Talitha Cumi

Mark 5:41 - And he took the damsel by the hand, and said unto her, Talitha cumi; which is, being interpreted, Little Girl, I say unto thee, arise.


Ok, so. Bear with me. I'm still trying to get my head around most of it. I had a really good, really HARD therapy session yesterday. It gave me some very valuable insight. And I feel more powerful today.

I won't speak of other survivors of abuse in this case. I will only speak for me.

Men who are, or would like to be in my life, for whatever reason:

It takes a loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong time to earn my trust. Which means it takes a long time to earn my loyalty. If at this point in the blog you are thinking "She's just a man-hater and thinks all men are douchebags, what a stereotype," feel free to stop reading. I don't need your misdirected judgement. And you are wrong.

I love men. I think they're fun, intelligent creatures in most cases. I am attracted to them physically, emotionally, spiritually, etc. I like to have them as friends, and lovers, and there are a couple of them I consider very close to me.

However, being a survivor of sexual/physical/verbal abuse by a male, my brother, most of which occured during my formative/puberty years, my romantic relationships with men have often been tenuous, volatile, and gamey. Most psychologists will tell you that your brother/father relationships create your definition of a "man." I tend to agree, although, I don't think that's a death sentence.

I am a very emotional creature, which means I have difficulty hiding my feelings, but I feel like I have to in most cases, because romantic relationships to me are like a poker game. You cannot have honesty, or real relatability in a real relationship when you run it that way, no matter what Maxim tells you. I know this. And yet, my brain doesn't know where else to go in a lot of cases.

I have realized that I often do not re-assess relationships when I should. I have also realized what happens when I pass that point.

Let me preface the next part with this: I do not look for perfection. I don't think there's anyone out there, male or female, that can honestly request that from any other human, no matter what their history. I'm not trying to tell anyone how to be, or how to interact, only what the consequences are, and strictly in my case.

My brother was a rageful, violent kid. He was sick, he had Asperger's Syndrome. (http://www.webmd.com/brain/autism/tc/aspergers-syndrome-symptoms) I don't excuse the abuse with that, it only explains the rage and inappropriate behavior. To this day, I can't watch shows about Autism without clenching my fists, and I've turned down numerous job offers to work with kids with the disorder. I know my limits. I wouldn't be able to help. I am aware that not all children with Asperger's or Autism are violent or sexually abusive. I just know that my brother was, that is my experience, and I will not further traumatize myself. He was physically threatening, much bigger than me, he mocked me, called me horrible names, punched me, kicked me, told me "rape is just a woman who changes her mind the next day," (yeah) and all of that was AFTER the initial sexual abuse. I was in constant fear as a child. And once I developed an eating disorder due to my need to control SOMETHING (anything) in my house, he tried even to take that away from me, calling me a "conformist" and cementing my need for the ED even more.

I got away. He is not in my life, and I am safe now. We haven't spoken for years. I plan to keep it that way.

However his effect still lingers. Once a man is abusive to me, in any way, he crosses the line into fitting the definition of "man" that my brother gave me. It incites a fear/anger response in me so violent, and so primal, that I lose all respect, and all empathy for the man in question. Apparently this reaction is subconscious, due to the fact that I did not realize that it happens until recently. It's pretty linear. The man becomes someone whom I cannot trust.

My father, who always told me "I wish I had a sister growing up so I would know how to act with little girls," was coldly dismissive of me throughout most of my childhood. And adulthood until the past 3 years actually. He was not interested in my emotions, tears terrified him, and he was not protective of me, only judgemental. He didn't want to acknowledge the sexual abuse. He wanted to pretend it didn't happen. And his response to the physical abuse was bafflement. He didn't try to stop it, in my opinion. He allowed it to happen.

Once a man is dismissive of me, ignores my emotions, or judges me, he begins to fit the definiton of "man" that my father gave me. Those responses also incite a very angry response in me, and that is the quickest way to get me to go from "I love you," to "Fuck you." It'll also get me out of your life pretty quick, if that's what you want, but God help you if you ever try to come back or need me for any reason. In the past, I have fucked with the heads of men who have done this in exactly the same way that they fucked with me, because once they cross that line, I can be icy cold, and I am capable of interacting with them without actually feeling anything. It is vindictive, it is wrong and I haven't done it in a long time. Mostly because I have learned to keep the men who fit this definition out of my life, due to the fact that I know they will trigger that response in me.

On the whole, I am a very sensitive person. If I feel connected to someone, all they have to do is feel something, and I will feel it too. I am empathetic, sympathetic, supportive to a fault, and if I love someone, I love fiercely and I will fight for them. That is the kind of relationship I want with a man. I don't want the poker game. I don't want to feel cold. Thus far I have succeeded in only maintaining that kind of connection with women. Unfortunately, I am heterosexual, otherwise I'd be golden.

I also know that no one is perfect, that relationships take work, and that they aren't always pleasant. Mixing that knowledge with the knowledge that my connection to someone snaps off the minute they commit one of the above atrocities is no small feat. I found myself yesterday in my session crying without even realizing it, wiping tears away with my hands that just kept coming, until my therapist finally told me "Honey, there's tissue right next to you." And I realized my hands were covered with my eye make-up and that I had made a mess of my face. Therapy hurts, ya'll. That means it's working.

For anyone who at this point is saying "Jesus, dude, you need help," I will respond to you with a resounding "No shit." I am getting help. I've come a long way. But now we do the work of building my relational definitions from the ground up. Its quite a task. I'm in the wind right now, and it's gonna suck for a minute. I will figure it out though, I always do, I always have. We survivors, we survive by any means.


For those of you that choose to walk with me on the journey, the soil might get rocky, and even if it doesn't, know that I am grateful for your presence, even if I don't always acknowledge it.