But You Seem So Put Together.

“But you seem so put together.”

I’m not going to lie.  When I tell people that mentally I am a pile of disaster, there are plenty who are shocked.

It makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.  You all get to see that I am actually a human puddle, and not at all put together - so I laugh.

But it also puts more pressure on me to keep up the facade, because apparently it’s working.  And that is just exhausting.

To be fair, she opened the door for this conversation...

I'm currently calling out that woman I was doing a thing with in May for hurting me.

Who the fuck am I and what have I done with me?!

Tossed out a group invite, included the woman I'm into right now. It's been 6 minutes and no one's responded ( or read the message).

My brain is telling me it's because they hate me and are rolling their eyes at the message preview.

Most days.

Humiliation in parts - Part Two

TW - named body parts, and, again, way too much information about me.  Lots of things not tagged again.

He told me that my vulva had a very strong odour, and he made reference to it frequently.  He told me he could smell me sometimes when I was fully clothed.  I was shocked as no one had ever said it to me before.  He guessed they (my previous lovers) didn’t tell me because they still wanted a piece, but they probably told their friends about it and laughed.

This was so humiliating and I became obsessive.  I’ll spare you some of the silly things I did, but I spent hundreds on products.

Eventually I consulted my doctor while I was getting a pap.  I apologized and asked if I could do anything about it.  He looked puzzled for half a second and said “Your ‘odour’ isn’t strong at all.  It’s pretty mild actually.  So, no, I wouldn’t do anything about it.”

I don’t entirely trust my doctor, so while at another clinic some time later I told the doctor there that my partner said I was “pungent.”  “Do they have a really sensitive sense of smell?  You fall on the milder end of the spectrum...”

I decided that the day he made me ask my doctors to smell my vulva was the day to start taking his criticisms with a grain of salt.   

Me, in November: What do you want for xmas this year?

Him: You don't make enough money to get me anything I'd want this year. Don't get me anything, seriously. Just do me a favour and save money.

Him, on December 24th: ... I don't see any presents with my name on them... Typical.

Me: ... But you said...

Him: You're so selfish. I really can't believe you. You don't deserve any of the things I got you. You're literally the worst.