In which Riot says hello?

Oh, so apparently there have been a bunch of folks who know me checking out my last post (on abuse).
Hello!
A few people have contacted me with support and questions, and I want to thank you, and encourage others to do the same. If anyone has any questions at all or comments or would like to discuss anything with me, then my e-mail is mc.rosie@gmail.com.

In which Riot discusses sexual abuse. May be triggering.

I do not have a healthy relationship with sex.
I think a big part of that is not having a healthy relationship with my body. I don't like my body, and so if I don't like my own body, then I can't really expect anyone else to like it. The way I saw things for a long time was if someone liked my body, then they must have liked me. And if someone liked my body enough to have sex with me, then they must have REALLY liked me, possibly even loved me.
This is fucked up. In my desperate and panicked search for love and acceptance, sex became something of a marker. I was too eager and too ready to sleep with people, because in my mind that meant that we must have something special.
In addition to having too much sex way too young (and suffering the consequences thereof), I was having the wrong kind of sex. Non-consensual, objectifying, oppresive, FUCKED UP sex. I wasn't just letting people treat me like shit, but I felt worthless if it wasn't happening.

I've only in the past year started to really come to terms with how damaging some of my sexual relationship have been, one in particular. I talked to some friends, contemplated a lot of shit, and then eventually worked up the guts to confront my ex-partner. He manipulated me in so many ways that I don't even know which, if any, parts of our relationship were genuine.
I knew that waking up to him having sex with me (more than once) was fucked up. I knew that him crying until I either fucked him or said I loved him (or both) was fucked up. I knew that his jealousy, his controling nature, and his nymphomania were all things that I couldn't deal with, but I kept going back to him and therefore couldn't blame him.

And then I cheated on him. I then believed (and he firmly encouraged the idea) that because I had betrayed his trust and hurt him, the things he did to me weren't really so bad afterall, and I didn't have a leg to stand on.

So over a year after he and I stopped seeing eachother, I made a plan and asked him to have a conversation with me. I sat him down and told him very calmly and respectfully that while we had been together he had been sexually and emotionally abusive and manipulative. I told him how I had felt at the time and how I'd felt since. I bared my soul and said out loud in real words that I had been a survivor of sexual abuse and my abuser was the first one to hear it.
How did he respond?

"I'm sorry, but you never supported me."

He then went and flipped the conversation around to focus on the fact that I had left him for someone else and had most likely been unfaithful to him. I was so surprised at his shitty response that all I could do was admit that yes, I had slept with someone else while we'd been together, and then someone came out to where we were talking so we agreed to continue the conversation another time.

We never picked up where we left off. Oh sure, we've talked since, and we've touch on the fact that he's had fucked up relationships with women, but we haven't returned to talking about us, and now I just don't know if I can anymore.
It took so much to be able to look him in the face and tell him what he did to me, and to have him dismiss it like that was fucking unreal.

Tonight our community had a talk about sexual politics and consent. Every time he opened his mouth, every time he NODDED I wanted to point at him and scream out everything he's done. There were a few people present who knew the situation and were very supportive, but the whole night my skin was crawling. The shitty part is that I'm glad he was there, I think that's the kind of shit he needs to listen to and be aware of and work on, but I don't trust him. I wouldn't put it past him to believe that he's already fine and was there as more of an administrator and advisor.

He sent me a message once I got home, thanking me for attending and admitting that obviously the talk rang a lot of bells for us. He said that if I ever wanted to talk to him that he was more than willing but I don't know what to say. I don't know if I have it in my anymore.

I know that I have a better outlook on sex. I feel like I could recognize unhealthy situations a lot better now (especially if I was actually having sex, or had had sex within the past 5 months) but I'm still scared that I'm going to fall into old ways of thinking. I'm certainly not at a healthier place with my body, so who knows what kind of hold that has on my sexuality.

I guess we'll find out?

Tonight someone asked me what I do when the pain becomes too much and I didn't have the heart to tell them the truth.

In which Riot tries to gather her thoughts long enough to make sense and structure of them

Ok, so this is kind of weird.
Not any one thing in particular, but pretty much my entire situation right now is a weird one. Maybe not to someone else, but I feel like I'm off my game. Not that it was such a great game to begin with, however.
I just don't feel like myself, and I've been trying to sort out what that means. When you're used to yourself, you understand certain actions and your emotions are easier to sort out.
This doesn't make a fuck of sense.
How do I put this.
I have no idea who I am or what I'm doing!
I feel like I'm finally start to live the kind of life that I want/should have, but now that I'm here I can't make sense of it.
I'm making music. A LOT of music. The fingers on my left hand are actually swollen from the amount of mandolin I've been playing. We finished recording our album yesterday. I broke a string today. Didn't I say I wanted to grow up to be a rockstar? I guess a fairly popular folk busker is kind of like being a rock star. It's probably as close as I'll get.
I just got back from a month long tour with a really good band that I have an incredibly minimal part in. I honestly feel like I got away with something by being on tour with them and that the only thing they really gained from having me around was another driver. Self depricating, I know, but it's more like everyone else was so amazing that it was really hard to keep up.
This tour....affected me. A lot. Usually when I travel I have a really amazing time, but really can't wait to get home. This time I was dreading coming back to Halifax.
I love Halifax so much, and I really can't see myself living anywhere else, but I guess I just wasn't ready to see it again.
I'm going to go ahead and say that it was probably because I wasn't ready to see Laurie again, and that being in another country and swooning over someone else was really really refreshing! The trip definitely helped me get over Laurie. I didn't have to see him for three weeks!
But now I'm back and he's around and even though it's so much easier to relate to him and be his friend it's still really hard not to fall for him all over again. It just makes me want to keep running away.
So I just keep taking little trips out of the city and keep thinking little thoughts about someone who's far away and worrying a little more every day about not having a job.
Weird weird weird.

