Of actualization and wobbles

So. I was molested when I was 12.

Yesterday was the first time I typed that. I used "diddled" because it is: a. an awesome word and, b. true. I'm not going to go into details because you don't need them. It's different for every person and in my case it 100% derailed my life.

(Btw, all of these realizations are real time as I have been a just rabid defender of not knowing thyself. Welcome to the ride.)

I started reading fantasy and SF soon thereafter. I started with Pratchett, McCaffrey, Le Guin and whatever else my local Valhalla library offered. I finished the entire rack in short order and the librarian took pity on me and got me more. Elves with halberds and telepathic white haired girls removed the need to deal with anything. I buried that night, those few minutes, so far beneath different worlds that I can only now start processing it. Please know that I stumbled on the rack, none of the choices I made subsequently had a neon lit arrow pointing to the abuse. Fuck, writing the a-word is making me tremble. Anyway. Let's just assume that this underlying fracturing of self went completely unnoticed by everyone in my life, especially me.

It was not my fault. So everyone tells me. Including myself. I worshipped him though, I can't imagine that kind of love and adoration shining from my tiny body went unnoticed. Yes, I can hear you shouting at me. I know, ok? I know.

I told the kid this morning, well, I told him to tell me if anything ever happened to him so I would understand if it happened to him. Now I've been watching a lot of CSI and at some point Catherine shows her 12 yo a dead girl to hammer home the idea that hitchhiking is bad, mkay. This was my dead body. I know it fucked the kid up to know this about me but I would burn the world down to ensure his life is his choice and to keep his psyche as whole as I can. Oh and all before he made his breakfast omelet. Oh well, eggs and breaking, ahahaha. I slay me.

The reason I am telling you this is because yesterday I told Prof. J (of the badassery) and today I got up at 7.30 and did my hair and makeup. Everyone has depression markers, mine are grooming and moving. I've spent the past 3-6 months bedbound. So, clearly I need to defrag my brain.

I started yesterday's conversation with Prof. J asking him about using computer terms as a simile for brains would work (sorry actual computer people) and we ran through the terms:

1. Hardware=bioware

2. Operating system: neuro learning, nature/nurture

3. Software=education

4. Data= well, data. Books, etc.

   1. "All books are points of data. Data either reflecting a certain point in space time or data as it relates to a certain experience in space time"

5. "Apps would be your experiences. Tinder your sex life, Facebook your social circle, Google your intellect /memory, Wikipedia your recall"

6. Protection/antivirus=moral compass

   1. Viruses=targeted Facebook ads

   2. "If I go all Marxist on that (religion) I would say the virus we get"

Now, none of this is new. Neal Stephenson up to Cryptonomicon, is 4 that informed 6 for me. See Snow Crash.

While we were talking about this I was thinking of data as that green text stream in the Matrix and that the defragging points I have was dam-ning (heh) my stream and impeding the flow. This is where that simile broke for me. Prof J to the rescue however. He calls it wobbles.

I don't think the wobble is exactly what I'm thinking either although it is scalpel-true.

Hmmm, back to the derailing maybe? So instead of a derail, it changed my trajectory and decades later I am kilometres away from where I could have been. But that makes it sound like fate is a thing and I don't believe in that.

Ok, so back to the computers as people thing. I need a defragging. I need it for the hardware and the operating system. The meds aren't working but that could be because something else rather than clinical depression (doesn't it sound good? so much less messy than borderline personality disorder, which I haven't even googled yet) so I am actively trying to get ECT.

It also means therapy. I RUHEALLY don't want to do therapy. It takes a steel brush to your psyche and that's when I am not even talking about the deep hurts.

I was thinking about why I am here, you know: see above, now. I am safe for the first time in my life. I'm not running, avoiding or suppressing and frankly my body cannot take it anymore. My rider is sick and it's making my elephant sick too.

The trembling has stopped...goddammit. Therapy it is. Fuck.

1. State of the pool: the sediment is rising and the water is super unhappy about the filter being put it.

2. Something/someone in SA that I miss: I keep dreaming I am home, 2-3 dreams a week. Mostly it is for a visit but last night near killed me when I woke up and realized that it wasn't true. We need to move away from here or home but I don't know how viable home is. A topic for another time.

3. Media I am consuming: CSI. I can occasionally glance at the screen and color by numbers on my iPad. 2 things: 1. CSI made people doing science on screen (shush, go with it) cool and 2. the trip hop, music to study to genre 100% got worldwide attention because of it. I don't have proof other than my opinion but here that is more valid than facts so ha.

4. Saffer song of the day: I've been replaying this whenever it is on my playlist (YouTube Music's AI is scary good) Coenie De Villiers - Namakwaland

1. Other song of the day: ALL. OF. THE. MARCUS. KING. BAND. No, really. Earphones recommended.

1. Thing that I want to talk about but it didn't fit with the theme: The Once and Future Witches - Alix. E Harrow. I'm only about a quarter through the book and I have already highlighted enough of the e-book that it could look like a textbook at first glance.

   1. "(Sometimes she can still see the walls of her room at St. Hale's: perfect ivory, closing like teeth around her. She keeps such things locked safe inside parentheses, like her mother taught her.)"