I Feel It In My Chest (And I'm Not Sorry)
What an adventurous time it has been since my previous post. I will have to remind you of the fact that the internet is a very stupid place, before we go any further, and I have plastered myself all over it throughout the years, in a plethora of ways, but one way always causes a stir as though it is a bruise upon the heal of humanity; that of my female form. My breasts, specifically. As a result, I feel some see me as a thing to be devoured due to this attribute but I never gave it much thought until recently. I was always the SMALL one in that particular regard, in my family. Nevertheless, the eyeballs (and whatnot) bulge when parts of me are exposed and it is as often lost on me, unfortunately (I guess?). Like an old muscle car, its what's under the hood that matters, in my opinion, but if we must get hung up on chrome detailing, so as to speak, let's just say they didn't call it greased lightning for nothing (and the engine roars). This afternoon, I received criticism suggesting I LIKE it when men leave comments about my breasts on social media. What's funny is the one accusing me of this is the one posting the pictures (unlawfully, of course!). I step back, in my mind if not in real life, and I just shake my head. Is the world full of this sort of double-minded hypocrisy, or is it just me?
I've tried to tell people I am being sexually harassed. Again, they do not believe me. I was told my kids have been sent nudes of me as well as my ex-husband, which is why our relationship is at a standstill. Well, to that I say this; there was a time when my ex-husband encouraged me to show a little more skin and a little more cleavage. So I did. And here we are. He gets what he gets. It backfired, so be it. I told him to be careful what he wished for.
I didn't want to share more skin because I hate it when I am being ogled, but at the time, as I recall it, I was feeling hurt and therefore defiant, that he wanted me to show off my body. Why would a husband ask his wife to do such a thing? I do not know, but I took him up on the suggestion and now, years later, I am writing this post. Those of you (kids included) who judge me? Make sure you remember to be fair. Just be fair. I never wanted this for my family at all. But every time I got too close to the edge, it seemed like everyone was waiting for me to jump. So, one day, I jumped. I was hoping I would die, in fact, and it wouldn't matter who saw what when it comes to my body, but I ended up surviving the whole thing and along the way I started to understand myself better. I learned to take care of myself better. I made the most of it. If it costs me a little respect from my friends and family? Well, I am not solely to blame and that is all I know. I also know I've been a brat at times and I can take responsibility for that, no problem. I know I am somehow supposed to be above the maturity level of my children when it comes to the internet, too. I am not. I argue in chatrooms like a nine-year-old who just learned how to swear. It's fun, it's addictive. It's ridiculous. But I am new to the game, relatively speaking, of having an audience and it sometimes goes to my head. Does it ever. Also, to be honest with you, I never considered my future at the time because, until now, at the rate things were going before, I didn't think I would have one. I was reminded of this today, as if there is any moral high ground remaining in the grander scheme of things, but I took that into consideration for a moment. Pictures of my naked body could ruin my future? I guess so. Okay. Well, damn. What do I do now?
I am going to write this post and forget about it. Who cares? With the state of the world being what it is, I think we all have bigger fish to fry. If that makes me somehow an evil "shameless woman"? Good. Let me be shameless. Why should I feel shame for the woman I've become? I've come a very very long way. I look myself in the eye when I look in the mirror and I really like who I see looking back at me. I don't care who thinks what. I really really don't. Zero f*cks give, thank you very much. You should know where I got my sex education, incidentally: I grew up listening to Madonna. Sorry, not sorry.
However, I am sorry to the youth who may have gotten sucked into this narrative. I know I systematically pushed everyone away who attempted to stop a train wreck, but if you read between the lines, all I really wanted and needed was time to myself. I won't take to the internet when I am feeling like that, anymore. Lesson learned! And I know everyone shares screenshots and private chats and all these things. I know nothing is ever private. So, I guess my overall approach to the last five years was to examine the entire scope of my circumstances. I didn't have my biological father's presence in my life to keep me in check and that has never been a good thing, but we learn to cope, don't we? We do. I went beyond the borders. And now I am back home where I belong.
As for that whole "father" thing? It means my sisters and I grew up in some rather unique circumstances, falling into mature scenarios with the experiences of minnows in a very very big predator-infested pond. We got eaten up and regurgitated quite often. We were criticized and singled out and gossiped about and once we started to develop breasts? Well, let's just say it was an ants to honey situation but the honey had no idea how sweet it was. The ants knew. It was a battle of hormonal dissidence, never-ending. We did the best we could.
Years later, I find myself to be quietly pleased to learn I am more concerned with things greater than my physical anatomy, though it has been used against me fairly often in these recent times, oddly enough. Prior to being dragged into some sort of intangible limelight, I have found my anatomy is the focal point of many assumptions. I have not been too shy to exploit the exploitation, if you understand me. And in these last 48 hours, I have received a barrage of online communications bordering on the level of "eyebrow raising". It makes me angry. A certain phone hacker is at the root of this and those whom he associates with. It's really rather sad that these men have to make such assumptions of me, without ever meeting me face to face, but this is the world we are living in. They are determined to try to ruin my life, I guess? But they are making things worse for themselves, not me.
My life is being reduced to its physicality as if that is all that matters about me. It is not all that matters about me, let me tell you. Young and old, near and far, listen up.
