Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

Poetry, Paintings, and Ponderings: Through My Eyes

Life Goes On June 1, 2013

TRIGGER WARNINGS

She refused to do anything about the rape. After that day, she didn’t want to talk about it. J is  much like me in her ability to bury things deep inside. It kills me to see her do that, because I know what burying secrets does to you. The secrets come out at night and haunt your dreams. They creep up randomly in the middle of the day and make you unable to breathe. Secrets that you keep buried eat away at your soul, swallowing it bit by bit. Trust me, I know.

But burying secrets is a way to survive and keep living. It is a coping skill; a bad one, but a coping skill nonetheless. I was once gang raped by a group of guys who I thought were my friends. I was drunk and high on drugs, so the next morning I buried it away. After all, I put myself in that position. It was my fault. Those were the thoughts I had at the time, so I pretended it didn’t happen. Even when I saw them later in the week, I pretended nothing was different. Inside, I felt dead. I continued doing drugs and drinking heavily for a few more years. I attempted suicide several times. When I wasn’t attempting suicide, I lived as recklessly as I could. Dying seemed better than living.  I was in a bad place for a long time. It was years before I could grieve and even admit to myself that I was raped.

I worry so much about J. She carries so many wounds and she is not tough like I am. She feels every little jab deep in her heart. She is so trusting, yet she keeps getting hurt. J is a good, loyal person with a heart of gold.  She trusted that when she said no, he would listen. It wasn’t a playful, ambiguous no. She was crying. She meant it.

My anger is still boiling. She begged me not to tell anyone, not even her dad or sister. So I have another secret that I must carry, because when I make a promise I keep it. I do not know what will happen if I run into him somewhere. In this small town, it is bound to happen. I know where he works. I could easily find out where he lives. I lay in bed at night and dream up scenarios of what I would do to  him if I could. I will not share with you what my twisted mind concocts because it frightens me to think I can even  dream of such terrible things. But she is my baby, no matter her age. She is handicapped mentally and he took advantage of that. To me, that is more inhumane than the horrors my mind creates.

I am here, drinking my coffee and beginning my day. J spent the night with a friend and is planning her best friend’s wedding. The birds are chirping and the sun is rising. Life goes on.

 

No Means No May 27, 2013

She was raped. That son of a bitch raped her last night. I am boiling with fury and probably shouldn’t be allowed to blog right now but I have to let it out somehow or I will hunt him down and cut off his dick. If you are offended by my language then please don’t read this post. I am seriously trying to keep from going after him. I do not need to go to jail, because then who would she have? Her dad, who lives in la-la land? Or her sister, who gets angry every time J’s bipolar/anxiety prevents her from being “normal”?

I have always joked that if someone raped either of my daughters I would take him in a house and nail his dick to the windowsill. I would then set the house on fire and hand him a knife and tell him, “You get to choose. My daughter did not.” I thought I was joking. Now I know I was not. I want to inflict terrible pain on him. I want to see him beg for mercy. How could that son of a bitch do that to her? She is already so fragile….years of work probably undone because he wanted to get off.

To think, this was a “nice boy” whom I knew and LIKED!!! It wasn’t one of the losers she found on the dating sites (nothing against dating sites, but J is known for picking losers and it never turns out well); this was a “local” guy who seemed very earnest and straight-forward. My heart is broken for her. She will not press charges because they will never stick. And I agree; they will not stick.

J told him no. Forcefully. Repeatedly. But she did not fight. She did not scream for help. She kept saying no and crying but did not stop him. My guess is because of her incredibly low self-esteem she just let him finish. She was so hurt and confused when she told me. My poor baby.

No means no.

 

 

 

Passion of Winter and Earth January 26, 2013

Winter and Earth

Winter slowly rakes his frozen nails

down Earth’s brown, sloping back

Earth trembles at his soft touch

afraid, yet excited, at what is yet to come

Winter gently blows his cool breath

against Earth’s lovely breasts

creating frost at each summit

Earth holds her breath, tingling, anticipating…

Snow drifts form

where their bodies join together

winds whip and whirl around them

an intense blizzard rages

as their passion builds and grows

Winter throws back his head and moans

as Earth bucks once more beneath him

the storm is over

only a few soft snowflakes left to fall

as the passion

between Winter and Earth

is spent.

