“Do you think KINK will ever be mainstream???”

People yammer on endlessly about how “mainstream” they think kink is becoming.

Oh yeah. Mainstream.

So mainstream that it’s becoming the law of the land…again. It’s NOT okay if it’s for your own personal pleasure. It IS okay if it’s the law of the nation or the state you live in.

I find it ironic that SCOTUS, back in 2016, declared we do NOT have a constitutional right to our kinky shit yet the laws being made now are creating the same types of dynamics.

It’s like a Bonesman looked at the huge numbers of watchers of shows like The Handmaid’s Tale and said to his little circle “well, if they like that treatment so much and seem to want it (because some women cosplay as handmaids), then let’s start making laws to put them in exactly that situation. Minus the mutilations and executions for disobedience. For now.”

No abortion or contraceptives allowed?

Breeding kink.

That is your Federal Government owner. If you are female in the eyes of the federal government, you are in a breeding kink relationship with the USA. It has declared, through the supreme court, that you do NOT have ANY right to any form of abortion at that top level. Not anymore. You all had your chance to vote for Hilary and 15% of all voters on that day went “independent” and cost her the race. So now NONE OF YOU own your body at the Federal level if you have a viable uterus and are producing eggs.

It cares not one whit how you got knocked up. You’re not entitled to get rid of the child unless the state you live in says you can.

Yes, you can do your best to avoid the situation of conception. For now. They’re working on that. Clarence Thomas SAID they were going to “correct” the issue of contraception.

But, remember, according to a hell of a lot of kinky people, it’s such an honor to be Master’s cumdump and bear his child.

You want an o/p dynamic?

If you are female in the eyes of the state you live in, and that state outlaws abortion or restricts it in any way, your uterus is also owned by the state. You, as host to The Precious, are also  property of the state.

No, your Federal and State owners cannot force you to become pregnant (yet)…but neither one gives a fuck how you got that way. You can “abstain” all you want. Or, try to abstain. The Federal owner doesn’t care if you consented with a man you love. Gosh, good for you. Doesn’t matter if you were raped at gunpoint by a complete stranger. Shit happens. Doesn’t matter if you are 10 and raped by your own biological father. Oooh, sorry about that, kid. You have zero recourse on the Federal level.

What state you live in? All of them outlawed marital rape, Connecticut being the last state to do so, back in the early 90s. It hasn’t been much more than 30 years since it was LEGAL for a man to rape his wife. Give them time. It’ll be legal again. State already doesn’t care that you got pregnant through date rape. You’re the one who is humiliated when it comes to interrogations. Even in NYC. There’s now a task force to investigate that kind of behavior on the part of detectives. (Do NOT go to the police! Go to the HOSPITAL! Make sure it’s not a Catholic hospital or they won’t give you the morning after pill, even in a “choice” state. A properly staffed hospital that supports choice will have people trained to deal with your situation with compassion.)

So, if you love a good CNC date night with the hubby, just wait. You can’t do it if it’s for your personal pleasure (as a woman). But give it a few years and hubby will be able to legally do it (again) for his OWN personal pleasure.

You want sexual slavery? You’re going to be one.

Sex slave and a breeder.

Breeding slave.

Because it doesn’t matter how The Precious got itself conceived or how much or little you want it. You, as the host incubator, must do nothing to impede the growth of The Precious. It will be born or there will be hell to pay. Literally, for those who believe in a god that will send you to hell for exerting authority over your own body.

Want a punishment dynamic? Here you go. You already are in one with the state, if your state in any way has criminalized abortion. The Federal owner won’t punish you. Yet. There is no federal law regarding it other than to say you can’t have one. There is no federal punishment for obtaining one. Yet. Give it time. For now, the Master of the House leaves punishment for the wives, I mean states to decide. Jail time. Prison time. You murderer you. How dare you think your wants are more important than The Precious you never wanted.

Got a humiliation and/or degradation kink? Yep, we’ve got that for you too.

Who the fuck do you think you are, you murdering jezebel?

The state will drag you through the media court of public opinion, and shame you, name you, give your home address, and make an example of you to the rest when it catches you.

Got a kink about escaping and being dragged back?

Well, we’re not QUITE there. But guess who is standing on the other side of the state line whacking their hand with the handcuffs, ready to arrest you when you get back from your “camping” trip. There are states already considering these laws. If you leave state to get an abortion, just stay in the new state. Become a citizen of that state (by exchanging your license or state id) as soon as possible so that other state CAN’T drag your ass back when that pass that law later this year.

I’m serious. By Christmas, the states that want to completely outlaw abortion will have done so. The states that want to arrest you on your return will have passed those laws.

Got a kink about being held captive?

If you married and changed your name, (male, female, or other) you must have every single document to show how it happened. Birth Certificate with original name. Marriage Certificate showing change. Divorce certificate (to prove you were legally able to marry on your…) 2nd Marriage Certificate.

If you are missing any single piece, you cannot right now get a passport, an enhanced or REALID. Everyone will be required to have one of those three things in order to travel on an airplane from one US state to another. That happens next May. Check your papers, sweetie. If you don’t have the proper papers to get the proper kind of identification card, you will never be allowed to leave your state by airplane. Or hot air balloon.

Sure, you can drive. You can take a bus. But it’s hard to get to Hawaii on one of those. Yes, men who have married and changed their last name to their spouse’s name will also have to have all this documentation…for the rest of their lives. Gay man getting married for the second time and changed your name for the first spouse…got all your papers?

At the DMV a few weeks ago, I was even asked if I had my 2nd husband’s death certificate. Because it would make going back to my maiden name easier.

Think about that. If I was still married, I wouldn’t be allowed to change my last name from that of my husband back to my own maiden name. Because still married. WTF does being married have to do with it if I want to change my last name back to what it was when I was born?

They’re coming after your same sex marriage too, you gender traitors. Clarence Thomas said that. Not only is contraception an error, but so is same sex marriage, and they will BOTH be corrected. Get your affairs in order people. See the lawyers. Set up the Will. Right fucking now. Do it or you will have no right even to be kept informed when a medical catastrophe occurs. Just like it used to be back in the 70s, 80s, 90s. Before that error called “same sex marriage” was allowed to happen in California.

