Fucking Hell

This feels more like an emergency update if anything else. I don't sleep at nights anymore, being an insomniac, only being able to fulfill my body's necessity after 8 a.m and beyond. Of course with the quarantine and my unemployment, it's not being a bother to my daily routine, but I imagine when it's over and I have a job, not being able to sleep at nights and having to wake up at an early morning and work all day and rinse and repeat will eventually fail my body and my health. 

It's only not being a problem now but it will surely be a problem later.

Anyway, I'm just here to spill out some thoughts, which I have religiously ignored in turn of various distractions. I should likely start from the beginning.

Some time around a week ago, I believe (I can't tell because my time scope is honestly fucked up by now after half a year sitting at home), there was an issue with a famous figure being outed as a sexual predator and his victims stepping up to voice their experiences and Twitter was abuzz with the viral news.

Left and right, there were people who defends the victims and people who blames the victims. 

I wasn't aware of the news before I went on Twitter per my usual routine that day, and usually there isn't much on my timeline other than Haikyuu news, anime news, gaming news, a bunch of fandom related stuff, and a small bunch of my real life friends (and sis). I check up on my fandoms, and I would leave. 

That's usually it.

But that day, the timeline was flacked with posts about sexual assault victims, and it felt like the roof over my head was suddenly crumbling apart in a deja vu situation.

It wasn't like they were explicitly talking about me or of me, but it was inevitable that when they said "sexual assault victims", I would feel included in that group. Just like when somebody mentioned "Muslims" or "women", this is a group I am a part of. And to encounter a trigger in such a set up is, also inevitable.

The people who called the victims "liars".

"Attention-seekers".

"Making up stories".

"Delusions"

etc etc etc

Suddenly there wasn't enough air in my lungs, and the words of my sister reverberated around my head on a loop, the world was spinning, and my legs had no strength. I struggled to regain a sense of calm and applying my breathing techniques. It was noon, and mom were gonna have her friends over for a short get-together, and half of them were my old primary school teachers and I have to be around. I had to get my shit together.

So I spent several minutes calming my head and getting air into my chest. Slapped a smile on my face in the shower and shoved everything aside. 

Despite all that, throughout the day, the inside of my chest felt like it was caved in, and I continue to smile and laugh and chat despite taking short, deep breaths under my breath every few minutes. 

When everybody has gone home and the sky was dark, I shook off the smile and allowed the despair overthrew me. I knew I needed to cry, but it took me so fucking much. I tried watching FMAB scenes that usually gives me a sense of strength, I tried drawing my pain out, I tried talking to myself. Nothing. 

My chest felt like it was ripped apart into pieces and I knew the solution was to cry my balls out but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shed a tear. I couldn't.

Then Sara's daily video update came in.

As soon as I pressed the record button to record my reply, everything spilled out as natural as they come. The sobs, the tears, the hiccups, the whole shebang.

The pain and hurt and anguish I held back all day came crashing down as if whatever stick that had gotten stuck in the one small hole of the big dam had snapped. I cried and cried and cried. There was no logic nor reason to why I did, but nevertheless. 

The still rational part of me explained that I encountered a trigger, and went through a flashback. There was no time for me to process it, so it was staved off. Thus results in immediate and prolonged reflex of repression and suppression even after I was given time to process it. 

The trigger is being reminded of the times sis would dismiss my experiences as "lying" or "making up stories" for 2 years after the first time I scrounged up my courage to tell her about it. 

Of course, I do not blame her, and things are different now in the way she believes me and supports me now. But it would not change the fact that she had waved me off for 2 years.

That would unfortunately remain a fact.

So I cried. Through the pain and the crushing disappointment of my extenuances. 

It felt unfair, that what I went through defined my entire life after. 

Because I was assaulted, I developed PTSD and MDD and insomnia and anxiety disorder. Because I was assaulted, I had to explain to people I care about why I don't want them touching me under certain conditions. 

Because I was assaulted, I had to think about scrounging up courage to tell people I care about why I developed my illnesses.

Because I was assaulted, I have a history of self-harm, suicide attempts, and bulimia. 

Because I was assaulted, now I have to live the rest of my life with choke full of mental illnesses until I die, maneuvering my daily everyday life with them by my side.

Because I was assaulted, I had to listen people around me telling me I'm lying.  

It felt like my life was speared into "before the assault" and "after the assault".

So I cried. 

Because it felt so goddamn unfair, and I hated it.

Fast forward a few days later, I recovered from the crying, but not from the flashback. I felt wholly embarrassed that I had broken down through a recording. I couldn't sit with my thoughts and process the aftermath of the flashback. 

Unresolved emotions tangling up in my chest and tangled thoughts intertwined in my head. I didn't want to face my embarrassment, so I fancied distractions from north to south. 

Busying myself with fandom stuff, finding new BL series, reading more mangas every day, dyeing my hair purple, etc etc etc. It is just luck that I have Harraz with me currently so taking care of him just envelops everything.

I have just been running with distractions, avoiding to sit with my thoughts.