~Rainey

 

Early Signs of Mania and Choices I Made August 6, 2012

Trigger Warning: Drug and alcohol use, abortion, and gang rape

I was sixteen years old when I first left home. (I ran away before, but the police brought me back). My mother and I  had spent the past few years butting heads and I was tired of living by her rules. The more I rebelled, the tighter she tried to hold me. By this time I had smoked weed, drank any alcohol I could get my hands on, and popped whatever pills I could find for about a year. I rebelled more and more as the memories of childhood sexual abuse came to the surface. My mother accused me of lying about it for “attention”, which just drove a bigger wedge between us. I think this was also my first instance of mania. I was wild and crazy, just a party girl looking to have a good time.

I had a friend I smoked weed with named *Greg. Greg was a sweet, quiet guy and we hit it off. A few months later, I was pregnant. Deciding to get married, we told his mom and dad. My parents? I had so much anger in me I simply told them I was getting married and leaving. Being all of sixteen years old, my dad had to go to courthouse and sign for me to get married. I still remember the anger and pain radiating from him as he stormed from the room.

We immediately moved in with Greg’s parents. We slept in his childhood room that was still decorated for the high-school senior that he was. He had a part-time mechanic’s job. I didn’t have a job, but none of this bothered me. I knew it would work out fine, and I had visions of being this great mom living this perfect life. That’s why I think I was manic during this period.

Not long after moving in, Greg’s mom talked with us. She was this uneducated little country woman, but she had a way  of talking that was very sweet and gentle. She convinced us both that having a baby at that point in our lives was a mistake. She loaned us the money and gave us the number of a clinic that performed abortions. We decided to go through with it that next week. I had not spoken to my family since I left, so I had no one to talk to about my choices other than Greg’s mom.

Again, I think I was manic throughout this entire period. Otherwise I don’t think I could have done this and survived. I always considered abortion as a woman’s option, but never, in my sixteen-year-old mind, did I think it would be an option I had to consider. So I focused on my “great life” Greg and I would have after this “procedure”.

I won’t go into details about the abortion. Just know it was horrible and something I have to live with for the rest of my life. Manic or not, I chose to go through with it.

Afterward, I felt empty, as though my soul was left behind in that clinic. This began one of the darkest periods of my young life. If I had been wild before, I was now the poster child for “Girls Gone Wild”. The drug use became worse as I grew more and more out of control. I found a job at a burger restaurant and we found a place of our own. I attended night school so I could get my high school diploma. Greg worked two jobs. Most of our money went toward rent, electricity, and alcohol, and drugs. We began selling weed to help support our habit. For months we ate egg sandwiches and whatever I could bring home from my work. Every day, I got high, drunk, or stoned on something. Every weekend, we went to wild parties thrown by his older friends.

His friends, Kevin and Robert, had their own apartment and they knew how to throw a party. We were always welcome, and at the time I thought it was because they just liked us and were such good friends. I felt the way they looked at me, but it was no different from how men always looked at me. I didn’t think much about it, really. I wore sex like a costume because it was a weapon for me, flirting shamelessly.  No one looked at me, the real me, if they were too busy looking at my body.

One night the party was wilder than usual. Some new drugs came in and they were strong. We danced and partied like always. Greg and I had no money for drugs that weekend. so Kevin and Robert gave them to us. They also kept giving Greg drinks until he was too drunk to function. They told us we could stay the night since we were too wasted to drive. We had never stayed, but we both thought it was a good idea. I remember dancing and first Kevin, then Robert, slipping me more drugs. I remember very little about the next few hours.

Around three in the morning Greg and I stumbled to the bed in the spare room. We both passed out immediately. Within twenty minutes, Kevin and Robert snuck into the room and picked me up. I remember waking up and they told me we were going to party some more. I think I passed out again, because the next thing I remember I was in a different bed and completely naked. Kevin was on top of me.

I was so stoned everything around me seem to be flashing in slow motion. I looked over Kevin’s head and saw five guys surrounding the bed. I tried to say no, but I don’t know if the word even came out of my mouth. I did push against him, but I was no match for him. When he finished, the next guy climbed on top of me. I was crying and pleading with them to let me go, but they laughed and told me “we’re just having fun” and “you know you like it”. I even yelled for Greg, but he was passed out. They didn’t let me go until they all had a turn.

Robert led me back to the spare room and put me back in bed with Greg. I cried myself to sleep.

I never told Greg or anyone else what happened that night. I was too embarrassed and thought it was my fault for being a flirt. Not long after that, Greg and I decided to go our separate ways. I continued to self-medicate for many years, trying to forget the choices I made and where those choices led me.

*All names have been changed to protect the innocent…and the guilty.