People really need to stand back from the tiny piece of wall they’re staring at and take a look at the bigger picture.

On the outside ends, the USA is blue. Freedom. Rights. The entire center, however, plus the penis, the udder, and the ass are red with the blood of everyone who isn’t of the Master.

We came damn close to being a nation of freedom. People pissed it away.

The Bonesmen have the USA back In Hand. Do you really think they’re ever going to let go of it again?

FYI…I’m starting a pool as to the date, time, and location of my assassination for pointing all this shit out. I’m saying a subway car on the way to work some Monday morning. Gotta be a Monday so everyone thinks of Garfield the Cat. There will be an appropriate injury count among other riders, but no fatalities, as a cover.

Shit. I better finish up Marok quick and get it published.


Ya think?

Every single prediction I’ve made since 2016 regarding these matters has come to pass.

Forget trump. he was their puppet fool tool. A spectacle out front to hide the machinations behind.

Who put kavanaugh’s name in front of him and convinced trump to nominate him?

Who put the “obey your husband” religious chick’s name in front of him and convinced him she’d be a great addition to the SCOTUS team?

They are the architects behind of all of this.

The Demise of Your Rights as a US Citizen

I saw this coming six years ago.

Nobody wanted to listen.

Here we are. Everything I said would happen has happened.

A long time ago, when Downton Abbey was in its fourth season, a young woman blogged how the season was boring for her. The issues raised weren’t really issues for her.

One of those issues was Lady Edith’s pregnancy. In 1922 England, abortion was illegal. She, an unmarried woman, goes to an apartment intending to have an illegal abortion. In the end, she couldn’t go through with it and chose to have the baby. (Of course. No way was the old white man author going to allow his character to go through with it.)

The young woman blogging about the show didn’t see how a woman getting an abortion was a big deal. I was actually happy for her to NOT know that fear of doing this illegal and extremely dangerous thing. Women died because of unsanitary conditions and bad procedures (remember Dirty Dancing), and she’d grown up in a country in which getting rid of an unwanted parasite was a CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHT for all women.

Yes, I said parasite. When it’s UNWANTED it’s a parasite just the same as any tapeworm.

I wonder how she’s feeling today. I wonder if she gets it now that she no longer has that right and may well be living in a state that is about to outright ban all abortion. At least half of them are poised to do so. I have no doubt they won’t even allow it when the mother’s life is endangered.

With the ruling by SCOTUS, all fertile women have been relegated to “host incubator” in favor of the precious blob of cells that can’t survive outside of her womb.

Everyone who thinks that is a good thing is saying their own daughter is NOT the important person. Only the fetus inside her is the only thing that matters. And when that girl grows up and is forced to be pregnant, she will cease to be the important person and the great grandchild will then take precedence.

I remember reading, some couple decades back, about England and Ireland aspiring to more freedom for women’s choice. They both outright banned abortion, and laws were slackening some. There were ways around it. They were becoming more like the USA, because the USA was LEADING the way. We were forging the path for women’s rights. Now they both have more and better access to abortion that the USA is about to have.

Make no mistake…if they overturned one constitutional right, they can overturn any other constitutional right they choose. And they will. Even something from the Bill of Rights.

Miranda Rights (5th Amendment) — no longer have to be read to you on arrest. Who are the people most arrested in this country? Blacks and Hispanics.

Religious Freedom — Teachers can lead students in a prayer on the football field. By extension, any teacher can lead students in prayer. Who are most of the teachers? In large part, in the schools I and my child attended, they’re either white christian or white jewish. The minute a muslim teacher leads christian students in prayer, there will be a case before SCOTUS that will overturn your constitutional right to religious freedom. The USA will be declared a christian nation and all other forms of religion will be suppressed and punished. 15% of this nation are Atheist. A little burning anyone? Been a while since we had a good witch or Atheist burning. Or maybe some forced religious conversion? That’ll be fun, won’t it?

This picture could not be more true.

We are now a nation RULED by religious and political extremism in partnership. They’ve always been in partnership.

What we’re seeing right now is just the beginning. There’s another cartoon of a row of dominoes, RvW at the front.

Next they’ll rule on whether or not same sex couples can be denied service. (Remember the wedding cake law PENCE signed when he was governor.) They’ll rule that you do NOT have a constitutional right to your cakes. Or your venues.

Then there will be a case of marital rape. At the state level, it is illegal for a man to force his wife to have sex. The last state to create such a law was Connecticut around 1990ish.

Federally, SCOTUS may decide otherwise, just as they have with RvW, and they may well decide a man can have his wife whenever he wants as a constitutional right, and his wife does NOT have the right to refuse him.

Think it can’t happen? Didn’t you say that about RvW?

Transgender rights are in the lineup too. I don’t know what the case is yet, but I guarantee you there’s one in the pipe they are just chomping at the bit to get their hands on so they can deny all transgendered men and women (but mostly the men who want to be women) any and all rights they’ve gained in the last 40 years.

Then they will overturn the right to engage in same sex marriage. There’s a Tennessee law they’re trying to pass that effectively removes a minimum wage for the age of the bride while at the same time instituting a procedure for marriage that excludes all same sex couples. Pedo-marriage anyone? Gosh, whose idea was THAT?

After that, the states will re-institute every anti-sodomy law they used to have. You can BE gay. Just don’t ever have sex.

Those same states will also overturn laws against gay-bashing and every homosexual, male or female, will be right back where they were in the 80s. If they ever even made it to 2015, that is. Most of those places (red states, don’t you know), homosexual men and women are STILL afraid to come out because they will be attacked walking home from a date. Nothing ever changed for them, regardless the Federal protections put into place.

Voter rights are being attacked, and have been since the last election. The trumplicans can’t accept the fact that THEY LOST fair and square. Many republicans, in states trump WON, are doing what they can to ensure they never lose again. They are creating restrictions that will prevent people from voting against them, by denying minorities (who are more often Democrat) access to voting options.

We’ll see where that ends up, won’t we?

Before I die, which will likely be within fewer than 20 years, this country will be the EXACT OPPOSITE of what the founding fathers wanted.

It will be what they rejected.

It will be what General George Washington waged a war against.

I used to love my country. We were driving forward into an age of tolerance and acceptance for people of all walks of life.

