Pieces of Me

Its windy as all hell outside, I mean like gusts of 30 miles per hour which does not suit me as I spend a lot of time outside smoking and thinking and moaning and groaning, So today is an inside day, Luckily, today is Super Bowl day so I’ll be spending a lot of time inside. I’m going to eat carefully, just chips and a bean dip. I am out of licorice as of now and I’m dreading not having any. I’m so addicted to it. But it's bad for me, and it’s got to go, I am going to cheat and have a coca cola today though, Maybe more than one. I shouldn’t but I’ve been working hard on losing weight and getting healthy, and I don’t want to ruin it all on one day, NO MORE LICORICE!!! That’s my last hold out. I’m about to go to the store and get snacks. It’s so hard. But I’ll be better off.

After the store:

I lost the licorice battle. But I’m still working out like a mad woman. I have 100 lbs to go and they need to go no matter what. Those pounds represent depression and medication and this whole miserable traumatizing un-traumatizing experience. I’m taking supplements from Vshred and trying to keep up with that crazy guy’s workouts. They are ridiculously hard. It’s 3 sets if 3, 3 times. And they are not easy either, I almost sharted. So, I’ve moved myself over to a couple of YouTube channels that are helping me out. I don’t have a scale but I did measure myself at a whopping 52 inches. Far cry from a 32, I’d settle for a 38 but shooting to lose the whole 100 lbs.

Now onto to something else. It’s a mental illness thing and not for everybody. This is where things get deep and dark for me.

I told you in my “Annie’s” that I had been beaten and raped but I didn’t say it was at age 7. And I didn’t say by whom. The molestations and the beatings went on forever it felt like but the rape was nonsense I did not understand. I can tell you that a family member asked me at age 7 if I wanted a silver dollar. Back then, that was a lot of candy so I was all in. All I had to do was fuck a boy named Bud Moser. A name I will never forget. 7 years old (head shaking). I had no idea what “fucking” someone was so I asked and the family member told me I’d see,

There was an old boat in one of the stalls in our apartments that belonged to one of the the boy who shall not be named friends. I remember being excited and feeling like a big girl around all these older kids. They were smoking weed and cigarettes. They were giving me a contact high on purpose, I suppose to make me more compliant once I knew I had to take my clothes off,. There must have been 5 or 6 boys there. All around 12 years old or so, just waiting to see this sexually explicit scene.

I”m not so sure how much of this I should write. This is my healing but also my shame.. I’m pausing frequently as the memory comes to the surface again. My anger is welling up a bit too, we don’t want to get too angry now, I’m gonna slow my roll here.

Ok, so he blew smoke in my face and told me to breathe it in. We did this several times until his lips touched mine. I was grossed out but he did it intentionally so I was beginning to feel like I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing. It was then he slipped his hands inside my little panties and asked me, “Does that feel good?”. I was stoned and I don’t remember giving him an answer. So the boy who will not be named told me what I had to do to earn my silver dollar. Why wouldn’t I trust this person? He was supposed to protect me. An older boy who shall not be named just left me alone.

So we get under the bow of the boat and I yell at all the boys to turn their heads while I undress and they did. Bud Moser took off his pants and underwear to his knees and I remember complaining that wasn’t fair, if I had to be naked then so did he, so he took his pants and underwear all the way off. I knew what a penis looked like thanks to my step-monster who showed it freely and often, What I didn’t know was where Bud Moser was going to put it, And make no mistake, he did and I blacked out from the experience.

It came to pass that later that week an older boy ( a nice one who liked me) asked me if this really happened as it became common knowledge in our neighborhood and I said yes, but begged him not to tell. My parents. They would kill me. But the older boy said he had to tell, what happened was wrong and it was not my fault and it should not happen again, So he told. I stayed as far away from the house that day as I could hoping I wouldn’t hear my name being called to come home. I was so scared, But my mother herself looked for me and found me. That was a first, She seemed very angry. Step-monster took us to Bud Moser's house holding both me and the boy who shall not be named by the nape of our necks the whole time. When the accusation was made it was completely denied. That pissed me off and I yelled, “YOU FUCKED ME BUD MOSER AND YOU NEVER GAVE ME MY SILVER DOLLAR!!!” I think the emotional outburst was from the trauma. I was so ashamed of myself. But I didn’t get my ass beat for it. I heard the adults discussing it and making rules. But no one ever really got in trouble for it, I wasn’t allowed to see Bud again. Duh, And that was that. It disappeared into the rest of the abuse,

So I fear I’ve shared too much once more. I hope you all understand that this is what MADE ME MENTALLY ILL. I was born perfect and then things like this happen and pieces of me fall over there and some over there where I leave them. Although they are never really lost are they?

By the way, I bought the Jump Rope.

Enough about me, how is everyone else doing today?

https://www.youtube.com/user/gabymsowa