hair, down my front and on the wall behind me, caught him flushing his toys, smearing his nose on some part of my clothing, walking into the bathroom when I was either using it, or in the shower, just to chat, and opening and playing with tampons, I learned to get past a lot of the bodily function thing. (Thanks, kid.)

The thing is, it takes time to be able to handle that stuff with out freaking. It also takes a lot of desire to get past it. I credit myself with having raised two brats into adulthood that are modest of their bodies, but not ashamed of them. I had to work hard not to project my own insecurities onto them, and in the process, actually got past some myself. It isn't easy, and I am still working on some of that.

A dear friend of mine, who survived abuse more horrendous than any child should ever have to live through, called me yesterday, saying she needed to talk. Suddenly, she was in tears, in utter anguish over something an old friend had done. The 'friend' had made a comment on Facebook that caused my friend to sob uncontrollably for a good five minutes before I could understand what had happened.

Those women who have carried at least two children and given birth probably have the same problem she has. Lord knows, I do. Unfortunately, her 'friend' thought it was funny to broadcast said problem to the world. This was a person who knows about the abuse and SHOULD have been a little more sensitive.

Now, yes, I would not be thrilled with that if it happened to me. I, however, would have said something back to the 'friend' like, 'Not cool, pal.' Or, I might have gotten down right nasty, like, 'Let's see what happens when YOU sneeze, cough hard, laugh hard or what ever.'

After our talk, once she calmed down, my friend called the one who had offended her. The 'friend's' reaction was basically that my friend needed to get over it, it was past, and that she wore her emotions on her sleeve. That pissed me off more than anything. Something I am working on is accepting my own emotions that run rampant at times. I have said that I wish I were thicker skinned. I am learning that I never will be, and it's okay. I told her, next time someone says something like that to say, "You say that like it's a bad thing. What's wrong with having feelings?"

I guess this is rambling and confusing, but my point is, abused children become adults coping with their past, and it's affect on how they handle things. Whether it is being shy about our bodies and the regular functions, or being a bit overly emotional and maybe irrational at times, the fact remains that we are still breathing at this age. Unlike some poor souls who have died young, either through over numbing the pain of hiding, or suicide from being forced to 'get over it' without help, something has kept us going. We have kept trying to cope despite the idiots who want to pretend things never happened or that we should be over it because it was so long ago. We are SURVIVORS for a reason. I have come a long way, thanks to my friends and family, including the one I mentioned, who was one of the first I told of my own abuse. She helped me so much as a young woman learning to live with my past. I just hope I have the wisdom now to return the favor.


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