Now we are being driven back, at lightning speed, into a biblical dark age of pale man is king and everyone else is his slave.

Proof That Women Do Not Matter

Any removal of abortion as an option says that the living woman is not important.

Only the parasite inside her is important.

That is why overturning is wrong.

The priority is not on the “autonomous” living and breathing woman.

The priority is on the parasitic potential person that is not viable outside the host incubating it.

The parasite that might kill her.
The parasite she never wanted and didn’t have a choice in creating.
The parasite she tried to prevent but that prevention failed.

If you ever wonder where women really are in the standing of male and female humanoids,
remember that the parasite inside the female takes precedence over the female.

That is just plain wrong.

Be Silent, Woman!

If you read up on meanings of sarcasm, certain themes pop out.

Seems people think it’s only ever used harshly. It mush be related to unresolved feelings of anger, fear, etc.

I didn’t see a single reference to the other person. What has that other person said or done that is eliciting the sarcastic response? Why did they say what they did?

Example. If you think I’m being excessively sarcastic or harsh in my responses to people, stop a second and go look at what I’m responding to. How stupid a thing to say was it? What piece of mansplaining crap had some dude just laid?

What perspective had I offered that the person took such offense to? Probably one they didn’t want to hear.

What answer was I giving to a question? Probably one based in reality and not feeding their fantasies and fetishes and, thus, not what they wanted to hear.

“You’re aggressive.” I get this from dudes who think it their place to say they don’t like what I said to them when they post some stupid shit they think is perfection. Speaking one’s mind is aggressive. (nods) Never forget that. It’s okay for a man to do. He’s being so smart and leaderly-like. Women, however, must never be aggressive. Code: Be silent, woman.

“You’re too sarcastic.” Code: Be silent, woman.

If you think I’m excessively sarcastic, then get to work on fixing some of the stupid in the world. Educate your fellow men on what thoughts are too stupid and shouldn’t be said. Educate them on what things are too stupid and shouldn’t be done.

You can’t do that? You don’t want to do that? Then shut the fuck up.

You don’t have the privilege of approval.

I’ll respond to stupidity however the fuck I please.

This woman will not be silent.

The Only Time It Doesn’t Hurt Is When I’m Asleep

I have tried, many times, to get various people in my life to understand the pain I live with.

I have said “there is not one single waking moment when I’m not in pain.” Still they don’t understand. They cannot comprehend how it feels because they’ve never in their lives had to deal with an unrelenting and advancing condition. I’m happy for them, on a personal level. I’m glad other people don’t live with this kind of pain.

Since they don’t understand, they say unhelpful things. You know the commercials about mental health in which people say things like “just be happy!” to the depressed person? Like that, but they say things like “stay hydrated”. Yeah, my Fibromyalgia doesn’t give a shit about my hydration level. It’s going to hurt ten times more just because it fucking feels like it at that moment. My doctor’s best advice was “nap”, because she knows there is literally nothing else I can do at this point. There’s no cure. There’s no real treatment unless I want to be zombified on cymbalta or lyrica…with no guarantee either would help the pain.

People, in their lack of comprehension of the insidious nature of chronic pain, don’t realize others have limitations. They especially don’t understand when I did not have those limitations as little as three or four years ago.

(pandemic notwithstanding) “Why aren’t you going to parties like you used to?” Because it’s fucking exhausting dragging myself and a backpack (even a rolling one) through the neighborhood, up three flights of stairs to the train and up at least another two flights of stairs when I get to my destination, and reversing the process on the way home. Most parties aren’t worth the effort unless you take your play partner with you.

Let me try to explain what Fibromyalgia is like. At least for me. Not everyone has the added bonus of psoriatic arthritis happening at the same time, so my experience may be vastly different from someone else’s. (Comments left adding your story will be read/approved within 72 hours. Probably faster, but I don’t want to promise 24 hours.)

What I feel every minute of every day:

You know that burning sensation when you walk too hard too quickly? That crampie sensation in your arms after carrying too heavy a bag for too long?

Imagine living with both those sensations every single minute of every single day. It’s just a question of how intensely you feel one or the other (or both) throughout the day.

Imagine that intense sensation reaching halfway down your bicep, making your arms weak. So weak that you have to brace your arm to hold up the remote control long enough to scroll through the guide on the television or your lists on streaming services. Arms losing strength so that you have to switch up which hand is holding the pole on the train.

I have intense lower back pain. Imagine not being able to stand still in one place. Having to lean on the poles in the pharmacy line, because you cannot stand without support. Or having to sway your hips back and forth, because it doesn’t hurt as much so long as the lower back thinks it’s moving.

Having to get up from your seat before getting to the station, in case your Achilles tendons have seized up and you have to get them to stretch back out so you can walk when the doors open. Whenever I sit down, I know getting up again is going to be an adventure in surging pain. What’s going to hurt this time? The right ankle? The left foot ball joint? The Achilles tendons? The back? The right hip? The knees? It’s a game of roulette. Place yer bets.

Imagine sitting at your desk and your thighs suddenly clench in pain. Over and over and over again for hours.

Imagine waking up more tired than when you went to bed, even though you actually slept straight through for eight hours.

Imagine feeling perfectly fine when you walk into the grocery store, but being so stiff and in so much pain that you can barely walk when you leave. Because it happens that suddenly and completely. I would go into a store just fine. Then my lower back would suddenly tie up so hard that I got the folding cane out of my bag. People in my neighborhood probably thought I was nuts.

Imagine no pain medication working. Methotrexate. Nope. Just helps with the mild spots of psoriasis that have cropped up. Humira? Made me hurt ten times more, because suppressing the immune system that much let the fibromyalgia come thundering forward. Imagine stopping all medications because you’re better off not taking anything more than an anti-anxiety drug (lorazepam) before bedtime. That’s where I am right now, except I’ve restarted the Methotrexate. My skin started having issues, so I began taking it again. And I’ve noticed an increase in the pain. That is my trade off. Less pain but itchy, flaky spots all over my body or less itchy, flaky spots all over me but more pain. How does one make that choice? Which would you choose?

“Oh, you should exercise more!!” Fun fact about Fibromyalgia. It causes MORE pain during and after exercise.

