I decided for once today not to take my coffee and food To Go. I brought my laptop with the implicit purpose of writing this weeks blog post.
A friend of mine owns my favorite coffee place and it has an apartment upstairs and is a block from the Bay and the ocean. It reminds me of my family's business. Without all the personal stress.
Before I left my house I was having more anxiety than usual. I had a massive panic attack from when I left work Saturday until this morning. I still have the brain fog and embarrassment that accompanies them but I think it's over now. I kept thinking it was over yesterday and it was not.
I spend a lot of time after panic attacks obsessing over if anyone other than Kyle or my mom has heard me. I suppress them successfully around everyone I don't feel safe around now. Which is almost everyone else. I let them out when I was with the police. Hoping that my symptoms would make perfect sense as a response to what I am claiming my life has been like.
I can't remember what I wanted to start this about. I think it's about a lot of things. It started with a post on my Facebook about lesbian erasure. I lost my Facebook for 7 days a week ago for posting something positive about lesbians that used the word dyke. I then used the word dike in a negative way on my mirror Facebook page Jack Lane where I present as a male with no ban. Then retyped the post that got me banned verbatim on a page where I claim to have been born a male and say horrifically misogynist things that I have heard grown men to say about women to women, that flood my mind all the time. The things women think when they put their keys between their fingers in a parking lot at night. Things the "good men" they know have said. Our fathers, brothers, best friends, lovers. Still no Facebook ban for saying horrific shit about women, as long as I do it as Jack Lane and not Jackie Lane.
My cousin is coming home from college in August. I am not talking to anyone lately. No one makes an effort to talk to me unless they are in a crisis. I am okay with that. I want people to reach out to me when they are in pain. But I don't have anyone I consider a close friend at this point except for my husband. Everyone else seems to have a rape wall built around them since I realized what happened to me was wrong. Since I realized and opened up about the fact that what I did was wrong
I have had multiple people accuse me of not accepting responsibility for what has happened in my life. I in fact accept whole responsibility. As I expect other people to do. Most adults are just semi evolved poorly educated full sized children. We have a culture that makes reading seem uncool and learning only for a chosen elite.
This post is about women like me. The handmaid's. The ones who see full well that we are participating in grooming and enabling the abuse of other women and keeping them also entwined in domestic violence culture.
My husband asked me what it was, what made me trust and want to be around my abusive ex friend. I was entirely isolated living with my future mother-in-law at the time. I missed my family but I also thought if I never talked to anyone ever again then I would never have to tell anyone in my family what really happened to me. Even if I committed suicide to me it was better than my parents or cousins or aunts and uncles, grandmothers who were still alive, having to live with the fact that my behavior has always made perfect sense if I was being emotionally abused by my father and then physically and emotionally abused by my step "brother". Men and women who have suffered child abuse would often rather die then talk about the things that have happened to us. We think that owning the things that have happened to us and admitting they were wrong is humiliating. We are brainwashed to believe it makes us weak as opposed to the fact that is makes the people who took advantage of power they had over another person weak.
His mom, his mom who I accused of being a pedo enabler. When I met her, she hugged me and acted like I was part of their family. Now looking back it seems like really poor desperate boundaries for a grown woman, then I just missed my mom and my own family and a more fucked up family didn't seem bothered by the little bit of fucked up I was. They were entirely unfazed and now I know it was for good reason. There are definitely levels of abuse. It's a common phrase of emotionally abusive parents to say, "oh cause you had such a bad life?" When adult children try and discuss the painful memories of our childhoods. It's dismissive.
The worse realization, the hardest thing to deal with while processing all of this new feminist literature and knowledge I've taken in, has been coming to terms with the ways in which I helped groom and abuse women. Just like his wife gave me presents and invited me to things and into the family in the beginning, I gave a flower, and other gifts to new women around us. How do we create a culture that doesn't groom women into abuse before we are even adult enough to know what that word really means?
Why does every woman I know assume they're saving anal sex for their husband. That if they do it, it will be while married. Why is that a thing?
Why do I hear women every day say, "he's always on the computer. Who knows what he's doing on there." There's a lot of internet gambling going on, which makes no sense to me, pushing fake buttons to earn fake money that quantifies nothing really because nothing has been accomplished to earn it. It didn't contribute anything to society. It's a waste of time to keep you locked into the screens and not in the streets.
But mainly it's internet porn. I don't need to argue with anyone about this. Because I've read all the statistics. I don't need to argue with anyone that we need feminism more than ever because I've seen the data on how much work we do for society vs. how much of the money we take home or are in possession of. I've seen the data on how much porn there is. I've seen the data on how many people are watching violent porn. You can not say it doesn't have an effect.
I never wanted to watch porn. I remember my mom and step dad fighting about it too much for the thought of it to have been a turn on to me mentally. I can name the 3 times I intentionally watched porn other than the pop up advertisements which were just traumatic stills of women that all computers had when we first got the internet, that are burned into the retinas of all the teenage girls I knew.
