Naonaise’s Narrative

Hey y’all. I figure since this will never go away ever again and I’m forever broken by this most recent DDay, I might as well chronicle my miserable life as means of very slightly alleviating my immense pain.

I will write more of my story and where I’m at today, but right now I need to wipe the tears off my face, put my mask back on, and pretend to be happy for two more hours.

be back in a few hours or tomorrow, idk

 

It's been a hell of a day. Work sucked. I'm tired. Physically, because of work of course, but also just...existentially exhausted. I feel like I should start a Post-Rock band with that name. Existentially Exhausted EP out now! lolol

Look at me typing lol with literal zero life inside of me.

I won't retype everything that occurred on DDay three weeks ago. I can't believe it has been three weeks since my life came crashing down all around me. It's been three straight weeks of plastering that stupid fake smile on my face everyday so everyone thinks everything is just fine and dandy. Everything is as far as possible from fine and dandy right now. I am so empty.

I can't do anything without thinking about the shambles of my life anymore. When I use social media, particularly FB and IG, all I see are women so happy with their lives (as far as I know anyway). All I see are graduation announcements, engagement announcements, marriage announcements, pregnancy announcements, birth announcements... everything I want in life that everyone else seems to have such effortless access to. Everything I need in life. And yeah I graduated and got into grad school in the midst of all this shit... whoopdeedoo. But I should have a ring on my finger. I should be glowing and planning a wedding. I should be happy and spending my days in a carefree hot girl summer kind of way. But instead here I am so crippled by betrayal that I can't even go to work without panicking/crying. Pathetic. So fucking pathetic.

I feel so lost right now. Sure I have my psychiatrist to give me more meds that will further fuck up my body and make me fatter and make him hate me and my body even more... sure I have my therapist to tell my sweet nothings about how I'm overthinking everything and it will all be ok (the same shit she was saying while all this was going on under my stupid ugly nose )... sure I have a support group that I have to shell out $79.99 that I don't have every month... sure. But I'm still so lost. I'm on the max dose of my antidepressant and all I can thinking about is death and dying and nonexistence and the sheer peace that would bring me. I can't fathom having to take yet another medication that will fuck my body up just so I can be less of a sadboi to everyone around me while still having the soul crushing weight of everything within me. Fun fact: I am under so much stress right now that I had 6 days between my periods. This one is heavy, and the pain is a slow churning ache... but even the excruciating pain of these cramps is nothing compared to the pain of everything I'm feeling because of my rampant inadequacies as a woman. I would choose to feel cramps like these everyday for the rest of my life if it meant I never had to feel the lingering sting of the slap in the face that is betrayal trauma. I really really would.

I can't see the light at the end of this tunnel. I've seen it before, even if it was a pinhole of light leakage. But right now I literally cannot see an end to this pain. Right now I cannot function enough to be a semi-useful member of society. This last DDay will forever leave a nasty bulging painful scar on my heart and on my soul. I don't think I will fully recover from this one. Truly.

But I'll just keep coming back here to leave drabbles of my useless thoughts so that maybe future me might come back here and she what life used to be like, from the other side of this godforsaken tunnel. Maybe. But I don't even know if there will even be a future me to turn around and read these.

My uterus hurts from this period. My hip hurts from the weird way I stand all day at work. My shoulders hurt from my workout. And my heart hurts from... the realization that I will never be truly enough for this man.

I'm in pain.

I'm gonna take some sedatives and a much needed sad nap.

Until whenever I come back here.

P.S., in regards to my last post - no, he did not. As I expected. So that's cool. But I know I'm worth less that a dust bunny anyway so I really didn't expect much. I do like the feeling of being right though. So.

 

Nah with the kind of rejection and lack of desirability I've experienced since a young age, at this point I am pretty much forever broken. This season in my life is just yet another way of life reminding that I am largely mediocre and not really worth much in the eyes of men or people in general besides the sum of what I can do or produce for them.

I'm largely worthless. Always have been - always will be.

