Category: Scotties Rants / Blog Information

The doctor said I am a bunny personality, or was

I forget what year it was, maybe 2012 or 2013 I was being treated by a doctor for my abuse.  I forget what he was titled, but he was the mind / personality doctors.   After testing and sessions of talking, he said I had a bunny personality unable to protect myself, with the bunny personality that kicked in that made the bunny protect those who were smaller or more vulnerable than me being attacked, even to the point of sacrificing my self.   In other words, I think he was saying I was unable to protect my self but will try to find ways to protect those who I feel are in danger.     I wonder if he said the second part just to shore up myself esteem as I never really felt I had a protector role.  In fact, I sort of got used to the idea I was to suffer to take the pain issued to me.  

Please remember, this was before Ron knew of most of my abuse, he only knew I was hurt as a kid, and it was by the family I grew up in.  I was scared to tell him what was happening, his job and mine were our income.  If I told him Ron would have reacted, would have been angry, would have stopped it but I was worried we would lose our jobs and our income.  

There was a reason I was back in treatment, but the short story is I was being sexual assaulted at work.  One of the male nurses, a larger guy, thought it was cute and funny to grab the gay guy by the dick, touch his ass, and push him in to a wall or counter and press themselves into me while fondling my penis.  My supervisors found out it was happening by accident because another male nurse who today would be the typical maga republican threaten to kill me in front of everyone for being gay and when I had to be interviewed by HR and legal it slipped out what the other guy was doing.   So the company insisted on sending me to a psychologist for examination / treatment.  Side note I should some day describe the meeting it was surreal with them makings sure nothing blocked the door or my path to it, repeatedly telling me I could leave, and if I felt unsafe or upset to tell them, kept asking me if I need a break or wanted someone with me … I mean I like the feeling behind what they were doing, but it was over the top in my opinion.  But maybe they were trying to prevent a sexual assault claim against the hospital.

But the real point of the post and what I was so happy and excited over is, when I told Randy what was happening and what the doctor said my personality was, Randy sprang into action.   My wonderful friend, the brother I never had growing up, sent me a tee shirt I wore until I wore it out.  I wore it everywhere.  It was something I took great joy in.   

It was a Psycho Bunny tee shirt with this logo

And I don’t know if you can understand the power this tee shirt gave me.  I may be a bunny, but I was now a bunny with teeth.  Randy kept telling me that maybe as a child I couldn’t stop the abuse, but now I had power, skill, and support such that I could protect my self.   The shirt and the feeling behind it was every empowering.  It was what I needed then to help me.  And Randy was always there to help me, uplift me, and keep me from despair as best he could.  I love Randy, I loved the tee shirt, I love the idea behind it.  Yesterday and today I keep reminding myself … I AM A PSYCHO BUNNY, AND I HAVE TEETH, HEAR ME ROAR!  Even if right now it is coming out as a squeak.    Hugs, Scottie

Memories, Ron, tears.

Short update.  When Ron got home from shopping, he sensed something was wrong.  He asked me about it.  I told him briefly I had some more intrusive memories.  He was quiet and then said when we put the groceries away we will talk.  After we got done I went and sat down, I was not sure that I wanted to tell him, I had hid so much for so long.    He asked if I wanted to talk and could he know what was upsetting me.  We sat and talked, I told him the new memories, the details that were flooding my brain, the feelings I was experiencing with them.  Every time I got to points where I would be too upset to talk, starting to cry he would tell me to slow down, breathe, take your time.  Then when I got it all out, I couldn’t look at him.  He softly said I needed to distract myself, and I explained how that was what I was trying to do but that wouldn’t help me heal or get over anything, we both knew from experience.   I told him I needed a few minutes alone and he gave me that.  When I came out he walked slowly to me and held his arms out, and I grabbed him, I clutched him.  He held me back and kept telling me they were gone, they couldn’t hurt me anymore.   Finally, I stepped back and said to him, but that is where you’re wrong, the memories don’t stop.  The feelings don’t stop.  And when I remember the abuse, I also feel the abuse.  He pulled me to him and held me tight.   He had no words, and I don’t have any either.   I know eventually I will share this with all of you who want me too or are able to deal with it.  I have learned that talking about it does help in a weird way.   Yes it hurts at first, deeply intently, but ignoring it makes the pain build and become much worse.    

For some reason at first when I was telling him I thought Ron was going to reject me as he started looking away.  Then after I now realize he was struggling not to cry and with his anger, both which would have hurt me had he shown them. He has gone to lay down for a nap, talking to me about it first.  I feel weird again.  I know he will be watching me, he will be worried.  Did I do wrong to tell him?  Should I have hidden it, gone back to the days before he really knew much?  Now my doubts are creeping in and trying to take root.   

I am not going to proofread this for errors.   Sorry, I do need to step back.  Please overlook them or if they are important call me out in comments.  I have spine shots tomorrow at 10.  I have to get my mind in a better place, I have to find peace.  Hugs.  Scottie

An update on Scotties life.

Like everyone, I always have the best of intentions.  I planned this weekend for getting to comments and putting away old saved tabs.  But fate and my memories get in the way.  And right now I hurt badly.  Not asking for sympathy, I just want to explain if I end up late on doing what I said I would.   

This last week I have fluctuating between active memories of my abuse including the feelings as it was happening, to being very depressed and not wanting to even get out of bed.  So I went from if I sleep having nightmares to not being willing / able to sleep to when sleeping not being willing to get out of bed to function.  Plus Friday I had my allergy shots, had a bad reaction had to take Benadryl, and while tearing my skin off went to bed early.  

This morning is an example.  I went to bed at 4 pm yesterday (remember having a bad allergy reaction and taking Benadryl)  telling Ron I wanted to get up at 6 pm.  But when he came to me then, I said I was not ready to get up.  He understood.  Since I opened up to him more about my abuse he understands some of the moods I have and me trying to hide in being distracted.  I woke at midnight but couldn’t bring my self to get up.  I laid there watching the clock, the thoughts in my head fighting with each other.  Some telling me to get up and do computer stuff, the other voices told me to stay in bed, ignore everything, maybe sleep.  A couple of times I did sleep for a few minutes until the dreams turned bad, and I woke up agitated.  Once Ron woke me asking if I was OK because I was having a bad dream about my abuse and verbalizing it.   At 2 am, I reminded my self of my promise to get up and work on comments.   At 4 am, I told my self the outside cats needed to be fed and cared for.  Finally at about 5 something I forced my self out of bed but mostly because my stomach was hurting due to lack of food (something I knew all too well and was triggering on its own which caused its own bad feedback loop in my head.   As an adult in a restaurant I would order far more than I could eat, and it took Ron a long time to teach me how not to do that.  At home I would cook for far more people than the two of us could eat.  When Ron would cook I would fill my plate with far more than I could eat.   Only after I told him how I had been denied food, hospitalized and went clinically dead from being starved and was suffering malnutrition for long periods of my childhood did he understand.  If my grandfather had not grabbed me and taken me to the ER I would not be here.) and plus my bowels needing relief.  

I got up and was doing well, I feed and took care of cats, I did other chores and went to town on the computer stuff I needed to get done.  But yesterday the water was off for most of the day, so we didn’t wash the dishes from yesterday.  So about 10 am I started washing dishes, cleaning up the kitchen, and washing the more dishes.   Also pre-making the coffee for morning.  For some reason that whole thing took me until 2 pm!   During that I had to take extra medication, and now I am having a vodka cola drink.  