Imagine lying down for the night and your legs doing the clenching thing for two hours before you can sleep. The weight of the blanket on your feet cause me more pain. Imagine being unable to find any comfortable position because there’s that much pain all over your body.

“Maybe you should try ibuprofen” someone said. Yeah, I’m allergic to that now. Found that out after my hysterectomy in 2020. I can take Tylenol, but reserve it solely for headaches. It doesn’t do shit for my pain.

Every waking minute of every waking day, without respite, in pain. The only time it doesn’t hurt is when I’m in a deep sleep.

Sure, I can get a medical marijuana card. But MM is $150 for the patches and insurance doesn’t cover it.

A very kind and generous young man I met in December, 2021 gave me my first really good buzz in 22 years. He gave me a prerolled that day, and a small bag a few weeks later. I only smoke about half a bowl on the way home from work. Maybe less. Half a bowl on a Saturday. Half a bowl on a Sunday.

It helps my anxiety, of course. That’s as insidiously permeating as the Fibro pain. And they feed into each other. Fibro causes anxiety because of the pain. The anxiety causes more pain because of the Fibro. Half a bowl and the stresses of the day/life melt away. Reducing the stress means I don’t mind the pain quite as much. I can feel my body relax. Tensing muscles causes more pain, and they tense up without any conscious thought from me.

Oddly enough, one of the best things for the pain is a good, soul-jarring flogging. The endorphins are immensely helpful. The force of impact feels like negative energy is being obliterated off my skin. Unfortunately, I haven’t had one of those for a couple years.

I love NYC. It’s perfectly legal to smoke marijuana anywhere it’s legal to smoke a cigarette. I can walk down the street with my little glass pipe and toke along the way.

So I’m right back where I was 22+ years ago, self-medicating with pot.

But now I don’t have to be afraid the cops will pull me over while I’m carrying it home.

“I’m Too Tired” is NOT a Lie.

Seen on MSN: “Everyone is guilty of telling these lies”

“I ‘m too tired. — On the surface, this is true—we’re all tired. It’s a lie, however, when you say you’re too exhausted to go to the movies with a friend, but stay up until 3am watching videos on the internet.”

The effort needed to go to the movies:

Step 1. Shower.This alone can be exhausting to someone with Fibromyalgia or arthritis. I happen to have both.

Step 2. After the shower, there’s getting dressed and ready.For someone who doesn’t suffer from a chronic pain/exhaustion illness, it’s nothing to put on the socks, underwear, pants, and shirt; to spend fifteen minutes or more putting on makeup.When you have that chronic illness, step 2 is as exhausting as step 1.

Step 3. getting thereI don’t have a car. I can’t just go down, get in the car, drive there and have fun.
I walk down my steps in the apartment. Then I walk three blocks to the train. Up two flights of steps to the mezzanine. If I’m having a good day, I can do it without stopping on the landing in the middle. Through the turnstile and up another flight of stairs to the platform.

Huff and puff to catch my breath, through a mask that makes me feel like I’m breathing through pea soup, because I have diminished lung volume. NO, I really CANNOT breathe through my mask in that state.

Let’s say I’m going to Times Square for the movie.

Ride the train to the station where I can cross the platform to get on another train. (15 minutes travel time) Get up from my seat between stops so that I can work out any stiffness that’s built up. If I’m too stiff and not prepared for it, I might miss getting out before the doors close. Yes, this is a real thing. Wait on the other side of the platform, leaning against a girder because there may not be a seat available on the bench. Get on that other train when it finally arrives and go another 15 to 20 minutes, IF there’s not a delay.

Once again, get up between stations to work out that stiffness, which is worse by now because of all the exertion. I finally get to the Times Square station, take the escalator up to the mezzanine (because the elevator is slower than a fucking snail on molasses in the middle of winter). Walk through the station to find an exit and then go up ANOTHER flight or two of stairs. Pause to huff and puff without my mask, to catch my breath. Finally, walk the block through a thousand people, with hawkers at nearly every door (because tourist trap area), and get inside the theater.

Are YOU exhausted yet?

Because by now, my legs are shaking, my back is killing me, and my purse or tote bag feels like it weighs a ton.

And what’s the first thing my friend is likely to say? “How are you?”

Fuck. Don’t ask me that. You don’t really want the answer. lolol By this time, I’m fucking miserable. To put myself through all this, I must really want to be with my friend. I must really want to see this movie.

Step 4 Getting into the theater. Not too horrible, but this theater has a smallish lobby. All the theaters are stacked above it. There are two or three levels of escalators. Doesn’t seem like a big deal. But when you have a bad back and questionably knees and joints, the escalator has dangers of its own. I have almost fallen when there’s an unexpected jerk in the middle.
Finally we’re in the movie and I can lean back and relax.


Okay, movie’s over. I’ve sat still for an hour and a half to two and a half hours. I won’t list the things that are stiff and hurt because EVERYTHING is stiff and hurts, and it’s going to take me a minute to loosen things up so I can walk. No, I’m not exaggerating.

Down those escalators. Out on the street. Walking the block to the train. Walk down the stairs if there’s no escalator. There is an escalator in the main entrance of the Times Square station. Coming out, I rarely get to use it. Going back in, it’s much easier to find.

Step 5 Going Home. Escalator down. walk through the station to find the right train. Since we’re here, I’ll go a little farther in the station and get on the N train so I don’t have to change trains. I can sit the entire way. Yay.

But when I get to that last stop, I’m stiff again. Everything hurts even worse now. And I have to go down those three flights of stairs this time, with ankles that hurt like hell, questionable hips, questionable knees. I don’t get out of breath going down, but I do have to be very careful and make sure of every single motion. Landing on a foot wrong will send excruciating pain through the foot, the knee, the hip, up my back, through the right shoulder. Any of these in any combination.

Then I’m finishing with a three block walk leading to one more flight of stairs up to the apartment.

I take off the shoes, change into my comfy home clothes, get a beverage, and sit down. And I won’t get up again for upwards of two hours because I’m in so much pain.

Are you exhausted now? I am, and I might have a horrible night of sleep because all those muscles that keep stiffening up will do so again. I may have horrible leg cramps for hours. Every time I get up, I’ll be in so much pain that I’ll hobble around like I’m 80 years old. And I’ll hurt for two days because of all this.

