My life is insane. I sit down to write a post and then another snowdrift falls from the roof and buries me. Only this is Oahu so maybe not snow? Maybe a basket full of coconuts dropped by one of the girls nervous about me stealing their Samoan boyfriend? Those poly girls are vicious if they think their man is wandering. Personal experience. Of course I thought that wandering eyes are partially the man’s fault but I guess they love honeyboo too much to realize he’s a lying, cheating, bozo and prefer instead to go after the girl who probably doesn’t know anything about his chicks on the side. I say chicks because the poly boys can string along 4 or 5 white girls at a time. Because poly girls talk to each other and you tell one, they all know. But they don’t really share outside the clan so if you’s a white girl it’s wayyy easier for him to snare you because you don’t know better or what he’s really like. The frothy cheating little sneak that he is. rrrr
Back to the original thought- my life is the type of life where you go on Wikipedia and read the synapses of each episode and it’s a telenovela. If you’ve ever watched a telenovela I don’t need to explain further. That is the type of drama I do.
For instance, that roommate? Whose boyfriend I called security on and had a down and dirty fight with? The “hushed tones” be going down in this house and I swear it’s not me, people. I’m loud and proud. I’m a jock. We don’t DO quiet. And as far as sneaking is concerned if I wasn’t descended from a long line of Caucasian ninjapeople I’d be hopeless. So this friend she chats with is super obsessed with no one touching. her. stuff. ever. But funny thing I get this text “Hey I moved your stuff while I was cleaning and like I didn’t look at any of your private papers, but some of the other girls might” I come home… The kitchen where said papers are is a mess.
So she also uh… So according to my information my roommate who introduced me to this house waved her hand graciously over the counter
“The appliances belong to the house.” She said breezily
Then I use a mixer. On that counter. Where the “communal” appliances are located according to my wise guide. And then later this lovely roommate late at night after I cleaned the whole damn kitchen (If you saw how much filth these 9 mainilander girls make … You would say “the damn kitchen” too) she walks up to me and in this calm *I’m-a-good-Mormon voice* (more on that later)
“Hey I saw those cookies. Did you use my mixer?”
“Oh yeah, I did.”
“Well I’d prefer you didn’t touch that, it’s mine.”
“Well I was under the impression that every appliance on this counter was communal but all right, it’s all clean and it won’t happen again.”
Next day. A note shows up on the pristine mixer with a skull and crossbones saying do not touch.
This same person a week later I come home and everything I own has been moved.
Asides from waking up at 3:00 am and finding a jar of pickles in the middle of the floor (#myfriendsneedtobepunished) I am really curious how this roommate that hates having her things touched or moved justifies in her head that she can move everyone else’s things. And in my case that was medications and medical papers and whatnot and I walked away to make a call. And of course it could all go in my room except my room likes to occasionally house hurricane laundry.
Now, the passive “I’m-a-good-Mormon voice” it’s a lot like the voice flight attendants use when they’re saying “Sir will you please be seated” when what they are thinking is “oh god. Him again. Is there a fork? Can I stab him please? Isis, where you at? If you’re gonna be a terrorist at least be useful. Him first.” (jet lag does something to you. Or maybe it’s the airline food? I’d be cranky if I had to eat that) What it means is that the person wants to come across as nonjudgmental, kind, and of course with your best interest in mind but somehow… Somehow it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like they want to knife you or stone you for being a whore and throw you out of the polished gem of a community they inhabit. That little wonderful bubble that- and not just LDS people. Everyone, does this. Basically the person that uses the “I’m-a-good-Mormon” voice is just someone who is covering up their true feelings about you.
I noticed this a lot in church. I love those sentences that start with “I’ve been concerned about you lately” and you already know that what they want is for you to come to their activity or do your hometeaching or get married (I could tell you STORIES bruh) and they come at you. Or “I noticed” that’s usually “I noticed your shorts are too short. If you come over I could help you learn how to sew them so that they’re longer.” That line got used on me when I was on my way to Physical Therapy and need I say that in order to do physical therapy literally on your entire leg AND your hip, you gotta be able to move and the PT has to be able to feel and massage that leg? But no. Noone asks. And I smile and nod but I’m really thinking “Ha. Rigghhhtt.” Or like below Winnie the Pooh that’s my other attitude.
