Ugh, Guy and Health Issue

I got a call the other day from a guy who I went out on a date with a few years ago. I don't know why guys think that they can do this and I'll remember them, the details of our dating and why I didn't continue to date the guy. This guy was named Art. During our date, I felt uncomfortable and not safe with him. He also took off his pants to get comfortable-- yeah, right. The only thing he brought over was margarita mix and seemed to want me to get more drunk than just tipsy on the first date. I heard from him about two weeks later and he wanted sex. He said something like, "I've been thinking about you every day." Really? Then why did it take you two weeks to tell me that I'm on your mind all the time?
So, we talk on the phone the other day. He seemed just as perverted as ever. For some reason, he thought that at the time we dated, I wanted sex with no strings attached or casual sex without a committed relationship (which in my mind is two different things but maybe that's where the miscommunication was). He remembered I wasn't having sex at the time. But he insisted we only did what I was comfortable with-- really, then why was I so fucking uncomfortable? I didn't ask him to take off his pants or lay on top of me. I made up that I was having an outbreak so he'd leave. He said that if he was really a rapist, he would have been more aggressive. Really, that wasn't aggressive enough? I had an action plan of banging on the wall to get my neighbor's attention to get this guy off of me and out of my apartment.
So, his big reason for taking off his pants? I had my shirt off. Oh, so, that means I must want sex when I've said I don't want sex. Really?
After this date, I didn't date for a while. I didn't want to have anyone over. I was really scared. I was scared that he'd come back, stalk me, even. I blamed myself-- how could I be so stupid? I didn't feel comfortable and I shouldn't have had him over. When he blamed me, for having my shirt off, I felt like I was slightly to blame but he had a weird story in his head. And he continues to have this story-- enough to call me and ask me out on a date thinking that I'm still into this whole "sex with no string attached." I've never done that. There are always strings attached. I have enjoyed long term booty calls with no committed relationships. Mostly, it wasn't an official relationship-- even though it was a relationship of some sort. I also felt mostly respected in those type of relationships. Art didn't respect me. He also has some weird thing about having a woman who has money and can take care of herself because he doesn't want to take care of her. This makes me really happy to be with my boyfriend-- who respects me and will give me the shirt off his back if I needed it.

After all this, I got the test results back from my annual exam. I have to get another test to see what the abnormal cells are. I'm scared. I blacked out during sex one time and I had sex with a guy who then wanted a relationship. He had had sex with an older woman who I knew. She was very open about having her cervix removed from cancer. He didn't believe that she had cervical cancer when I told him.
I talked to him last night and he blamed me. He said that he couldn't get tested to see if he had HPV and that I couldn't have known if it was from him. I can't believe he said that. Then he accused me of trying to find a reason to hate him. If I hated him, I wouldn't have said anything. I would have just gone on and maybe sent him some message in a few months about making sure he uses protection because of the incident.
I had a friend come over last night to make sure I was OK. We talked about my worries-- for the future of me, of Jeremy, of children, of possibly having cancer, and on and on.
I know eventually I'll be OK. I just have to freak out a bit before I calm down.
Thanks for listening.

Community and Break downs

I'm hoping to add some photos soon. I know I haven't added photos in quite some time so I'll try to get up on that. I have two finished visual journals and the beginning of another so, I have plenty of material.
So the man that I was sorta involved with but just wanted to be friends with-- well, he and I have been at least talking friendly. But at all times, he seems like he's just looking for a way to talk about himself. It can be taken as quite condescending although I know he doesn't mean it that way.

I am still going to the Unitarian church and finding a good community there. They have been nothing but supportive. I thought no one knew me or noticed me but the pastor has. She said I was in her prayers but she didn't know how to get a hold of me.

My friend from jr. high passed away in June. I've been upset ever since and it's been rough. She had this tough life of drinking early, having her social security number stolen twice, and lots of anger issues. She seemed like she was on the way to being happy-- she had a kid with a guy and they were going to get married this year in August. It sucked. I shared this at church and got the support I needed. It was a good feeling.

I started bringing some people to church. My boyfriend has talked about it but hasn't gone. My friend who was raised Catholic wants to go to see what it's all about. A friend from my job at the nursing home came last week and said it was like poetry how it all came together. It was nice.