The first time I was alone in my room. It was the month I tried to kill myself because I was withdrawing from anti-depressants. I would have tried anything to make me want to live again. All my friends looked at porn. My boyfriends watched porn. My friends talked about it constantly. I looked at a few free things. It didn't serve any purpose towards masturbation really, I had never had a problem with that on my own. It's only effect was to make me feel gross and have more objectifying thoughts about women in general. But I never even experimented with it again.
I had a porn addicted boyfriend the following year and his obsession with women as sex objects cemented for me that I would never watch porn by choice. He had me watch moments of the Paris Hilton DVD that was so infamous when I was in High School but I was too prudish to have seen. All my peers had seen 2 girls 1 cup and I hadn't even seen the most mundane porn out there. I didn't watch it with him but I know he was always watching it without me, or whenever he had a moment alone. He is the only boyfriend who has coerced me into taking naked photos that he could keep and I was happy to find out years later that his computer crashed entirely because of his addiction and I hope those photos are long gone but they might not be. For all I know they are on revenge porn sites somewhere. Someone like me would never find out since I never look at porn.
The second time I intentionally watched porn was at the bachelorette party for Tess. Earlier that day I went and had my vertical labret pierced. To replace the one I had previously needed to remove, because to this day it's still promoting the rotting of my gums in the front of my bottom teeth. I had slept with Greg 3 times, I can't be sure exactly what happened because I was blacked out all the times. Each time I had drank at least 3 Long Island Iced Teas that I know of. Not to mention shots or other drinks people gave me. I got the piercing through my lip to remind me not to say anything or break down the day of the wedding. Pain. A painful reminder not to tell the truth. Plus it made me look tough. It made me not want to talk to anyone ever again. I started using the internet to talk to people a lot more.
The 3rd time, some time after my husband and I moved back next door to my parents. I still hadn't told anyone what I was recovering from. I had read all my old journals, and figured out why I have my panic disorder. Or at least that I had been abused by my brother. There were all these family videos of my siblings and cousins at my old house in the house we moved into. My abusive "best friend" Greg lived only blocks away now. He found out about my brother threatening to kill my mom and that he abused me. I felt pressure from him and Stan Bummer about my relationship to my husband not being sexual enough. Mainly my husband never abused me and never made me react porn scenes, which will get you called Vanilla by people who promote Bondage and Domination, Sadism and Masochism.
My abuser and other men constantly act like my husband is not a REAL MAN because he never wants to hurt me. He never wants to grab me when I don't want to be grabbed. He never wants me to be afraid of him. He FINALLY believes after years of trying to explain it that all females are inherently afraid of males. They are stronger. They are the perpetrators of violence. And until we live in a society where that is never the case we will remain afraid of all men even though we hope and pray to god it is #notallmen.
Will we ever live in a society where to be a grown man means to be a protector? Will we ever live in a society where only those who are children and haven't been taught properly how to be a human enact their rage upon others? Will we ever stop belittling men with the phrase "boys will be boys" and allow them to show their true colors? Allow them to show that they can be the bones of our society that we need them to be.
Feminism ain't about women. That's not who it is for. It's about a shift in consciousness that will bring an end to war. So listen all you fathers. Listen up you sons. Tell me which side are you on now? Which side are you on?
Right now we allow the unregulated internet to teach our children. We allow massive amounts of violence to happen to women and children so that men can retain their freedom to abuse. Why is it Any man's right to watch the filmed prostitution and violent degradation of women? How have they manipulated language so much through double speak that we don't even question it? Why do we think that people who enjoy to the point of sexual completion the violence enacted on women deserve to have us respect their opinion on anything?
Porn hurts.
Porn hurts the women in it.
Porn hurts the women who are in relationships with the men who watch it.
I am not even convinced it really makes men feel as good as they say. I think it might be rather humiliating to find you ejaculated to women with cum, food, or even worse feces smeared all over them. It might make you want to commit suicide.
It definitely creates a barrier between you and your real lover if you hide from them what you get off to. It definitely causes erectile dysfunction because it programs people to want graphic visual stimulation instead of physical.
Many people have sex or cum in the dark. Because sex is about feeling and being. Porn is about watching someone be humiliated because they were filmed while they had sex.
Until Next Time....
Jackie Fucking Lane
7/18/17
Death's Too Good For You
Some days I just wake up spinning because the same people who called
the police on me being honest about all the domestic violence in my life
and were watching me for 2 months, on more than one occasion thought
that the police were too scary and too inappropriate to call when people
were actually having violence enacted on them, across the street In My
House. I'm so disgusted and I don't know why I have to wake up with
these thoughts so often. It is probably because I saw him
yesterday. It is because I know he is still doing this to his wife and
other women. Lying and other forms of triggering their panic attacks
because he has sexually assaulted them and then claimed ignorance.
