I am a survivor 

Hello, my imaginary internet friends and following. I’m back. Just had another stint in the mental hospital: a place where everybody knows my name. 
I was self harming and disassociating due to a recent uncovered sexual trauma. That is real stuff. Most of the time I like to make light of my issues, avoid them, or just use self deprecating humor and prose. Not this time. Sexual abuse and the consequences of it are real. 
I was abused this last year from men who thought I had it coming. Even I thought I had it coming for putting myself in those situations. There were times during this period of abuse I wasn’t sure if I was going to live to tell the tale. Well. Here I am. And it wasn’t my fault. No one deserves abuse no matter what the circumstances are. 
I’m not proud writing this, but it needs to be said. This is my story:
I was 23 years old and got caught up in Seeking Arrangements: a sugar daddy website. I had about 30 days of sobriety then; I was coming off a brief alcohol binge. In a new sober living and being micromanaged to an extent that felt like I was losing my power of choice in any area of my life and some of my dignity. They were treating me like a case that needed to be handled, not a young woman that is more complex than a black and white insurance policy to my father that I will not act out. 
Take away my perceived power and I will find ways to get it back. In this case, my money was being doled out to me $20 a day- no exceptions. What is an upper middle class white girl to do? I grew up getting what I wanted and being able to manipulate my father into doing my bidding with almost anything. I always say “I get what I want”. 
As you folks know, I also suffer from mental illness and personality disorders. I’m impulsive which comes with the territory of being a textbook borderline case. I was also newly sober. I’d like to think this played a part in my choices that came next. 
Sex meant nothing to me at the time. I meant nothing to me at the time. Letting men pay me to play with me didn’t sound like a bad idea. 
I got caught up in the world of sugar daddies and sugar babies. I learned the lingo and procedures. I did what I had to do to get that money. And I got a lot of it. And it was mine; no one knew about it and I could spend it without my treatment team saying “boo”
I thought I was empowering myself, but in truth I was degrading myself to new levels I never had before. 
Men would degrade me and hurt me and torture me and scare me. And they still expected me to orgasm somehow. Or to at least fake it. I would count to 10 in my head over and over again until it was over. I detached but didn’t escape from the physical and sexual trauma. 
One could see this as a grey area of sexual abuse if they wanted to. Saying I asked for it or had it coming. NO ONE, absolutely NO ONE, is asking for sexual abuse and traumas. 
That’s my story. It’s ugly and can be perceived as shaming, but I am a survivor and have a story to tell. You can think it was my fault or whatever and today I have the strength to say “fuck you” to the haters. 
But I didn’t leave unscathed. This trauma is the reason I started self harming. I also started having fugue states and not knowing reality from my dreams and nightmares. 
That’s why I sought help from the mental hospital. I wanted to be physically safe and tweak my meds. 
There ya go. Not my most poignant prose but it’s my story.

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How to Get a Free Pizza

There’s a “rule” in AA that you shouldn’t mess around with newcomers or people with little clean time when you have more time sober. I don’t necessarily think this is an arbitrary “rule”, newcomers are sensitive and vulnerable, but I resent that modern AA has made up rules along the way that are not in the Big Book and judges people that do not follow them. Besides, I’m pretty much a newcomer myself. I judge people as people and do see their time sober stamped on their head.

However, my dick picker has been off as of late. I pick the WORST guys. Yesterday I was at an AA meeting and sat relatively close to a semi-cute guy. I decided the only way to make the meeting anything less than worthless in my eyes was to pick up this guy and have him validate me. So of course that’s what I did.

I ignored the stale stench of weed on him and focused on his comments about my out of this world eyes and beauty. He didn’t even want to fuck me, but that’s all I know with men: how to fuck them. I don’t know how to carry on a conversation that isn’t innuendo without feeling self conscious and tongue tied and I don’t know how to feel validated if it isn’t through a man’s orgasm.

There’s no reason to continue the story; he’s just like the rest of them. I make him just like the rest of them. I ruin potential relationships by jumping the gun or, rather, jumping on the dick.

However, before I sign off, I did promise a tip on how to get free pizza. He called Pieology in Westwood and told them he just got a pie and accidentally dropped it outside right away. He asked if he could get a new one. They said  yes. I don’t know why. I guess stoners always get their pizza. What a guy…