Posts Tagged ‘worth after abuse’

I closed my OKC profile. Closing the dating profile on POF a while back was a huge step forward for me. This time, it was just a logical step forward. Yet, when I clicked the button to delete it permanently I panicked.

There was this thought of who would know I exist? Which is about as ridiculous as my conviction in my own invisibility.

Like this need to be Seen competing with my need for anonymity. Seen, capitalized. Cause it has nothing to do with my physical visibility, has nothing to do with the skin that holds me together.

I heard a sermon about intimacy and submission to God. Many sermons, actually. And there was this automatic reaction of no effing way. Intimacy, cause it terrifies me. And submission cause.. well, I associate it with abuse and prostitution and sociopathic behaviour and kink.

Those sermons kinda clicked things together for me, once I got over my stoic freak out.

My intimacy issues have to first be resolved within and with God before I can look anywhere else. And my submissiveness can find avenues besides sex.

Which is why I shut down the profile.

Then on Sunday I found myself nodding along to a variation of no sex before marriage while wondering to myself when exactly did I start agreeing with that?

I have no idea. Cause its not so much about sex, its about recognizing myself as sacred, and being unwilling to be desecrated in any way. Which is possibly why I can’t maintain any romantic interest in anyone. I’m finally gonna pay attention to that. Message received.

So the fact I’ll be out of the country for four months is actually a really good way to take a break from men, and discover me more.

So… I am Seen. God sees me. That’s all that really matters.

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I’ve been asking myself how one can stand to celebrate important live events when they have been made to feel subhuman.

Even having made a complete 180 from the person I was back then when I was abused and enslaved, I still struggle with feelings of self-worth on important days of the year – holidays, birthdays.

For the most part, I avoid holidays. I used to feel guilty about this… I would be the only family member who was glaringly absent. But the truth is, I do not fit in. And if I am even more honest – the reason I do not fit in is because my abusers made sure I would always feel like I stick out like a sore thumb.

I’m now unapologetic (mostly) when I avoid important events. I would rather look after my own health and well-being then risk a set back.

I had even become pretty good at avoiding my birthday. I would not answer the phone, or tell friends of the impending event. I would not announce it on any social media I took part in.

Come to think of it, I still don’t.

My goal in celebrating the day of my birth seems to be a bit different then my peers who are also in their 20s.

I am not looking to get drunk (I quit drinking), I’m not looking to smoke any illicit substances (ditto), I do not want to go clubbing (I love to dance, but have been assaulted in clubs before… Not my idea of a good time). I don’t want a huge celebration, or even a small one.

I’m not sure I want anyone other then myself to acknowledge the day by doing anything.

So how do I celebrate a day that once brought me more misery then usual?

I focus on good things.

I count my blessings. I reflect on how far I have come, and how far I still want to go, and review the steps I have to take to get there.

I do something to pamper myself. I made plans with myself to order some skin care items online. Self-care shows me I am worth taking care of. Who needs a man when I have myself?! 😉

I might ask a couple of my close friends out, maybe for coffee, maybe for lunch. I usually wait for friends to contact me, as I feel I would be bugging them if I *dared* asked them to do something with me, instead of wait for them to ask. This is the remains of the voice of my abusers. But I’ll attempt to overcome it.

I look forward to a peaceful birthday. I am thankful to be single. I am thankful to be free. I am thankful I am happy. I am thankful for my support system.