Seeing all the children in the neighborhood lured to his wife's front
lawn on the swing set I gave them makes me vomit when it happens. My
brother also is raising children. #takechildrenawayfromrapists #maybehesnotagoodfatherfiguresincehemolestspeople
Blog post will happen today since I already wrote half of it. Haha
I spent a larger portion of the day today than I'd ever want to admit is necessary arguing with stupid assholes on the internet about their personal moral justifications for child abuse. After posting an article listing the 5 decades of conclusive evidence that spanking is just as psychologically detrimental to human development as other forms of corporeal punishment they consider more severe. But the good news is, I love any day I lose a shitty hater facebook friend because I get to post Freddie Mercury singing Another One Bites The Dust. I just so happened to tell my new friend about that on Saturday because I saw a local female singer cover it. We were both relieved and impressed to find a female fronted band. I wish that more than one member would be female. It sucks to hear someone say that a female fronted band is refreshing no matter how good they are. There are so few of them we can not compare for taste or quality because women should just be happy we hear them at all right?
Greg Foss tried to tell me we were having an open relationship. Because he knows I believe in them. I am well aware of my ability to be IN LOVE with everyone all the time. That doesn't mean I can't appreciate that there are lines you don't cross morally when you've agreed to any level of monogamy. That having agreed to any level of monogamy means you are cheating if you act on any of the positive feelings you have towards other people. I have always known and believed in that. As a matter of fact, after befriending my husband for a few months before we started going out I regretted for a long time how open I had been with him. Everyone who kept all their secrets and demons in closets seemed to me to really have their shit together.
Little did I know, the beauty of my husband and I's relationship is that we were truly friends and equals before we were in a romantic relationship. When we met we were not each others type and didn't have a lot of mutual friends, we just got along great and talked constantly and had a great time laughing, playing music, drinking milkshakes, & playing games whenever we were together. Even though there was no pressure on the relationship placed on us there was from outside influences.
I had an ex who I kept having sexual encounters with before I ended that entirely and started dating my husband. But it was only about a month between when one ended and another began and when I got pregnant with my son right away I was terrified I would have been pregnant longer than I thought, like had happened to many friends, and that it was my ex's instead of my future husbands. Luckily I found out Right away. I was only 4 weeks pregnant, which is really like 2 weeks after ovulation when I knew. I was sick immediately being super over sensitive and knowing my body really well up until that point and my life wasn't ruined then. My husband and I got lucky to spend those 4 years we did just hanging out enjoying my son's childhood.
Right before my husband & I officially started "going out" a mutual friend of both of ours, who I barely knew, asked me if I was my husband's girlfriend. I wasn't and in prior experiences with men it had gone poorly if I thought a friendship would lead to more so I said no of course not. This encounter hurt my husband's feelings and mine and confused us both since labels seemed irrelevant to either of us. The man who asked me that and caused a hiccup in my relationship has raped at least 2 of the women my husband & I are mutually acquainted with. He moves away and comes back to the area occasionally and is still widely respected and beloved among our group of friends. Just like the man who raped me will remain unless I continue to come clean about how this happens.
You wanna see the correlation between abused kids and mall goth kid culture? Just look at what Corey Feldman is going through. Porn culture and child abuse is obviously influencing his decision making at this point. He's further objectifying himself AND the women he keeps in his house under contract because he exposed massive amounts of child abuse and literally no one in the media reacted at all. They just made jokes about his best friend's suicide on morning TV. I read his book, he and Elijah Wood should be listened to. If a slew of females with massive public meltdowns isn't evidence enough, can't we listen to the men who suffer the same fate at the idol hands of executives who own their futures and their paychecks?
The week I stopped talking to "my best friend" he told me his wife was abducted and raped by a neighbor when she was the same age our children were at the time. He told me that no one believed her and that she was taught "women make these things up for attention." In my mind that would mean she would want to be free from being raped and abused by a narcissist all the time. I told her he's cheated on her with me for years, including the year I married them to one another. He's cheated on her with every single female friend he keeps around. He doesn't even know how to have another kind of relationship. He even told me he would fuck his male best friend in the ass if he would let him.
That being said. I didn't expect when I told her about the years of sexual encounters and lying he did to her that she was going to tell me "you're making this up for attention." That's actually what she said. Oh and be nice to my husband, even though he's the one who was begging me to tell the truth all those years since our relationship and friendship even had been developed through sharing everything. We wanted to get back to that.
We are starting to get back to that now. I feel finally that I have no more secrets. No gotchas anyone can come out later and say to me that I haven't already said myself. Someone yesterday on Facebook tried to accuse me of not taking responsibility for my actions. When in fact society is set up that it would have greatly preferred had I just never said anything at all. If I hadn't confessed the infidelity. If I hadn't told anyone that "my best friend" was really someone who grooms and rapes women and doesn't have a job or life skill or anything else to offer anyone the world wouldn't constantly be telling me to SHUT UP.
It's weird because while I was begging Greg to tell his wife, for her sake in my mind at the time, and he was promising me he would. He was also telling me that this might happen. That that she might just FLAT OUT refuse to believe that he cheated on her for so long, so many times, with so many women. I just couldn't believe anyone could do that until she said to me verbatim the words that were said to her as a kid, "women make this up for attention" and at that point I hadn't used the word rape. That was in November and it took me until he threatened me in January to realize I had SCREAMED NO and he had anal sex with me anyway while I screamed (during the first encounter in 2016 outside their house in my car) and that was the definition of rape. I just couldn't IMAGINE it happened to me. My brain would not allow for the fact that all those years Tess and I had been in love with a rapist. Someone well aware they get off on rape which was why he constantly told me, "I'm not a good person." I always argued with him. About everything. But especially this. I loved him more than I loved myself. I tried to save his life and his family over and over again and he never once returned the favor.
