The Joys of Living with PTSD

learning how to cope

Archive for the month “June, 2012”

Poem I wrote. Not sure it makes sense to anyone else but me, but I wrote it and shared it anyway.

From the Abyss

Blue fire raging through my veins,

It fuels this seemingly





With eyes wide open I see

Streams of red criss-crossing blue





Kind eyes searching from his face,

Cool, collected marble tastes





Racing through the outward spheres

Time slows down to tick tock tick-





Arms sweeping wildly down shore

Collecting pieces of hearts





There are no judgments found here,

Just understanding and ease





Together, breathing as one,

We find ourselves moved to here





Accidents move so swiftly,

As to bind our confusions-





-DeAnne Evans

View original post

I Like My Eggs Unfertilized, or Adventures In The Meat Market

I was talked into going to the club. Those of you who have known me for a few years now know I hate the club. It’s a walking, grinding, thumping meat market. So much worse than bars. I went anyway. They’ve been trying to get me to go for a while now, because who doesn’t love dancing? I love dancing. I just don’t love clubs.

The biggest complaint I have about clubs, is everyone seems to feel they have a right to reach out and grab. It’s like if you enter a club, there’s this imaginary, invisible sign on your person that says “Grope me!” or “Cop a feel!”. It’s always bugged me (just ask my friends how I react to something simpler, like a cat call…. I lost count of how many shoes I’ve lost from throwing them at people and cars cat calling at me), but it’s even more disconcerting for me now. When you’re with someone you’re attracted to, you want them to want to touch you, but when in a club setting I’m pretty sure I am not attracted to and wanting that attention from 98% of the people there. Logic. Get you some. It is one thing to appreciate the looks of someone else, and an entirely different thing to think you’re entitled to touch. I’ve decided next person who grabs without asking is getting a fist to the face. I’ve been nice lately, which should weird out some of you, but no more.

Another thing I have a problem with is the sheer number of people in a space. Let’s get real, I was assaulted at a huge party. What do you think I think of when I’m at any other huge party? Yep. Freaks me the fuck out. I can’t relax. I can’t enjoy myself. I’m always on alert, making sure no douche is going to come up and feel entitled to even more than a grab or feel. I also don’t drink. How can I? I’m terrified I’ll get too drunk to do anything about an assault, should it happen again.

There are a few people that even in a fairly large crowd, I feel comfortable and safe enough with that I will let loose and drink. Even get drunk with/around. Something just says to me, “They’re not going to let anything happen to me. I’m in good hands.” I know some friends think I should feel that way around them, or more of them. How can I? I had other friends that I trusted there the night I was assaulted too. They said later that they felt something was off, but did they do anything? Say anything? No. And while I don’t outright blame them for what happened to me, I’m not trusting enough to just let loose and relax around a good 95% of people I call friends when alcohol and large groups of strangers are involved. I’m sorry if that’s hurtful. If you had have been through what I’ve been through, I think you could understand.

Anyways, now I’m all wound up, tight like a watch that’s been over wound and is about to burst from pressure. I’m stone cold sober, and I can’t sleep. Hello insomnia. How nice of you to drop by again. I’m hoping that since I caved and went out to the club, people will lay off from asking me to go for a while again. Maybe I can go another 2-ish years without stepping foot in one.

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: