Fatigue

Fatigued with the week, the night sweats and vague sense of my body fighting off a virus. Wondering if the political angst is part of it. Watching shithair bragging then denying, then squirming and blustering, makes my skin crawl.

So, a writer asked on twitter for stories from women of the first time they were groped. An article on cracked sums up the situation.

I was about 10 or 11, my breasts were starting to form, painfully. And my father and uncles - his brothers, began to reach around from behind to hug me around the chest, in a way that is commonly done with very young children, except they'd never done that before. Not like tickling the tummy at the waist. It did not feel innocent to me, and it hurt. I learned to always sit on chairs with backs and keep my arms close to my sides. I evaded contact.

So, when I was 19, working at the main library, and got on the elevator with the security guard, and he cornered and kissed me, I was shocked, but ready to fight. The door opened, he exited, I was furious, but at him. I kept him far away from me, we were never alone on the elevator again. I warned everyone I worked with about him, they were not surprized. Anymore than I was.

While we were in Saudi, warrant officer was cornering young women and kissing them. I'd already spotted him and never let him get near me. I wish I'd talked more to the other women about him, so they would avoid him as well.

So, my creepy male relatives may have done me a backhanded, accidental service - not that I'll thank them for it. By the time the outside threat happened, I was already beginning to harden. I already had the beginnings of a plan.

Got my voting material in the mail. The main bit is filled in, just taking some time on the local issues I haven't read up on yet. By tomorrow, it will be over for me, for good or ill.