Another Nightmare

I had another nightmare last night. Usually I don't remember my dreams at all. For some reason Daylight Savings Time is making me remember them. Unfortunately. 

This one was about Craig. It was a short script version of our life together, I love you, I shower you with attention. When you finally cave and give me attention he screams at you how worthless you are and shits in your mouth before leaving and saying none of it ever happened and he "Can't Remember". 

For all you fun friends knowledge. He's told me flat and frankly to my face that he remembers Everything in vivid detail, much like I do with my anxiety disorder. That his mental illness is a scam to get at drugs and female counselors to abuse. I am guessing that's why he needs drugs and alcohol to numb himself.  Because he knows how he has hurt, raped, & maimed so many people. How can you live with yourself knowing you raped your wife & life partner while she was crying? That you fit the textbook definition of an abuser by making her repeatedly late for work over the years. To the point she dumped a half full beer on accident into her lap you left In The Car you had been driving while she was on her way to work. 

And not only have you repeatedly humiliated her, you told other people about these things in public situations. You make fun of and try and degrade everyone like a true sadist. But nothing made me hate you like making fun of your own wife did. Kyle would never make fun of me to other people. He loves everything about me. And saves all jokes pertaining to my insanity between the two of us, as romantic partners should. Privacy is key. Don't snitch on your spouses secrets. Like when you told me her rape trauma story without her permission & as a justification for your current level of domestic abuse. 

After you've done drugs for long enough to replace human interaction, you will eventually lose the high. So you have to move to abusing your family and lying to get the same chemical high from your body. Wouldn't it be worth it to just be good to people and respect them. If you're not so vile as to be unloved entirely, human interaction is better than heroin.

He literally has told me negative hateful shit about every single one of our friends. And he has told every single one of our old friends who talks to him and his wife, hateful shit about me. That's all he knows how to do. Kiss ass until he talks shit. Two of the men sticking by him who have both seen me in public since but now ignore my existence like I am not in the room despite my gigantic presence, he called spoiled rich brats who he used for their cars, surfboards, & money. People he described as wealthy assholes who he just hung around to take from, which is what he does to anyone no matter how little they have, so there really is no difference there other than that he Extra hates people who are better off & more successful than him. 

I've always loathed jealousy. It's such a useless emotion. Maybe because even with all my struggles I've always thought I had a beautiful life. My mom always made it so I had a beautiful life even when the men in my life have tried to destroy me for their own pleasure. 

I see things differently. 

Rose colored glasses. 

Think Pink. 

I think the worst part about being friends with them all those years. Even worse than rape trauma syndrome. Was being convinced by him that I Hated people. That I wished harm on anyone. That I believed people were all terrifying and that I needed to live in fear of them. 

All of those thoughts are the antithesis of me. 

That's how I got out. I studied my younger child-aged self and Knew deeply who I was.

I would never say other people on welfare don't deserve it, Yes I know they are mostly scum fuck drug addicts like you. I am the person who loves people anyway and believes drug addicts deserve basic levels of care and supervision so they don't accidentally die or hurt themselves or rape people, if for some reason drugs and alcohol make you incapable of rape.

I read recently that alcohol doesn't make you do worse things. It makes you do things you already wanted to do anyway but thought better of. I don't necessarily agree with the assumption then that they are things you would do anyway. Although if you kill or rape someone on purpose because you are drunk you were a murderer and a rapists to begin with. Alcohol made me sick and made it possible for me to lie, even with my OCD that doesn't allow for lying. It allowed for the detachment that was the VAST omissions and avoidance of topics with anyone I trusted that allowed for real lying.

I wonder if he's still peddling the shitty book I burned about him and one of his brothers murdering a girl who is the daughter of a cop, to those famous people who don't give a shit. Or if he actually attempted to write another. It's funny because I know actual EDITORS and PUBLISHERS of books and lit. People who actually care about putting out books and you might contact about those things. Who aren't at all "famous". Is there anything more disgusting personality trait than fame seeking? 

It's the Donald Trump method where all publicity is good publicity.

I honestly remember thinking while I was reading "Termites in the Family Tree", this is a short and pointless book. I read it in less than a few hours, it was only the length of a short novella and not a novel. For an hour of that I was at a swim lesson of Zack's. I remember thinking, this can't be the person I convinced myself I was in love with 4 years ago. He's so stupid and misogynist. This isn't the person he presented himself to me as whatsoever. I know now it's because he mimics the good men around women, like my husband, or the other women's significant others, and pretends to be like them, until he convinces you that OTHER men are the enemy. That all men are to be feared. Eventually he gets around to showing you his true colors when he can't keep the facade up and showing you he is the only man you should have feared.

I don't know why I couldn't just RUN then instead of digging so much deeper. 

