The place of violence

I feel like the last few years have created kind of a perfect storm of needing to deal with my thoughts about violence. Who am I in relationship to it? How do I want to react to it? How do I feel about it?

I feel like it started with the kick to the throat before I left on the road trip. When it happened I physically withdrew instead of attacking and tried to talk to the mother after the fact when I was calm. Ok, it blew up to hell and back and ended up with me on the outs with the group because I am dangerously angry… uhm… ok. Whatever. Fuck all y’all. I’m proud of how I fucking handled that. I did well in my opinion.

This year more than one person has threatened to hurt Noah. In one of those circumstances I wasn’t standing there and I just get to decide how I feel about having someone in my life who will casually threaten to break my husband’s legs. Easy choice: I will never set foot in your house (your turf) again and I’m going to be distantly polite in public. We will never be friendly again and if that means I lose a relationship with your wife… so be it. I don’t like it but that’s the choice I need to make.

We don’t always get choices we like.

Someone else got up and threatened to punch Noah. Fists were waving. It was loud and threatening. I inserted myself between the person and Noah and deescalated the situation. I did not end up with a friend, but if someone is going to do that to Noah… they weren’t going to be my friend anyway.

I’m proud of the fact that I can deescalate when someone else desperately wants to escalate. I am proud that when I am hurt I no longer blindly react.

This is fantastic progress for me.

My kids have been a bit slap happy lately. When one child struck another child yesterday we had a Very Long Chat About Hitting.

It went something like: “Ok, if you keep hitting your sibling does this mean you think it is ok for us to hit you?”

“Yes. I deserve it. I’ve been hitting.”

“Oh baby. That’s not what I believe. I believe none of us deserve to be hit. I believe that if one of us hits someone else it is a loss of control and we need to fix it. I believe that I do not want my babies to ever believe they deserve being hit. So I’m not going to ever ever ever hit one of you again. I fucked up *once* and that’s the fuck up I get in this life. Oh baby. You don’t deserve being hit.”

Followed by a kid sobbing and clutching on me and thanking me.

If you are hitting too often then we will have a chat with your martial arts instructor a bit more about reminding folks in class not to use moves on siblings. I may censor the videos you are watching a lot more carefully because you are having trouble managing the images and impulses that are coming into your brain.

But if I hit you to teach you that hitting is wrong I have failed. I have taught nothing except that I am yet another bully.

I know I can be a bully. I actively seek to suppress that instinct every single day. I know I can. I don’t want to be though. I reject that paradigm.

I want to be something different. I want to build you up, not tear you down.

It isn’t that I’m 100% opposed to violence. As a sadomasochist I want carefully negotiated violence in my sex life. As a traumatized person I believe I have the right to defend myself from attack up to and including terminating a life if I really must to eliminate a threat. I will not go farther than necessary, but I can come up with many plausible situations where I will do what I must to walk away.

But I don’t hit people who offend me. I’m offended all the god damn time. I don’t hit people who irritate me. I don’t hit people who disgust or bother me.

No. Violence is a big deal. In order to cross the line and hurt another being, human or otherwise, I believe there must be a fucking good reason. I won’t kill an animal for funsies. I would if I needed to eat. Sure. I wouldn’t hesitate. I would probably apologize and say thank you for the sacrifice. Never for fun. I don’t kill insects willy nilly for fun and I yell at people who do. We need the insects too.

I would say that violence isn’t fun, but my sex life is violent as fuck and fun as hell.

Uhm, context matters?

As much pain as I’ve emotionally felt as I’ve solidified these positions for myself… I think it’s going to long term be worth seeing that I have changed. Ten years ago I did hit people when I was bothered, irritated, annoyed, or poked. Ten years ago if a child had kicked me in the throat I probably would have hospitalized the child.

Not now.

I’m proud of the progress. I have worked very hard on having control over my body and my emotions. I am not just an animal blindly reacting any more. I have conscious volition and I am so fucking proud of myself I cannot contain the pride.

This is a big deal for someone like me. I don’t know many people who start out as violent and hateful as me who get it under control. It is a big deal.

I need to recognize that for myself.

*pat self on back*

Switching gears slightly: Rose suggested that I feel like monogamy is killing me by inches. I’m not sure it is the monogamy.

I think sexual violence that I do not consent to is killing me.

A friend made a comment, trying to be joking, about how many times have I been raped in the past ten years. I squinted and said three. He said the last one with Noah didn’t count.


I consented to it in advance. That’s true. I didn’t know what I was getting into. I was stupid and I didn’t know what kind of trauma I was signing on for. I “consented” to something that has fucked me up for years. Something that has made it very hard to trust my husband fully because I god damn know that if I try to fight him off I am going to lose.

So it doesn’t count. But it is a mound of earth over my face in the hole I have dug for myself.

I’m aware it is all my fault. Doesn’t change the fact that it is a loop in the noose about to slip over my neck.

That’s how my problems go. They are mostly all my fault.

I genuinely thought I was going to end up with a “rape scene” like previous ones I have done. This wasn’t like that at all. He picked a day when I was already sobbing and traumatized. I would not have consented to doing something like that on a day like that. I was stupid to not give more parameters. It’s my fault.

I know.

Part of the reason the banging the wall next to my head bothers me so much is that I have had to remove absolutely all signs of tapping Noah in irritation because it feels like hitting him to him and he escalates and hurts me. It feels like I am bounded on several sides by threats of violence. Don’t touch him too hard. Don’t use words that he dislikes. Don’t behave in ways he doesn’t like.

Or the Sword of Damocles is coming down, bitch.

It isn’t the monogamy that is hurting me. It is the fact that I feel like violence is inevitable if I step out of line.

Guess what I’m going to motherfucking do in this life? Yeah that’s right. I’m going to step out of line.

I’m scared and angry.

I am very very angry that I have gotten myself into a situation where I feel terrified of upsetting my partner because he will hurt me and my partner thinks it is fine to “defend himself”. He weighs 50-60 lbs more than me. This is some bullshit.

Sure we are honeymooning right now whilst I am going limp and not pushing a fucking boundary in any way shape or form. How long can that last? I’m fucking angry that I have the threat of violence.

And I feel like there isn’t a lot I can do. I feel helpless and upset.

I don’t think it is the monogamy getting to me.

Why do I think there is violence in my marriage when I step out of line? Because I’ve had the bruises to prove it. Sure, I only got bruises when I “hit” him first. I was thwapping him. He didn’t get a bruise. It was one of those scoffing “Oh you are so annoying” hits. He returned it with force.

“If someone hits me I’m going to make them sorry.”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

I’m pathetic.

Oh fuck me and what I fucking want.

Does this threat of violence keep me permanently in line? Nope. Cause I’m a right proper stupid bitch.

And then we took a break to have a conversation we needed to have. And now the kids are up. End of train of thought.