The two days leading up to telling his wife were the day before the election of Donald Trump and the day of. The night before when my tenant Larry was screaming at me and humiliating my in public. "My Best Friend" didn't even Try to stop him. He didn't say, "hey man". He didn't say "stop." He's worse than a coward. He's an opportunist. He didn't intervene whatsoever, cause he thought he could keep the band and keep the girl he had living in my house to fuck across the street. AND HE DID FROM NOVEMBER TO FEBRUARY because they had legal possession of my house and I had to take them to court to remove them because they are not respectful adults. They are user drug addict squatters who think the world OWES them something. And instead of help me since he got me into that situation and say, "Jackie is right, call the electric company and have them change the lead in line and stop cursing her out in public..."
He claimed it had nothing to do with him. He claimed he couldn't help me and I was on my own.
So I handled things my way. I confessed to my husband and every friend I still had left who would listen the details of my life for the prior 6 years and tried to warn the people around me of how dangerous my ex friends were. I tried to talk to the women closest to him to give them a heads up but it seems as though he has already groomed them by A. the way they talk about him. B. they way they dye their hair. C. the fact that they all start dressing more childlike. That last one is the one piece of information that bothers me most. I noticed that the woman he got high and drunk and fucked after me was ALSO dressing more juvenile and "little girl" like while they were hanging out. That is the same symptom I noticed of the woman who lived in my house. Mocha Coco was using an alias on Instagram that contained the same name as Greg's younger daughter. But his was 999 and hers was 666. HOW CUTE. Also because those women were reporting every word I said back to him. Like he used to try to get me to talk to Mocha Coco and Tess for him and see what they had to say.
Even though I know his wife is in complete denial. I just keep wishing I could tell the kids therapists which I know they still go to. I wish that the people entrusted with their medical care knew they came from a severely alcoholic and drug addicted environment and were treating them with this kind of emotional abuse in mind instead of entirely hidden, with the kids trained to hide it and accept it as normal. I wish that their therapists were aware of how emotionally abusive it is to pretend to them that none of this happened. Oh and how psychologically abusive it is to tell children, that someone who cared for them for a decade wants to hurt them. Telling the truth about the fact that their dad is a raging alcoholic with massive medical and mental problems because of it, isn't hurting them. Kids know. Especially genius kids.
You can decide to stay with your spouse when fucked up things happen. And in fact that is sort of what makes them your spouse. My husband and I while living separate were still inextricably tied. I can imagine for people who want to entirely erase their marriage and prior life this would be an awful side effect. For us it was good because no matter how much I felt a wall between us the more lies Greg made me construct around me, we never stopped talking, we never stopped being friends even when I was being the worst friend ever to him.
I thought I would die. Greg told me that my husband would kill me. He told me that his wife would kill me and kill him. Little did he know, she doesn't even acknowledge it's a real thing that happened to all of us. I honestly thought at the time that he would be the one who killed all of us. Being the only one obsessed with guns and actual violence.
People keep telling me I need counseling. But the internet is my counseling. I went to therapists simultaneously while blogging online actively from age 15 to age 20. The internet helped me, my counseling didn't. I stopped when I had my son and became very afraid of the brutal honesty I had grown accustomed to. Grown ups didn't know how to find my livejournal. They didn't know what a blog was. They wouldn't be bothered to take the time to read it. Now they were all on Facebook telling me to stop being who I had been on the internet since the conception of my adult self.
While I was spilling my guts on the JLaneLove blog from 2011 to 2012 before and after Hurricane Sandy my family knew about it but didn't necessarily read what I said. Not all the way. They didn't take it in, I could tell by the way they responded to me. I was never this honest with a therapist, I can tell you that much.
My husband is afraid of this new iteration of me. Of the new blog. What will his family & friends think. Which is funny because he doesn't usually care what other people think at all of himself, he is afraid for me. Rape though. People want to blame women for that. Talking about sex at all is taboo. But this isn't just sex. It is me recovering from violence and seeing real violence, and being so close to it I could smell it and taste it. I was a sensitive person from when I was born. I have always been told so. I am still can tell on a regular basis that my crying hard is an unacceptable social behavior. I try to keep it to my mom and my husband mainly, but I can tell even they want it to be less. I keep it often to while I'm driving around. Always while I'm in the shower. I cry a lot and I always have. Greg told me that when he was gone no one was going to listen to me anymore. That no one would care that I cry about these things. I know he was wrong.
This is my proving him wrong. Someone will care that girls are raped and abused. It can start with one. And in fact since my "Donald Trump has been elected and I officially live in a post apocalyptic society" moment, I have met many people who feel the way I do. They just feel that way more silently. But I can tell in their actions. They want to go to work and perfect their crafts, they want to make art. Small businesses are blossoming. Community centers are opening. Mobile anarcho-library-kitchens are happening. They may be a lot less specific than my art. Blogging is a most raw form of art. It's talking about your only perspective in the present moment, instead of painting something in your mind, or from the past or future.
