Content on the way

Well, this is content too, but mostly an update to say hey, sorry I didn't make the live the other day.

I can't tell you how painful flashbacks are. The worst thing is I don't even know I'm in them half the time. My friend pointed out the other day, after the attack, that of course I wouldn't know, in that moment my brain is shut down.

Oh YES! I replied, wow, I hadn't thought of that.

In fact during a flashback, the amigdala (in the frontal cortex of the brain) shuts down to freeze the emotional significance of the event. 

I came up with a possible solution. What if I made a box with notes in it and the first note would ask "Suze, are you having a flashback?"

As soon as i ask this, I always reply "Oh fuck yes"

And then like i said the other day, my second response is to say "Suze, you have permission to do whatever the fuck you want"  and this is the fastest way to recovery.

It is exhausting. I cannot even begin to tell you.

This recent heartbreak was such a shock. How could one man go from adoring me to hating me when all I had was love for him? Weirdo.

It has made me not want to go out too much. It has made me pull my energy back. Be selective and discerning about who I give my energy to, and trust me, the number of people in my inner circle has reduced significantly.

It shocks me so much that at age 40 I am still being bullied. That there are those who are still in the playground taunting others and trying to make their lives hell. I know that bullies want a reaction, they are the weak ones who do not have the tools, guidance or courage to transform their pain, so they foist it onto someone else. I also know that because they do not connect with God, they do not have access to the blueprint that would allow them to heal themselves. Instead of turning to the one that has healed, that has the blueprint, they crucify that person, because they are too proud and in too much pain to admit there is something they do not know. They cannot accept that someone might have it better. 

But the irony is, if they only knew how hard it is for me, living with chronic CPTSD, maybe, just maybe, my haters would take a cold hard look at themselves and realise that they are picking on someone who is already living with a disability and doesn't need for life to be even harder for them. Yes, I put on a brave face, yes, I mostly keep it to myself, unless my symptoms seep out in public and cause me embarrassment and shame because I am not able to control my triggers, or because I don't have close enough friends to ask sometimes to help me get groceries in when a flashback continues on for two weeks, so I have to go out in public with half my brain not working. we live in. a fucked up, traumatised world, that is becoming more and more plain to see, especially since covid. The colours of the  insane are truly showing, and trust me, this time it is not me. I have diligently healed that shit. I have powered through. my dark nights of the soul, without resorting to drug addictions to numb myself instead, I have faced my fears and my shadows, I have shared every inch of my healing journey, naked, vulnerable and raw in front of a selective group of about 360 strangers and fans who have signed up to see my content. Namely the challenge to accept all sides of myself in public.

One woman from Gozo who has a tendency to judge from the sidelines without getting stuck in herself, once told me, 

"I feel like you don't own who you are"

Who I am in her eyes, is. a porn star. I make naked content. 

"But you've never seen my content. How do you know what i make?" 

She didn't really have an answer for that of course, she was too busy judging me. 

I know I'm just a projection for these people to throw the unresolved parts of themselves onto, a dustbin for their shadows. I know that these people would love to have the courage and the curiosity to explore themselves the way I do, but they just can't admit it, because they are enslaved to the tribe who tells them what they can and cannot do. I'm enslaved to that tribe myself in many ways. I would love to make love to a beautiful man whilst being watched. I don't see why pleasure should be private as long as there is consent, adults should be free to do whatever they please. But I don't do this. My content is neither explicit or sexual. Humans are sexual, fact. it is just that we deny that fact and cover it up with all kinds of decoys to distract from our true intentions. 

I consider myself a very expressive being, a sexual being. I sometimes feel ashamed of that and try and hide it because of how it makes other people feel. I don't actually want sex, I want love, but my physicality often attracts men who are drawn to me physically despite not having the courage or intention to love me once they have expressed their physical desire. i don't know what is worse the fact that they fool me into thinking they will be there to love me afterwards or the fact I fool myself? I think what's worse is that they are aware they never had any intention and they are aware that's what I want and they lead me on anyway, addicted to the drug of what they want. What's worse for me is that when these love happenings come along, they usually spring out of the blue, and living on a small  island of female vultures where the ratio of handsome men to handsome women is not in my favour, when there is a mutual attraction it feels like an actual godsend. With these godsends so few and far between would I not want to prolong the fantasy for just a bit longer, that just this once, this man might be interested in me for more than just sex and companionship? Alas, I am realising as time goes on, and the clock is ticking noisily away, that there's no more time for romance, for dreaming, the time has come for no more games to be played, just an honest in your face "Are you looking for love or lust?" Not that it is even that easy, because the best game players are like skilled politicians, dodging and weaving the questions with answers that create the illusion of safety and future possibilities. These players or butterfly boys as I call them, because these are man boys not men after all, always have an answer and an excuse for everything. Manboys have no access to accountability. They are tricking their women the way that little boys sneak sweets while their mama's not looking. They have not initiated out of their chronic manipulations and in some cases have no intention to, why would they, when they get away with getting whatever they want with no consequences? Manboys don't feel genuine love for a woman, only temporary infatuation, which will wear off usually as quickly it takes to find another object of their attention. As their fragile ego hardens after rejection, their games become more and more vile as they seek to get revenge for their pain by destroying the heart of yet another female. Again, if you confront them, all you will get is a satchel full of ready made excuses that they have used before. Their pride is by far their most treasured possession, and they will fight hammer and nails to keep it intact. If that means you must fall, then so be it, they will not be there to catch you anyway, they have already moved on.  Unaccountable, a thief in the night, leaving the damage to someone else to pay.

 Why are the haters jealous? Do you think I'm happy alone in my apartment yearning for the love of a good man? Of course i make the best of it, of course i make do. What else is there to do? I can't make someone love me, although God forbid I've tried. And as cheesy as the whole self love thing has always sounded to me, I am finally getting the picture. 

When my cup is full, the chances of me turning to an improbable source for love is far less likely to happen. it is only when my cup is empty that these butterfly boys stand half a chance. So beware, of a cup half empty. It may be your downfall.