Let’s Just Call It Casual

be aware:

physical abuse while a fetus and a pre-schooler

All of my life I have had issues with clothing being too tight and it causing me an increase in pain. I tend to wear very loose clothing and often casual wear, especially because they cost less and they are more comfortable and they are better for bike riding.

I know that I’ve written before about health issues that I was born with due to issues while in the womb. My mother had tried to end my life, often, by physically assaulting me while I was inside of her. Because of that the cord became wrapped around me and impeded my healthy growth and movements within the womb. I had issues with my arms and legs by the time I was born and doctors told my parents that they were unsure if I would ever be able to walk by myself. Within a few days the doctors were feeling much more positive. My hands and legs were moving freely and they were believing that my much improvement would continue.

I still have problems with my arms, and legs, neck and shoulders, and back. I believe that part of this is due to my earliest physical abuses by my female parent whilst I was still inside of her womb. I remember her physically abusing me for years after my birth. When I was five she physically assaulted me and caused the damage in my spine that causes most of my problems. But I think it is important to note that a woman who will physically try to abort her fetus by physically assaulting it is not a person who would balk at further abusing her child later in life.

My Advocate from the women’s shelter, two years ago, told me that I needed to stop wearing such raggy-baggy clothes. She’s not the first person to describe my clothing style as raggy-baggy. When you’re poor and only loose clothing are comfortable due to health issues, raggy-baggy may well be a good way of describing the essentials of comfort clothing.

My Advocate had insisted that I wear a really nice outfit when we went to my apartment appointment with the building manager. The clothes she gave me were way too tight and painful and even though I managed to wear them for a couple of hours, it was excruciating. I’m sure that there are tons of people who wear clothes that are snug, but I am unable to. The outfit sits in my closet. I really wouldn’t wear them again. I don’t own anything else as tight, that I have actually worn.

For Christmas Eve dinner, last year, I dressed up in a wonderful long black skirt, very loose, with a lovely green stretchy blouse and loose light red sweater. It was the first time that I have dressed up since the apartment application appointment.

Loose clothing has always helped me my whole life to have less pain and more comfort. It’s not a fashion statement. It is much more important than fashion. I would like to have more variety and more fun in my wardrobe, and indeed, I am trying to do so in my life and have been for a few years, especially to bring back more whimsy in my dress and accessories.

Helping my body to heal and to feel less pain is essential and an important part of my life and my healing path. It is one of the easiest healing things that I do for my body.

So right now I wear spring casual. In summer, of course, there is summer casual. In Autumn, there is always Autumn casual. And in winter you will find me, to the best of my ability, wearing winter casual. Let’s just call it casual.

Healing Quotes 701

“I see the words “I know he would never hit me/physically harm me” in a lot of letters I get. Far more than I could ever, ever, ever answer or publish.

Those words break my heart, every time, because the people who write them are offering them up as an example of how the relationship can be saved and how I shouldn’t judge their partner too harshly. They mean “he’s not ABUSIVE-abusive (even though he does all these abusive and controlling things to me). I’m not like those abused women, I would leave if someone actually hit me.” They break my heart because the letter writers have had to do the calculus, the calculus called Would He Hit Me? and they offer the answer up as proof that he wouldn’t but all I can see is proof that he almost did, that he’s thinking about it, that he’s a week or a year or a hair’s breadth away from it. It’s proof that she’s thinking about it, too, that she’s had to do the math. Nathan wouldn’t hit you, but he’d punch a wall in front of you, so you can see the force of how his fists slam into things., so you can see how hurt his hand is afterward, so you know that the damage is your fault. When I read those words about how the partner doesn’t harm or hit, I can hear the echo of the guy saying them, too, like “Well, it’s not like I physically hurt you! Come on! Be reasonable (and do what I say)!“(Mentioning how “at least you don’t hit” someone kinda sorta exactly like reminding them that you could hit them, that you might hit them, that hitting them is on the list of possible things that could happen, you are a fucking goddamn hero of a man for making the difficult heroic choice not to. Someone saying this to you should always make the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and prompt you to look around for the exits).

And then the letters, like your letter, contain the most heartbreaking question of all, which is how, how can I be better/fix it/make it right/not make him scary and angry anymore. How can I be perfect (give up caffeine), how can I show him (check in with him by cell phone every time I change locations or company) that I’m worthy? Because the abuser-logic has worked. “When you make mistakes it’s your fault, when I make mistakes (like scaring you) it’s also your fault.” Someone doesn’t have to physically hurt you to harm you.

