by Band Back Together | Jun 3, 2016 | Date/Acquaintance Rape, Fear, Guilt, Healing From A Rape or Sexual Asault, Rape/Sexual Assault |
I was date raped by two men eighteen years ago, while visiting a friend at college. I never thought of it as rape since I was drunk. I didn’t say no or resist. I was in and out of consciousness, until I finally passed out. I finally woke up to it still going on. I was very sexual after that and slept with anyone who wanted it, even if I didn’t.
A few years after that I was coerced into sex by a friend of a friend. I was alone with him at my apartment. I think he had driven me home from my friend’s house, but I don’t remember. I wasn’t drinking, and it was the afternoon. He was pressuring me to have sex and would not take no for an answer. I was afraid he would be violent if I kept resisting, so I eventually asked him if he would leave if I had sex with him. He said yes. I just laid there like I was dead, while he had sex with me.
I never considered myself a victim, or thought of either of these events as rape.
I always blamed myself and thought of them as my own fault for being stupid and easy. I am married and much older now, and in the past few weeks these incidents came back in my memory. I am now thinking of them as rape and starting to be very upset. How can this be affecting me eighteen years later?
by Band Back Together | May 27, 2016 | Breakups, Feelings, Guilt, Romantic Relationships |
I broke off our relationship last night. You were growing very attached. I wasn’t. I tried to make it about me, but I hurt you worse.
I am a flawed man, but not an evil one.
I’m sorry.
by Band Back Together | May 19, 2016 | Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Divorce, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder |
I have mentioned before on this blog that I’m a writer. Sure, an amateur certainly. I decided the other day that perhaps it would be useful to write a memoir of some kind, documenting the conditions of my childhood. In a way, I suppose I would like to see my own progression to this state on paper. If I ever complete it, I suppose it would help someone understand the nature of mental illness and how it can be one big event or many tiny ones that really trigger depression, anxiety, borderline personality, PTSD, etc.
The thing is that I’ve been remembering things that I hadn’t thought of in a long while. Like how much I loved the Dukes of Hazard when I was a kid. I would call my dad Boss Hog and make him buy a cigar to smoke. The thing is, I have always had this tendency to see the worst in everything. It’s not new, and it would be easy to place the blame on my ex wife.
Truth be told, I have always had this sense of not belonging. Whatever my condition is, I have always had it. To be sure, it hasn’t ever been so intense and difficult to deal with. But it’s been, to borrow a phrase, a death of a thousand cuts. Sure, there were some really bad incidents that went down. By and large though, I think it was isolation that really irritated this condition I bear.
Why are so many authors or artists also burdened with this malaise? Does the disease of the mind inspire the art, in an artist’s effort to express themselves, or are the traits of an artist a combination that is vulnerable to mental illness?
All I know is that for me, it seems to be a combination of these reasons. I suffer from insufferably high standards. This is why I am so pessimistic. Eastern thought cautions us against the formation of expectations, and boy do I ever have a knack for letting myself down. My standards are so high that I defeat myself. I realized this while I was playing fetch with my dog the other evening. I expect everything to be awesome and perfect the first time. Always have. And I am crushed by the letdown. Either because others didn’t perform to what I expected or because I failed in some way. Not that my dog wasn’t fetching, but only because my damn brain never stops thinking.
But both of these conditions arise from my expectations of perfection. It doesn’t really reflect on my capability nor that of those around me. Perfection is impossible. I cannot remember who the author was, but it was a book about recording music. He said that the pursuit of perfection is self-defeating, because the moment we get close to perfection, we realize how it could still be better. Perfection is an endless climb.
Idealism has been somewhat of a plague to me. For this reason, I have two books, several dozen short stories complete with another book in the works along side of a memoir. I know I will probably never submit them for editing with intent to publish because of my own expectations. They won’t ever meet my own standards, so why would I expect them to meet the standards of others? I need to kick that. I’m actually kind of a good writer and nothing ventured, nothing gained after all. Perhaps, if tamed, my sense of idealism can be an ally.
By-DigitalTreant
by Band Back Together | May 18, 2016 | Anxiety, Guilt, Psychological Manipulation |
Dear Jealous Person Who I Trusted To Be My Friend,
I have had to call in sick from work for the last two days because I have been feeling dizzy. My anxiety tricks my body like this, especially when I have been obsessing over how I have to defend myself to you. I realize I can’t, and am grateful that I did not let you get too close to my true friends, as I might have lost them as well. I am trying to see the positive, and I am grateful that spending more time at the gym means I have some new friends.
I used to feel guilty for falling for someone younger than me, but am grateful I asked him out. At least I could mend my broken heart. I have been out of your clutches for six months, and as I go over the friendship in my head, I realize the jealousy was there from Day 1.
I wonder what comments you made that triggered the end to my place in our group of friends. I now see how you manipulated people and put them down. I sometimes think I am crazy, but as I look back on the friendship we had, I hear the criticisms you made. I see how many times when I was happy you chose that moment to decide you wanted to go home, making me leave with you. I left at the same time as you because I was your friend, but now as I look back, I realize you couldn’t handle it when I was getting more attention than you were.