When I opened my blog for the first time in months the other day I realized he's one of my only 2 followers. Not that he still uses his blog or that I even have that gmail account but it made me think that maybe it's time to start a new blog. It made me sad though to think about abandoning all the work I've done here exploring myself. I like that once you get here you can dig into my history. I wish that I could figure out the passwords to my old LiveJournals and DeadJournal and include those links as well. History is important.

So we went over two of the men who have chosen patriarchy's side, but as far as the women go. One of the women who stands by him and who I never could figure out why she would hate me but now makes perfect sense since he only has Secret friendships and she broke up with the man he convinced her to have a baby with right before I met him the time we actually became friends when my son was 3. Right around when we all became friends she convinced me and his then fiance to go out drinking with her. She brought her son into my salon so she could get her hair done by my cousin Lindsey and her son had double pink eye, which I told her and she shrugged off. I wound up getting the horrific eye infection from him since I was holding him while she got her hair done to go out that night, and he was touching my face as babies do.

If he's been saying the kinds of things he and his wife said about her to me, and that he says about everyone, to these women about me all these years. It now makes perfect sense why they don't like me. He told me that this woman who used to breast feed openly in front of him who sexualizes pregnant and nursing women all the time at his wife's grandmother's house, hit her significant other who was younger than her, at the time. I believed him. This was bullshit. 

That grown 20 something year old man he claimed was domestically abused is now a public BDSM sexual abuser and was one of the men I saw at the women's march in January after Trump's inauguration. I no longer attend protests or think the police can protect us at them. It's the men we need protecting from in the first place. Why are they armed and patrolling our marches "for protection". Benevolent sexism is still sexism. We need men free marches if we want to see change. If men respected female only spaces the way men only spaces are revered. Then we would see change.

One time while he was doing his pretend I don't exist phase, after Jack was born even though Jackie Baby's name, as he insisted on calling him in front of both his wife and myself was INSANELY triggering to both of us, I had gone to a party at their house on a Saturday & Zack left his water bottle for school there. The next day or the day after I stopped by to pick it up. I was there for about 5 minutes. While I was there my cousin was there bringing breast milk for Jack. I know that he fetishizes breast feeding in a really disgusting way, and I'm certain that if I had a husband like that, I wouldn't be able to feed my baby either. Also evidently you're not a good & crunchy enough mother if you can't breast feed because of rape trauma & you have to use formula. These are the kinds of things that are making me stop talking to people even though I really love everyone and don't care what they do. I don't care if your a sinner, I just prefer you're not a judge.

This cousin of mine who gave them breast milk she had stored, has cheated on her husband who she's been with since she was a teenager. And I have a feeling was abused by SOMEONE as a kid since we all show similar symptoms, but when I tried to vent to her & have someone, another woman, to talk to when at that point I had no one, as my literal LIFE LONGEST FRIEND. She told me to seek professional help. I have since found out who my real friends are and have support networks of women online to turn to and who don't blame women for their own suffering and abuse.

When you have mentally ill friends who have been mentally ill most of their life & definitely their entire adult life & they try and talk to & relate to you about depression & in this case men & sexual abuse. Don't tell them to talk to a professional. Mentally ill people need real friends. Maybe we wouldn't show such signs of emotional neglect if we had families that acted like families. It's honestly not even the sexual abuse that kills you, that your body has defense mechanisms for protecting you from fully remembering. After people find out, it's the having all your family & friends change. It's how many people just start pretending you don't exist, because if you exist than it is real. And if you don't exist they can keep pretending they don't know anyone who rapes. It's not the knowing a victim, everyone knows a victim or two. Unless you're to untrustworthy and misogynist no one will even tell you that has happened to them. But we all know people who have been sexually abused. No one needs to imagine that. But very very few of us, think we know a sexual abuser well. And I statistically guarantee you, that we all do.

So after months of my cousin Alexis not answering me like a friend should. She then tells me after I block her for being abusive about my mental illness through her own Facebook page by immediately signing into her husband James' Facebook page, who just received his DOCTORATE in physical therapy. And his Facebook page says that he, the most passive person I've ever met, who I really can't see jumping into a fight with me and his wife over mental health to give me a misdiagnonsense or about ANYTHING, says he thinks I have Borderline Personality Disorder. Which is a highly offensive thing to do for anyone. But Especially someone who thinks they are a doctor. You don't diagnose your friends unless they become patients somehow, and really that's considered a conflict of interest in most cases.

As someone who has studied the DSM in depth and read more than one book on it and on the history and origin of the American Psychiatric profession. I believe Borderline Personality Disorder originated as a way for male psychiatrists to diagnose their patients as having "poor boundaries" and being "irresistibly sexual". Because they, the doctor, in the position of power started an improper relationship with a patient and needed a way to diagnose the patient into the blame. In my humble fucking opinion, saying an abused woman (or male child, I have seen this in my life too) has BPD (which can also be BIPOLAR personality disorder) and medicating them into silence is the same thing as Drapetomania. Of course people in a psychiatric office because they have suffered grooming style abuse, will be more easily groomed and abused. 