People in non-abusive relationships don’t have to do this constant calculus. Non-abusive dudes don’t get described as “intimidating” by their girlfriends, because non-abusive dudes, even the big strong burly ones who might look pretty intimidating to a stranger don’t intimidate their girlfriends. They don’t punch walls, or throw things, or put 10,000 tiny conditions around everything, or monitor their movements or their phones. When those dudes feel lonely, they fucking call a friend, or they muddle through those lonely feelings. Non-abusive dudes don’t pat themselves on the back for not hurting women, because it doesn’t occur to them to hurt women.”
~ Captain Awkward, #640: “I Know He Would Never Physically Hurt Me” and Other Fairy Tales.

Been there, done that. I’ve seen a boyfriend that I loved, who claimed to love me, hit the steering wheel over and over, when in a rage at me. I went numb. I froze, I didn’t react, I was shut down, there was nothing in me to react. It took me four years after the relationship to understand this too is abuse.

He had lots of rages, in lots of places, for lots of reasons. He always blamed me.

I don’t recall explaining him or calculating in my mind how to explain it all to someone else, just didn’t tell others what he was doing to me and how it felt and how it affected me, changed me. And yes, he hit me, he physically assaulted me, and that was the last he got to see of me. I always told him never to hit me and that in itself shows how yes he was calculating it in his mind, and so was I.

Letter to Self, While a Fetus

(mentions physical abuse by mother, when pregnant)

Dear one. You inspire me. I think of you and I am overwhelmed with awe.

Your courage is huge. In your dark and liquid abode.

In a hostile and hateful environment you fought to live and to continue. Even though our female parent tried to end your life several times while in the womb, you and your strength endured. My mind is boggled by your strength, little baby girl.

I just want to wrap you up in my arms and protect you. I want to fight for you, because I know your unique self and the unique gifts that you bring to the world.

You chose life. It still staggers and amazes me how much love you have for life and for loving others, how much you believe in goodness and gentleness and how much that has effected me all of my life.

If I was in your place I don’t think I could have made those choices, though I have to admit I make those kinds of choices each day. Even so, I cannot imagine ever being as brave as you.

You are so tenacious. I am tenacious because of you. Everything that I am is from you and due to you and emanates first from you.

I love you. I will always admire and love you and try to live my life in a way that honors you and your courage.

Sweet baby girl, I love you.

My love reaches out to you, from all these years away, and envelops you. You are not alone. You are loved. I am here. I will always be here with you. You will never be alone. You will always be loved. Through all the years I will always love and parent you.


Something I Wanted to Say

mentions physical abuse and mother daughter sexual abuse

I believe that no matter what someone weighs they deserve love and acceptance from our society, from friends and loved ones and to be treated with respect and equal rights by everyone. I know that I endeavor to treat others that way.

I know that that is not what everyone experiences in our western societies. There is a lot of hatred out there.

I know that I have weight issues for myself and towards others. My two family sexual offenders were both very overweight. I was conditioned, by abuse, to hate and fear overweight people.

My mother, who sexually abused and physically abused me, hated her body and I was often inundated with adult societal body hatred. I remember myself at four years old and already being deathly afraid of being overweight.

I am often triggered by loud and angry overweight people, like my mother was, thanks to her unbridled rage and hatred directed at me, often with physical assault. Additionally I was abused by other men and women and there are some physical characteristics that are triggering as well.

I have a lot of unresolved issues due to my mother and brother. I wish that I could say that they are easy issues for me and I am conquering them, but that is not the truth. It is a struggle for me, although I try, at all times, to treat others with respect and equal rights. I know that body hatred and size discrimination/hatred is abundant and constant in our society. I have worked hard at treating people better than my society allows.

I started gaining weight when I was 25 and my back and neck pain and health issues became huge issues in my life. It has been a big struggle for all these years. Extra weight has always caused me additional pain and additional restrictions to my mobility and health. I wanted to say that if I did not experience increased pain and decreased mobility with extra weight I would not link the two concepts together.

I realize that doctors and scientists and other professionals often link extra weight with a number of health issues, without any scientific studies that show a direct correlation and they shame and coerce patients and the general public into weight loss even though no studies show that weight loss works in the long term.

Unfortunately my health issues get worse, my mobility becomes more problematic, and weight gain an inevitable outcome. I used to diet. I used to engage in disordered eating. I don’t do that anymore. It is a challenge for me to lose weight without extra walking, which is always a challenge due to my back disability, but walking and eating healthier together is how I lose weight.

