Car problems and roses. 

I’m thinking of those moments where I have lost control. And i realized today after running into another fucking god damn problem with my car, what the hell is bothering me so much about talking about my rape.

why i get so offended. knowing how people think about me when they hear or read my story. and then i wonder about the details they don’t know. And sure as fuck don’t ask.

how did you wind up there, with him, how did it happen? i left that one piece of metal out. it’s important. one little piece of metal ruined my life.

so actually. my car broke down. a fuse. wouldnt start or anything. i got locked in my car for 6 hours at one point in a parking lot outside of the state police department. it just fucking died. i was so low on money. i needed to finish getting the title made in my name. summer. and my phone kept dying because it wouldn’t charge (i kept trying to charge it in my car). and i was texting and trying to call people pulled over on the side of the road. i called so many people in a panic over one set of drama to the next too many probably. even was taking pictures with my phone of everything to try and show people i needed help and to please not ignore me. chaos breeds chaos for sure. broke, hungry, and stuck in a fucking car for hours in the dead of night. sleeping in it.

it’s created this strange new habit of mine where being thorough and listening is a big deal. people don’t consider how the simple act of listening could save somebodies life. And i have a bad habit of being vague with things instead of expressing the real details.

but you have to pick and choose what you reveal. so my car broke down. he saw i was on foot. and he asked to give me a ride. there. that’s literally how he found me.

i broke out of the car somehow i can’t remember. i wound up at the homeless shelter finally. i just needed a safe place to stay. but i had no job, and then there is the issue of my room-mate i’m still not sure what all she did to contribute to my situation. but when my passport went missing. regardless. i reported that too. i took the valuables i did have and left everything behind. i lost a lot of shit. its more complicated. Pretty much it comes down to, i moved in when i was desperate, and didn’t check everyone out. and i was a fucked up mess over my life being ruined already before the mext mess. And I’m sure people even think bad things about me. She must have done something terrible to wind up in that situation. There is reason for doubt, I understand completely. But I will only tell you what I can to the best of my ability.

I went to the closest atm. pulled out my last $400.00 to my name. and then it gets jumbled at times. the doctor, therapist, and police officers all say its because my mind was shutting down from lack of food and my body trying to just stay alive in that heat. very little water, my portions were down to a pack of crackers, and some water once a day. i was falling asleep in random situations. i literally was out of so many damn options. And i grew up in suburbia, we had food stamps at one point growing up. but there is no shame in that. even when people shame you for it.

the irony is i wasn’t trying to avoid responsibility i just got pushed into a tough situation i couldn’t handle. but that is the demon of life. no mercy.

it was like somebody picked up my house turned it upside down and poured all the contents out over me. crushing weight of too many problems, and thoughts racing through like watching the interstate. i couldn’t concentrate very much. i just saw that truck wizzing by and the next truck wizzing by the opposite direction at high speed. it was driving me crazy. and everyone else to. it was too much for me to cope with. i’m not invincible.

so there. thats how he found me. truth be known. my fucking car broke down.

So every time a car thing happens. Or another problem my stress is different. I’m starting to stop. Clear my mind. And pray for guidance. But I’m eating now and it’s much easier than when you don’t have food or people willing to know you. I don’t know. I just don’t want to think about it right now.

And I have ran into some people here who are eager to talk shit to my face. So. I’m just trying to be quiet. Pleasant as I possibly can despite that. But I know the storm still surrounds me. People calling me crazy instead of trying to understand or care.

It’s life I know. But I have to try and detach with love. Move forward. And do what is right and respectful. Complex ptsd is hard to decipher. But now I know why I get in a bad mood at just the sound of semi-trucks. Knowledge is power. It’s a double edged sword.

I just don’t think I am safe still. I haven’t felt safe for a long time. Since 2011. And there are different levels of safety. I just don’t want to be in danger. And I’m not stupid enough to think it’ll always be roses after the sting.

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