I may… Or may not have… had a conversation on Sunday with 3 of my Samoan men- one of whom was being vomitously public about how together he was with his girlfriend by keeping his hands all over her at all times. The same Samoan who was engaged a few months ago but broke it off. Now he says she’s “the one”… OK bro if that’s what you want to think… She’s way hotter than him though. I’ll be sad for her babies. And for most people that’s a leap straight from dating to marriage to babies in one sentence but we’re Mormon that’s not a leap that’s more like “beam me up Scottie” all the same process to eternal progression and eternal happiness…
Touching on that my conversation with them was something alone the lines of “You know if you’re too busy with your girlfriend to be my friend stop promising otherwise” and got down and dirty with “Why don’t you just marry them and have sex?” And them joking that the kids come first. Yeah my boyz are not renowned for brains and they tend to think with their anatomy before their head. Not bad men. Just kinda stupid about certain things. For example: women, ie me. The boss woman without a man who rules the world and is sassy and badass and very fierce and determined to get what she wants. They are verrryy stupid in that regard. I think they’re used to simpler, sweeter, kinder women. So a bunch of Tongans are listening and one of them makes a smart comment when he hears the word sex and I look over at him with one raised eyebrow and say “Do I need to come over there? You’re not gonna like it if I come over there, bruh.”
I don’t play well with others.
I need to mention that I took my meds at a different time and they did things to me and I need to switch my dosage. So I was feeling really high self-harm urges and very much out of it. That kid on drugs who is there but not there and super spacy? That was me trying to hold it together.
This was also the first time I saw those punk guyfriends who kept saying “Hey your royal highness we’re going to come hang out.” So they invite me to a church activity.
With. Food. It’s a “break the fast” event and I see the food and all I see is everything anorexia wants me to see. Calories. Weight gain. Binge. Loss of control. Feeling “fat”. Punishment. Torturous eating. And I spook. And I’m basically on drugs (legal ones) and people are noticing that I don’t look so good. I had to leave at one point to just put my head on a table. I was also very sassy with a tongan guy who asked me what was wrong. See, the answer people usually expect is “Oh nothing.” I looked him straight in the face and said “Which one do you want to hear? I got a list of things that are wrong and I’m just curious which one you can handle.”
He backed away slowly. Which is the right thing to do when face to face with a tigress in a mood.
And we sit in the Aloha Center and have our conversation. A toast, welcoming me back to the “ohana”. Yeah. The ohana that didn’t come to visit me when I was just out the hospital. The ohana that doesn’t call or message or hang out with me. That ohana. And that was how things went down and I really got on one. Because the topic of relationships came up and that is my worst suicidal ideation trigger. My huge self-harm trigger. Loneliness. And other people being happy in relationships. It just cuts me to the heart. And of course my guyfriend that I liked- Teddy Bear- is in a relationship and was so awesome for being vomitously public. All three of my boyz are in a relationship right now and all three are, like I said, vomitously public.
And I’m sitting there like “oh, you want to go? I can go. Seriously, bring up marriage and having kids being the gospel path again, watch what happens.”
So I’m saying “You know I don’t see the point of marriage. It’s just an excuse to have sex.”
HELPFUL TIP for those of you in the audience who don’t have much experience with Mormons. In church that sentence is what we call a “don’t ask”. It is an extremely triggering, hot, controversial topic in the LDS culture. Don’t want to start a bible war, except sometimes I don’t care, and I do anyways. Wait. Actually I don’t really care. I start scripture wars all the time. It’s kind of a hobby.
And these guys are all RMs (return missionaries). So they start trying to give me the missionary discussions, which used to be helpful. Now, with this trigger, it just makes it worse. I got even more closed off. I said even more “don’t asks” and then at one point Teddy Bear looks over at me because I’m sitting next to him so my other guyfriend can be obnoxiously affectionate with honeyboo and he says
“What happened to you?”
I don’t remember what I said but I’m sure it was good.
And then he asked me
“I have a question, who do you miss the most right now?”
And I said “KT”
And I wanted to shoot myself for that. I mean, he’s gone! He’s never coming back. But this stupid, stupid heart does not give up on people easily. And then Teddy Bear says he’s got to go and please let me leave (and did I mention first thing he said when he saw me was my gosh you’re so skinny. Thanks for that. My anorexia loves you.) And then ALL of them leave.
And then I have a complete and total breakdown. The Tongan men- who I know personally are right over there and can hear this. And I start screaming. It’s that type of crying that you do when someone dies where your whole body is vibrating and you just feel these hot tears stream down your face and you taste the salt of it on your lips and you are sitting there shaking and crying harder than any human has ever cried because you just hurt so much and you can’t hold it in.
Thank goodness for me one of the Tongans came over and touched my shoulder and I actually had a really good helpful conversation with him. Honestly I switched my dose because I was hoping the medications would numb out how depressed and lonely I was feeling and it did this to me instead. He struggles with depression too and I talked to him a bit about my guyfriends and just getting out of the hospital. It took me 3 hours to calm down enough to walk home and of course my PTSD makes walking home alone at night a living hell.
