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justcallmemav · 5 years

Text

7/20/18

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Pt.20

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“You didn't get along with her, so this shouldn't be affecting you this bad.”

(She saw how you treated me and wanted to adopt me.)

“You trust people too easy, girl.”

( I had known him for 13 years. I built that trust. )

“You put yourself in this situation.”

( I didn't ask for it.)

“I never liked him anyways, trash grew legs and took itself out.”

(I loved him for five years.)

▪▪ ·I love you, mom. I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be.

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▪▪ ·I'm at work I'll message you when I'm off. Ly2.

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▪▪ ·I could use a call right now.

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▪▪ ·Can't talk right now, will call tomorrow. You'll be fine for a day.

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▪ You're my best friend. I love you. I can't take it anymore.

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▪ I think this is it.

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▪▪▪ Thank you for always loving me unconditionally. You're the greatest sister anyone could ask for. I love you. You're better off without me.

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You came to visit me two days after i was taken into the hospital on july 20th at 9 o'clock at night.

I was drinking an excessive amount within the matter of two hours.

Within the last few minutes of the second hour, I saw the walls of the world around me collapsing.

This is it.

I have nothing left.

My mind wouldn't rest. I took a xanax but it didn't help ease my mind.

It sure couldn't mend my broken heart.

This was the last time.

It didn't work before.

It has to work now.

So I begged, and I cried.

I prayed to a God I wasn't even sure existed.

Please take me now.

I want to come home.

I think I'm ready now.

JUST TAKE ME NOW. I AM READY. PLEASE FUCKING TAKE ME. I'M READY.

I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I made the choice to give into my thoughts and my depression. I made the choice to finalize this shit I consider living. This existence. This truly was it. This is the end.

I let my hands trace their way to my fate. To my drawer. Opening the pill bottle. Where the palm of my hand met my lips to fill my mouth with what I knew would make everything better soon. Next thing I know, my body was lured to the bottle of vodka as it stands at the end of the bed. I wrap my fingers tight around the neck of the bottle, lips to the glass. Down the hatch and into the rabbit hole I go. I feel my body spiral. Down...down...down...down…

Boom

So bitter.

Yet so good.

Was this the only way i could be happy again?

I will reach the numbness I yearn to undergo.

I've heard the rumors.

Does it seem as free as they say?

Then along came the thump.

ALAS~

Nothingness.

Darkness. No voices, no pain, no criticism. Just the echoes of my heart beat.

Thump.. Thump….. Thump….

After what felt like days… the darkness fades steadily. The numbness dissolves like ice through my fingertips.

Off in the distance I hear something. A cry? A car? A siren? A siren.

I struggle to come to consciousness.

I find it nearly impossible.

Then out of the blue, I hear a voice.

A voice so faint and familiar.

After some time, I can open my eyes half way as I slip back into consciousness.

My vision is hazy. I managed to come to when I hear her voice.

“Cayley, there's some people here who need you to get up and come outside. They need to check on you.”

I see the pigments from the lights spinning on their vehicles, bouncing off of the brick walls on the outside of my home, but it's all blurry.

I struggled to stand as I stepped through my threshold to go outside.

Who needs to talk to me? About what? Why?

I look up and see two policemen and a paramedic. I begin to hyperventilate.

“Is my dad okay?”

Ma'am, we received a call stating that you may be a harm to yourself, so I ask that you don't resist help. Are you able to follow us to the back of the ambulance, ma'am?

·I haven't done anything and I'm not a harm to myself.

·For your own safety we need to make sure that's true. We can't take risks, miss.

·I'm sorry, please ma'am let go of my arm, I don't need help. GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME I AM FINE.

I hear my father talking to the police officer but couldn't make out what they were saying over dad's coworker crying and all of the sounds around me. I panicked. I heard my dad speaking once more, only this time it was directed at me.

He asked me three things.

“CAYLEY BABY WHAT’D YOU DO?”

“WHAT DID YOU TAKE?”

My hearing began to fade slowly, as I focused on the ringing gradually developing in my head. I could ever so slightly hear the walkie talkies and daddys office keys jingling in his pocket. I heard Sues charm bracelet that she loves so much.

I felt my heartbeat through my chest, as if it was trying to escape. I feel my heart rate descend, I look up to see what was around me. Everyone was there.

I saw my father crying and shaking.

I saw his girlfriend crying.

I saw my father's coworker crying.

I was embarrassed.

Yet, too weak to care.