Or…SI can stay home, on the sofa, wrapped in a warm blanket, with a cup of chocolate wine and the remote control to watch movies until I’m ready for bed.

“I’m too tired” isn’t a lie. It’s an over-simplified translation of “The extreme exertion I have to endure to get there and do that isn’t worth the pain I will suffer in doing it, nor the sheer exhaustion I’ll be left with when it’s done.
It’s why I don’t go to parties anymore.

It’s why I’m afraid to RSVP to a simple munch. The hostess cannot count on me and it becomes very tiresome for us both for me to continually have to cancel when the day comes. I just don’t have the spoons to do all that up there to attend, and I feel bad about it. I feel bad about my name taking up a slot someone else could have had. So I’ve stopped RSVPing.

No, I can’t just take a couple tylenol. They don’t do anything for my pain. Can’t take ibuprofen, which I previously would have combined with the tylenol for better effect. Nope. I’m allergic to that now. Tried Humira. It made me hurt more and more and more, and led to the Fibro diagnosis. There’s no other medicine I’m willing to try anymore.

I have an inhaler. I’m supposed to take a hit before my exertions. Okay, that may help the breathing a little. Won’t do anything for all the pain, stiffness, and exhaustion.

“I’m too tired.”

Fucking A, man.

I AM too fucking tired.

“Forgive the Abuser” is Crap

“You have to forgive, or the other person is still controlling you.”

I saw/heard this said on an episode of My 600 Lb Life last night, and it absolutely infuriated me. I am working hard to keep that anger in check and not let it write this piece, so bear with me.

I absolutely HATE IT when people say “you have to forgive so you can get on with your life”, or some other such bullshit.

The onus is always on the victim to get over it. Never is the perpetrator of the crime required to apologize or take any sort of responsibility for his actions. No, he gets let off the hook. Completely. By everyone.

I call bullshit on that backwards-ass thinking.

You wouldn’t tell a grieving mother to “get over” her child having been murdered. You know that loss never goes away. People are sympathetic to the grieving mother. Well, that’s what happened to me. The six year old child inside me, that child I was when he abused me, was ended by this man. I mourn for the loss of that child.

But a woman who was raped? A child who was raped? No. People don’t want to hear about that.

“Get over it.”
“Forgive him.”
“You can’t be a whole person unless you forgive him.”
“You have to forgive him in order to heal.”
“Put it out of your mind.”
“Pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Don’t tear apart the family.”

Yeah, here’s a hint. The family is already torn apart. You just didn’t know it. As soon as the children are old enough to stay home, they will stop attending family events. There won’t be any warm and fuzzy reunions in the future, after the parents are gone.

I am supposed to forgive that he pinned me against a wall and shoved his dick in my mouth when I was six years old. I’m supposed to forgive him for ejaculating into my mouth.

Does “forgiving him” mean I’ll suddenly forget it happened; how scared I was; how mortified; the taste of it? No.

Does “forgiving him” mean I’ll instantly love sucking dick? Nope. The aversion comes thundering forward when I perform fellatio. “Forgiving him” isn’t suddenly going to make giving head easier. I’ll still hate it and it’ll still be a hard limit. I will happily live the rest of my life never putting my mouth on another dude’s junk.

Will this forgiveness magically make it all better? Not a chance. There is no instant unburdening of the soul, with the heavens opening and the angels singing and all of life is rosy from that moment on.

I will remember for the rest of my life. What he did is burned into my brain for all time.

I’m supposed to forgive that he picked me up and carried me, kicking and screaming, into his bedroom.

Will forgiving him erase that horrific memory? No.
Will forgiving him suddenly make that helpless feeling all better? No.
It’s not going to make gynecological exams easier either.

I’m supposed to forgive him penetrating my 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 year old body and causing blank spots in my memory. He is excused from taking responsibility and I’m supposed to forgive being repeatedly raped.

Not happening.

I’m supposed to forgive him blackmailing me to keep me silent. “If you tell, I will _____.” Most often, it was to not let me go outside and play. A small thing, but surprisingly effective on a six year old because going out to play was the only escape from him. Staying inside was to be trapped with him. (I have a particular sympathy for children trapped at home with their abusers.)

When I was sick, I would promise my mother I’d be good if she’d let me stay home rather than taking me to my aunt’s house where the abuse happened. I stayed home alone in third grade just to be away from him. We moved when I was in fifth grade, to a place closer to the school I attended. That’s when it stopped. I no longer had to go to the aunt’s home after school or through the summer.

No. I do not forgive him.
I will never forgive him.

I hope he is haunted by the horrible things he did and it eats him alive every single day. I hope his conscience keeps him up all night remembering the children he destroyed and the lives and childhoods he ruined.

I wish he would approach me to apologize and beg my forgiveness so I can have the extreme pleasure of telling him to go fuck himself and that I will see him in hell to exact my retribution. I hope he’s read my books, so he can see what I do to rapists in them.

I have forgiven one person. The only person who needed forgiveness.


I forgave myself a long time ago for being too small to fight back; for not knowing what to do or who to tell; for not standing up to the blackmail tactics that kept me silent.

I forgive myself…and that is quite enough forgiveness on the matter.

Still, it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make anything right. It doesn’t make me whole. Forgiving the criminal who performed horrible acts of sexual abuse on me doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t fix anything because those crimes changed how I view and process everything. The abuse changed how I feel about everything, irreparably.

That can’t be undone by all the forgiveness in the world.

It’s all there, every minute of every day, because my brain cannot forget. I wish I could forget. Letting him off the hook by forgiving him isn’t going to make my brain forget what happened.  It won’t give me peace of mind. There is no peace to be had.

There is no “putting it out of my mind”. There are multiple layers of thought processes going on in my head at any given time. A hundred simultaneous thoughts and images. It never stops. No therapist in the world can stop my brain from functioning as it does without heavy medication that I don’t want. I don’t want to go through life an unfeeling zombie.

Some would call me damaged. I won’t say that’s not accurate. I was terribly abused by someone trusted to care for me and keep me safe. That does serious damage.

I endured until I could finally escape his reach and make sure I was never alone with him again.

