Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids

Reason #301: My Son Went on the Roller Coaster

I started this blog as a way of documenting every effect that surviving child sexual abuse has had on my life.  While it would be impossible to document every single flashback, intrusive thought, nightmare, anxious feeling, etc., I am at least trying to document each new time that getting fucked as a kid has fucked me as an adult.

So this weekend, the ex and I took the baby to the Fair.  He just turned 5 and he’s the perfect age to enjoy the Fair.  He tried his first deep fried candy bar and loved it.  He also went on a kiddie roller coaster and loved it.  A few years ago, he tried a kiddie ride with my ex sitting next to him but he hated it and cried.  But it’s been a few years and he is my big five year old boy now, so he asked to go on it.  It was with much hesitation that I said yes. He absolutely loved it, and when I watched him enjoying himself on a ride I’ve always been too chickenshit to enjoy myself, I cried.  I stood there at the Fair crying behind my sunglasses, partly in happiness for my son who was able to enjoy something I never could, and partly in grief because I’ve never felt safe enough to do fairly safe things, let alone scary things like roller coasters.

Developmentally, as children grow, they veer a little away from their parents and assess how safe it is at that distance. When they start feeling unsafe, they run back to their parents. They establish their safety in that way. Then the next time, emboldened by their safety, they try again, veering a little farther away. A few years ago he tried the roller coaster and didn’t like it. Today he felt safe enough to ride a roller coaster again and loved it.  He is doing exactly what he should be doing to learn and achieve safety.  He is learning and achieving safety in a way I never could.  And I pray he continues to always achieve safety.

Meanwhile I have been working with the therapist every single week on how to feel safe. One of the exercises we have been working on to fight my agoraphobia is for me to stand by the back door to my own home.  I don’t even have to open the door, I just have to stand by there.  After trying numerous times, I never achieved that goal.  Finally we had to give up that goal and start another one instead.

Clearly, I have never learned or achieved safety.  Just standing by my own back door in my own house feels unsafe to me. That is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. When kids get abused by one person, the whole world of people becomes terribly unsafe.  I can’t trust that there’s not someone on the other side of that door just waiting for me to have my defenses down to take that opportunity to hurt me.  Is it ridiculous?  Of course it is.  It’s crazy and pathetic and ridiculous.  And that’s the secret part of surviving child sexual abuse.  We all have ways that we have formed to make ourselves feel safer in a terribly unsafe world.  But we don’t talk about those effects of surviving in our workplaces or with our acquaintances.  Only the people closest to us know, and even then we don’t tell them the whole story because we know it makes us look nuts.  But we’re not nuts.  We are merely people who have survived traumatic things, and this is what surviving a traumatic thing actually looks like.

I have never learned or achieved safety.  But please G-d, maybe my son will.

Reason #300: We are not as productive in the workforce as we could be

I have mentioned before that the epidemic of child sexual abuse leads to adults who choose certain jobs over others, and also forces a situation where it literally affects the Gross National Product (i.e., the economy of the nation) because we get physically/emotionally sick and skip work.

Today was one of those days for me.  I woke up pretty early, around 5:30AM, with a migraine.  I first wrote about my migraines here, and then they came back strong after my husband discovered she was transgendered.  The ex and I have worked out a shower schedule where she will shower first and thus I can wake up later and shower around 7:30.  I usually appreciate the extra sleep.  Today I got up at 5:30, took some ibuprofen, and felt too panicked to lay back down.  Instead, I sat up, surfed the net and watched tv.

I started thinking about the parking lot where I work.  Again.  I always obsess about this parking lot, because I find it so difficult to get from my car into the building.  Usually I talk myself into going.  Sometimes I make the decision to work from home instead, when I just can’t face that parking lot.  Today I double-whammied myself by thinking not only about the parking lot, but also about the new janitor at work.  He creeps me out something fierce.  I don’t like how he looks or how he looks at me.  Something about him is just totally creepy, and it freaks me out to be in the building with him.

The parking lot and the janitor were too much for me, as was the shower.  My panic rose so high, I called into work.  I called into fucking work because I am afraid of a parking lot.

I know I am not the only one who does this though.  There are many of us.  Many of us adults who were fucked as kids end up with severe panic disorder that severely limits their work abilities.  There’s other shit too though, like the migraines.  Some kids get backaches, stomache-aches, etc.  So many people get shit like this that the medical community has a name for it.  Somatic problems.  Somatic problems are when you have a physical ailment that cannot be explained by any physical reason.  If there’s no physical reason for your tummy to ache, but you keep getting tummy aches, it’s considered a somatic ailment.  Remember when my vagina was hot for days (see here and here), and I couldn’t figure it out?

Anyhow, my point is, this is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  Everyone gets fucked when kids get fucked.  The whole economy suffers as a result, and so many survivors are on social security disability (a form of public assistance).  If you don’t like paying for other people to be alive, stop fucking kids.  Or stop allowing kids to get fucked (I’m looking at you, Dottie Sandusky).

Reason #299: Second Hand White Baby Grand

Do you guys ever watch that show Smash? I love it. I was listening to the music from that show the other day, and the song “Second Hand White Baby Grand” was playing.

The song is all about how this mother and daughter buy a piano second-hand, but even though it is damaged and broken, it still plays beautiful music. I found myself thinking: I hope someone feels this way about me some time.  I hope someone sees that even though I am damaged and broken, I am still a good person.

Here’s the youtube link to the song, and the lyrics are below.

Second Hand White Baby Grand

My mother bought it second hand from a silent movie star
It was out of tune, but still I learned to play
And with each note we both would smile, forgetting who we are
And all the pain would simply fly away

Something second hand and broken still can make a pretty sound
Even if it doesn’t have a place to live
Oh, the words were left unspoken when my mama came around
But that second hand white baby grand still had something beautiful to give

Through missing keys and broken strings, the music was our own
Until the day we said our last goodbyes
The baby grand was sent away, a child all alone
To pray somebody else would realize

That something second hand and broken still can make a pretty sound
Even if it doesn’t have a place to live
Oh, the words are still unspoken now that Mama’s not around
But that second hand white baby grand still has something beautiful to give

For many years the music had to roam
Until we found a way to find a home

So now I wake up everyday and see her standing there
Just waiting for a partner to compose
And I wish my mother still could hear that sound beyond compare
I’ll play her song ’til everybody knows

That something second hand and broken still can make a pretty sound
Don’t we all deserve a family, room to live?
Oh, the words can’t stay unspoken until everyone has found
Their second-hand white baby grand that still has something beautiful to give

I still have something beautiful to give

%d bloggers like this: