The Jackass

We openly refer to my ex -- the abuser discussed in my last post -- as "The Jackass".

I can't remember precisely how it came about, but I'm probably not far off in saying that The Jackass had done something jerk-tastic in front of my parents. Because, yes, he really was that big of a douchebag.

Dad referred to him as a "jackass", and it stuck. (And let me tell you, he lived up to -- or perhaps down to -- the name!)

I Survived

NOTE: I initially wrote this as an answer on Quora, to the question "What incident has traumatized you for good?" I'm reposting it here because I don't feel like re-typing all this.

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The six or seven years I spent with my abuser. Yeah, I’m including some snark in parenthetical comments, some of which is stuff I always wanted to say to him.

When I met him, he was charming, intelligent, polite.

That… that all changed after he moved in with me. I suspect it was changing before— no. I know it was changing before. Couldn’t see it at the time, but it’s all very clear now.

It started small. Pushing tiny boundaries, asking me to do things I was slightly uncomfortable with, small transgressions that you’d typically just brush off because “relationships are about give and take,” and most relationships do require some compromise because even the best, most compatible couples aren’t going to agree on 100% everything. And, you know, most couples work these things out in a way that works for both parties. Right?

Those little things turned into bigger things.

Before I knew what had happened, I was doing all the giving, and he was doing all the taking, and I had zero boundaries left.

If he wanted sex, he’d just roll me over (or drag me out of my wheelchair) and take it. From whatever orifice he decided he wanted to violate. Whether or not I was in the mood. Regardless of whether or not we had guests. I’ve been raped vaginally, orally, and anally.

He’d stay up all night playing video games. In and of itself, not necessarily a problem, and I’ve been known to pull all-nighters while gaming, myself. The problem was, he’d crank the volume UP until there was no way I could sleep. His excuse? “I can’t hear it if you turn it down.” (But he could somehow hear me just fine muttering obscenities under my breath? Yeah…)

I offered him headphones to use. “But they hurt my ears!”

Padded headphones, designed for comfort. “But they’re uncomfortable!”

And gods help me if I just so happened to make more progress in a game than he did! (Like, I swear I’ve seen more reasonable toddlers.)

His diet was just atrocious — all carbs, fats, and meats. He had no respect for my dietary needs, and forget about the occasional treat. Then he’d blame me when the inevitable digestive disturbances happened. (Because I just loved having chronic diarrhea, and was totally doing it on purpose…)

And then there was the physical violence.

He didn’t hit me a lot, but he did use physical intimidation (twice my size, three times the weight, able-bodied) and the threat of violence quite a bit. When he did hit me, it was always my fault. I shouldn’t have told him to give me back my things. I should value him more than a seat cushion. I shouldn’t have contradicted — or worse — corrected him. I should have kept my mouth shut. And yeah, there’s a story behind the seat cushion thing, it’s really weird, man.

I’d gotten a new seat cushion for my wheelchair. Now, proper support and positioning is important, not only for my joints, but for my skin. He got it into his head that this somehow meant the seat cushion was “more important to me” than he was. Which is friggin’ stupid, yeah? Well, he then decided to take a knife to my brand new cushion in retaliation for this “insult”. Result: One permanently deflated seat cushion that would no longer offer the required support, and YEARS of skin issues.

Back to the physical violence — I’ve been bitten (skin broken), stomped in the ribs, slapped, punched, manhandled, choked out, forcibly restrained for no good reason, and held at knifepoint. All by the same person.

So, seven years of this. And over those seven years, there were multiple contacts with law enforcement.

Here comes the kicker. The cops always, without fail, took his lies as truth, and would only ever tell me to “stop provoking him.”

The pigs only took action after he assaulted two able-bodied men.

It’s traumatizing enough to spend seven years suffering domestic violence, and yeah, that did a lot of damage.

But the most traumatizing thing? The thing that scares the living shit out of me?

The police not giving a single, solitary fuck about victims of DV.

Life is Interesting, Part Two

So you'll remember I posted about Ian a while back. And if you follow my facebook you'll know we're together. Yes, as in "in a serious relationship". Well, what you don't know is that there's a huge history here.

I am completely head-over-heels for him. And I have been for 12 years, most of which was spent in total denial. (Go, me.)

And I've been thinking. I'm not one to ascribe things to "fate" or "destiny". I prefer logical explanations, hell, I'll even accept "coincidence" over "meant to be". But this? This is way too perfect to be anything but fate or destiny. And that kinda scares me.

Okay. It really scares me.

Not because he's, like, perfect for me. Not because this is moving kinda fast. And not because the pieces are all falling in to place.

But because I'm actually feeling something. Well... other than numb, that is. I'm feeling things I haven't felt in a very long time -- since before The Jackass, actually. And it scares the living hell out of me that I'm capable of this depth of emotion.

Total love and acceptance. Not only am I feeling this way, he's... very much loving and accepting of me as I am.

Why does this scare me so much?

After dealing with The Jackass, and the abuse, after everything I've seen, why does this scare me?

Homophobe Parent Behaves Like An Ass

Parent Files Complaint Against Gay Teacher for Corrupting Child's Innocence

What did the teacher do? Why, she announced to her class that she was getting married to another woman! And this asshat "parent" made a big fucking deal over it.

Why not just be happy for the woman? She's getting married to the one she loves, which is a beautiful thing!

But some people just can't wrap their heads around the idea that love isn't restricted to people of the opposite sex. (Or, thinking of a triad I know, solely the cisgendered.*)

I don't get what the big deal is over gay marriage. We're people, we live, we love, we want to formally declare that love -- JUST LIKE YOU. "Civil unions" won't cut it; I seem to recall a time when "separate but equal" was applied to another group of people, and that didn't work out well at all. Civil rights are for ALL people, regardless of color, gender, sexual orientation, or any other arbitrary division you can think of.

*cisgendered -- this is the term for people who are not transgendered, that is, our physical gender and our mental gender match up.

Oh. My. God.

So I met this guy on the 'net a few months back, and we met face to face yesterday -- the chemistry, to say the least, is very, very good.

For the first time in, like, forever, I actually feel attractive.

We hooked up again today, and holy FUCK, not only is he nice, attractive, and a gamer geek -- he has STAMINA! (wink wink, nudge nudge, know what I mean?) I'm going to go take a well-earned nap, now. *tired smile*