Tag Archives: Mental Health

If you support Donald Trump, we can’t be friends.

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I could’ve never imagined in a million years that my PTSD could be triggered by a presidential election, especially at a time when I was finally healing and moving forward.

I’ve held back on saying this for a long time, but if you support Donald Trump, we can’t be friends. There are a lot of people I love defending him, but I can’t be friends with someone who’s consideration for my well-being I find myself questioning.

TRIGGER WARNING

When Donald Trump announced that he planned to run for POTUS last year, I thought it was a joke. I was shocked when he actually began campaigning. I was shocked when he started hosting rallies. I was shocked when he actually won in the primaries as the Republican candidate for presidency. I was shocked, and ashamed, by my fellow Americans who so obviously spend very little time trying to actually understand politics.

But that’s not the problem.

Most of all, I’m hurt. I can be shocked by the things he says about women, Hispanics, African Americans, Muslims, etc., but I didn’t really feel it until I felt personally targeted, and people I loved were defending him.

Right now, as I write this, I’m fighting the urge to crawl under my desk and hide because I am afraid. See, amid Trump’s latest scandals and obvious disregard for women’s autonomy, I’ve been spiraling into — I’m not sure how to describe — a hole of some sort.

After years of flashbacks, they finally stopped. After years of panicking when someone looked at me a certain way, I was feeling less afraid. I finally began speaking out about my experiences (and struggles with my mental health) without fear of backlash.

Now, I’m having nightmares every night that replay through my head day in and day out. I haven’t been able to make my hands stop shaking. I feel nauseous, I can’t focus, and my heart palpitations are making it hard to breathe properly.

It is really difficult to explain PTSD to someone who has never experienced something so traumatic that it alters your thoughts and perception of everyone and everything around you. But if I can, I would like to try to help at least a few people see why Trump’s words, actions, and his loyal defenders are personally hurting women, and especially survivors of sexual assault.

I’m sure I can’t possibly find every terrible thing he’s said or done, but I will try to find the ones that prove my point.

Back in 2004, Trump told the Daily News: “All of the women on The Apprentice flirted with me – consciously or unconsciously. That’s to be expected.” This is exactly where rape culture starts, with men assuming that all women want them, and therefore anything that they could do to those women is completely excusable. Sometimes smiling, or politely laughing at someone’s terrible joke, is assumed to be flirting just because the interaction occurred between a woman and a man. When an assault occurs, victims are often asked if they were flirting with the perpetrator before hand, and while a woman will often say she was just trying to be nice, a man will call it flirting, and say, “She asked for it.”

On March 7, 2006 Trump said in an ABC News interview, that “If Ivanka weren’t my daughter, perhaps I’d be dating her.” He later said it was a joke, and if those words were said by any other human being that showed an ounce of decency, I might be inclined to believe him. But, this is Donald Trump we’re talking about, and if you make enough sexist or disgusting “jokes”, it’s pretty clear that you’re not actually joking. Its been estimated that anywhere between 40-70% of women and 10-20% of men have experienced sexual harassment in the workplace, and that doesn’t even begin to account for the harassment that takes place in school, at a restaurant, on the street, or any time a woman is visible to men. These “jokes” are not between two willing participants in a conversation of sexual nature, but instead are forced on a person that has the disadvantage of being vulnerable in some way, whether that be in status, age, size, etc. Not only is a “joke” inappropriate and demeaning, but Trump just sexualized his own daughter in a way that even the media was disgusted by. Incest isn’t funny, and viewing your daughter in a sexual manner isn’t funny. Sometimes I wonder if that is how the person who molested me as a child thought. I wonder if they ever said something of the same nature out loud, and claimed it was a joke. If your brain is working right, the thought shouldn’t even enter your mind. I wonder how fucked up Ivanka is.

On March 3, 2013 a contestant on “Celebrity Apprentice” knelt to the ground and begged to become the next project manager, to which he responded, “It must be a pretty picture. You dropping to your knee.” Here you have a woman trying to establish her place in what is typically considered “a man’s world”, asking for a chance to prove herself that she probably wouldn’t have even been given as a woman. He couldn’t respond to her list of accomplishments, her experience, or her leadership skills, but instead made an oral sex joke. Not only is this sexual harassment that creates a hostile work environment (look it up, a “joke” falls under hostile environment), but Trump has been known to take advantage of women who are desperate to prove themselves. To add to that, millions of women every day are forced to perform sexual acts in order to “earn” their place in the world.