---

Here's what I wrote recently:
9/30/2011
I told my boyfriend about the issues that I had been going through. It was at a moment of weakness. I had lost my job and was crying and crying and crying. Suddenly, we got onto the topic of my sexual issues. I told him about the break down last March and the three rapes. I didn't tell him about the incidences of not-rape. Not-rape like when I had sex with my boyfriend at the time (about 5 years ago) after I had a few drinks. I didn't really want to have sex at that time but we did. I feel like there's just never ending issues for me.

For the short time I was working at a nursing home, I was stressed all the time. I had so much stress that I would forget so easily. My supervisor could tell me something and I'd forget in two seconds. I had asked her about something and about two months later, the issue had come up again. It was as if my mind had reset and I forgot. I felt that I was just there to be told what to do even when others weren't doing the same things. Then, things would get behind because of other departments and then, I'd get in trouble. They were blaming me a lot and I never said anything about it to my supervisor. I feel like even if I had tried to explain it to her, then, she still wouldn't believe me. My friend had helped me to have humor in the situation and a coworker had said that I shouldn't take any blame for anything.

I remember a time when I was a kid when my mind reset. I had a thought to call my cousin to wish him happy birthday. I double checked and saw that his birthday was actually the next day. I remember being young enough that my parents had to help me to make a long distance call. My mind had then reset and I called anyway. Later, I realized what I had learned earlier, that his birthday was the next day. My parents said that I was insistent so they let me call. I also vaguely remembering that they had told me that his birthday was another day but I was so determined to call him that I did anyway. It was such an odd thing.

After I was fired from the job, my friends and coworkers were upset. I felt that they were being protective and I was embarrassed. I was starting to believe that I wasn't doing the right thing. I wasn't going to the CNA's to ask them to hurry along. I wasn't saying, "hey, watch that patient real quick for me, please." I wasn't walking up to patients to make sure that they were engaged in the program nor was I trying to get them engaged in the programs sometimes. Sometimes I was really tired. Sometimes I hated the whole thing. Sometimes the activities I did were hurting me. I started making it known I hated certain activities. I tried to tell myself that my supervisor wanted me to do well so she was encouraging me along. I just didn't like that she had to talk to me almost every day. I'm glad that it was just a work performance issue, though. With my previous job at the hospital, it was that I wasn't wearing professional clothing and that I was getting too snippy with the patients. So, I worry about those things. I feel that this job at the nursing home was very easy and that I was too good/smart for it. I think that it's better for me that I'm not at either place anymore.

I realize that I like stories where I am the victim of something. I always find something. I try to down play it a lot of the time when talking about a certain situation. I feel that many people don't know the true complexity of me nor the situation so when they give me advice or a statement about the issue, I think, "You don't know the whole story." I explain more but people already have their opinions so, they just hear more about what they already believe. It's a little annoying. At first, I was so angry with my dad, I'd always tell stories. Then, I'd get mad when people would say, "I'm sorry." Why? Did you do something? Leave me the fuck alone to my emotions. So, I was just angry. Lately, it was my bad day in San Francisco last year. The summary: Bad hotel, bad sleep, cold and allergies, called my ex to tell him the cat was dying (she died that night) and found out he was getting married, carried my heavy bags down some stairs, lost my phone, went to the wrong hotel, went to San Francisco, got off at the wrong stop on BART, bum bothered me and a man asked for money for a bad photo I'd taken of him, had something to eat where the guy reminded me of the guy I was trying to get over, went to the art museum only to discovered it was going to close in 45 minutes, I considered going to China town, went to a small coffee shop called "Leaf" and discovered it was really a Starbucks, went back to the hotel (2 hours to get back). I told it over and over again and a coworker had said that I was taking it too personally. So, I started saying that before hand-- "Maybe I'm taking it too personally." I am looking at all that I wrote and I am amazed that that was one day. But I feel that I tell that story to gain sympathy.

I also realize now that I really like attention. I do a lot to get attention. I like when I'm the only one talking and people are just so into what I'm saying. I like when people listen. I had enjoyed talking to one of my coworkers because it felt like an even exchange. We talked and took in what the other was saying. It was nice.

