Hey Paul,

Longtime fan of the show. Thanks for all you do.

Thought you’d be interested in reading my writing today. This has taken a long time to articulate.

The biggest impasse in processing my sexual trauma is the feeling that I’m making a big deal of it, a mountain of a molehill. And that other people think that too.

But daily I’m reminded of the mountain’s enormity. The ruts of fear, mistrust, anger, and sorrow make way for thinking feeling and acting in ways that drain my logical/rational mind and leave me feeling skeptical at best, and despairing at worst.

I’m reminded when I meticulously lock my doors and windows each night.

I’m reminded when my head is darting all around on a walk back to my apartment from the train.

I’m reminded when I find myself neck deep in a self-soothe session with vices: food, weed, alcohol, sloth, isolation

I’m reminded

I’m reminded when I jump anytime someone comes from behind me.

I’m reminded when I hear other survivor’s stories and read about the statistics.

I’m reminded when I see children at the same ages.

I’m reminded when I’m demonizing men who get close to me in order to sabotage

I’m reminded when I have literal images associated with different body parts so that when they are touched I can flashback and lose all good feeling.

Daily I’m reminded

I’m reminded when I have to develop skills to consciously lower the volume on the self-hatred track in my head.

I’m reminded when I go rogue, crusading to help or advocate for other people, at the risk of my own self-care.

I’m reminded when I want to watch porn or have an orgasm.

I’m reminded when years later my brother-in-law’s reaction to my harbored truth makes my “unconditionally loving” family’s reaction pale in comparison.

I’m reminded everyday when I’m ashamed of my body’s extra weight and general “bigness”. Particularly in the lower stomach and pubic area.

I’m reminded when I give blow jobs.

I’m reminded.

It happened.

And it had a profoundly negative effect on my life

Thanks for reading, Paul.