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I woke up this morning with many aches all over my body. My head is still bursting in shooting pain caused by bad posture in the past two days combined with a stiff shoulder and back and a confused stomach. But it isn’t so bad that I can’t bear it. My reaction to these aches have changed drastically over the past few months – given I am now aware they don’t exist alone as just ‘bad posture’.
I knew I went to bed with fear. This was the second night in a row. And not so surprising to me now is the fear of women. This would sound real strange to many especially given my natural admiration and love for women.
Ever since my first book release “Fallen, Standing…” I have been wanting to rewrite my story. To tell it in a way that I have told myself over the years and not in the format crafted for a regular earth reading of an experience. But in order to do so I first need to remember stuff. Not stuff that my elephant memory does easily store – but stuff that my 15 year old had to make up for. I can always choose to not remember and bury my desires in life elsewhere, however my involvement in Mental Health Advocacy is not something I would choose to avoid. I also know in doing so I will continue confronting newer demons and it is important that I do in order to move away from my own and hopefully others alike would find and make meaning in theirs.
My recent trip to Geneva for work was a conscious decision…knowing there won’t be a looking back once the Pandora’s box is open. A 5 minute speech was enough to unlock all of it. I had not fumbled while delivering it but I did build up tears when a senior member who was institutionalised as a child understood and validated my experience and that of my colleague. It is not so much of comparing notes on what happened, when it happened and how it happened. There is something indescribably familiar when someone has experienced what you have that seems alien to others. That validation is like no other and you know you’re on the right track of choosing to be there and fight for basic human rights.
Of course in the present dictator style political world we are living in – human rights is a far fetched dream…but it shouldn’t stop us from working towards it. I had the opportunity to meet fellow warriors on this path from Ukraine who had tears in their tongue when they spoke of how children are being ‘collected’ and sent to institutions. When I felt them – I had the most horrifying image in my head. It was a world where there are no children left running around the streets…but each one picked up as war slaves and thrown inside institutions. Imagine a world where we step out of our homes and there are no kids to be seen. Kids who are being prepped up at religious camps, behavioural camps, psychiatry institutions, military camps, correctional camps…all for one purpose only: To eventually fight each other in a future led by the same Dictators.
This isn’t something delusional I am writing about. This is as real as it is because it has happened. We don’t need to wait for rude awakenings to be Changemakers and save humanity. We need to start the minute we wake up and sleep with it. Maybe that is why I wake up with newer memories. It keeps me going knowing these are very crucial reminders to what is happening to the human race. Until it happens to you – you don’t really wake up do you?
So upon returning from Geneva, I woke up one day with a head slap. I did feel someone hit the back of my head several times while I lay in bed on my stomach and my head buried under the pillow. First I thought I was dreaming or perhaps exercising in my sleep. But I was not doing either. I was sort of semi-conscious or in another more romanticized version of it – I was experiencing a ‘schizophrenic’ moment of what would otherwise be translated as a psychosis. Like how I often say we dream with our eyes open. Only difference is you’re going to hear it directly from a schizophrenic and not some idiot telling you that I am experiencing a symptom that needs to be treated.
I felt a hand hit my head again. The top left of my head. I had to jump out of bed that very minute and it stopped. After messaging a loved one and loitering around the virtual world – I began making music. That is when I knew what I was experiencing. It wasn’t a ‘psychosis’. It wasn’t a dream interpretation that needed to be unravelled by a therapist (sorry to be brutally honest but that is all they end up doing after those stupid psycho-babble books they read and study). My mind wasn’t making things up nor did it need to be decoded. It was as direct as it is. Those ‘beats to my head‘ were the head slaps I used to get. Often adults have this fucking annoying way of getting kids to do something or to listen and the adult would hit them on their head. This didn’t come from my parents or siblings. It came from others who always tried to correct me. One such hand came from a woman. I don’t recollect her face or name. She’s like a ghost – but a strong one when you’re just 15.
A memory that crept up 2 nights ago were triggered by something else even more powerful – love. Not something accessible or familiar to troubled damaged kids. Like many rebellious kids who couldn’t give a damn about control and authority – I was not afraid of any punishment. The concept of reward and punishment is as fictitious as the science of psychology. The former called ‘reward’ never existed for me. Punishment in itself became a reward after many types of implementation of it. Imagine holding a child down and trying to get them to listen to you but in return the grown child tells you ‘If you’re going to slap me just go ahead with it and if you’re going to fuck me then let’s get started’.