So the rest of how this went down in the next few days is that my (idiot) boyz were supposed to come over and make pizza with me for July 4th. I cleared my whole day. I texted them my address. I texted them reminders. I called them. I did nothing fun or special for the Fourth of July except my friend Kindle 😉 (pseudonyms are awesome) invited me for lunch. Which my anorexia FREAKED because there was “too much” and I felt sick afterwards which was mental. And so it’s evening.
And they didn’t come. Again. and this isn’t the first time.
So I sent the longest text messages I’ve ever sent in my entire life to Teddy Bear and tell him I’m very upset and that he has treated me like I’m worthless and that he broke every promise he ever made to me and I quote “I’m not your bitch” as well as “Stop hurting me. Stop breaking your promises. Stop being such a horrible friend. Get your butt over here tonight to talk this out or our friendship is over.” And then ended it with “You know what? Marry your bitch girlfriends in the temple, have sex, and leave me the hell out of it.”
And then he just said two things “Don’t talk that way about Princess. I love her” And then “don’t be like that. If you were just normal, people would want to be with you.”
WHO THE F*** SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT??!!!
It was worse than being in the hospital. It was worse than almost everything I’ve been through in the past year except losing KT and my dog on the same day… Okay there’s quite a competition for painful moments that make you feel like you’re breathing shattered glass. Well, that was one of them.
And also… He used to say that to me. “I love you.”
So much for that. So much for phone calls and hugs and studying together and laughing together and texts and good times and bad times and crying together and “I’ll never leave you, I promise.” “You can trust me.” Yeah, hell no. That’s over now. It’s gone. And now I gotta pick up the pieces and shoulder through on my own again because that’s what I do. I’m too damn tough to give up.
(I swear when I’m emotional and I’m feeling a lot of depression right now so I apologize for it being a bit much but this was not my best week so forgive me that)
Should have seen me when KT left. Something broke inside. I went and turned on the shower to the highest and curled up in my tiger blanket on the cold tile floor and cried for hours. When I came out my dad asked me if I drowned myself and I almost told him that I wished I had. And the days that followed I was biking and doing rehab for my leg in the desert and I would pause and just sit there for half an hour and miss my best friend. In my nightmares I would be raped and bleeding on the floor and I would call out his name because he stood there and watched me being beaten and raped and I would reach out to him and he would turn his back and without a word just walk away. Night after night I woke up with tears in my eyes at 2am because I missed my best friend. Of course that was after I went for months without being able to cry. I still feel shattered and broken inside and I still can’t trust people. He was truly the last one. Teddy Bear was moving into that position when this whole floozy happened. I don’t need the flaky fake friend who leaves me for a set of falsies and a fat booty. I just don’t, My life is hard enough already.
So I spent most of my week not taking the best care of myself, restricting hugely, with skyhigh self-harm urges, and hiding in the house spending hours and hours trying to learn how to weave a bowl. I was so depressed. I couldn’t sleep. I had no interest in food or showering or shaving or brushing my hair or leaving the house. I was just in so much pain. I spent four hours in my closet crying over Teddy Bear. And then two the next day. And then I lost the ability to cry at all.
Sometimes in small moments throughout the day it just hurts too much and a tear drips out. But it’s been happening less and less. I feel too sad to cry.
I go to the tidepools in the mornings now and look for cute little sea creatures. My sister is pregnant. And so is my older brother’s wife. So I’m going to be an aunty. My older sister also adopted a Scotch Collie puppy. I mean, life’s not all bad. Even if I can’t weave a bowl out of coconut leaves and my best guyfriend broke my heart really bad and I’m really lonely, some good things happen. The sky is beautiful. I love to go to the beach and bodyboard or swim and just feel the sun on my skin and taste the salt. The feeling of being in the water. The seaturtles. The fish. It’s so beautiful.
today walking home from the beach after walking to the temple and sitting on a bench talking to God while holding my bodyboard (I got so many looks for that). I saw a baby chick inside a coconut and I got to touch it and it was going “peep peep” and it was so soft and I swear if human babies were soft and fluffy like a puppy or a chick I would be way more interested in getting pregnant.
With recovery from rape well… I feel a lot of loss and isolation trying to recover. I feel ostracized in my church. I’m living with these bubbly young LDS girls who sleep on their boyfriends and talk about what sex will be like and striptease games they’ll play when they have “the ring” and shop for lingerie for the bride-to-be. And it’s like being a tiger in a cage. To my eyes they are the ones in the cage. They move past the glass, staring and making comments. I can see them living these shallow, seemingly happy lives, and to me it’s like a strange parade of animals. I observe them and I feel alone because I’m th tiger and we hunt alone.
I also feel like why should I even reclaim sex? I’m going through therapy and getting help for vaginismus and Post-Traumatic-Stress Disorder but why. Why do people connect? Why do they touch in the ways that they do? Does it feel good to be touched without being hit or humiliated first? Am I ever going to be able to be in a relationship? And why should I even do that?