In which Riot makes no excuses whatsoever for her online absense

I am really fucking tired.
Like, I'm so tired that I've been sitting in front of the computer in my mother's office since 10am because I can't work up the drive to walk the 20 minutes home. I've got the now empty carafe of coffee sitting in front of me, the only proof that I've consumed caffeine today because I sure as hell can't feel it.
It's my day off, so one would think my natural solution would be to take a fucking nap already, right? Sleep is the best cure for exhaustion. But have I ever mentioned that I hate sleep?

OK, that's a lie. I don't hate sleep. It feels good, and laying around in bed (especially on a sunny morning) is really wonderful. I just can't seem to convince myself that getting myself into bed for sleep is a good idea.
I really hate waiting to fall asleep. I've always had this uneasiness with the thought of losing consciousness and control over my mind, which I credit for how long it took me to try drugs/alcohol even though I was totally surrounded by it.
It's the waiting for sleep to come that creeps me out. Not only do I have no idea when I'll finally fall asleep, but I can never stop thinking about all the shit I could be doing! If I could just use that extra 20 minutes or so to finish sewing a patch or binding a book or playing with the kitten, and then fall asleep instantly it would totally work for me.
But I can't, so I end up sewing patches and binding books and playing with the kitten and talking to friends and writing songs and just sitting around longing until 3 or 4 in the morning, then drag myself to bed and try not to think about what kind of dreams I'll be having.

The upside is that since I can't sleep in, I'm so under-rested that I don't think I even have any dreams.

In which Riot calms down, settles in, and gears up

My house is a very, very, very fine house.

Well, it's more like a flat than a house. Maybe an apartment, but I'll stick with flat.

I'm living in a brick building with a nice big stoop and a wroght iron spiral staircase in the back. It's beautiful, and it's doomed. The highway, of which my bedroom window provides such an excellent view, is falling to pieces. Because it's such a pathetic piece of shit, it needs to be rebuilt. In order to rebuild THAT highway, they have to build TEMPORARY highway. The temporary highway will run straight through the Quatier des Tanniers.

It's really hard to imagine that this space, which has been SO FULL of so much life and excitement over the past few months, wont even exist this time next year. Instead of being a home to some of the most beautiful, strong, and intelligent women I've ever met, this space will have thousands of cars TEMPORARILY re-routed through it.

It really is something special, to be living with such incredible people. Not that I don't love or respect the people I've lived with in the past, but I feel like my eyes have opened wider and my pre-dispositions have been challenged, possible destroyed.

Last night I watched Danielle, clothed in her pretty red dress and big rubber boots, jump into a dumpster and fish out a kings ransome in spinach.

Today I watched Marina feed the spinach left overs to the tub of worms in the living room. She cooed at them, and apologized for having neglected them over the past month.

I missed the screening, but Wednesday Devo showed her short animated film, "Beer is cheaper than Therapy".

It's only the first weekend of June, but there's already something very different about this summer. I can tell that I'm a different person now, and that I'm stronger than I ever have been.

Since leaving Halifax, two of my past lovers have slept in my room, and I had drinks alone with another.

Not even tempted.

Not only am I totally in love(!), but I feel like I'm past the point of needing physical intimacy in order to feel wanted, welcome, worthy, etc. I feel confident that I can interact with people on a level now in a way that doesn't require attraction (physical or otherwise). I can just be friends. Just hang out. Just walk and laugh and cook and talk and sleep (really sleep) with people. No tension, no assumptions. My legs and my armpits are furry, I haven't put anything on my face other than water in months, my clothes are filthy and I eat out of the garbage. And I'm not afraid, not of what they're thinking at least.

Maybe this time I'll get it right. Maybe now I can be by myself and really thrive. I do find it a little hilarious that in order to finally be succesfully "single", I had to find the right partner.

I miss home a lot. I'm definitely doing that thing where in my mind, time in Halifax is standing still. I imagine that I'll go home and things will be exactly as I left them, but I know deep down that isn't the case. Things are moving on without me, and it will be weird, but I'm still so excited to get back to Halifax and step right into the swing of things.

I have big BIG plans!

In which Riot is a big, bougie hypocrite

we're sitting in quite a chic spot in the most beautiful neighborhood in Montreal. You can tell this place has class because everything is decorated in black & red, and the curtains are velvet.
Here we are, in Montreal to celebrate with friends, learn and teach, and patronize the 10th Anarchist bookfair. He we are, drinking coffee, playing chess, and using a laptop in a high class cafe in a sickeningly gentrified neighborhood.
How many punk points do we lose?
I feel like maybe I should be sleeping in a bush to balance out for this. Sort of like buying carbon credits with your air plane ticket. Maybe I'm over analyzing this?
Laura Bee is writing something beautiful on a napkin. Laurie and Peter are playing a beautiful game of chess, and I am at ease.
Maybe this city isn't so bad?
Maybe I can overlook the fact that in the last week in Halifax I found both a sushi dumpster and an ice cream dumpster?
Maybe I'll be so alone here, but since it will have been my decision I wont spend 3 months resenting my self and my mind. Maybe instead I will embrace and expand my mind, learn to love myself, and develop any sort of latent potential I've got.
Maybe I'll go crazy and bail and go running back to my daddy.
Shall we take bets?