Gothic Lolita

"I'm Gothic Lolita, and you are a criminal, and you should be killed by an army of little girls"

Hi there. It's been awhile, hasn't it? I'm sorry. I initially stopped writing because my computer broke. Then I thought I was "cured". I almost wrote a post on it. I'm glad I did not.

Goodness, what's happened in the time that I haven't been blogging? I got a job. I quit it. I got a boyfriend. I dumped him. I had my first kiss. I want to set myself on fire.

"But White Rabbit!" you ask, "Why would you want to set yourself on fire because you kissed a boy?"

BECAUSE HE DIDN'T FUCKING ASK, THAT FUCKER.

My Grandfather {who has narcissistic personality disorder} did some very...eerie {?} things to me when I was younger. Nothing explicit, although I won't go into any detail. It fucked me up pretty badly. I met with a social worker at a place that specializes in helping people through being violated. I didn't think I was sexually abused, I was going there because the medical ordeal I went through was extremely similar to that situation. I casually mentioned the things my grandfather did. We talked a bit, and I said something about my medical trauma, and she said, "Well, I'm more concerned about this" {referring to the things I said about Grandfather} She told me that what he did laid the foundation for...everything, really. Me not being able to be touched, my anxiety and depression...I was absolutely enraged. And I LIVE with this man. I have to see him every single day, the man who ruined my life, the man who ruined all that I could have been. Now I'm just this painful shell of a girl, I've gone completely mad. And it's all because of him.

So that's what I want to set Andrew on fire. Even after I told him to ease up on the touching he still did it. He expected a kiss after our date like fucking deserved it.

And he TOOK my first kiss away from me. He just leaned right over, very quickly and without warning, and gave me one of those long, slow kisses. I wanted to push him away in the back of my head but I was too sick and nervous too. I tried to be happy afterwards. I told my mother it was the "best first kiss ever!". I wanted to die.

Today I broke down about it. I told my mother how I felt. She tried to sympathize about it the best she could. She kept telling me I was being irrational, telling me it didn't really matter and that everything was fine. This did not help. It ended up with my screaming and beating the shit out of the interior of the car, and then crying hysterically, curled up in a little ball. I felt all around raped, especially by Andrew. Something's wrong there. A kiss should not feel like rape. That's why I think something more happened with my grandfather. The aftermath is a bit disproportionate to the events.

He used to give me baths. {this may be triggering for some people, so don't say I didn't warn you} "Special" baths. He used to say he would clean everywhere. I would of thought it was normal. I wouldn't of thought anything of it at all. My Grandmother always taught me to clean my "front bottom" in the bath and shower. {which resulted in many infections, but she didn't know any better} He would of been doing what he's supposed to be doing.

I don't know. My mother denies it viciously. She tried to brush the other things off as normal and maybe a bit out there, but harmless. She said back in his day they just did things like that. Apparently she was wrong. I can understand that it would be hard for her, hearing that about her father. {who beat her as a child} Everyone wants to bury their heads in the sand. They think it's nothing. They don't want anything to change, not matter how badly it needs to.

My little cousin spends the night with him like I used to. Her mother has actually expressed concerns about him molesting her, yet she continues to let her stay with him. She just wants someone to take my cousin off her hands for awhile. She's one of those mothers. There's nothing I can do. I'm scared for her.

If any Army member has any ideas, please suggest them. I'm at a loss.

My case is going to be matched to a therapist Tuesday. Hopefully I'll get an appointment not long after that.

The first thing the social worker said to me after she asked me questions was, "I think you're in hell."