 

TW: SUPER VULGAR LANGUAGE///DESCRIPTION OF RAPE!!!!! [not by my current boyfriend, do not panic]

[but it is real fucked up and i'm real fucked up about it in relation to all this PA stuff]

I just watched a bunch of YouTube videos right now about the struggles of dating as a Black woman and oh man am I so triggered.

BUT I always feel like I will never encounter other women of color here, so I guess I'm just typing into the void before I go to sleep because no one will really understand the depth of my pain in this regard.

Everyone here always brushes off the racial component of the betrayal trauma I've been dealt for 5+ years. It sucks because I know most people know that OKCupid survey that resulted in Black women being labelled as the least desirable out of all the races listed/ranked. But honestly I soooo did not need a survey to tell me that. I've lived it for as long as I've been in this country.

I used to be such a fun-loving, outspoken, extroverted, confident little girl who had dreams of conquering the sky as a ~female pilot~. But literally on the first day of 2nd grade in this country (during the last weeks before summer vacation), at just 7 years old, boys were calling me dark and ugly and making fun of my "big butt." I haven't worn a skirt that isn't a flowy midi skirt since 2005 because I was cut so deep by those comments. (But let a white girl wear a tight miniskirt or dress in the 2010s with a Brazilian butt lift or a butt from 3843843439 hours in the gym everyday and suddenly ALL dicks have to be whipped out STAT.) I got told my hair is ugly. I got told my teeth were weird looking. I got insulted in so many ways from 2nd-12th grade. I have had people laugh at and gossip about me for daring to ask a [white] boy to the Sadie Hawkins dance. I literally just thought he was cute and funny and a good soccer player. I just wanted to dance and get to know each other a little. I wasn't even interested in dating at that age. But the prospect of getting to know me and/or possibly dating me and/or being near me at all was so disgusting to him and his friends and their friends and it was oh-so-evident on his face for the rest of my high school years. Ever since I came to this country, I have been crippled with self-doubt and indoctrinated into the belief that I will never be good enough, or never even be just "good," period.

The year I met my boyfriend, I had also met someone else right before him. A white guy as well. An abuser as well, too. I thought things would go well. We met on Plenty of Fish, chatted on Kik for a few days, and then decided to meetup in the ~Cafe on the Quad~ (I miss saying the word "quad" with a weird inflection every day lolololol). In the meantime, I had also shared with my best friend that I thought I was crushing on "that cute tenor dude in choir, you know, the one with the flowy hair. [my boyfriend]"

I went to a chess club meeting with the POF guy and I actually played pretty well. Pretty soon he introduced me to his friends. We would hangout all the time. We all went ice-skating together one evening, and I felt so rejuvenated and refreshed in having a new social circle through that whole "talking" situation. I've always hated that phase. Having to say I was "talking to someone." Bruh, I talk to people every day lololol

Then one night he was texting me that he was bored and asked if I wanted to go to his place and watch some TV together. Being the stupid idiot I am and thinking that for once a guy actually wanted me and only me around, I went right on over. We ate snacks, talked about our lives a bit, and watched some random laugh-track sitcom I can't recall because that night was so traumatic that the few pieces I remember are real fuzzy. All I remember happening next is "cuddling" (re: being aggressively fondled) under a heated blanket (because he purposefully made the room cold so I would get close to him), and then next thing I know he's got the blade of a knife sticking out from under his pillow and I'm being goaded to give him a blowjob. Cuz, you know... the only thing good about getting with a black girl is datass and them DSLs, right? I mean that clearly had to be the case because when it came time for him to actually force himself upon me, he realized he wasn't even that into me and completely berated me for not having a good body or face and causing him to lose his erection. There's just something so soothing about literally not being good enough to rape and then kneeling there looking up and watching your rapist-ish jack off to a girl with ginormous tits and perfect makeup and just hating your whole life as he humiliates you by cumming on your face even though he doesn't even like you enough to rape you. /s

Oh and it was not just any girl, it was the other girl in that whole circle of friends. Real life, accessible, more desirable, and more fun.