I don’t know who I’d be if none of it had happened, or what life I would have had. I don’t know who I would have been sexually because I was not allowed to discover that for myself. I was intentionally conditioned, at a very early age, to submit to what the man wants to do to me. It took four and a half decades for me to overcome that and be my own person with my own wants and desires. My sex life is now about me and my satisfaction and not centered around the guy’s pleasure.

What he did to me left me with lifelong Persistent Arousal Syndrome. Having a hysterectomy didn’t even change that. Imagine going through every day of your life partially aroused. Sometimes ragingly aroused. I saw an episode of Nat Geo’s Taboo in which this woman has to jack herself eight times a day. I’m fortunate that I have developed the self-control to ride out a surge and put off masturbation until bedtime or beyond. Most days.

Sometimes it’s too unrelenting and I have to relieve myself. I don’t have a normal sex drive. I have hypersexdrive.

They say the best revenge is living well. That lets the criminal off the hook too. “Yup, I did that horrible thing to you, but wow it doesn’t seem to have mattered. You’re just fine! You have a great life!” I’m not living well because of what was done. I’m living well in spite of what was done to me.

I saw a thing at some point in recent months, an excuse for excusing the criminal from their behavior. “The children of sexual abuse are not affected long term.” I’m 51 years old and it affects every day of my life. It has affected how I raised my own child. Sleepovers? Oh hell no. Going to a friend’s house after school? Nopenopenope. Hiring a stranger to babysit? No fucking way.

I cannot pretend that it doesn’t touch every single day of my life. Maybe other people can and that’s how they seem to be just fine. Maybe they hide what happened, don’t talk about it, pretend it never happened. That’s called denial, last I knew.

Denial doesn’t mean a person has been made whole.

So what’s the answer?

The men (and women) who abuse children are not going to stop abusing the children in their care. A hundred years from now, children will still be sexually, physically, and emotionally abused. It’ll still be perpetrated, most times, by someone known and trusted by the parents. If not the parents themselves.

So long as the abused are told to forgive and get over it, to not speak up because it’ll tear apart the family, to shut up, the perpetrators will always be let off the hook. The abused will always be the ones suffering, to one degree or another.

Don’t let anyone pressure you into forgiving a molesting rapist of an abuser if you aren’t feeling it. You don’t have to forgive the abuser. Not ever if you don’t want to. You’re not a bad person for that, regardless the guilt trips people try to lay on you.

There is no perfect answer.

We each have to deal with our lifelong aftermath as best we can from one day to the next.

Surviving Yourself During the Plague

If ever there was a period in time that most brightly highlights the difference between Introverts and Extroverts, now is that time.

We’re dealing with an unprecedented plague that has caused our local and state governments to declare we must stay home.



I’m not going to laugh at you. This is the hardest thing extroverts will ever have to do. You’re not allowed to be yourself.

What is the secret to surviving days and weeks in endless isolation?

First, to quote Zombie in Wreck It Ralph, “you must love you!”
What does that mean? Very simply, it means that you have to be friends with yourself. You have to be comfortable with your own company. If you cannot stand your own company, you’ll drive yourself up the wall.

I have noticed that a fair number of extroverts cannot stand to be alone with themselves. They never made friends with their own presence. Extroversion, for them, isn’t so much about being an outgoing person as it is using the company of everyone else in order to ignore (or hide) the fact that they can’t stand being in their own company.

Second, you have to be able to entertain yourself.
Another thing I’ve noticed with a fair number of extroverts is that they continually seek other people to provide input and stimulation for them. They don’t know how to create it for themselves.

If they had siblings growing up, they didn’t have to entertain themselves. There were other children to play with or fight with. They had someone to do things with. For the eldest, that first year or three when they were an only child isn’t even a memory. It wasn’t enough time to develop self-entertainment skills that would carry them through life.

As an only child and an introvert, I had to learn to keep myself occupied. No one was there to entertain me. I had to find things to do. Preferably things that didn’t get me into trouble. I remember 2nd, 3rd grade, having marathon Barbie play sessions, with my entire collection spread out around me on my bedroom floor. I learned  to play some multi-player board games alone. Scrabble, for example, and when I was a teenager, I started playing double-rack versions with 14 tiles instead of 7, to make bigger words.

This is, in my teen years, partially where my writing career came from. Writing can be a wholly occupying pastime and the hours fly by. Write that novel you always promised yourself you would write if you could ever find the time. You have time. Time is now.

At the moment, there are tons of museums, castles, even caves, that have virtual tours. Get lost in one or all of them for a little while each day.

You can find art classes. All you need is as pencil. Maybe a pen.

Third, you have to find your release valve…and USE IT.
Recognize when you’re stressed and find something that allows you to blow off some of that steam now and then. Find a video game (or five) that occupies you and lets you release stress. Blowing up the digital things and killing the digital enemy can be quite therapeutic.

I go out for a walk and do my shopping when I’m having a particularly difficult day. Lemme tell ya, dealing with unemployment after working so hard to GET a job in the first place, is mega-stressful. Trying to upload documents required for SNAP benefits, when the app continually errors and won’t upload documents, and is now down for maintenance, when all these 50 documents are due TOMORROW, is beyond mega-stressful.

We don’t want to fight with our partner or housemates. That doesn’t help anything. There has to be a safe way to release it.

I used to be a store detective, walking the grocery store endless miles looking for shoplifters. During times of stress, going to a store and walking around it a few times is calming. It helps me to let go those stresses.

Seriously “take a walk” is a perfectly valid option. We are allowed to go out for “solo” exercise. So take a turn around the block. Or just go from corner to corner a few times.

In conclusion, to survive the isolation of the plague when you’ve never had to be isolated in your entire life, you must first accept and enjoy your own company. Second, find ways to keep yourself occupied. Last, find and use your vent valve so you don’t go off the deep end.

I’m not saying you have to like it.

I’m saying you can do this.

Lightbulb! It’s all about the Migraine!

Last night, I used a new sex toy. A vibrating clitoral suction thingy. Slipping it over my vulva, using fingertips to be sure it was in the right place; increasing the speed; wondering “how will I know if—WHOA MAMA!”