My headache is already disappearing and I feel like a weight has lifted off my shoulders as I write this.
Part of me wishes that our mutual friends believed me, but you have done your manipulating too well and have played the victim. I wish you well, but not at my expense. I am relieved to have escaped your clutches and can see my life is changing, and I am moving on. Part of me wishes you could see me now and how I have progressed, but that means I am still seeking your approval. I no longer need to do that. I am writing this, hopefully, as a final closure. Good luck in your future, and I hope the next pretty girl who crosses your path is treated more kindly than I was.
Your Former Friend
by Band Back Together | May 17, 2016 | Anxiety, Depression, Suicide, Unemployment |
I am unemployed. I have been unemployed since I was fired on February 10th. I worked at a pretty famous law firm, but it was in areas of law that I wasn’t familiar with. I also made dumb mistakes. Also, I felt that the other secretary (besides me) sabotaged my efforts to fit in at law firm. I was only hired in early November. I want to emphasize getting fired was my fault. I made too many mistakes; I’m not blaming anyone but myself.
I am taking being unemployed very hard. I feel like something has been ripped out of me. Part of my identity is my career, and it’s been taken from me, until I find a decent job. While I was growing up, my father owned a successful farm, and my siblings (I have six other siblings), parents, and whole family worked together on the farm. My parents farmed well and made a lot of money. They treated the farm like a 2nd religion. It was thought about, talked about, dealt with every single day! We had dairy cows and those dairy cows HAD TO BE milked every day (unless they were within a couple of months giving birth), twice a day. If they weren’t, they would suffer a disease called mastitis (which women can also suffer from). I didn’t like farming. I didn’t like working every single day from Sunday to Sunday. I hated getting up during the 5 o’clock hour, and still do to this day. I was the fourth son out of five, and the first son not to farm.
What I’m trying to say is that working has always been very, very important to me and growing up it was treated very, very seriously. So, when I see how my Dad and my siblings have flourished and I have been fired several times, it just hurts so bad. I’m just not as good as they are. I love working, and making money in my chosen legal profession means so much to me. Succeeding means a lot, possibly, too much.
The place I worked is somewhat famous. It was covered by major local newspapers, Crains, Reuters, and even once on Comedy Central this summer. I felt this was a golden opportunity. If I could succeed there, then it would be like a gold star on my resume. When I worked there, I had a sense of accomplishment. If I could even work there for a year or more, it would have helped immeasurably. But I didn’t. I came up short, my opportunity GONE.
My Mom, my brother, sister and I all have/had depression (Mom died). It’s part of my heredity, and mine has been made worse because I am now unemployed. I won’t commit suicide, because I owe it to my girlfriend and kids not to kill myself. I know how that would hurt them.
But, I wish I were dead. If if someone were to shoot me and kill me, and if I were allowed to speak just before I died, I would say, “Thank you!!” to my murderer. I wake up feeling bad. My depression is somewhat better because of my girlfriend. No one could ever ask for a better life partner. She’s so altruistic. I had a great mother, but even she was not as altruistic as my girlfriend.
I go to a psychiatrist. I take an anti-depressant. I have anxiety disorder and take medication for that as well. I go to a counselor. I go to Church every week, and that helps a lot. I know I should be happy that God loves me, Jesus died for my sins, and I am grateful for being saved, but I am suffering right here, right now.
I want/crave a legal job or something of comparable pay. I want it so bad. The very thing I want, is the very thing I’m being deprived of. It’s cut me down. I’m diminished as a result.
by Band Back Together | May 15, 2016 | Anxiety, Family, Fear, Happiness, Hope, How To Help A Friend Whose Child Is Seriously Ill, Love, Pediatric Caregiver, Speech Disorders |
Last week, my daughter Anna was on the radio! She was invited by Angie Evans to do the Triple Play Takeover on WCFX. She was able to request three songs. She picked “Baby” by Justin Bieber (of course), “Fifteen” by Taylor Swift and “King of Anything” by Sara Bareilles. She also was able to describe a prize for a giveaway, answer the phones, and do the weather. She even got to talk with Angie on air, and tell everyone a little bit about herself.
Of course she was a little bit nervous beforehand, but I think I was even more nervous for her. I didn’t need to be, though. She was a natural! She joked around, and even shared some entertainment gossip she had just learned!
Years ago, I never would have imagined this would have happened. You see, Anna’s been receiving speech therapy since she was a little over a year old. When she was a preschooler, I was the only one who understood what she was saying. I was constantly having to act as an interpreter. Speaking clearly and slowly enough for others to understand has always been a challenge for her.
Yet there she was, on the radio, speaking clearly and totally coming out of her shell. Doing the Triple Play Takeover was so much more than having fun on the radio for 30 whole minutes.
Instead, it was a huge milestone that she was finally able to achieve