10/1/11
I remember a time when I was having my break down in March. I was suicidal but I didn't really want to die. I wanted to hurt myself but I didn't want to cut myself. I decided to have too much fiber. It was as if I wanted to get rid of the bad things in my body. I knew it hurt my stomach. I was glad when someone listened to me that time. She said, "You're not eating right. Change that and start walking. You can make the time for it." It was just the right amount of advice, concern, and listening to me.
Sometimes I still feel very young. I feel like I am just a child. I know my mind is sharp but I feel like I fuck up all the time. I feel like it's only a matter of time before people realize I don't know what I'm doing. I've been feeling very lost.
I thought my supervisor at the nursing home was using some sort of motivational technique by making me feel badly. I got mad at her one day when I redid an overcrowded closet. She didn't want me to throw away anything. She wanted me to ask her about what to throw away or not. She had made it clear earlier that she was not rational. She thought she might throw away things later but she decided to keep them for the time being. I don't understand that type of thinking. The closet was even more overcrowded when my coworker decided to put everything from the office in there. Then, my supervisor had the galls to say, "So-n-So worked her butt off to clean up the office." Yeah, so she could pass it to me. I hated her but I couldn't do anything. I didn't say anything. I didn't feel like I had the right anymore. I was dis-empowered.
I noticed people pleasing behaviors like trying to make one of the patients happy especially when his wife came to visit him. They seemed to have such a spiteful relationship that I wanted to make sure that at least she was happy. On my last day, he cried in front of me saying that he was homesick. Another time he said that he knew he was acting like an asshole. Later on my last day, I heard someone call him a jerk. They didn't know that he had cried. I wrote a note about it before I didn't have a chance to write down another one.

I am feeling a bit lost without an income. I feel like I'm just looking for the next job that will take me, hoping that it'll work out this time. I hope it pays the bills, I can move out and my life can get even better. I just want people to be able to come over, hang out, and there won't be any problems. I ask my spirits and G-d to light my way so I can see my path. So far, nothing has come to me yet.
Tomorrow, my friend has invited me to his church and I've invited him to my church. So, we're going to do both services-- his at 10AM and mine at 11:15. I guess it's good that it could work out that way. Eventually, I want to go see a previous patient at her church so that I might become friends with her niece. They used to come to the nursing home to pass along the word of G-d according to the Baptists. I don't know the difference. They all are Christians to me. At least these people seem less judgmental than others. I find it interesting that after I asked a different Baptist group to pray for me and they prayed for me to find my way in what is my path, I was fired nearly a week after that.

Kurt and Rant about Vincent

I started having a memory that came up more than once. When I was 12, I dated a boy, Kurt. We held hands and kissed. Eventually, he put his hands down my pants to finger me and he broke my cherry. Then, we broke up. I wasn't too upset with it because I was upset that he had tried to get me to do more and that he had touched me in the first place. One of the things I've learned is that victims of sexual abuse feel that they don't have the right to say no. I felt like it was what everyone else was doing and I might as well do it. I hated the way he kissed and touched me. It felt like I sort of wanted him to touch me but I would have enjoyed myself better if we just talked.

I got mad at him, I told friends that he had touched me and eventually felt that it was necessary to tell the school administrators what happened. It was months of them interviewing our friends and even our family about what happened. I was too scared to even mention the fingering thing until it went to the school board.
What I remember most was the principal. She said some very messed up things. She seemed mad at me for one reason or another. What hurt the most was that she asked me how he was supposed to know that he wasn't supposed to touch me if I held his hand. When I look at it now, I think, "Are you f*cking kidding me?" She made this imaginary link between holding hands and groping. I can't imagine that being OK in anyone's mind. It is beyond reason.

I look at this now and think, "No wonder I blamed myself for Kirk raping me." I had this story in my head-- well, I did go outside with him, I did talk to him. How was he supposed to know that it wasn't OK to have sex with me? In reality, I told him no. I was reluctant to go anywhere with him and if he wasn't looking so much to get laid and wasn't a f*cking scum bag, he would have seen that. Instead, he took advantage of a young girl who didn't know what to say to get this piece of shit to stop bothering her for sex.

