It Was A Comfort ….wow! I stopped dead in my tracks when I read this. Then I took a screenshot and reposted it. I read his words and I felt a resounding familiarity run through my bones. It hit me in my heart and I was trying to repress it but I have to get it out. I was looking for comfort. I had none. Not mental or emotional comfort and as a result no physical comfort either. My teachers were there during school hours. I had no comfort. I was wrong all the time and everything I did was about being awful and wicked. There was nothing good about me. So, I went looking for comfort. I found comfort in reading, writing poetry and sex with people who would never care about me, but it was comfort for the moment. I got caught, not in the act but a boy who actually did care and loved me, wrote me letters everyday. I missed one and it was found and I was beaten badly, my nose bled, I had black and blues, I was called a slut, nasty, horrible, lack of respect for myself and other terrible things. Ironically he saw me, not the broken me but the person who wrote poetry and who needed to be needed and wanted. We were both young and he made me feel like someone who belonged to someone. I was beaten by the person who refused to let me be wanted or feel good. He was comfort.
I was too scared to get fucked up again so I found Tech crew but she was too paranoid that I wasn’t actually where I said I would be. So that couldn’t be my comfort. I found comfort in sports but I couldn’t do that for long because you know…why should I have a comfort? I was supposed to be in the house, succumbing to her poison and her ill will and just take her bullshit. I was her vessel for violence and abuse and food became my comfort. I allowed food to comfort and console me because it felt good and it felt natural and there was at least always food. That felt good and it was easy to use because there was no restriction there. But like anything, too much food is not good. It ceases to become a comfort and it becomes poison. My body reflected that. I got it. I actually also got really good at no strings attached sex. It’s a funny thing because while I kinda craved the comfort of the body in me and next to me, I couldn’t wait for them to vacate and leave because I wasn’t trying to be close at all. I was used to the absence of closeness so when it was upon me, I was kinda stifled by it. It still feels that way now, but at least I can overstand why.
I’ve never actually discussed my own sexual abuse because it fucking hurts and it stings. I am not about to say any names and say who did what but I haven’t told and won’t talk about it because there was nothing comforting about it. I also didn’t tell then and won’t tell now because never ever ever EVER will there be comfort for me. I will be the villain and I’ll be treated as the one who raped myself because there will be excuses made for my trespasser. But I promise you that it has been terrible to hold on to the violent secret and I resent all of the motherfuckers who made it impossible to tell. I will forgive none of them and I’ll hold a grudge forever because that is my right to do so. But do y’all get how damaging it is to actually have NO comfort anywhere AND because this person knew I had nobody in my corner that would believe me, they just continued to violate me. It was not comforting.
I am way more triggered than I thought. But I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to blog and then find ways to heal myself and find healthy comfort. Well my comfort these days is biking, yoga, walking and being a good space with my sister friends. That is comfort. That is love. That is what true love and light is. I guess I’ll also have to work through accepting love from people romantically. That is something that feels weird and unnatural because I think there’s an ulterior motive when anything is overly romantic. I don’t like it. It feels unnatural. But I guess I gotta take that shit day by day. It’s really difficult to find comfort in romantic situations for me. It’s hard as fuck to have someone all up in my space because it’s all or nothing. I can’t do any of this shit for fake. So either we on a path to something real OR keep your flighty and fragile ass feelings the fuck away from me. I’m just not here for the foolishness and fuckery….so stay over there. I find healthy comfort in friendship. I am blessed to have nothing but time to ride shit out. You want me? Cool then let’s chill over time and see where things go.
I feel better. I needed to let this truth go. My ask though is that the ppl who know me in real life, don’t talk to me about it. I’m good. I don’t want to talk about it. It’ll be aight.
2 thoughts on “It Was A Comfort…”
You are not the villain. I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer so much
Thank you. I’m okay. Suffering is relative.