So why am I on disability again? OH right, misogynist asshats....

Thank you le lyons for organising Blog to Raise Awareness About Sexual Violence Day.

I can't sleep next to my friends, well anyone actually unless it's right after sleeping with them.

I can't trust men. Even my good male friends who I know in a million years would never do anything to me b/c they actually respect me and think of me as an equal, as a human.

I have flashbacks and nightmares.

I got triggered and wind up in the hospital after my annual exam at Planned Parenthood.

I have to force myself to eat, to go to the bathroom, to get out of bed, to clean my apartment, to be social, to go grocery shopping (it's been 2 weeks. I have been eating very poorly), to bathe, to do almost anything most people do with ease.

I can't read my textbooks (I can't concentrate longer than 5 seconds).

I'm forcing myself to write this right now. I'd rather be curled up in bed pretending that the world didn't exist.

Recently (a couple months ago) I wrote about the asshole Luke who thought that me saying no was me actually saying "yes." I guess there is some other definition of the word "dissociate" out there too. Fucker. He's dead to me, though I sometimes wish he was dead (like when I see him) b/c I'm torn between telling him exactly why I ignored all his succesive phone calls and why I ignore his presence whenever he's around. But then I think it's not my fucking job, but I don't want him doing it to someone else. No does not mean stop for 10 seconds or fucking kiss somewhere else. IT MEANS NO.

Now I would have PTSD without ever having been sexually assaulted, but as most people know: the more traumas, the more a chance that you will develop severe PTSD. It seems so hard, it seems so endless. I can't write a new survivor story b/c I am just too sensitive to being triggered right now.

But I can see myself getting better. I know I am. I stopped myself from dissociating with Luke. I've modified my behaviour so much that I don't meet many men and I am rarely in situations where an assault is likely (most my assaults have happened in home, so if I don't let them come into my house I won't be assaulted, right?) I know about stranger rape, but as most women I know, I am more concerned about the men I do know. And I am sick of being told not to name them. I didn't make them assault me, they did it on their own.

I'm lifting this damn 'protect the assaulters" gag order. To quote my friend Kristin's band The Trucks "No I won't sit back and be quiet!"
Anarchists/"Radical Leftist" Men who assaulted me:
Enivronmental activists
-Brad Will-glasses, about 6', long brown hair (NYC)
-Ben from More Gardens, long blond curly hair, shorter then me, so less then 5'8 (5'6"?) (NYC)
Misc. "radicals"
-Adam Seehaver-brown hair, sometimes beard, about 5'10, last seen in Austin, TX (mostly CopWatch if I remember correctly)
-Allen (Seattle) last I saw neon dreads, short, lots of piercings in his face, works with Anti-Racist Action

Me sleeping does not mean 'molest me' and don't give me some bullshit about how you thought you were dreaming. These are only the recent ones, but these were people I considered my friends. I love cuddling with people, Allen (the last one) made sure that I will not cuddle with anyone without years of therapy. He pushed me over the edge. Here I am, 4 years later, on disability, with dramatic PTSD symptoms that prevent me from doing much more then working. Fuck all of them.

They stole my trust and a huge part of my life, but I'm going to win. I'm going to get better and I'm going to keep fighting and keep speaking out. They did not effectively silence me, and no one will unless they put me in the ground. I refuse to be ashamed for my mental disorder and for the fact that I was assaulted by more then those men. My story is not an anamoly. It's all too common, but if we all keep doing what we have and keep speaking out and keep ripping apart the lies of the patriarchy maybe one day one girl will get to grow up and not know our pain. And this is what keeps me going. Besides, assholes, the more you assault me or shame me, the more radical I become. Also the best way to break out of depression is doing something constructive with your anger. I call out your patriarchal woman hating bullshit and read other radical feminist blogs. That keeps me going, it gets me out of the house. I do it to spite you, I do it for me, I do it for all the women out there who may not be radical feminists and those that call me a prude. I do it for us all.

Because I am stronger having survived this, we all are. And if someone like me who can barely get out of the house on most days can write and reach scores of people on a daily basis with my feminism then you can't stop anyone. We'll win because we're right.