In my mind, I still think of the way Kirk acted and the way Rafael acted. Rafael much younger and I'll say horny, knew that something wasn't right and chose to leave the situation. Kirk was on his way to becoming a man and felt that he had to get this out of the way before it was "really" illegal, even though it was illegal then too. A few more months or years doesn't make a person more able to make an adult and responsible decision, as we can see with Rafael.

I think of other points too, where it seemed that by some societal or media influence, I got the message that it's OK to just go along, even when it's not in my best interest to go forward. I think about the times I felt that if I had sex before, I might as well have sex with the guy who I'm dating or that he'll expect it so I might as well do it. There wasn't anyone there or any voice in my head asking, "Do you really like him? Do you see this lasting a long time? Does he have any particular qualities that you really dislike or that you find attractive and unique? If you get pregnant, have you both decided what's best for the situation? In any case, do you really want to do this?"

A lot of time my sexual experiences were about disconnecting for my body. I wouldn't be in the moment. I would get headaches with fighting with my conscious that I didn't really want to do anything with anyone. I wanted to be alone and to feel safe with a friend or a lover. I remember writing about how during sex, I'd think of roads I went down or houses that I saw that I liked. I would now identify that as dissociation. I wasn't present during sex; I had simply given into hormones instead of rational or emotional thoughts/reasoning.

--Warning: Rant--
When my older and immature boyfriend at the time, Vincent, read this passage in my journal while I was on vacation and had hidden that journal, he had said it was OK. He had also made it clear that if I didn't want him reading it, I would have hidden it better. OMG, A-hole!
Vincent was a special (read: traumatic brain injury "retarded") person. His thoughts were more like a 10 or 15 year old boy instead of a 23 year old man. He'd make up these crazy stories. We broke up because I was tired of dating him. Our dates included us sitting on the couch for hours, watching TV, barely talking. I got bored. I could do that by myself and have more fun. He didn't want to do anything else because everything else required money and he didn't have job. I asked for an engraved bracelet back. He didn't want to give it back and instead said that I must have taken it back. In his mind, the only reason I'd ask for it back was to make him feel guilty (because in his world, I already had it). Eventually, he gave me back the bracelet and a bag that I had made. But as a last bitch move, he put "Vincent and Venus" in paint marker inside of it. I gave it to a friend who said she really liked it because I was still trying to use it despite being pissed at him. After all that, he had an older friend call me to see if I would date the older friend. Then, he started mooching off some 17 year old in the next town over, while still leaving me voice mails (on my pager, back in the day) saying I was the only one for him, he didn't know how he'd find someone else, reminding me when our anniversary would have been, and asking me if I had driven by because he saw someone with a similar van and kind of looked like me. He created screen names with his new girlfriend's name in it, something like "VincentLuvsLindsey123" on my parents' AOL account (because my screen name had been something like "VenusLuvsVW123" for my VW van). He sent an email to my mom asking her out, making it seem like he was just sending out to see if any single women wanted to date him. He sent me various voice mails over the course of two years, wherein I didn't call back to talk to him once. He was so dumb, he asked me to hang out but not if I had a boyfriend. He also drove passed my house several times. He made me scared for my safety. I was worried that once I moved to San Diego, he would still find me and stalk me. These thoughts stopped after moving again. They have also disappeared now that I'm on a different coast from where I grew up.
This girl, Lindsey, left a voicemail one day before I cancelled my account. I talked to her briefly. She said that he had lived at her dad's place, she was paying for this cell phone, they had broken up and she was calling numbers on the bill. Some of the places, she reported, were really weird. She asked if we met up or I cheated with him. I said the truth; I hadn't talked to him and didn't want to talk to him. We talked a bit about him and what had happened between them and what had happened between us. I made sure not to mention where I was moving for school, but that I was moving. Again, I was worried about his odd behaviors.
---- End Rant----

I'm glad that I can get this all out. I really needed to just sit and reflect. It's interesting to me when I have these memories that are persistent. I often wonder what's in my life now that is triggering these memories to come up. Sometimes there's a connection. Sometimes it takes me a while to see what I was trying to tell myself through these memories. I think, though, it might be time to make some art while having these memories in mind.

Thanks,
Venus