Semi-Lucid

I do not think Erik and I ever had an honest conversation about anything, barring his unfortunate physical anatomy, and Sharon Stone and Michael Douglas in Basic Instinct, and I am beginning to wonder if I was nothing more than a damaged member of the herd to him, which I was. I have never fully recovered from Brandon's assault against me. I thought this stocky and powerful black man was going to kill me when I lived in Diamond Park, and my first deceased child Oliver saved me. I wrote an essay about it which is doing the rounds, but I have a very hard time writing about Brandon looming in on my face, clamping his hand on my mouth hissing shut the fuck up I am not going to hurt you. He was black like an African from the Congo, and I never recovered. He dragged me from the doorway in my power chair to the bedroom, strangling me while I looked for something and anything to use against him. Oliver trotted in, and I found superhunan strength and screamed for a very long time. Then I was robbed by a black attendant, and then molested by another mixed race woman. Would someone from ADAPT like to tell me why I should keep going with this paradigm, in addition to having been abused by my mother's second husband? I have lost count of how many of these boyfriends abused me too, and tried to kill Stephanie on numerous occasions. My subsequent job with my mental health clients did not help, and you want me to go to therapy to "accept that it can always happen again." No doubt it shall, and this is what my relationship with Frank was like, with the severity of his stroke damage. When we kissed, when I allowed him to touch me, he was wrapped up in his own gratification, never with me, unless I shit myself out of stress and drinking too much water. I have a funny story about that and should have never fled his apartment the evening I had bad diarrhea. The aberrations of one public housing tenant affect many. I should have also firmly declined the engagement ring, kicked in that assertiveness training, you know, and all I would have been left with was a loathsome coupling, though I have had better 69 positions, never fantastic, and it is a little late in the day to hope that Viagra would reserve a special for my old age. My whole life has been about trying to create a good life, a rewarding one, not sitting in a studio ducking my head from online communities, and online interactions, except for my family. My mother's sister Mary is not accusing me of being my mother, and it is a relief. We are having an adult discussion, and she wants me to recommit to Catholicism. I truly wish I could. Why does all this matter? I believed in the Philadelphia activists, all of them, even if I disagreed with them, and all of them, including Josie and her Christian faith, truly only care about their own self-interests, over and above correcting their ethical behavior. None of them made up to me for the pain they caused me. Ablests dismiss me, or scold me, or ban me. Spastic would like to belong somewhere, find a place to rest her head.