I muttered to the medic under my breath;

“I'm ready to go. Ma'am please take me.”

I collapse, but the woman was quick to catch me. She definitely had motherly instincts. Not even 2 seconds after i collapsed, I lose consciousness.

I woke up in the back of an ambulance. I'm being hovered by two men with papers on clipboards and the medic who stopped me from busting my ass on concrete. They're bombarding me with questions and demands.

“Your oxygen levels are low, ma'am. I need you to inhale and exhale on ten. The oxygen being distributed through the tubes in your nostrils is a bit cold. Just a fair warning. Are you physically capable of removing your tunnels, lip piercing, your engagement ring, and whatever else pierced or on your person that could be a threat to yourself of me?”

“Do I have to take off my ring?”

“Yes ma'am, unfortunately it's code. We'll put it in this bag. It will stay unbothered. Please remove your piercings.”

Shortly after I began hyperventilating because I couldn't stop crying, and boom.

All consciousness was lost.

How could I harm anyone with a ring?

She should have been patient, anyways.

~Don't rush me.~

You asked me why I did it. It took you two days, it took my father less than 60 seconds to get to me when he saw the ambulance at the door.

You took 48 hours to muster the pride to visit me, and when you did, you showed no emotion at all. You hugged me that day and I felt no love.

I was barely aware of what was going on, yet I somehow sensed tension coming from your end. As if you were forcing yourself to care when deep down you knew you didn't.

I felt like I was being smothered by a well maintained, ‘JLo Glo’ scented greeting mat.

Even when I was much younger and you would stay in and drink, you'd hug me and I felt this giant strange force field of motherly love surrounding me, if that makes any sense. There was a step by step process of your home drunk persona and it went the same way every time.. but I'll get to that in a moment.

Anyways, I'm still thankful you showed. Even two days late. You had me slightly convinced that you actually cared.

ALMOST. I was informed of the insensitive remarks you made to my father about me. You really had the audacity to turn around and say I was wanting everyone to be worried about CAYLEY because ‘everything has to be about CAYLEY and CAYLEY was just looking for attention'.

Like I didn't come home from school and take two steps through the threshold only to see you crying because you got dumped. You threatened to end your life. (Because you loved this man so much. The man you are with now. 9 years later. The man you use for money. Whom you cheat on) Me and your biological daughter took you and admitted you.

I felt like i betrayed you, but i needed you to be alive. For...whatever reason. I guess cos y'know.. a 12 year old needs a parent. You came home and the meds they gave you calmed you down, but you liked that too much. You quickly became dependent, actually you still are. You contradict yourself too often.

Don't you remember what I have been put through..? By you, mostly. You were and still are so hypocritical that it makes me chuckle. Sigh- anyways, I couldn't fully comprehend anything you said during our visit. I couldn't gather the energy to move nor look at you, let alone reply to your bullshit motherhood quotes.

You left when the time was up, two weeks go by in a blur still ever so slowly, and they transfer me. People were able to reach out to me. A handful of people I love and cherish which includes my sister, my father, his girlfriend... the woman who has been more of a mother to me than you ever were.

It didn't take much time after me being in that God forsaken inpatient facility for me to be pulled aside by a nurse in a confidential manner. My brain threw around every possible reason as to why she was doing this.

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Am I going home?

Are they moving me again?

What did I do wrong?

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~ Nothing, stop with the assumptions~

She informed me that I had received multiple calls from a woman saying she is my mother but she couldn't pass it through because another woman, who ALSO claimed to be my parent/caregiver, had requested that this number (she was giving me )go on a restricted no contact list. She handed me a sheet of paper with with a number on it. Buttttt, it wasn't yours. So I had no idea what was going on. Who's my caregiver? Did my sister put you on the no call list? Nope. It wasn't your number and you never do wrong, so you denied having anything to do with that whole thing. I decided to call the number while the addiction groups were in the other room. I had no reason to be there so I had time to meditate, draw, socialize, or find out who was on the other end of that phone line.

It's obvious what I chose.

It took a few tries until someone finally answered. When they did I felt like an idiot. How could I not know.

You hated her because of how hard she tried to see me and my siblings. You had so many hateful things to say about her, yet no validation. It made you angrier when you told us about her then made her out to be a bad guy and we still got in touch with her. You hated that, didn't you. You hated it because the truth was going to come out if we found her.

Lady, I met my real mother when i was 11 years old. That was the day my father bought my favorite hat… a black fedora with a blue stripe inside of a purple stripe in the middle (which I still own). I was wearing this black shirt with a red graphic design on the front and back that was WAY too baggy on me and a pair of cuffed blue jeans, I do believe. It's been eight years, I have great memory but I'm not special like that.