I realize that everyone has a right to their own food choices and their own body, and that there isn’t always a correlation for others between body size and health issues. And even if there was, each person has the right to make their own choices, to have autonomy in their own life and with their own bodies. And the right to be treated with respect and acceptance by others.

I wanted you all to know that I accept and love myself/myselves and our body. I wanted to write about this and say what I believe as clearly as possible, finally.

What I wish for all of my readers is that they accept and love themselves, as they are. It has been a hard road for me, with lots of bumps along the way.  I wanted you all to know that I accept and love all of you, just as you are. There is nothing that you need to be or change in order to be loved, accepted, and cared about. I love you all. It is my profound wish that you all have others who treat you with love, acceptance, and kindness.

Good and healing thoughts to you all.

Songs for Healing 46

Katy Perry singing Part of Me:

I can relate to this song so much. It is a lot like how my life was with my ex-boyfriend, except for the fact that we never married. I decided about a year into the relationship that I would never do that, that I would never had a child with him.

Since seeing Katy Perry sing this song at the Grammy Awards show on Sunday, I have been singing this song and Adele’s Rolling In the Deep. After realizing that I was multiple I would talk sometimes to the inners about him. It was a horrible shock to learn that others inside were involved with him, had loved him, and that he had abused and betrayed them as well.

I never cried about this abusive relationship since breaking up with him. I was glad that I didn’t. I told the inners in our multiple system that it was good that we didn’t cry. That he didn’t deserve our tears. That he had made us cry so much while we were involved with him. Not tears for him. He doesn’t deserve our tears. Realizing the pain and anguish we endured, we are releasing some of that through the tears, through the present truth that we deserve a healthy peaceful reciprocal relationship. Tears of health and healing.

Days like this I want to drive away
Pack my bags and watch your shadow fade away
‘Cause you chew me up and spit me out
Like I was poison in your mouth
You took my light, you drained me down
That was then and this is now
Now look at me

This is the part of me
That you’re never gonna ever take away from me, no
This is the part of me
That you’re never gonna ever take away from me, no
Throw sticks and stones, throw your bombs and bones
You’re not gonna break my soul
This is the part of me
That you’re never gonna ever take away from me, no

I just want to throw my phone away
Find out who is really there for me
You rip me off your love is cheap
Was always tearing at the seams
I fell deep and you took me down
But that was then and this is now
Now look at me


Now look at me I’m sparkling
I’m a firework, a dancing flame
You’ll never put me out again
I’m glowin’ oh ah oh
So you can keep the diamond ring
It don’t mean nothing anyway
In fact you can keep everything yeah yeah
Except for me

[Chorus x2]


Healing from Sexual Abuse in an Adult Relationship

This post may trigger as it discusses emotional, verbal, physical, and sexual abuse in an adult relationship.

I originally posted this to a Songs of Healing post a couple of days ago, but I think it needs to be seperate and have it’s own post. Here is the song that relates to this post: Songs for Healing 45.

Some time ago, in my mid-twenties, I was in a horrible relationship that I was finally able to break off. We were together for more than two years. Finally I knew that I might not ever find anyone to care for me and didn’t care if I was ever with another guy for the rest of my life. I ended with him when he physically assaulted me one day.

He was excessively emotionally and verbally abusive. His words, demeanor, and actions made me feel worthless, ugly, fat, damaged goods, worthless, inferior. The list goes on and on. I realize now, and looking at the photos it is confirmed I was not ugly, I was not fat. I was what I would now describe as luscious. I was about size fourteen-sixteen. I look at this one photo of me I have and think what a beauty. I don’t know how I didn’t know that, but no one ever told me, and I was often told the opposite as well as being abused, so I guess those are the reasons.

He used to stalk me while we were dating, slipping out about things he could not have possibly known unless he had been lurking nearby where I lived. This was at a time when he lived miles from where I lived while he often insisted that I walk and/or bus to see him instead of being willing to pick me up with his car. Both walking and busing were necessary as there were no direct bus routes from where I lived to where he lived. I used to see him drive by my house, slowly. After I broke up with him he would still drive by and stare at the house, stalking my life until I moved to another place. At times I feared that he would do something violent again. My phone has always been unlisted since him.

Six weeks after I broke up with him, he called joking and casual, saying he had a few belongings of mine and wouldn’t I want him to return them to me. This is how he chose to speak to me after he physically assaulted me and after I did not contact him for six weeks. I instructed him to put them in the mailbox twenty-four hours of any day, that it would not matter whether I was home or not, as I would never open the door to him again, had instructed the relative I lived with to never open the door to him and that they wouldn’t since I had told them of the assault, and that instead I would call the police and press charges for the assault.