I got banned from my Jackie Lane Facebook page for 7 days for saying the word Dyke, in solidarity about lesbian erasure, ironically, of all things. Jack Lane on the other hand can say he likes to watch dikes making out, and that she's a shitty feminist cunt, and nobody bats an eye. I have been posting SO MUCH on Facebook since I got it back. Every time someone says they have me hidden I take it as a victory. I know that person also will come look at it all at once periodically. But the protest is that there is a RIGHT way to social media. The protest is that there is a right way to process your traumas in life. If sharing mine for other people's comfort is how I process mine, that is my prerogative. I actually would prefer if everyone would just spit it out and tell me forcefully exactly what they mean all the time at the same time they are wishing I would shut up. The other solution is to find the people you connect with and don't try and force a connection that was never there.
I have a strange perspective. My husband and I's best friend was also the person who hurt me. But I just wish none of that was real. I wish he had just slept on our couch. I had married them. We had raised out kids together. I wish he had never lied to me. I always knew I wasn't his best friend, he's nobody friend, he's just a pile of favors. But I liked him anyway. I miss listening to he and my husband play music in my living room before any of this happened. I eventually loved him. It taught me good things about people and myself. I can find whatever light is left in anyone. I naturally want to forgive. I naturally am compelled to do the right thing. Anxiety comes from living a life you don't want to live. You don't have to. You can do whatever you want. I know it seems like you can't, like you are trapped in a small space. But it's all a choice. You can move.
Until Next Time...
Mister Jackie Fucking Lane
Blog post will happen today since I already wrote half of it. Haha
I spent a larger portion of the day today than I'd ever want to admit is necessary arguing with stupid assholes on the internet about their personal moral justifications for child abuse. After posting an article listing the 5 decades of conclusive evidence that spanking is just as psychologically detrimental to human development as other forms of corporeal punishment they consider more severe. But the good news is, I love any day I lose a shitty hater facebook friend because I get to post Freddie Mercury singing Another One Bites The Dust. I just so happened to tell my new friend about that on Saturday because I saw a local female singer cover it. We were both relieved and impressed to find a female fronted band. I wish that more than one member would be female. It sucks to hear someone say that a female fronted band is refreshing no matter how good they are. There are so few of them we can not compare for taste or quality because women should just be happy we hear them at all right?
Greg Foss tried to tell me we were having an open relationship. Because he knows I believe in them. I am well aware of my ability to be IN LOVE with everyone all the time. That doesn't mean I can't appreciate that there are lines you don't cross morally when you've agreed to any level of monogamy. That having agreed to any level of monogamy means you are cheating if you act on any of the positive feelings you have towards other people. I have always known and believed in that. As a matter of fact, after befriending my husband for a few months before we started going out I regretted for a long time how open I had been with him. Everyone who kept all their secrets and demons in closets seemed to me to really have their shit together.
Little did I know, the beauty of my husband and I's relationship is that we were truly friends and equals before we were in a romantic relationship. When we met we were not each others type and didn't have a lot of mutual friends, we just got along great and talked constantly and had a great time laughing, playing music, drinking milkshakes, & playing games whenever we were together. Even though there was no pressure on the relationship placed on us there was from outside influences.
I had an ex who I kept having sexual encounters with before I ended that entirely and started dating my husband. But it was only about a month between when one ended and another began and when I got pregnant with my son right away I was terrified I would have been pregnant longer than I thought, like had happened to many friends, and that it was my ex's instead of my future husbands. Luckily I found out Right away. I was only 4 weeks pregnant, which is really like 2 weeks after ovulation when I knew. I was sick immediately being super over sensitive and knowing my body really well up until that point and my life wasn't ruined then. My husband and I got lucky to spend those 4 years we did just hanging out enjoying my son's childhood.
Right before my husband & I officially started "going out" a mutual friend of both of ours, who I barely knew, asked me if I was my husband's girlfriend. I wasn't and in prior experiences with men it had gone poorly if I thought a friendship would lead to more so I said no of course not. This encounter hurt my husband's feelings and mine and confused us both since labels seemed irrelevant to either of us. The man who asked me that and caused a hiccup in my relationship has raped at least 2 of the women my husband & I are mutually acquainted with. He moves away and comes back to the area occasionally and is still widely respected and beloved among our group of friends. Just like the man who raped me will remain unless I continue to come clean about how this happens.
You wanna see the correlation between abused kids and mall goth kid culture? Just look at what Corey Feldman is going through. Porn culture and child abuse is obviously influencing his decision making at this point. He's further objectifying himself AND the women he keeps in his house under contract because he exposed massive amounts of child abuse and literally no one in the media reacted at all. They just made jokes about his best friend's suicide on morning TV. I read his book, he and Elijah Wood should be listened to. If a slew of females with massive public meltdowns isn't evidence enough, can't we listen to the men who suffer the same fate at the idol hands of executives who own their futures and their paychecks?
