God even the word makes me want to throw up.
T recently bought up the model of structural dissociation. Which was making a lot of sense till we hit the ‘submit’ part. I properly properly reacted, total meltdown. Wasn’t even about the subject anymore, it was the word, the concept of submitting.
I went totally off on one about how I’ve never submitted yuk yuk yuk. Except I have. I did. And I can’t explain it. And this, this is the bit that throws me.
There’s page after f*cking page of evidence way back to early childhood that rather than submitting, behaving, being ‘good’, I fought. Which is considered unusual because I am female. Extreme violence, they said. You name it, I was it.
And later, I fought. Even though fighting him only made it worse for myself. I’d fight. Except that first time I didn’t. I couldn’t have yelled, would have been pointless. No one for miles around. But I could have fought. I could have tried. I could have physically resisted. Chances are it wouldn’t have worked, and like every other time after, I’d have made it worse for myself. But I should have tried.
Why. Why this time, when I needed to fight, did it abandon me. I don’t want this weak submissive part of me. I don’t I can’t it can’t be me. It’s really really majorly can’t even stress how badly bothering me.
I think we’ve unintentionally hit on the worst part of that particular bag of joys. I can deal with what he did to me physically, I can deal that I knew him, I trusted him. I can’t deal with the fact that I just.f*cking.gave.in.
And it brings everything back. You stupid slut. You wanted it. I must have wanted it. I didn’t fight. I just f*cking took it.
Just argh. Why? Why didn’t I fight?
T recently bought up the model of structural dissociation. Which was making a lot of sense till we hit the ‘submit’ part. I properly properly reacted, total meltdown. Wasn’t even about the subject anymore, it was the word, the concept of submitting.
I went totally off on one about how I’ve never submitted yuk yuk yuk. Except I have. I did. And I can’t explain it. And this, this is the bit that throws me.
There’s page after f*cking page of evidence way back to early childhood that rather than submitting, behaving, being ‘good’, I fought. Which is considered unusual because I am female. Extreme violence, they said. You name it, I was it.
And later, I fought. Even though fighting him only made it worse for myself. I’d fight. Except that first time I didn’t. I couldn’t have yelled, would have been pointless. No one for miles around. But I could have fought. I could have tried. I could have physically resisted. Chances are it wouldn’t have worked, and like every other time after, I’d have made it worse for myself. But I should have tried.
Why. Why this time, when I needed to fight, did it abandon me. I don’t want this weak submissive part of me. I don’t I can’t it can’t be me. It’s really really majorly can’t even stress how badly bothering me.
I think we’ve unintentionally hit on the worst part of that particular bag of joys. I can deal with what he did to me physically, I can deal that I knew him, I trusted him. I can’t deal with the fact that I just.f*cking.gave.in.
And it brings everything back. You stupid slut. You wanted it. I must have wanted it. I didn’t fight. I just f*cking took it.
Just argh. Why? Why didn’t I fight?