There were other abusive elements in the relationship that I find that I still have a lot of shame and humiliation about and cannot share about them in any detail. And have only shared with two friends a few of the specifics. I know that the shame is not mine, it is his. I know that I did nothing to deserve his abuses and that I was and am worthy of love and respect then and now.

It took me about five years before I even tried to process anything about the relationship. I cried so much while I was with him, just getting him out of my life was a magical end to the tears. I have never cried since about him. When your lover is your sadistic sexual abuser it is hard to feel anything. Numbness is a daily experience.

I got the book The Emotionally Abusive Relationship by Beverly Engel from the library after five years away from him and was finally able to start feeling and thinking about what had happened to me and how to change my life story so no one could ever again come into my life and stay who abused me like him.

In the book the author writes about the different kinds of emotional abusers. I discovered through reading that both he and my mother were destroyer emotional abuser types. Things slowly started to make sense.

He was a mind fuck. He was a mind fucker. He loved to fuck with other people’s minds. I was soft and sweet and vulnerable and naive and he fucked me over. He was a fucker.

It is still hard to talk about any specifics, it is like admitting that  you let someone abuse you, as if you are to blame according to society, and you are the one who was the abuser, as though being the victim makes you the aggressor, as though being near someone is permission, even requesting them to abuse  you.

Being around an abuser doesn’t mean you are the abuser. It doesn’t mean you deserve it or want it. It means you don’t have the self-esteem and skills yet to protect yourself. It means that society, your parents, your teachers, your schoolmates, everyone really has abused you or reinforced negative beliefs and inferiority  and/or not helped you to become empowered, to heal. It means that you haven’t been able to increase your self-esteem, become empowered and heal enough by yourself either.

I will never be the same after what he did to me emotionally and verbally. I know that I am still quite nice and sweet and sometimes even vulnerably naive, but I will never have back what he cavalierly and gleefully robbed me of. So much like my mother to be eerily creepy. With the two of them in my life, sometimes I have to wonder how I kept anything good inside myself.

These two people were two of the most prominent sexual abusers in my life and were very similar in their emotional abusive approaches and in their sadistic ways of sexually abusing me, though at that time I was still repressing the mother-daughter sexual abuse memories and the realization that I was multiple. Also at the time I did not know or believe that he had been sadistically sexually abusing me. A week after we became sexually involved I started having severe hip, back, and neck pain; chronic health and pain issues that are still with me to this day. I see the connections.

As I said, it took me some time to figure things out, feel about them, and slowly heal. I had never had a lover before, I didn’t know what sexual contact really was, I only knew what sexual abuse was, and I think looking back on it all, I didn’t know it could be so painless until I was with another guy years later, whose’s gentleness inexplicably knocked me for a loop and allowed me to take a good hard look at what had been done to me by my ex and to accurately label it.

I don’t do a lot of healing work around this relationship now. It does come up, he was a big part of my life during and after. He was the monster that loomed large. Slowly my healing has brought me far far away from the emotional pain he so happily and easily inflicted on me.

I’ve never felt a strong connection to a song over this issue, until the first time I heard Rolling in the Deep when Adele sang it on Dancing with the Stars. The song is about a really bad relationship, though I don’t think she had one exactly like mine. I never believed that we could have had it all. He was too dysfunctional and abusive for that. But I am turning my sorrow into treasured gold.

I watch the videos of her a lot. It has been very validating and healing. The tears have finally come and are helping me to heal. I sing along to it a lot, perhaps too much, because I really belt it out and then end up with a hoarse throat. Each time, though, it helps me to heal a little bit more.

Seriously Dude, Really?

I was at the library recently, standing near the check-out desk, looking at the used books for sale. There was this woman with a young son and he was running rampant. He was about four. He was laughing non-stop and getting behind the counter, which got him some stern words from the librarian.

Basically she kept asking the same question over and over and they kept answering her and it wasn’t good enough, apparently, because she wouldn’t leave or watch her child.

He came up behind me and slapped me on my outer thigh. Being touched is one of my triggers. I got, well, very very mad. He was laughing. I yelled at him. It was obvious what he had done because I said so. I said, you don’t get to slap me. You don’t get to touch other people. It’s not funny.

The mother did nothing. Seriously dude, really? How can you just stand there and say nothing? Nothing?!  That got me madder.

If she had only said I’m sorry I would have stopped talking after the first sentence. If only she had gotten ahold of him and acted like it was wrong I would have stopped. Seriously dude, really? I don’t get your mothering.

Finally she said to him, yes, she is right, you don’t get to touch other people.