If it weren't for daddy, my sister, and my brother... I would've never known who she was. Well, when I finally got ahold of my biological mother on the phone the day after I received the number by the nurse… she was genuinely upset. She said one thing that will stick to my brain for the rest of my life.

“I lost you once I can't lose you again”

You won't have to.

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lesbian-ed · 7 years

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I'm having a hard time with figuring out my orientation. I have a history of sexual trauma with men, and grew up in a home with a wife beater. Sometimes I worry that I'm "male avoidant" but bisexual nonetheless. Yet bisexual feels wrong as a label. I've been to therapists over the trauma, that they make me feel worse because they say "not all men". I know that. It's just I feel like I need permission to be gay. I wish a therapist would recognize I am gay.. but I just get invalidated ..

Reading through this ask made me very angry at all the “professionals” who have put you through this. The term “male avoidant” sounds to me like it came straight from the mouth of a psychologist… A very straight one at that.

This is so fucking unfair to you as a person. Just because you are a survivor it does not mean every aspect of your life is shaped by your trauma, and I hate that your doctors, the people who were supposed to take care of you, neglected to support you about your sexuality, most possibly because they didn’t want anyone to tell them they “made you gay”. I feel like psychiatry for homosexual individuals is still a messy field, and I bet my ass there’s a lot of stigma surrounding trauma patients “turning out” homosexual in this medical field.

So here’s what it is: are you attracted to males? Do you want romantic and/or sexualrelationships with males? Do you want to marry a guy? If yes, you might be bi, or straight. If not, you’re neither straight nor bi. that’s that. It doesn’t matter that you have a history of abuse. You’ve been to therapists about your abuse, they did their deed, you already have analyzed your experience with abuse, it is what it is. I’m sorry you’ve suffered with it, but not everything about your personality and/or sexuality is about that. You are your own person.

Now, are you attracted to females? Ask yourself all the same questions: Do you want romantic and/or sexual relationships with females? Do you want to marry a woman?

How do you compare these two, how do you feel about males versus females? Which people are you most comfortable with?

If you’re solely attracted to women, you’re a lesbian. You’re doing great. Your sexuality is valid, no matter your past. Sexuality is inherent. We’re born gay, we are literally born this way. You just happen to be a lesbian who has a history with abuse, not victim of abuse who “turned out” gay. Your sexuality is a part of you. It could not be removed or altered. It is as it is, and will always be.

Now, if you do think you might be sexually attracted to males as well as females, but don’t want to be with men… It’s 500000% OKAY. You don’t have to explain yourself you down’t owe anything to anyone. Again, you belong to you, and sexuality is inherent, but we do have a choice on the people we choose as our partners, even if we can’t always choose their sex like bi people can. If males are not for you, if you never wanna see a man again, for whatever reason… It’s okay. You’re doing okay. There are “febfems” (female-exclusive bisexual females) out there, and they’re not explaining themselves, you don’t have to either.

Your sex life and your romantic relationships are your business only, you don’t owe it to anyone to change anything about yourself. And you certainly do not need anyone’s permission to pursue whatever relationships will make you happier. Go off. Live a happy life, love who you love. Psychologists do not know everything, and they can have personal biases, although they really shouldn’t.

You don’t need them to validate you, you just need to look at yourself and figure it out. That’s not easy either, but you can do it. As a survivor of a broken home myself, as a survivor of deep, scarring emotional abuse by a father who I could never forget, I want to tell you yes, all men. All men have the potential to be abusive, especially with the socialization they have, and it is not your job to pick between them and find out which ones will be awful and which ones won’t. It is not your job to do emotional labor for any man, ever again, not for another day in your life. The one person you owe anything to is yourself, and you owe it to yourself to be truthful to your gut, to trust your instincts.

Do you think you are solely attracted to women? Great! Go off, go find yourself an amazing, loving girlfriend and future wife. If you end up finding out you’re actually bi in the future, that’s no one’s business. But if you’re not bi, and you keep trying to make yourself figure it all out before you start living, you’re just wasting time and energy which you don’t need to be spending.

Be happy, girl. I’m proud of you, and I wish you the best.

/Mod A 💞

#questioning #questioning lesbian #questioning bisexual #lesbiansafe #mod A #answered asks #abuse #trauma #tw #domestic abuse #domestic abuse tw

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