I’m having a hard day awaiting the Senate’s vote to ban abortions after 20 weeks tonight. How dare they think they can decide what happens to my body!!!! You make me sick. You care more about controlling our bodies than you do about whether or not I can access healthcare! FU!!
I didn’t open my legs! I didn’t do anything! I was a child. And even if I hadn’t been a child! FU! I don’t regret it. I would do the same thing. You know who has something to regret? My Dad does!!!!
And how about you care about the child when it’s actually born? Hmmm??? So many mandated reporters turned their back on me. So many figures of authority. All the way up to the Police Captain. I was a good kid. I was in the Honor Roll through 6th grade and in the science enrichment program that only 2 kids from each school were allowed in. I was volunteer of the year from the VFW. But I was cutting in elementary school. There were many signs. Teachers saw it. They called it in, but nobody followed up. Because my Mom was perfect. Or so everybody thought. Even an aunt of mine called my mom to say I was exhibiting signs of it when I went to see her in New York for Christmas alone one year. (I miss you Aunt Pam. I miss you so much. FU Phillip Morris!!)
So many adults knew about what Larry Nasser was doing. They didn’t just ignore it. They flat out told people to shut up about it or they’d lose their jobs. Why? What made that man so damn special that they couldn’t find another doctor who knew pelvic floor therapy? Why are little girls so expendable? Don’t they understand this doesn’t go away? The more I read, the more I realize I’m never going to heal from it. Unless by heal you mean that I’ll have to find ways to cope and ground and breath through flashbacks for the rest of my life. So maybe some people learn to live a fulfilling life anyway… there’s still no justice in that.
But now I wait for the small government party to pass a law that is small enough to fit inside my uterus. The out of control rage this makes me feel towards my own body is illogical, but the urge to c*t is strong and I don’t know why.