The blood makes me feel like the ickyness is leaving me –
Like every non-flawless skin cell is a bold flag of exhortation:
“Hear ye, hear ye! This one is dirty inside and out!”
“This one is evil!”
“What sin do you think caused this wretched pox?”
“Was it this one’s fault? Or perhaps her parents?”
Yes, I know all about the Bible stories about sick people; lepers, blind folx, the lame, the diseased, the pariahs brought in from the cold. You thought Awana was strict? Come on over to my childhood home and see our disaster of a cult. That’s probably a little bit harsh…our cult was not a disaster to our leader, but it certainly was for us. I’ll speak for myself, It was disastrous for my mind and body to be born and raised by a fucking scared, fucking controlling, fucking mentally ill white douche bag Fucker. (I’ll use whatever words I goddam need!)
I don’t know what he and his minions? accomplices? helpers? disciples? were trying to do to me.
Scare me straight? Some horrifyingly misguided thing done ‘for my own good’?
Make sure I knew who the boss was? Well, of course, their points always got a little lost what with me having a brain and feelings about what they were doing to me and all. You don’t grow up a white Christian girl in America without learning to reflexively soothe fragile masculinity. With your body, if necessary. And by ‘if necessary’ I mean ‘if they want it’. You never know what they will want. And neither will they. But it’s your fault either way and your responsibility. Aren’t you the one with the vagina? Why were you born with that thing if you didn’t want your father to use it however he pleases? Tsk Tsk Tsk. Poor planning. You aren’t using it so why do you care?
Thing I have learned:
You can’t force a surface to heal around an infection. And I can’t make my skin and body ‘healthy’ without learning to feel safe in a safe place. I can’t heal if my body is reliving all my violations and drownings and betrayals constantly. I need to be able to pendulate out of that mess sometimes! I still haven’t found a sure way to do that. But writing it out helps, I think. It’s going to need a lot more work and possibly several strategies combined, but I think I’m forming a picture of how to have hope and a feeling of safety down the line.
I still feel angry at every adult who saw me along the way of my life and didn’t help me. All those people from church.
Things that could be healed quicker with attention and care are put off to fester in hopes that they will go away. You don’t need anything. See, here you are 10 minutes later, alive and not dead! I must be some kind of genius!
I know the truth. With help early on, I could have healed quicker. With help early on I wouldn’t be as damaged as I currently am. With just a little bit of preventive health care and a system that takes care of the people, we could collectively save millions on emergency care and even regular doctor visits. But instead we choose to rot. We are the Cain of countries!
“I’m not my brother’s keeper.”
Of course you’re not.
It’s not like you need health to do anything else in your life…
Like move the economy or get a job or learn new things. It is extremely difficult to contribute when you’re put away somewhere and told not to need anything. So, you can see why the religious and political bubbles I grew up in are not appreciated so much by me anymore. Oh, how they complimented each other! How they worked in tandem with our growing minds to form the perfect prison for our selves.
Goddam, it’s gonna be good to get that tattoo.