I may have spoken the name of a deity. I don’t recall, I came so hard.

What I do remember is the instant, as in one second of stimulation instant, full body orgasm that clenched every muscle in my skull. It almost felt like a seizure. I have had one of those before. In my twenties, I dropped a hit of ‘cid with my first husband. The sex was mind-blowing. Literally. I had a mild frontal lobe seizure.

Through the rest of the night (last night, that is), I felt that same lingering sensation in the front of my brain, across my forehead, around my right eye, etc. I also felt the onset of a migraine headache. Waking this morning, I had the nausea, the weirdness behind my right eye, some facial tingling, dizziness (particularly with motion of either myself or a scrolling computer screen).

What I hadn’t realized was that the migraine had actually been building up for days. Technically speaking, I’d been experiencing the migraine itself for several days. It just wasn’t happening as pain in my head until this morning.

Today I stumbled across an article on Facebook that listed a number of symptoms and factors that contribute to migraine headaches. I don’t usually read these things, as I’d never considered myself a migraine sufferer. A headache a few times a month, sure. A migraine a few times a year, maybe, usually associated with my menstrual cycle. Others suffer far more, with multiple days in a row and half the month ruined with their agony. I’ve had some bad ones in my lifetime; but not enough that I felt I qualified as “a migraine sufferer.”

I started to read this article that was a list of stuff. I like lists of stuff. As I went from item to item, I realized how many of them I was ticking off. For one aspect or another, I was ticking them all off. Every single one. Things I’d never even considered migraine symptoms were put into focus and context in a matter of minutes.

My neck pain, without any headache, was a symptom of a migraine? My first husband liked to crack my back and neck. Sometimes he’d have difficulty with my neck and wouldn’t stop. (yes, I know it was a stupid thing to let him do…I can’t go back and change it) I know he messed my neck up. I can’t just turn my head to look at things sometimes, but have to turn my shoulders as well. I attributed all my neck woes to him. Then I read: Our necks often hurt before our heads do.

A lightbulb went off in my head.

Then I read: Sometimes we can’t stand being touched…because simple touch is perceived as painful. There was mention of not liking the water from a shower on the scalp. Well, I can’t take a shower too soon after waking or the water feels like a cheese grater. My head is the last thing I get wet because I don’t like the water to land on the top of my head. Face, okay, but not the top. I will often block it with my hands, directing the water in a single big stream rather than two hundred tiny streams, or collect water in my hands to splash over my head.

The 60-Watt lightbulb became a Halogen headlight. I was on to something serious.

I dug deeper into the website (Migraine Again) and found a description of an “abdominal migraine”. And all those symptoms fit as well, particularly right that moment as I was reading. I’d been fighting through what I’d thought was an IBS flare-up, or a reaction to a dairy product like sour cream. I’d recently had a couple episodes of eating sour cream (as dip or on a baked potato) and then having a particularly bad stabby pain in my left side. Cheese doesn’t do it to me, but it seems previously opened sour cream does. Sluggish system, stomach slower to empty, digestion all but halted. Yep. Described how I was feeling to a T. The night before reading all this, I’d taken a laxative before bed, hoping it would get my gut moving again…it had worked the previous incident a few months back. It all made even more sense.

The migraine in my head had been triggered by an extremely powerful orgasm; but I’d been fighting an abdominal migraine for days. Had fought it several times in the last half year. I’d been suffering abdominal migraines most of my life. Oh Em Gershwin!

I backed up to start at the beginning of the first article, and began to pair symptoms up for better discussion. These types of articles always duplicate items, making them unnecessarily repetitive.

  1. Super-Sensitive Senses
    Strong smells are nauseating. Perfume, foods, other odors (or phantom smells no one else detects)
    Sensitivity to light; photophobia
    Annoying sounds; sensitive ears/ringing in the ears
    Tingling in various places (one side of the face)

Yes to them all, most of my life. I’ve always had a strong sense of smell, found certain strong odors nauseating. The smell of fish is horrible for me. People at the next table in a restaurant always seem to be ordering fish. It’s something I can smell half a restaurant away. It’s disgusting. Turns my stomach.

Floral perfumes poured on too much. Cleaning products will offend my nose and also burn my eyes.

Sensitivity to light. I’d always thought it was just related to my alopecia. It is a by-product of my condition. But added in with all the other symptoms, it becomes merely one piece to complete the larger puzzle.

Tingling, especially on one side of the face. As I type this, I’ve had that tingling off and on around my right eye and cheek all day long. My eyelids have been twitching. There’s been pressure off and on. That’s where the head portion of my migraine seems to be settling this time.

Annoying sounds. Loud sounds. I absolutely hate loud sounds for a time after I wake up, yet that is always when my mother seems not to be able to use her indoor voice. Sounds don’t often startle me. They hurt. They hurt my ears, my brain. It’s like the soundwaves themselves hurt my body with the same cheese grater effect of a shower.

  1. We don’t yawn because we’re bored or tired.
    Lack of oxygen.
    yawning is one of those subtle warning signs of a prodrome (the first of four phases before the pain starts) in which the brain is begging for more oxygen.

I’d always thought it was just because my sinuses were swollen inside. I’d forgotten to take my allergy medicines, perhaps. I certainly do that often enough.

  1. We can be a bit reluctant to commit. Want to be dependable but don’t want to make promises we can’t keep.

I am forever saying maybe to parties. I RSVP maybe so it’s in my list and I can see it’s coming up, and make the final decision the day of the event. If I don’t have a date lined up, there’s not much reason to go. The loud noise of the music is annoying, especially when it’s music I hate. It’s dark, but the lights that are present are over-bright and hurt my eyes.

Most of all, I don’t know if I’ll be having tummy issues or not be feeling well. I don’t know if I’ll be too achy in a thousand places. I won’t know until that day. I might be feeling fine when I wake up and then become achy and ill by evening.

  1. We’re freezing.
    Sensitivity to temperature changes/cold.
    cold hands/nose; hot/cold flashes

All the yes. I wear a sweater almost everywhere. I feel a chill when no one else does. I wear three layers when it’s 50 degrees out. I’d rather be sweating by the time I get to my destination than be freezing the entire way because I didn’t wear that third layer. My nose will be freezing cold while everyone else is comfortable. I sometimes need three blankets to stop feeling a chill when trying to fall asleep, though the heat is set at 72 degrees. Or I’ll suddenly feel overwarm when no one else does, and need to take off the sweater for a while to let myself cool.