The week I stopped talking to "my best friend" he told me his wife was abducted and raped by a neighbor when she was the same age our children were at the time. He told me that no one believed her and that she was taught "women make these things up for attention." In my mind that would mean she would want to be free from being raped and abused by a narcissist all the time. I told her he's cheated on her with me for years, including the year I married them to one another. He's cheated on her with every single female friend he keeps around. He doesn't even know how to have another kind of relationship. He even told me he would fuck his male best friend in the ass if he would let him.
That being said. I didn't expect when I told her about the years of sexual encounters and lying he did to her that she was going to tell me "you're making this up for attention." That's actually what she said. Oh and be nice to my husband, even though he's the one who was begging me to tell the truth all those years since our relationship and friendship even had been developed through sharing everything. We wanted to get back to that.
We are starting to get back to that now. I feel finally that I have no more secrets. No gotchas anyone can come out later and say to me that I haven't already said myself. Someone yesterday on Facebook tried to accuse me of not taking responsibility for my actions. When in fact society is set up that it would have greatly preferred had I just never said anything at all. If I hadn't confessed the infidelity. If I hadn't told anyone that "my best friend" was really someone who grooms and rapes women and doesn't have a job or life skill or anything else to offer anyone the world wouldn't constantly be telling me to SHUT UP.
It's weird because while I was begging Greg to tell his wife, for her sake in my mind at the time, and he was promising me he would. He was also telling me that this might happen. That that she might just FLAT OUT refuse to believe that he cheated on her for so long, so many times, with so many women. I just couldn't believe anyone could do that until she said to me verbatim the words that were said to her as a kid, "women make this up for attention" and at that point I hadn't used the word rape. That was in November and it took me until he threatened me in January to realize I had SCREAMED NO and he had anal sex with me anyway while I screamed (during the first encounter in 2016 outside their house in my car) and that was the definition of rape. I just couldn't IMAGINE it happened to me. My brain would not allow for the fact that all those years Tess and I had been in love with a rapist. Someone well aware they get off on rape which was why he constantly told me, "I'm not a good person." I always argued with him. About everything. But especially this. I loved him more than I loved myself. I tried to save his life and his family over and over again and he never once returned the favor.
The two days leading up to telling his wife were the day before the election of Donald Trump and the day of. The night before when my tenant Larry was screaming at me and humiliating my in public. "My Best Friend" didn't even Try to stop him. He didn't say, "hey man". He didn't say "stop." He's worse than a coward. He's an opportunist. He didn't intervene whatsoever, cause he thought he could keep the band and keep the girl he had living in my house to fuck across the street. AND HE DID FROM NOVEMBER TO FEBRUARY because they had legal possession of my house and I had to take them to court to remove them because they are not respectful adults. They are user drug addict squatters who think the world OWES them something. And instead of help me since he got me into that situation and say, "Jackie is right, call the electric company and have them change the lead in line and stop cursing her out in public..."
He claimed it had nothing to do with him. He claimed he couldn't help me and I was on my own.
So I handled things my way. I confessed to my husband and every friend I still had left who would listen the details of my life for the prior 6 years and tried to warn the people around me of how dangerous my ex friends were. I tried to talk to the women closest to him to give them a heads up but it seems as though he has already groomed them by A. the way they talk about him. B. they way they dye their hair. C. the fact that they all start dressing more childlike. That last one is the one piece of information that bothers me most. I noticed that the woman he got high and drunk and fucked after me was ALSO dressing more juvenile and "little girl" like while they were hanging out. That is the same symptom I noticed of the woman who lived in my house. Mocha Coco was using an alias on Instagram that contained the same name as Greg's younger daughter. But his was 999 and hers was 666. HOW CUTE. Also because those women were reporting every word I said back to him. Like he used to try to get me to talk to Mocha Coco and Tess for him and see what they had to say.
Even though I know his wife is in complete denial. I just keep wishing I could tell the kids therapists which I know they still go to. I wish that the people entrusted with their medical care knew they came from a severely alcoholic and drug addicted environment and were treating them with this kind of emotional abuse in mind instead of entirely hidden, with the kids trained to hide it and accept it as normal. I wish that their therapists were aware of how emotionally abusive it is to pretend to them that none of this happened. Oh and how psychologically abusive it is to tell children, that someone who cared for them for a decade wants to hurt them. Telling the truth about the fact that their dad is a raging alcoholic with massive medical and mental problems because of it, isn't hurting them. Kids know. Especially genius kids.
You can decide to stay with your spouse when fucked up things happen. And in fact that is sort of what makes them your spouse. My husband and I while living separate were still inextricably tied. I can imagine for people who want to entirely erase their marriage and prior life this would be an awful side effect. For us it was good because no matter how much I felt a wall between us the more lies Greg made me construct around me, we never stopped talking, we never stopped being friends even when I was being the worst friend ever to him.
I thought I would die. Greg told me that my husband would kill me. He told me that his wife would kill me and kill him. Little did he know, she doesn't even acknowledge it's a real thing that happened to all of us. I honestly thought at the time that he would be the one who killed all of us. Being the only one obsessed with guns and actual violence.