 

Back From the Beach and My Head Didn’t Explode August 2, 2012

I took a quick trip to the beach (just for one night) because I thought my head might explode if I didn’t get out of here for a while. It worked; I am back home, head still in one piece (well, that’s not really true, but it didn’t explode) and slightly refreshed. I really wanted to go somewhere (anywhere) so I could take pictures for my new photo blog I started …click here to see it….I just wanted a place to put pictures only, without any words other than titles.

The beach is my least favorite water to go to this time of year. I really like it in the off-season when it is cool and mostly deserted. But I am glad I went because I got some great pictures I will be sharing in the upcoming weeks.

Another reason I went was to get a break from J. (For new readers, she is my daughter who has an eating disorder, anxiety, bipolar, and OCD. She is 25 and unable to live alone.) She’s had some “female” issues lately. I went with her to the doctor because they found some abnormal cell growth. We went on Tuesday, and they said it was just all the new meds that she was taking. She continued to complain about how she felt and said the doctor was wrong, something else was wrong. J complains so much about health problems (and every other small thing in life) that I sometimes reach a point of needing to scream, hit her, or run away. I ran away (for a day) so I wouldn’t scream or hit her.

As I was driving to the beach, she called and dropped a bombshell. “I think I am pregnant.”

I went temporarily blind and deaf.  All I could see were colors and lights with some darkness around the edges. I could hear my blood pounding in my head. Oh, and I think I threw up just a little.

You cannot begin to imagine what her being pregnant would mean for me. For her. For any of us in this family. But mostly, for me. Damn.

She went back to the doctor and had some more tests done. Results came in today. Do you want the good news or the bad news first? I will start with the good news: SHE IS NOT PREGNANT!!!!!! I am so thankful I could cry. But….the bad news….she has a type of STD. FOR THE SECOND TIME. And, get this, it is NOT from the boyfriend she just had the big breakup with! I am so very angry with her right now. She is sleeping around, again, taking these huge risks with her life (and my life, really) and acts so damn casual about it. I  know, I know….Bipolar  manic stages can make you more promiscuous; she is a 25 year-old with a mind of her own. I know all of this, and yet I am so angry at her. She lives with me (and will forever unless she meets someone who will love her and take care of her) because she cannot live alone. Her anxiety level is too high, she has HUGE money issues, and she just cannot do it. Everything she does, or doesn’t do, affects me as well. She is extremely self-centered and loves to keep drama going on. Right now I just want to kick her in the ass for being so stupid!

Please know, I am just venting. I do not, and will not, get physical with J. I truly love my daughter more than life itself. She can be a kind, caring person. I actually enjoy spending time with her….when we are not in crisis.

I’m glad I went to the beach. It probably saved my head from exploding. I may need to go to the mountains soon…

 

What’s Love Got to Do With It? July 15, 2012

She moaned in pleasure as his hand gently cupped her breast. Their kiss deepened and another moan escaped her lips. Just when she thought she would explode, he….

What is love? Is it out of control hot sex? Is it remembering her birthday? Is it dinner and a movie, and then (hopefully) out of control hot sex? Can you love someone and NOT have sex? There are so many levels of love, and I’m not even talking about the love you feel for your parents, friends, or for your children; I’m talking about what you feel for a significant other.

There’s that moment of  butterflies in the pit of your stomach; where every look, every word, is heavy with meaning. The air is thick with electricity when you are near one another. Being apart for too long feels physically painful and your every waking thought is of your love.

There is also that love that comes from shared experiences. When you hear a song, or a phrase, and it means something to the two of you. You look at each other and a certain meaning is conveyed that only the two of you get. You have inside jokes, and you know how to push each other’s buttons. Being together is comforting and sweet.

Love is painful. Only a person you truly love and care about can cut your heart to shreds with words or actions. If you love someone, you open your heart and let them in, making yourself vulnerable. When they lash out at you, the pain is indescribable. But to experience the incredible highs, you must experience the lows. It gives your love depth and meaning.

So what about sex? Sex is a wonderful experience to share with another person. When you have sex with someone you really love, it adds a layer of pleasurable textures that cannot be described. It heightens every touch to a new and wonderful level. Does that mean every single sexual encounter with the one you love is going to make you see fireworks and shooting stars? No, but when you focus on that connection, it can be terrific!

Love is so many things…if you find love, grab hold and hang on! It may not always be rainbows and butterflies, but it will be interesting! (And there will be hot sex at least some of the time!)

P.S. I love that WordPress recommended these tags: wine tasting descriptors and Wikipedia….lol