I’ve known a lot of kids and seen a lot more in my life, but never had a child come into my life who thought it was okay to go up to a stranger adult and slap them. Seriously dude, really? What kind of parenting is that?

My Poetry

Down to the Zero of Myself


for Eve Ensler
(writer/creator of “The Vagina Monologues,” “The Good Body,” V-Day, an international effort to stop violence against women, and a survivor of physical violence by her father.

Based on a piece called “Down to the Zero of Myself” from the book “Insecure at Last” by Eve Ensler.

down to the zero of myself
here all alone
somewhere on the road

you are
in the depths of emptiness
as it washes and breaks
over you
lost, unremembered
no existence
down to the zero

reduced by your father
to zero,
his hands, his fists
his belt, his words
down to the shame
down to the emptiness
inside you
down to the zero

the huge inner room
gapes and yawns
to swallow you
into the inner reality,
a terrible place

all the things you did
all you were willing to do
to change, to fill it
nothing changed
it would not go away


swimming at last,
in the center

swimming at last
in the center
of your soul,

~ Kate

Healing Poems 34

Leaving My Father’s House
(by a survivor of physical abuse by her father)

I am leaving my father’s house
Stepping out
Stepping off
Free falling outside the confines
Of what is acceptable or known.
I am leaving this cage
Which suppressed
Made less of me
So thoroughly
I came to call it my legacy
My country
My home.
I am leaving those angry men
Whose broken hearts and wounds
Became more painful and urgent
Than my own.
I am not going to be sorry anymore
Or responsible or wrong.
I am not going to give everything
That is mine
And call it yours.
I am going to stop believing
I can wake you up
Or break open your shell
Or get you to feel
Your sorrow your grief
Your tenderness
I am going to stop mainlining my life force
Into your self-esteem:
Air pump girl blowing up boy rubber ball
You can stay flat and go nowhere by yourself.
I am leaving my father’s house
I am not going to whisper anymore or tiptoe
Or lie flat on my back.
I am ducking, flinching, waiting till you finish
Or whimpering in the dark.
I am moving out.
I am not going back
I am leaving my father’s house
I no longer believe your lies
About freedom and democracy
That it hurts you more
Than your whips or words or policies hurt me.
I am going to believe what I see:
Bruises on my neck
Floating corpses in the streets
Iraqi women with their voting fingers
Chopped off
Emaciated polar bears
Melting from corporate greed.
I am leaving your guilt-tripping fear-inducing
Evil-projecting idea of me.
I am fleeing your disguised terror of my bigness,
My hunger, my vagina, my compassion,
My tongue.
I am leaving my father’s house
I see how it is punishing spinning
Out insanely in paranoid desperation
Dividing the world into
Evildoers and saints.
I am leaving my father’s house
I do not want a position there
I will not imitate your cold tactics
To get a seat on the floor
I will not leash your prisoners
Corporate towers
Cathedrals, mosques, and synagogues
Picket-fenced houses and Pentagons.
I am going out
The neighborhoods
Fundamental doctrines
And misinterpreted laws.
Past the reach of your fist
Past the fire breath of your rage
Past the tentacles of your seductive melancholy
Or your unspoken promises to change.
I am willing to be alone, disliked, slandered
And misconstrued
Because my freedom is more important
Than your so-called love.
Because my leaping
Will be the ultimate jumping off
Will be the new beginning
Without a daddy in charge,
On top
In control
Of all the goods, ideas.
Interpretations, and cash.
I am going out there by myself
But I know I will find the rest of you there
Knee-deep in the garden
Hands raised in the water
Way way out past my father’s house.

~ Eve Ensler

My Poetry

A Death In Sparta


born of Sparta
survival would not
have been for me,
crippled, I would
have been thrown
over the cliff
or left in a basket
to feed the wildlife

the generous
rights of women
never would have
been mine,
only born healthy
or a royal
would breath
have been my right,
but I am no royal

while in the womb
the cord,
around my limbs,
did twine; as I grew,
impeding my growth
my arms, fingers, legs
compressed and contracted
emerged looking crippled
at my birth

perhaps in Sparta
there would be no doctors
to counsel
time and patience
to see how my
tender little body
would respond
for within days
I emerged
from my protective cocoon

though perhaps in Sparta,
with its emphasis
on creating
the next generation
of warriors and breeders,
perhaps even my mother,
would have chosen to nurture
my growing self within her,
instead of trying to beat
me to death,
perhaps the life giving cord
would not have bound
around me
without my struggles
to escape her killing fists.

~ Kate