People keep telling me I need counseling. But the internet is my counseling. I went to therapists simultaneously while blogging online actively from age 15 to age 20. The internet helped me, my counseling didn't. I stopped when I had my son and became very afraid of the brutal honesty I had grown accustomed to. Grown ups didn't know how to find my livejournal. They didn't know what a blog was. They wouldn't be bothered to take the time to read it. Now they were all on Facebook telling me to stop being who I had been on the internet since the conception of my adult self.
While I was spilling my guts on the JLaneLove blog from 2011 to 2012 before and after Hurricane Sandy my family knew about it but didn't necessarily read what I said. Not all the way. They didn't take it in, I could tell by the way they responded to me. I was never this honest with a therapist, I can tell you that much.
My husband is afraid of this new iteration of me. Of the new blog. What will his family & friends think. Which is funny because he doesn't usually care what other people think at all of himself, he is afraid for me. Rape though. People want to blame women for that. Talking about sex at all is taboo. But this isn't just sex. It is me recovering from violence and seeing real violence, and being so close to it I could smell it and taste it. I was a sensitive person from when I was born. I have always been told so. I am still can tell on a regular basis that my crying hard is an unacceptable social behavior. I try to keep it to my mom and my husband mainly, but I can tell even they want it to be less. I keep it often to while I'm driving around. Always while I'm in the shower. I cry a lot and I always have. Greg told me that when he was gone no one was going to listen to me anymore. That no one would care that I cry about these things. I know he was wrong.
This is my proving him wrong. Someone will care that girls are raped and abused. It can start with one. And in fact since my "Donald Trump has been elected and I officially live in a post apocalyptic society" moment, I have met many people who feel the way I do. They just feel that way more silently. But I can tell in their actions. They want to go to work and perfect their crafts, they want to make art. Small businesses are blossoming. Community centers are opening. Mobile anarcho-library-kitchens are happening. They may be a lot less specific than my art. Blogging is a most raw form of art. It's talking about your only perspective in the present moment, instead of painting something in your mind, or from the past or future.
I got banned from my Jackie Lane Facebook page for 7 days for saying the word Dyke, in solidarity about lesbian erasure, ironically, of all things. Jack Lane on the other hand can say he likes to watch dikes making out, and that she's a shitty feminist cunt, and nobody bats an eye. I have been posting SO MUCH on Facebook since I got it back. Every time someone says they have me hidden I take it as a victory. I know that person also will come look at it all at once periodically. But the protest is that there is a RIGHT way to social media. The protest is that there is a right way to process your traumas in life. If sharing mine for other people's comfort is how I process mine, that is my prerogative. I actually would prefer if everyone would just spit it out and tell me forcefully exactly what they mean all the time at the same time they are wishing I would shut up. The other solution is to find the people you connect with and don't try and force a connection that was never there.
I have a strange perspective. My husband and I's best friend was also the person who hurt me. But I just wish none of that was real. I wish he had just slept on our couch. I had married them. We had raised out kids together. I wish he had never lied to me. I always knew I wasn't his best friend, he's nobody friend, he's just a pile of favors. But I liked him anyway. I miss listening to he and my husband play music in my living room before any of this happened. I eventually loved him. It taught me good things about people and myself. I can find whatever light is left in anyone. I naturally want to forgive. I naturally am compelled to do the right thing. Anxiety comes from living a life you don't want to live. You don't have to. You can do whatever you want. I know it seems like you can't, like you are trapped in a small space. But it's all a choice. You can move.
Until Next Time...
Mister Jackie Fucking Lane
7/14/17
Writing As It Comes To Me Attempt One
Got done telling my assistant how I met my husband at my ex-boyfriend's job. That we are planning an adventure to drive around the neighborhood we left my ex in waiting by his car for AAA to come and change his flat. And Edge of Seventeen was on the radio which always reminds me of my ex since it was on a mixed CD when I was 18 which I wish Now I hadn't thrown out the window when I was mad at him at 19. I had the songs on a playlist at the time. The playlist is long gone. I would probably still have the CDs. I have others from the same era.
Until Next Time...
Mister Jackie Fucking Lane
7/11/17
Change Is Strange
I told myself that a blog will be written every week from now on and it will. So far today I have gone to my favorite coffee shop on the island and played a ton of acoustic guitar covers of rock songs. I suppose I have a lot to say. But not today for some reason.
I rest every Sunday. I plan for the week every Monday. For a while I wasn't even sure I was going to survive so now the plans all seem awesome and interesting. Surviving was good.
Now I can get things accomplished, But first I will need more coffee.
I keep telling myself the weeks will get easier. That eventually I'll forget what happened. A roaring ocean will turn into a little creek behind a house that nobody notices floods until there's a storm.
I can erase the bad stuff forever, I wrote it down, I let it go, but I can't stop thinking about the kids, and the other women I helped to hurt. Elsa would tell me to let it go. I want to let it go. But sometimes he's there smoking cigarettes in a green bandana. And I see James Hetfield drive by on rt. 37 while I'm going towards the bridge to go to Lava Java, the bridge I drove so many times just to find Dharma in the clouds and the songs on the radio. And driving the wrong way over the tall bridge and how it's an entirely different view than the one you had for 30 years before it.