On May 7, 2013, Trump blamed sexual assault on the fact that women and men are near each other. He tweeted, “26,000 unreported sexual assaults in the military-only 238 convictions. What did these geniuses expect when they put men & women together?” This one really blew my fuse. I expect, that when women and men are working together, that they should be treated with equal respect and afforded the same dignity. I expect that their male counterparts would be held accountable for their actions. I expect that more people would talk about the right and wrong ways to treat somebody. A woman should not “expect” to be assaulted because she is working and living with or close to men. I certainly did not “expect” to be raped when I was 15 just because there was a guy in the room with me. I did not “expect” to be assaulted a few months later by someone twice my age just because I was drinking. I did not “expect” he would begin stalking me, and a few weeks later find me going for a walk around my neighborhood. I did not “expect” that he would force me into his vehicle to “finish what we started”. But guess what?! Because so many people have the same mentality as Donald Trump, I never reported any of it! The last thing I needed was for someone to confirm my own self-blame by saying that it WAS my fault. That I shouldn’t have talked about sex if I didn’t want it, and I shouldn’t have been drinking when there were men around, or that I shouldn’t walk around outside by myself. When my rapist “finished” with me, he told me it was my fault, and that I shouldn’t have “made [him] think about it”. I believed him, because I had not yet been taught about assault, abuse, or consent, and as far as I could tell, it was normal. In other words, I did not report any of these incidents because men like Donald Trump, and many of the people defending him, believe that what happened to me is what should be expected to happen to any female.

And, last but not least, on October 7 2016, video footage emerged of Trump claiming in 2005 that he could “grab [them] by the pussy”, and that he could get away with it because he was famous. Again, we are looking at a man in a position of power taking advantage of women who have less. He actually said many revolting things regarding his beliefs about the treatment of women, but the actual suggestion and practically the admission to sexually assaulting women without the least bit of remorse, puts him right up there with the serial rapists we’re so quick to condemn, in my book. Donald Trump may think that his comments are an exception for him, because he’s famous, but every day men take advantage of women who only want to be successful, and this doesn’t just apply to adults. When I was in eighth grade, my social studies teacher would rearrange the seating every day and put all of the girls wearing skirts right in front of his own seat. We caught onto the pattern – and his gazes – fast, but were too afraid to say anything. He would also move around the room during tests, and at each girl he would stop, place his hand on her back, and whisper the answers to whatever question she was on into her ear. Uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe it. I remember freezing in fear more than once, and unable to even respond to him. However, nobody said anything outside of their immediate peer group, because they didn’t want to face any repercussions if nobody believed them.

Trump posted an “apology” video shortly after this footage was leaked, in which he spent more time devaluing the words he spoke than actually apologizing for them. Never once did he say he apologized to women, never once did he apologize for his behavior, and never once did he condemn sexual assault. Instead, after the “I’m not like that” and “I’ve changed since then,” the video quickly turned into “at least I’m not as bad as THAT guy”, in reference to Bill Clinton’s affairs. The apology that never was actually sounds pretty familiar to me too. A few months after the relationship I had with the man who took advantage of my vulnerability ended, he asked me to stop talking to his friends about things that had gone on in our relationship. I was at a point where I was starting to realize that what I experienced was a form of abuse, and I started talking about it. He deflected by claiming that there were more important things to worry about (reminiscent of Trump’s statement that the leaked tapes were a distraction from “real” issues), and that I should focus my energy on being positive and moving forward, much like he and Trump have certainly moved forward from the things they’ve done. A year later, he tried to say he was sorry for the way he treated me, but never actually apologized for the rape, which he would never admit that it was, anyway. Thanks! NOT.

In every incident I have described here, I was only a child. My youngest experience was at four years old, and my most traumatic experiences occurred when I was 15. Most of these acts were committed by men twice my age or more, with the exception of the rape, which was committed by somebody I had been dating. I never asked for any of it, and at the time I hadn’t thought much about having to protect myself from men. At the time, although I had felt uncomfortable as a result of men being flat out fucking creeps, I was not afraid.

I know now that none of these actions were my fault, and to hear a man of the same mentality  as those perpetrators (the men who took advantage of me) so boisterously avoid responsibility for is own actions, and further yet BRAG about the terrible things he has done to women, only reinforces that I need to keep talking about it.

It was only in the last five months or so that I stopped having flashbacks of these experiences every time I tried to be intimate with somebody, no matter how much I loved or trusted them. It was only in the last year or so that I stopped having constant nightmares about being attacked. It was only in the last FEW months that I stopped being paranoid if I was walking outside by myself. Trump, and the people defending him, are chipping away at the strength I worked so hard to rebuild, and I find myself regressing to an emotional state that I forgot was so terrifying. Today I’m shaky, panicky, and the nightmares I’ve had the last two nights have been replaying in my head non-stop.

From my personal point of view, defending or agreeing with any of Trump’s rhetoric means that you don’t care about me. And don’t forget: my story is not unique. I can almost guarantee that there is at least one woman in your life that has experienced a sexual assault of some kind. I honestly thought I was alone until I started talking about it, and I then realized that what happened to me is happening all around me, all the time.

I don’t share these stories, or my personal feelings about Trump, for pity. Instead, I share them because I know millions of women are in the same spiral that I am, as sexual assault becomes even more normalized and almost celebrated by the people we love, and who’s love for us we now must question. Trump has said a lot of terrible things, but this, I can’t let slide.

