So far, the day has been okay. We went for a walk, and I took the iPod Shuffle with me. Like always Mom was critical of the way I walked. Too slow, etc. I take everything with a grain of salt now. There's no point in arguing or trying to justify the CP any longer. I also made a list of tests I need to have done. Pap test, HPV test, and of course, the "now we made it mandatory for all patients who have bloodwork done" HIV test. Okay, about these three...they matter, because I think cervical cancer is just as bad as any other kind, pap tests will verify that I have a virus in me already, and the HIV test, well, at least I know why I would test positive. God and I have no secrets. One assault, and I'm in the rat race. April 23rd, 2005. Yeah. When something that bad happens to you, you remember every damn detail. You also can't help but wonder why the therapist you paid defended everyone but you. The PT, the 3 men that decided to sexualize their relationships with you, told you that you needed to get laid, and so much more. Then, came the touching BS. I know I don't need a therapist now. Why? Because they wouldn't see me as someone who deserves to be presumed innocent. After all, it's my fault for letting the PT and three men into my life in the first place according to the last therapist I saw. So why bother going down this road again?

There's just no point. And as for feeling like Sibyl, well, that goes without saying. This too, is my fault. I let the PT take advantage of me. She wouldn't let my family enter the rooms. So it's my fault that I let her do her "job" and totally humiliate me. That's okay. Every little girl has dreams of being self conscious and humiliated by those who she's supposed to trust. Scew that shit.

Now that I am flying solo with all of the above, I feel like a woman who is empowered in a different sort of way. Empowered enough to know what doesn't work. What does work is listening to the comments made to my face, behind my back, and letting it roll off of me like a duck to water.

There's no cure for CP or any of the shit that I have in my life, so I have to learn to live with it. Or die trying. I always think of a gun loaded, ready to go. Because I know at some point, the sheer insanity of all this is going to push me over the edge. When, I don't know. People say I'm so young, and have a future to look forward to. Yet those bastards don't even know what their own future holds. They just want to save my sorry ass to make them look like they've done something right. Which brings me to a question of how the hell can some get away with dying? Others are institutionalized, and still, some get away with it.

If that question ever gets answered, I'm going to do a happy dance. In the meantime, I'll let society beat me down until I can't take it anymore. After all, like my family, they are just as critical. It's not my life....they get to have control.

I plan to do stuff around the house today. That's all that's on my list. In the meantime, I hope for the best in whatever I do, despite the critical comments and BS. TTFN. TTYL. Ciao.