One day I saw Larry Croft riding his skateboard near the Elk's. One day I saw him waiting for his sandwich at the Wawa counter. He doesn't see me. I'm actually afraid of him seeing me because he beats women, And I tell people about that. My only saving grace is that I would take the beating and press charges so hard. At least if he killed me he would finally be in fucking jail.
I don't like writing now because all that comes out is not the world I believe should exist. It's all the world I was forced to exist in. I need to expunge it though.
As my best friend Casey can confirm I can spin any horrible thing into some funny optimistic bullshit but I have been having a hard time seeing the humor in anything about this. It will come to me eventually. Maybe once they don't live 3 doors down. But I need it sooner than that.
I thought of so many things to say and write about in the last 2 weeks but by the time I sit down at my computer I just want to let it go. I don't want to focus. I just want to be. To meditate.
I finally feel free for the first time in a long time.
Election night 2016 was a surreal experience for me. I should write about it in every significant detail. I was with some old friends and some really new friends. No one could believe what happened but everyone was complacent in it. I danced to Debbie Harry at the end of the world. My ex's band played Rage Against the Machine. Sometimes peace is unimaginable and yet it happens anyway.
I try not to focus on accomplishing only things I can imagine. Some things are too weird for your imagination. Somethings are unimaginable. I know that it can be in a good way. Because it's been in a bad way far too often.
I did a lot of things this past year. This past summer and winter. I was away from Kyle and every moment of wasted time and anger seems futile and will be regretted someday. We still talked every single day but we didn't sleep side by side for over half a year. I did not realize what I had until it was gone. I will write about that too. I never even faced at the time how painful living without Kyle was. I was very busy telling everyone including myself what a good idea it was to protect him from my panic attacks.
It was so hard to live without him and Zack. I have an album half written, I went a lot of places. Made a lot of new, and saw a lot of old friends. But I spent the in between moments devastated that my family was gone. Knowing that more than anything I wanted to get better so that nothing bad happened to them. I want to write about motherhood too. The thing that made me think I might never write again. Which is a necessary story.
Until Next Time...
Mister Jackie Lane
I rest every Sunday. I plan for the week every Monday. For a while I wasn't even sure I was going to survive so now the plans all seem awesome and interesting. Surviving was good.
Now I can get things accomplished, But first I will need more coffee.
I keep telling myself the weeks will get easier. That eventually I'll forget what happened. A roaring ocean will turn into a little creek behind a house that nobody notices floods until there's a storm.
I can erase the bad stuff forever, I wrote it down, I let it go, but I can't stop thinking about the kids, and the other women I helped to hurt. Elsa would tell me to let it go. I want to let it go. But sometimes he's there smoking cigarettes in a green bandana. And I see James Hetfield drive by on rt. 37 while I'm going towards the bridge to go to Lava Java, the bridge I drove so many times just to find Dharma in the clouds and the songs on the radio. And driving the wrong way over the tall bridge and how it's an entirely different view than the one you had for 30 years before it.
One day I saw Larry Croft riding his skateboard near the Elk's. One day I saw him waiting for his sandwich at the Wawa counter. He doesn't see me. I'm actually afraid of him seeing me because he beats women, And I tell people about that. My only saving grace is that I would take the beating and press charges so hard. At least if he killed me he would finally be in fucking jail.
I don't like writing now because all that comes out is not the world I believe should exist. It's all the world I was forced to exist in. I need to expunge it though.
As my best friend Casey can confirm I can spin any horrible thing into some funny optimistic bullshit but I have been having a hard time seeing the humor in anything about this. It will come to me eventually. Maybe once they don't live 3 doors down. But I need it sooner than that.
I thought of so many things to say and write about in the last 2 weeks but by the time I sit down at my computer I just want to let it go. I don't want to focus. I just want to be. To meditate.
I finally feel free for the first time in a long time.
Election night 2016 was a surreal experience for me. I should write about it in every significant detail. I was with some old friends and some really new friends. No one could believe what happened but everyone was complacent in it. I danced to Debbie Harry at the end of the world. My ex's band played Rage Against the Machine. Sometimes peace is unimaginable and yet it happens anyway.
I try not to focus on accomplishing only things I can imagine. Some things are too weird for your imagination. Somethings are unimaginable. I know that it can be in a good way. Because it's been in a bad way far too often.
I did a lot of things this past year. This past summer and winter. I was away from Kyle and every moment of wasted time and anger seems futile and will be regretted someday. We still talked every single day but we didn't sleep side by side for over half a year. I did not realize what I had until it was gone. I will write about that too. I never even faced at the time how painful living without Kyle was. I was very busy telling everyone including myself what a good idea it was to protect him from my panic attacks.
It was so hard to live without him and Zack. I have an album half written, I went a lot of places. Made a lot of new, and saw a lot of old friends. But I spent the in between moments devastated that my family was gone. Knowing that more than anything I wanted to get better so that nothing bad happened to them. I want to write about motherhood too. The thing that made me think I might never write again. Which is a necessary story.
Until Next Time...
Mister Jackie Lane
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