Naturally then sex which is a driving force for many adults and not kids becomes the same child’s defence and security against the world. Where when love is given it is rejected and not understood or it even feels alien – an irony to my knowing that I am an alien sent to Earth to spread the message of love. Trust me it is a very confusing process for an alien to undergo in finding our way amongst humans to fulfill our mission. I do wish my spaceship will just take me back one day…but I have fallen in love with some humans among you. (we leave this bit for another time)
So I fell asleep and woke up to a state where I was in this wooden shed trying to save someone but I get locked in while doing so. And while trying to save myself and get out someone comes in and puts a wasp in my shirt and a fly that circles around my ear. I freeze unable to do anything cause these are 2 different entities working differently. The wasp would definitely sting me. And the fly was waiting to enter my ear or nose or eye or mouth if I even blinked or took a breath. Those few seconds were a nightmare – but thankfully I woke up.
Imagine if I had reacted this way in front of you or the outside world. They would call me schizophrenic and say I am having a catatonic moment…that I should be ‘treated’…
Now that you read my memory of it – does it not say exactly what it is? I do remember a wasp in my shirt. I do remember being forcefully made to stand without blinking or breathing. Even as I type this my eyes are glaring wide open and my breath keeps stopping. It was important for them to do that – to see how ‘macho – strong’ kids like us really are since nothing could break us. I remember wanting to vomit but I learnt to swallow those yucky adult fluid because nobody liked a mess.
And this memory continued it’s episodic chapter last night – when I fell asleep having a sudden fear of women crawl on to me. Not knowing where it was coming from. I suddenly couldn’t fathom the idea of touch anymore. So I curled in bed but yet afraid someone was going to show up and touch me – like most nights of what led to my insomnia. My body stiffened in bed. My stomach made noises. My breathing choked and yet controlled so that my eyes are kept shut and do not blink. I had this sexual energy around me. I tried every possible breathing technique I learnt and could only shut two energy points in a woman’s body – that of the anus and vagina. My clitoral region was still throbbing and it disturbed me intensely. It wasn’t something I was desiring. I just wanted to sleep. I saw an image of another woman – existing in a different story of my life…with her hands creeping up from behind and groping. I couldn’t make sense of it – or maybe I didn’t want to make sense of it anymore because it was too real.
So I let go. I let the energy just be and my breathing diminished and I began seeing stars with my eyes closed. I slept and woke up a million times in between – shuffling between the real, the dream, the illusion, the unreal…there was no difference really. The musketeers of my memory had come. The wasp from the previous night froze my body. The fly made it impossible to blink or breathe. And that room came alive – and so did the past and the memory.
I woke up feeling like a grown up suddenly and not a child…like many kids who needed to grow before their time sexually and for survival purposes. It was a payment, a making up for bad behaviour, an escape to keep yourself alive.
In many same-sex relationships – especially that of two women, it is familiar grounds of how our bodies work together. It is said it takes a woman to know how another woman’s body speaks or what it needs and how it needs to pleased. It is said there is something almost inexplicable when another woman is lying naked with another woman – the way in how the bodies have a language of their own – the trustful familiarity and comfort followed by the crazy sensual desires even without touch that can be only met by another woman. For those of you who know what I am speaking off…you must have heard of the saying: Don’t give a man a woman’s job. But when you reverse the pleasure here to punishment it is a very different reality alltogether.
Now, is my experience a problem with women? Or one of those ‘women are capable of abuse too? NO of course not! Far from it. These are just ones trained and equipped under the same patriarchal bullshit. The ones who play divide and rule. The ones responsible for many kids. Ones that exist in their own lives denied of their own pleasures and find ways to explore through others called minors. It is no more about physical or sexual violence. It is about behavioural and emotional violence. A long lasting game play that has existed in psychology and psychiatry – used and experimented and now influencing books psychologist are studying from. Influencing media and books, writers and artists, activist and doctors…and whoever else who want to be famous.
Today there are therapy centres and therapy methods called Touch Therapy for people who need help. For those who don’t understand touch or who need it to connect to themselves. People are selling this. Advocating for the benefits of this. It is nothing but a creation of a capitalist and consumerist world. First they remove touch from you and empty you of the real reason behind it. They add layers to it – complex complicated damaging mind boggling ones then they make the whole world believe in it’s made up qualities and existence. After that when the entire world has believed this – they will remake it and sell it to you as something ‘awesome – brilliant’ and requires a trained professional to help you understand what touch is. It has so many words, so many ways, so many nonsense.
I know what touch is now. And I am not afraid to hug another person or touch them. It is surprising to many who have known me to be a touch-fearing person. And I am not going to tell you how I got there as yet – because I do believe if you are reading this – you are capable of already knowing how and the whys around it.
What am I to do now? Challenge the same world again and give them exactly what they removed from me: Touch.
There is only one word and one way to know what Touch is. It is healing – like love. And you don’t need to pay someone for it. You don’t need to join a support group for it. You don’t need an intellectual jargon or dream interpretation for it. You don’t need treatment for it.
You just need to look at yourself, listen intently to your body and your heart and you’ll be touching someone with that love and respect and they’ll feel it. It’s not rocket science.