All this to say, I am going to concentrate on current comments while saving posts so that by morning they won’t disappear.  I will work as long as I can (Ron has already been asking me what I want for supper as he knows how tired I am and wants to make sure I eat before going to bed) doing the comments and will save those I don’t get to for tomorrow, which should be a slower day.  I saved all the comments from the last few days so if you left comments know I will answer them, I really love that you commented.  Thank you.   It just has been a struggle for a few months with my memories, emotions, and my body.   Hugs, loves, best wishes to all.   Scottie

It is exciting, I am opening up to the world again.

So I am excited, let me explain.  Even before Covid, I had started not wanting to be “out in the world”.  But after Covid hit, we stopped going out at all.  But Randy came to visit from far away and we all went out to eat.   I had a good time, but it was outside on the water and I got cold.  So Randy and his folks are coming up and we are going back again.  I love it.  Ron went into his closet and found a heavy coat / jacket for me.  It is only 67 outside.  To me, that is call out the national guard weather.  So I am excited to see Randy and his folks again. Last time we ate there, I got just the quesadillas and I could only eat two of them.  I gave the other two to Randy.  I really want to try the chili, so I am not sure what I will order.   So at some time I will stop responding / blogging and you will know we went out to eat.   Hugs.    Scottie

Crap, it is 4:45 pm and I did not get to comments again.

So I woke up at 2 am and I got up at 3 am this morning just to get through a lot of stuff I have been putting off.  But all day other things came up, I did read and post news articles, and I have a 3:12 hour video from a trans YouTube creator I like who was unfairly attacked and mistreated, and now that everything has come out in her favor she is taking a victory lap by going over every aspect of the case.  Yes she is a bit of a drama queen but her attacker spearheading the abuse directed against her is a total lying massive drama queen who seeks attention by stoking the idea she is being harmed or attacked.  

So on and off I had to take rest breaks, and I did the dishes which took up most of my morning because I can not just stand at the counter to do them, but have to do some, go sit or lay down, get back up and do some more.  When I talk about how hard I work, it is within my own limitations.   I think normally able folk could run circles around what I do every day.  Anyway.  

I am very tired.  I was going to have one half of the leftover thick pork chops with stuffing on top that Ron made last night.  I had the first half last night and it was great, so I planned to have the second half with a salad instead of the potatoes he served with them last night.  But Ron forgot the plan and made me a very large salad and I struggled to eat it all, stopping twice to take the rest to him.   But salad with dressing is not good after being in a refrigerator, and I know Ron gets upset if I don’t eat a certain amount at night.  All week I have gone without any insulin as my blood sugars are so low.  Not the fast acting at meal times nor the long acting at night at 10 pm.  Remember recently my blood sugar levels were in the dangerously low territory due to me taking the insulin.  I still take a metformin pill twice daily that is to regulate my blood sugar.  The only reason they put me on insulin is because of my monthly steroids, which the pills won’t help with.   So Ron is very insistent I eat before bed, no matter what time I go to bed.  He also has me now take my blood sugar around 10 pm when he comes to bed because he wants to make sure I don’t take the insulin if my BS is already low.  My hubby should have been a doctor or at least a PA.  

Because it is early, but I am so tired, and I don’t want to lose comments of other bloggers posts I am going to start a 6th tab with the last few days of stuff, so I don’t lose them.  I hope to get through them soon.  But tomorrow I plan to go grocery shopping with Ron, we find it so much easier if we do it together, so I might not get to many of the saved ones.   Hugs.  Scottie.  

It happened again

Over the end of the week emergency doctors visits and helping Ron, then feeling totally worn out, I again lost track of the comments.   The farthest that the WordPress bell will let me go back today is  

OK I am listening. I need suggestions.

