A second sleepless night. I sit and attempt to sort through my thoughts as I’ve been taught through mindfullness skills with my CBT specialist, as well as in my DBT classes. 2 thoughts come to mind.
This weekend my family and assorted friends went camping at a beautiful secluded little hideaway along the beach just outside the city in celebration of S’s birthday. From Wednesday morning until Saturday morning we enjoyed gorgeous views, the comforting sound of fog horns and a slightly unpleasant sense of chill that goes hand in hand with living near the city, regardless of the time of year. As is the case with our group of friends, there was much alcohol to be consumed. I should clarify that my husband is a brewer, so he always has gorgeous concoctions on tap to share with others. He also has a penchant for posh Irish whiskeys. I should also clarify that I no longer drink, having discovered that abusing alcohol in the throws of my PTSD was more harming than helpful.
Wednesday went beautifully and quiet, and i actually spent a majority of the time asleep in the tent from exhaustion through the previous few days. Thursday, i had to drive into the city for my weekly DBT classes, so i returned to the campsite around 10pm. By this time, a longtime friend of my husband’s was completely trashed. Now in G’s defence, he is a good friend, is completely harmless and is a pleasant happy drunk. This being said, he proceeded to follow me around the campfire for the following two hours, putting his arms around me, tickling me, poking me, shoving in a humorous manner and otherwise crossing the lines of polite friendly physicality in numerous ways. Eventually another close friend of mine, B, who was witnessing this, planted himself firmly between myself and G. Upon the arrival of my husband back at the campfire (he was at the cliffside view of the bridge while visiting with a childhood friend he had not seen in years), myself and B politely suggested to G that he was ‘really drunk’ and should probably be escorted back to his tent for his own safety. Fortunately, G is gentlemanly enough to recognise when he’s completely trashed and agreed.
Just as I’m reaching a small sense of comfort again in the absence of G, a newcomer to our campfire, someone who is friends with G that i only know peripherally, sits himself at the fireside and proceeds to say to me as I go for more wood, “You’re looking sexier than ever”, to which i didn’t respond. When i return with the wood, he punctuates his statement with, “You are so hot”. I ignored him again, while attempting to settle the anxiety clenching my chest and the growing sensation of nausea. I did later discover that ‘Y’ and his wife are polyamourous, which I didn’t know and didn’t know how to react to. It did however shed some light on the events i witnessed earlier in the day involving his wife snogging another man on the beach.
Do all these things amount to a big dramatic event? Absolutely not. Are they particularly disturbing to myself? Yes. Is this the only time this has happened to me? No. This marks the third time a close friend of mine has gotten drunk and crossed a very clear (albeit not illegal) line. G was actually more of puppy dog compared to the others, but G in combination with the comment from Y left me feeling quite objectified and dirty.
I know others would say I should feel proud and complimented, take it for the positive intent is was meant for. Is that what it was meant for? Are woman simply supposed to take any remote positive interpretation of casual conversation void of intent or implication as a feather in their cap? I don’t see it that way. i don’t think i ever will. I’ve harboured a bad relationship with my self-image my entire life. From 8yo until meeting my husband, I’ve had more than a fair amount of extremely cruel things said to me regarding my appearance and general state of self. Disgusting, chubby, fat, ugly, scary-looking, trash, bland, boring, masculine, dykey, awkward, animalistic (that one was one of my favourites), ‘the ugly one’ while in a group of people… you name it.
now to enter my 30s and suddenly have compliments projected at me, compliments in a sexualised objective fashion… just makes it worse. it becomes a thesis statement punctuating the other feelings cultivated throughout my existence. I am simply an item, a thing created for the amusement of others, and my sense of worth will forever be nothing more than what i can be used for in the moment.
To go from one extreme to another leaves me feeling like the object I’m meant to become.
Recovering the Path from Ireland to Life 