Well, I’ve sort of voiced who you all who he is.
He’s a family member. He lives close by. Literally impossible to escape.
Saturday evening began with him showing our other family members pictures of him and I from years ago.
Him remembering all the ways in which we were close. When I was a child. When I was 6 years old. He’s showing me the pictures of when I used to sit on his lap…when I wanted to spend time with him…when I felt safe with him.
I don’t really know what to say or how to say any of this.
We had to go over to his house on Saturday night. I didn’t make the choice to get that intoxicated. I had my usual number of drinks, or even less. I know my limits, I know how much I can handle, and my aim is never to get to the point of feeling sick or not remembering. I drink a lot in general. Too much. I’ll be the first to admit that. But that being said, I’m pretty damn familiar with the process.
So when I tell you that I didn’t make certain choices on Saturday night…I’m confident in myself and my knowledge of myself. In this moment, I have enough respect for me to trust myself.
He followed me into the bathroom, once again. He was inappropriate with me and took advantage of me. I don’t remember a lot of the night. My memory is spotty and scattered. I started writing a post that night. I didn’t get very far into it, but I knew how I was feeling. Even then, in the moment, I knew I wasn’t okay.
I titled it “I think he drugged me”. And I think I’m right. Or at the very least, made my drinks significantly stronger when I wasn’t looking. I had one, maybe 2 drinks. On top of knowing my limits, I’ve learned to drink much less when in his presence. There is no reason I should have such spotty memory from that night. There’s absolutely no reason I should have felt that sick.
While it would genuinely shock me if that was true…it also wouldn’t. He has a history of trying to get me drunk. Of encouraging me to drink more than I want to. Constantly filling my glass and bringing me more. He’s trying to put me in a position of weakness where my choices are stripped from me.
None of this is okay.
I feel robbed of my VERY few “positive” childhood memories that I had. I feel disgusting.
I feel taken advantage of once again. In a very big way. My choices aren’t mine to make. My body isn’t mine to control.
It’s fucked up.
He was my favorite person. I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know how this happened.
And I don’t know where to go from here.
Feeling hopeless sucks.