What matters about me is my brain, my imagination, my education, my compassion, my thoughts, my ideas, my writing. What matters about me is how I care for my mom, how I love gardens, how fresh air is all I seem to crave, how I enjoy coffee, how I love to paint, to sing, to dance. What matters is how I walk someone through a moment of physical weakness at work, or hold the hand of a dying woman, which I have done many times by now. What matters is how I pet my cat, what matters is my laughter, how much I love my family, and how I miss my father. What matters is much I love and miss my sister and my grandmother. These things ALL matter.
I could go on. I am a human being, not an online persona, despite your impressions of me.
What does not matter, not in the sense that I should be made to feel shame, at least, is my body. I have all the working parts of a woman. All of them seem intact and therefore desirable to some. Great. It brought two children into the world. I am still quite amazed by that and maybe you should be too?
So what?
I reduced myself to play along to this game, come what may. I did that for my own special reasons, some having to do with heartbreak, rebellion, maturing, and just being generally disenfranchised. However, some of them come from living in a toxic environment where there was a lot of screaming and yelling, drinking, and so on and so on. I felt like I was drowning, that much is true, but I also felt like I was surfacing, taking my time to stabilize my vitals. I wanted to save myself and had every intention of doing so. I never thought I would have the Swiss national guard on my ass the whole time, but life is definitely strange. I also never expected such a reaction from so many people when, previous to my life imploding, I felt rather ignored most of the time. I guess that was all in my imagination. I guess I am still the weird girl I always was, beaming like a lightning bug blinking in the shadows.
I should not be receiving even further criticism form the unholier-than-thou crowd of internet land, in my personal estimation, given the fact that there is a lot more to me than just T and A. But if that's all some can see? I guess it is a form of colour blindness, seeing only one component of what makes me, me. Of course, it is the only the aspect of me that can be degraded to easily where other aspects of me get an A++. C'est la vie, n'est pas? That's life, isn't it? If I live to be an old(er) lady, I will look back on these days (and those photos) and laugh. What a spicy little cupcake, eh? And I am not even a redhead. Amazing.
So anyway.
Woman have always been objectified. Always. I expected I would be too and I am. In fact, everything I've done with my life in the last several years has been deemed to have some sort of nefarious motive attached to it in relation to my womanhood. Why? I do not know why–you would have to sit down with me and have a real heart to heart and explain to me why. I am strange, I have always stuck out in a crowd, but I have never experienced anything like what's been happening lately. Every day is a fresh hell, from the same people, over and over. What a waste of energy. Just meet me face to face, Switzerland. Or don't. Whatever!
If you happened to receive photos of me that you deem to be inappropriate? Well, all I can tell you for sure is that I've always had a self-destructive nature until recently. I've always had a little Kamikaze in me. My body was often the mechanism by which I would find a way to hurt myself, deliberately, it would seem. But I also dive-bombed down hills on my bike, for example. I've always pushed the boundaries when possible. So? When my life fell apart, I got a little cocky, a little self-absorbed, and dove in head-first to the filthy waters of online dating, for lack of a better term, because it wasn't exactly that. It wasn't online dating. It was two guys, who live far away, approaching me on social media as though I was using it for dating. I was not, but I've already explained myself about that. So, online dating is what we will call it–close enough.
I used to have recurring nightmares that I was swimming in really murky, shallow waters. There were really gross things in that water, it was lukewarm bordering on cold, and something was always scraping against my leg or brushing up against me. That's what it feels like to try to get to know someone online to me. It's fetid, it's unknowable. I am a fan of real life.
Other times, I've dreamt I am swimming in crystal clear waters, invigorated and free. What does it all mean? I think it means I knew these days would come. These dreams, as well as many others, foretold of times like this. I was warned, in other words. And in my own way, I was prepared. I have to believe there will be a resolution to all this conflict someday. I also have to believe my kids will see the broader picture and I have to believe my kids' friends will just look the other way while we go through some things.
The battle rages on with no end in site. It's a fascinating study on the evolution of my life.
In news that is NOT considered to be stupid internet fodder, I am extremely pleased to learn that Tom Morello is coming to my neck of the woods (New Brunswick, Canada), with three dates in my home province. In all seriousness, I feel like that's a really really smart move on his part. I think something is just waiting to ignite, here. I feel it in my chest, as a matter of fact.
Well, every highway that I go down seems to be longer
Than the last one that I knew about, oh, well
And every girl that I walk around seems to be more of an illusion
Than the last one that I found, oh, well
And this old man in front of me wearing canes and ruby rings
Is like containing an explosion when he sings
And with every chance to set himself on fire
He just ends up doin' the same thing
Well, each beautiful thing I come across tells me
To stop moving and shake this riddle off, oh, well
And there was a time when all I wanted was my ice cream colder
And a little cream soda, oh, well, oh, well
And a wooden box and an alley full
of rocks was all I had to care about
Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well
Now my mind is filled with rubber tires and forest fires
And whether I'm a liar
And lots of other situations where I don't know what to do
At which time God screams to me
"There's nothing left for me to tell you."
Nothing left for me to tell you
Nothing left
Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well, oh, well
Oh, well, oh, well, oh, well, oh, well
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