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network: https://centers.rainn.org/

Exercise sucks. And so does everything else.

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There’s something so unique about starting a fitness routine after missing your workouts for, well, ever. And by unique I mean absolutely miserable.

A couple of years ago I decided I really wanted to get healthy, and what inspired me the most was the “Tone It Up” Program. I started running every day and doing their assigned workouts early in the morning. I woke up at 4am every day and worked out, made myself a healthy breakfast, came home, and ran a few miles. I looked great, felt great, and I was so proud of what I had accomplished. After about 4 months of this, I hurt my shoulder and began a two year battle with Workman’s Comp, but that’s another story. As the injury progressed, I slowly lost the ability to do even basic exercise, and something as simple as walking would jar my shoulder too much.

Enter depression.

I had been on that natural runner’s high for quite some time and being basically immobilized was a total disruption to what my mind and body had thrived on. A year and a half later I was 50 pounds heavier, suicidal, and in a hole of self-loathing that I couldn’t even see my way out of.

I have battled my mental health my entire life, starting with “fits” of anxiety when I was a kid, to angry depression as a teen, and I cycled through eating disorders and various methods of self-harm. I would have these days where I would just cry and cry and I didn’t really know why, but I believed that I was at fault for everything that wasn’t quite right. My mom would try to comfort me through it, but when I couldn’t tell her what I was upset about, she got pretty frustrated. From the outside looking in, I imagine it would be extremely frustrating to see someone you love in so much pain for seemingly no reason at all. I get that. We went through this more and more often, and eventually I tried to isolate my emotions as much as possible, because I didn’t want to make her mad. So, I cried in my room when everyone was asleep. I cried in my car whenever I had a long drive. I cried at work while I was in a room, or my office, by myself.

Days like this usually started with a precursor of a couple of “off” days, where I just couldn’t get excited and I didn’t have the energy to feel anything. And then, suddenly, there would be a trigger of some sort, and the dam of my emotions broke down and basically spilled out everywhere, taking out every one and every thing in its path. One time the trigger was being told to watch how many tootsie rolls I ate. One time the trigger was being asked if I said something I wasn’t supposed to. Even though I hadn’t said anything, I automatically felt like I screwed everything up.

When I got healthy, not only physically but also mentally by giving myself something to be proud of, it seemed like the worst of those days were behind me. I was a fool to think that I could really “escape” it.

After losing a close childhood friend to suicide, I realized that I needed to seek out help because I was having the same thoughts she was. I felt an incredible load of self-loathing and honestly believed that everyone would be better off without me. When I started seeing my therapist, I’ll call her Julie, I was pretty convinced that she had no idea what she was in for. Julie had to tape two pieces of paper together to draw my family tree, because that ish is complicated. In the meantime, she had to take notes on the family tree of each person and how they had influenced my life in any number of ways. Then she taped some more paper together to create a timeline of all the crazy I’ve lived with in my short 23 years so far. Many of our sessions involved an incident, a family member, and their impact on my self-esteem.

Julie was the first person to address my childhood sexual abuse.

Julie was the first person to explain to me that so much of NOW is a result of THEN.

Christmas Eve of 2014, I wanted to die. I had an early dismissal from school the day before and went right to urgent care, because I had some stupid virus that made me want to bang my head against a wall because that might MAYBE help clear my sinuses up. And then I cried. I don’t think I even got out of my car. I went home and cried some more. I told my fiancé that I didn’t want to be alive anymore. The only reason I never acted on these thoughts was because I didn’t want to hurt the people I love, and my dog would think I left her. I probably cared more about my dog being sad than anything else, in all honesty.

Over a year later now, I am medicated and I am so happy to have found the right combination of medications that work for me. I had heard horror stories of what others have been through when trying to find the right meds. I had two surgeries since then for my stupid shoulder, and now I’m trying to get myself back into fitness and into a wedding dress. My appetite fluctuates between “hibernation” and “getting ready for hibernation,” but my biggest struggle is chronic fatigue. I went to the gym several times last week but haven’t been getting much sleep the last few days, so I’ve just been going home and laying down.

And then when I exercise I absolutely hate everything in that moment.

And then I’m sore.

And then I get cranky and eat some chocolate.

And then I cry because I’m so damn out of shape and I hate myself.

And my brain is still trying to figure out when it’s time to be happy, and when it’s time to be sad, and everything in between.

I brought my gym bag to work with me today, but I’m still here typing this post and “working late”. In about two and a half hours it will be time for me to go to bed so that I can get a full 8 hours of sleep and actually be awake and functioning tomorrow. And then I’ll do ALL THE EXERCISE. At least that’s what I tell myself every afternoon when I’m trying to get myself motivated to go to the gym.

Sigh.

So here’s to starting over.

Want to work together?