  1. Sometimes we can’t stand being touched.
    Allodynia —
    in which ordinary touch feels intensely uncomfortable and actually painful.

ought I didn’t like to be touched because of the sexual abuse I endured for years as a child. (more on that later)

Discomfort when being touched is also a migraine symptom??? Seriously? By itself, I wouldn’t believe it; but taken into context with all the other pieces of this particular puzzle, they all seem to fit tighter and tighter together.

  1. Our necks often hurt before our heads do.
    Jaw pain

I’ve already gone over the neck pain part. The jaw pain was a bit of an anomaly, until I remembered that I’d had some weird pain in my right lower mandible two nights ago. I’ve been having it off and on for years, but never associated it with anything other than the rotting tooth in that spot. I had the molar removed last year. I still get the pain. Today I woke up with the migraine that had been accumulating overnight.


  1. We’re not drunk or drugged. It’s an aura.
    Confusion; thinking of words; vision changes; flashes of light, blind spots and other vision changes or tingling in your hand or face.

All day long, I’ve been struggling with a word here or there. Makes working on a book difficult, lemme tell ya.

The “aura” with vision changes. I don’t necessarily see the zigzag lines, but there is weirdness to my vision. Lights have a harshness to them. I see things that aren’t there.

I covered tingling in the face in another entry above.

  1. Scrunched up face; furrowed brow. It’s not anger.
    It’s a physiological response to pain in the trigeminal nerve that’s acting up around my scalp and behind one eye.

Squinting against the harshness of light. Squinting because there’s discomfort in the face, around the eye. Makes my resting bitch face look downright evil, I suppose. Doesn’t help that the eyelids are twitching away in their own Morse code alphabet. I sometimes wonder what message they’re sending, and to whom.

  1. Sometimes the world feels like it’s spinning.
    hypersensitivity to motion (ourselves or other things; scrolling on computer)
    motion sickness

I’ve gotten motion sick in cars and on busses my entire life. I prefer to take a train rather than get in a car most times, just to avoid the motion sickness.

I lie down sometimes and the entire room rocks and spins. Sometimes it goes away before I fall asleep. Sometimes it doesn’t and the room starts up again when I wake up enough to turn over.

I’ve found in recent years, that I’m becoming more and more sensitive to motion. Bending over too quickly. Scrolling up and down a computer screen too much. I did an intense inventory overhaul a few months back, and had to pace myself to avoid making myself dizzy and sick from the constant motion of the screen. A train rolling by me can throw my balance off and make me dizzy.

I had wondered if I was developing Meniers. My mother has had it since I was a small child, and all of my triggers are all of her triggers as well. There is obviously cross-over of symptoms and triggers, so it’s something I’m going to want to look into further.

  1. Food Triggers, foods being nauseating (for me, fish in particular)
    On the other hand, strong cravings for trigger foods

I’ve mentioned sour cream triggering pain in a particular spot of my abdomen. I’ve mentioned strong odors nauseating me. I cannot stand anything pickled.

I do, however, get cravings for certain trigger foods. Aged cheese. I love cheddar, brie, Havarti. I love pepperoni pizza. Chocolate. Truffles, darks, salted, with caramel. Coffee. The smell of a wonderful French Roast. Komodo Dragon is just heavenly. I don’t know that any of these things actually trigger a migraine in me. I don’t really care if they do. I won’t stop eating/drinking them. They’re worth it!

  1. We predict storms better than the weatherman.
    Temperature changes
    B. High humidity
    C. High winds
    D. Stormy weather
    E. Extremely dry conditions
    F. Bright lights and sun glare (again with the light sensitivity)
    G. Barometric pressure changes — sinus pain – off and on, constant, weather related

Again, all the yes. I can feel a storm coming in when it’s half a day away. Sometimes my face hurts so much that I wish it would finally explode off my skull so I can feel better. The pressure and pain are immense and there’s seemingly no relief.

  1. Fatigue when it’s over. Feeling washed out rather than relieved.

You’d think that after a hard tummy episode like I’m experiencing that I’d feel relieved, feel better. But I’m going to be exhausted tomorrow, almost hung over from it and the pain in my head. I already know it. I’ll need at least until the day after to shake it and be recovered.

  1. Psychological symptoms related to emotional neglect and sexual abuse.
    Emotional Neglect

This is the tough one. The same page linked to a “test” regarding emotional neglect. Do you feel/think this, that, or the other. I answered yes to nearly every question.

Sexual, emotional, and physical abuse are known to create a predisposition to headaches. I have amnesia during portions of my childhood. Times when the tape recorder of my mind paused and did not record for a while, and started again at some point.

Most people think migraines are just a bad headache. Turns out it is so much more. The pain in the head is the least of it for many.

It all adds up to one thing.

It’s time for me to see a Neurologist and get a formal diagnosis (whatever it may be) so I can find out if anything can be done about all this.

Changing the Impeachment Narrative

It’s time to change the dialogue about how the Senate is going to handle the Articles of Impeachment.

We need to stop commenting, that “the senate is held by the republicans, so of course they’re NOT going to impeach”. That is a self-fulfilling prophecy of negativity. Those senators can look at any discussion thread and throw up their hands and say “well, see, they EXPECT US to let the Carrot in Chief off the hook! They EXPECT US to vote against Impeachment. So, okay, fine. That’s what we’ll do!”

Stop that! TURN IT AROUND!

Put their feet to the fire.

I DEMAND that the Republican Senators look at the Articles of Impeachment as if Barack Obama was on the other side of that document.

I’m talking directly to you right now, Republican Senators of the United States of America.

How would they vote if it was Barack Obama on the other side of that document?

How would you vote it it was Hilary Clinton facing of Articles of Impeachment?

That’s how you should vote.

You would scrutinize that document with the finest of fine-tooth combs, looking for every single charge possible to find Barack guilty.

If that is the standard you would espouse against a Democrat, then that is the standard you should uphold against the Carrot in Chief.

I, as a member of the voting public, demand it of you.

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