As a matter of fact, when I was groomed by the last person in adulthood, I knew and was well aware of my history of abuse, but because I was still carrying it around as a secret I was still vulnerable (a few friends & my husband knew). I thought that being educated would protect me. But I didn't realize one of the people closest to me still was one of my abusers and he told me to be friends with DAn so I trusted DAn WAY too much. Nothing Really bad happened to me in that instance, but I know now it could have, I also know how humiliating it was and how it almost destroyed me to find out the truth, since my current abuser hid from me that DAn was a for real child molester and rapist. 

The desire of slaves to run free was a psychiatric disorder. Just like modern psychology is trying to blame the eating disorders, muscle spasms, & emotional meltdown screaming of rape trauma syndrome, emotional neglect & abuse, because let's face it, they all go skipping happily into the future together, on the person who was abused instead of on the people in this culture who were brainwashed into abusing them. 

A 3rd woman who hates me because of whatever the fuck Craig said all those years ago, was his first girlfriend officially. When I figured out that I had aspergers through online psychological testing and reading a lot of shit related to that, I was afraid to tell anyone that I had figured out why I wasn't good at judging that people are going to be bad to me and hurt me. Autism or aspegers if your low on the spectrum means you have an issue with processing social cues. This had suddenly explained to me a lifetime of just not "getting it". No one knows if this is from heavy metal exposure, or a life of emotional abuse and gas lighting, or a gene, those are just some theories but it doesn't matter if you're born that way or become that way through abuse. It's still a challenge when you constantly assume people are being good to you when they are not. I decided to tell this person before literally anyone else because her son was the only person I knew with an official diagnosis at that point. I thought someone whose most loved person in the world had the disorder would be someone who wouldn't hate me for admitting something obviously was off about me. I believe she accused me of making it up. Why or how anyone would Make Up the symptoms of OCD and agoraphobia is beyond me. I was this person, I researched what my symptoms were and found out what happened to me and who I was. I didn't find out about abuse, and how kids with social processing disorders are more likely to be abused and decide I was that. I discovered I was that.

She is a writer for the Asbury Park Press and basically has what my dream job would be if journalists actually covered real news and were allowed to write in their own voice instead of this manufactured falseness that makes even the worst bullshit in life sound flowery for The Papers. 

Capitalist propaganda is not really news. 

I gave her some photos and a few story ideas while we were friends, those things are free to me, I don't sell my art. She attacked me for being mentally ill and told me that it's not possible me AND her son have Aspergers cause that's a thing, once someone has a thing, no one else can figure out they have it... I really looked up to her as a person before she told me off for being autistic, whatever that means.

2 or 3 years later during the period where I talked to no one but Craig he told me that this woman, when she was a girl, was being raped by him orally (he said head, I changed it to rape since I know he's a HEAD PUSHER! and legally they were children) and her own father saw what was happening and instead of saying, My BABY CHILD TEENAGER shouldn't be subjugating themself as their first sexual act, get the fuck out of here with this teenager bullshit, he shrugged it off as normal and let it continue. As a mother, thinking of myself as a teenager from my mother's perspective, however I TRY AND SLICE IT!! What fucking father sees their child (girl OR boy) sucking dick of a disgusting already on drugs kid, and is like, that's cool. I'm not gonna say anything...

What kind of future does a daughter have when their father has treated them in such a way. It reminds me of my father saying to me "only girls who suck dick have their tongue pierced". Which lead me to getting that done as one of my first piercings and then NEVER SUCKING A DICK WITH IT! Just having it because I liked it. I feel like I am dressing and looking attractive these days for similar reasons. I may be beautiful conventionally sometimes, but if you touch me I will beat you to death with my broom stick. I'm a trap.

I hate that he has filled my head with stories of how he abused women. I wish no women were ever abused & yet I was able to forgive & love & care for & protect someone who has done the worst kinds of damage to people I consider loved ones. People I trusted with my child's care. People I wanted to be my close female friends because they have been through similar life experiences as I have. I wanted them to fight back with me. I want them to realize I was never their enemy.

I have to write about some of the stuff with the kids. My kid even. Some of the things that should have been red flags that made me "go insane" or jump ship long before I was able. But this is long and gross enough for now. I just can't wait until next year when all these memories are out already and behind me.

I just want my life back. I want my sanity back. I am just starting to feel like I have agency of my body. But I won't stop until I have my mind as well.

Until Next Time...

With Love, 
- Jackie lane