doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

Heyyyyyyyyy read the tags first Was I born with an innate, intense fear of sexual assault or was this somehow implanted in me through long-term hypothetical exposure? Like my mom is def terrified of it as a possibility and made sure I knew that from a young age, and all the exploration into the dark side of the internet from age 8 onward didn’t help at all. But like, that sinking, sweating, gut-wrenching, rabbit-in-headlights fear accompanied by “You Are Not Allowed to Look Away” that I get anytime i even see an article mentioning rape– I don’t know if all that exposure over time got me to a breaking point or if this only started happening after ‘That Incident which I didnt think of as particularly terrible at first but realized the horrifying reality of as i got older.’ Like this gets to be an issue sometimes when someone’s trying to have a discussion about feministy things with me and they bring up any kind of sexual assault and i just have this cocktail of emotions in my stomach and I’m obviously not comfortable talking about this and it often gets taken as me just being very squeamish and a Pure Good Girl, which…… lmao. But like, slightly comedic things aside, this is something that’s affecting me… a lot. Not in that it gives me dramatic panic attacks or im hurting myself or something, but like it colors everything about how i view sex and possible future intimacy with someone who hopefully finds me attractive enough to boink. Theres something going on in this brain that scares me and it’s not the regular ol “I liked to tie up my barbie dolls when i was a kid haha” that ive heard kinksters talk about and seen in action from childhood friends (oh boi i hope they dont remember those activities as vividly as i do bc it would be Weird to talk about that), this is– idk, some insidious combination of hyper-exposure, compulsory heterosexuality, emotional abuse (yeah i guess im calling that stuff abuse now), self-esteem issues, overthinking, unnecessarily high empathy– it’s all coming together into this Thing that’s been fucking me up inside since before i even had a period and i’ve never talked about it ever with a single professional or authority figure, even tho it probably would have helped figure out what’s wrong with me way more than just ranting about my mom for an hour. Ive told exactly 2 people about The Incident and one person i dont talk to anymore and may or may not hate, the other person didnt comment on it at all and i think she didnt even realize how personal a thing i was sharing with her– she’s a little self-absorbed that one, but hey, i cant talk shit, that would be hypocritical. But… yeah. I think even without the exposure and stuff i would have ended up being kinda obsessed with sex in general, but it wouldnt have happened in such a roundabout, toxic way that embedded so much– SO MUCH bad shit in my annoyingly long-term memory. Anyway. Tl;dr: I’m scared to death of rape even though ive never been raped and i’m piecing together why, but it’s an intangible inscrutable brain mess.