Immediately after all of that, like literally a month after, I started "talking" to my current boyfriend. And then we started dating. Fresh outta sexual trauma and right into the arms of more of it lol

I get so triggered whenever my boyfriend relapses. It's always the same body type he returns to: women as skinny as his ex but with "tig ol bitties" and sometimes even "a donk." As far as I know, he's almost never deviated from that type of woman while with me. I see it in the cleavage he sucks into his eyes when we're at a restaurant and the server is literally just doing her job/existing. I see it when he noticeably turns his head to follow a walking woman and inhale her legs or ass like she's the air he needs to live. And I first saw it that night at Ram's Head when he had the goddamn audacity to be looking at porn type shit on Imgur while we were with friends. That blonde-haired, big boob girl was literally the indicator of the measure of my lifelong mediocrity in being with this man. Unable to resist the call of a skinny mini with big titties. Forever and always. And the thing about him is, it's not even studio production content a la Mindgeek & Friends that he always goes back to. No - he always goes back to the same few subreddits, if not just the one I always see. Skinny mini white women with big boobs posting pictures, videos, and GIFs of themselves being ~risky~. Real life, accessible, more desirable, and more fun.

After much pondering on my own tonight (since apparently me being self-aware about my inherent undesirability as a Black woman is offensive to my boyfriend and I'm now getting a weird silent treatment situation), I have come to the realization that this whole relationship has basically been a series of slaps in the face that remind me of my rapist. "You're not quite enough for me as you are so lemme look at some other women and then come back and use you as my cum rag/fleshlight." It's literally the same slap over and over and over. In half a decade it hasn't changed. Hell, in 18 years it hasn't changed. I feel like I am forever doomed to a life of being ridiculed, rejected, and shoved aside at the convenience of men of any color, just so they can fixate on the prettier and more desirable and just better white women.

This'll be fun to process in therapy for another 3 years just for it to happen again probably when I'm pregnant or in postpartum and my body is more disappointing than ever before. Yaaaaaaaay for that.

What if this never changes? What if he never changes? What if I don't actually end up marrying him and whoever I do end up with never changes either? Am I always going to be at the bottom of the totem pole, utilized only because of proximity and convenience? Or will I ever in my life experience what it's like to be deliberately chosen, deliberately put first, deliberately on a pedestal, deliberately adored?

I don't think so. I think I will always be second to "adorable porn." But hey, at least I feel good and cuddle nicely though. )))))))

P.S. Time to go silently cry myself to sleep and hope I ace my job interview tomorrow. More on that later, maybe.

 

Lol. I kicked him out of my apartment yesterday evening and have been going about my day(s) (really only one day right now) keeping to myself, trudging through miserable work shifts, barely eating and drinking, thinking only about how every single object around me can be used to harm me or end my life so that I don't have all this stress on me (work, grad school, starting the first year of my career as a teacher while having no idea what the hell I am doing, being the only one interested in planning a whole ass wedding/convincing our parents we are in a place to even be married [financially, not emotionally]).

And what is he worried about? That I'll "land him in jail" if I do hurt myself or die. I literally said to him, I have no care what you do with your life when I don't actively consider you my partner. And I told him, as he most certainly knows: he doesn't need my help ruining his life. He did it perfectly well himself by failing classes because he chose to masturbate to pretty white women exposing themselves outside instead of focusing on schoolwork so he could graduate next semester in the winter. It's nice to know his mother is in on it too, in a way that makes ME look like that bad person, the wishy-washy mentally ill girl who keeps on pushing her pure perfect little son away so that he ends up at her place with his tail between his legs.

God, how I want to just shout to the world and expose him for the abuser he has been to me. I have been wonderful, truly. But I am sick of being the only one fighting for our future, in more ways than one I have been the only one who is future-oriented beyond just talking emptily.

Anyway, so long to possibly getting married on Loving Day. Fuck me and my dreams, I guess.