I was violated yesterday.
I will have been practicing sobriety now for 11 months as of tomorrow. SMART Recovery, and the specific group I’ve been affiliating myself with, have been a significant component of my practice. I feel like I’ve found my tribe. I feel like I belong. And I would help them, and they would help me. And so we do.
Yesterday a guy entered our online meeting with a dark camera and a hot microphone. We heard him talking to another person, presumably in the physical room with him. It took us a moment to realize what was happening - what we were hearing unfold in real time.
This genius was bragging about what he does. And what he does is join meetings like the one we were having, take photos and screenshots of the people in the meeting who have their cameras on, and then leave before anyone realizes what he did. (Sorry to break it to you, you fucking incel asshole, but we realized what you did.)
He also said “They even have these LGBT ones, and you should see these freaks. They really are freaks.”
He got booted. Who knows how many screenshots he took before that. Who knows where they’ll end up.
I exploded. I left. A friend invited me to re-join and process what had just happened with everyone instead of trying to do it on my own. So I re-joined. And boy did I process.
I think I must’ve screamed for 5-minutes straight about how violating it was, how rapey it was, how unacceptable it was, and how much I wanted that asshole to hurt. I said I felt like Sally Field in Steel fucking Magnolias and all I wanted to do was hit the shit out of Ouiser. How if I saw this asshole drowning in a lake, I’d step on his fucking head to make sure.
Someone, with good intentions, told me not to let a guy like that bother me or steal my joy. I said he didn’t steal my joy. He stole my fucking countenance. And that, frankly, my countenance is probably already out there in some less than savory corner of the internet that I don’t even know about anyway. The picture wasn’t the point. The invasion was the point. The smug violation.
And in today’s climate, when fucking white Christian nationalists are running the fucking show and making lists right out in the open, how safe are we? How safe are we when we know addiction is criminalized? When we know gay people are targeted?
It’s fucked up. And it rattled me. And I was not ok. And part of me is still very much not ok.
I messaged my therapist while I was still raw, and let him know what happened and what I was feeling (and what I was feeling had by then turned into self loathing for having expressed myself that honestly and openly about the hate and anger I was feeling).
I hadn’t felt that way in a very long time. I wanted to crawl and fold into myself over and over and get smaller and smaller until I was no more. I wanted to not be. I wanted to end.
I almost called the suicide hotline.
I called Husband instead.
Even now, a little removed and more level headed, I wish nothing good on people like that guy who violated me and who knows how many other people. I wish not a good word, not a good deed, not forgiveness, nor understanding, nor sympathy, nor empathy for him or people like him. I only wish them to experience a level of suffering and harm even greater than that suffering and harm which they have inflicted - intentionally or unintentionally, directly or indirectly - upon others because of their heinous bigotry.
And I’m SO sorry not sorry about it.
🤷
I am not going to say I’m ok. But I’m less not-ok today than I was yesterday.
I got my hair cut today, which is my favorite thing to do. On my way to the beauty parlor, a new storefront I passed caught my eye. I made a note to stop in after my haircut.
When I walked in, one of my favorite songs was playing. I talked to the owner and learned that they are a nonprofit that leans into art & storytelling, provides a ‘third space’ for people, and connects people who need mental health services to those services. (Go figure I had just had myself my own little mental health and then walked right into a storefront for one.)
I bought a t-shirt and talked a little more to the owner about their mission. His wife and kids were on the sidewalk selling lemonade. And I could tell that store bought Minute Maid lemonade had to have been worth at least $10.00 by the time those kids lifted up that heavy bottle and poured some of it into a cup of ice for a guy like me, so that’s what I donated. I bought a t-shirt. I started to leave, but came back and asked if they’d like for me to pass out a few flyers or postcards to some of the surrounding businesses. They said sure, so I did.
I hit up about 10 establishments, from the tattoo parlor to the candy store, to the boutique men’s suit store, and told them about the delicious lemonade just up the block. I made sure they knew about the nonprofit’s mission, and encouraged them to send any thirsty customers over. The businesses were all enthusiastic. One even wondered out loud if there might be a way to partner with the nonprofit. I said I’d pass that interest along to the owner.
The impromptu volunteerism I accidentally and serendipitously found myself engaging in made me feel good.
A friend from the SMART Recovery group texted me to ask how I was holding up. I told him about my morning and said, “You know, I think I might’ve just made some life-handed-me-lemons lemonade. ”
***
Highlights
📺 Watching
Follow me on Trakt: https://trakt.tv/users/wireddifferently
I got about 5-minutes into the new War of the World on Prime starring Ice Cube and turned it off. I’m just not that into stories about rogue government surveillance officers these days.
🍿 Viewing
Follow me on Trakt: https://trakt.tv/users/wireddifferently
We watched The Public last night. As a message, it was important. As a movie it was, eh, ok I guess.
(BTW I grew up in that library. I still remember checking out Prince’s 1999 and The Jacksons’ Victory albums on vinyl from there.)
📚 Reading
I bought “How to Survive a Horror Story” by Mallory Arnold (view on bookshop.org).
🍽️ Eating
Check back later.
🎧 Listening
Follow me on Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/profile/WiredDifferently
This is the song that was playing when I walked in to the nonprofit I mention above.
📰 Scanning
Jeff Tiedrich is a folk hero. Also, I honestly think he might’ve stolen from me the phrase ‘rancid anus mouth’ in reference to Donald Trump. I swear I used it a lot on Twitter during that first crime wave. I also posted about Trump’s ‘putrid mouth flaps’ a lot.
🙏 Thanking
- A husband who listens
- A first love and old friend
- Lemonade
🩺 Healing
After consulting with my primary doc, decided not to participate in a work sponsored program called “Virta” which was basically a Keto diet plan that wanted to adjust medications prescribed by my primary doc. They were really sales pitch-y and felt high pressure, so I’m glad doc advised against them.