I have 374 open tabs in 5 windows.  Some from about a month ago.   But more important than responding or reading them I need your suggestions, your ideas.   I make great spaghetti red sauces.   Ron and I love them.  I make my base with three 28 oz (1 pound 12 oz) 794g cans of normally Dei Fratelli cans of tomato sauce but sometimes use Hunts if I can not find those.  I find Hunts far sweeter, and we often don’t like our red sauce sweet.  I never measure the seasonings I put in which includes the onion / pepper / celery that Ron chops to the size he likes for me to put into the sauce.  Plus I use a lot of minced garlic. Often I start with three teaspoons of it to then after add another three as it cooks.   Yes, we love garlic.   We once used chopped garlic cloves that Ron chopped for me, but we found it was easier and more favorable to just get minced garlic from the store.   That also includes the amount of hamburg he gives me to use, which might be between one pound and two plus pounds.   Also I used to use ground sausage, which was a change from me peeling Italian Sausage links and slicing them.   I would rather just put sage into the sauce than the sausage, as sausage makes a red sauce greasy.  My red sauces often come out different each time due to all that not measuring but going on feel / smell / taste, which we both like to cook that way.  We make a large amount every couple weeks, normally about four days or so from when we finish the last of it.  Plus while we say each time this batch we will freeze some for later, we use it for other things and eat it too soon to do that.  As I said we enjoy it and it is something in our budget we can afford.  We use it to make many different things.   This batch along with the pasta I cooked (because when I cook I make far too much as you might notice.  Ron doesn’t complain because my former therapists say it is because of how often I went hungry, begged for something to eat, and once ended up in the hospital in critical care and then went into clinical death due to malnutrition.  Sorry but while my heart stopped and nothing worked I did not see any gods, but I did feel a great sense of relief and lack of pain as it was happening.  Which came back as I was being shocked and handled to return to life)  Anyway this batch is already slated to be used with a large baking container of baked Ziti.   Trust me, we will find something to do with the rest.  Oh did I mention the 40 to 60 homemade meat balls Ron makes.  He uses the small cookie scoop and they are about just larger than bite size and so grand.  He makes so many because often he will go into the fridge when I am not looking and eat a bunch as a quick snack, and we both love them in hoagie rolls as meatball subs with my sauce.   So all total it takes about 3 to 4 pounds of hamburger for each sauce I make. 

Now with all that over information and long intro (I keep getting reminded / chastised recently that I am too long “winded”, that I use too many words to say what others could do shorter.  Sorry that is me and I am not going to change, but if it bothers people they either shouldn’t read what I write or I shouldn’t comment to their blogs)

Anyway the reason for this post is I need your suggestions … for making a good chili.   Every time I make mine I start it like a red sauce but instead of the those seasonings I use for that, I use more beef ones, like fajita such seasonings.  I also add a lot of kidney beans, often three cans of them.  I have tried making them thick and liquid juicy.  And while they always taste good and we eat them, they lack what we get when we get a good chili when dining out.  

Please don’t send me to cooking videos.  I just can not get anything out of them.   One of my favorite podcasters has a second cooking channel, yet when I try to watch his videos even though he was school trained and is a great / was a professional chef I just lose interest.  I can not follow or remember and find my self more interested in his surroundings or cookware.  When I try to tell Ron about it later, I can not explain how to cook the dish itself.  

But I really want to make a good thick chili that is mild but able to be seasoned up with the individual hot sauce Ron and I use.  I like Crystals myself.  It is labeled as from Louisiana, but who knows?  I am willing to make small amounts to try them.  Ron and I have even resorted to eating a couple brands of canned chili, they are thick and brown rather than made with the tomato sauce base I use.    But while good enough if I could recreate them and add my seasonings to them it would be better, yet I can not seem to recreate them.  

So if you have a favorite chili recipe you like to make, please put it in the comments.  I will give it a try.  We love chili, and often went out to restaurants that we knew had great chili we enjoy, but since 2020 we have not been out to eat yet.  Yes we should but …  

Anyway this is my very long winded / typed request for all of you to send me your favorite homemade chili recipes.  I will let you know if we try them.  I am hungry just thinking of them.   Hugs.  Scottie

An update to my post … Shit, shit, he knows, hell I told him. It hurts. He hugged me

Several concerned wonderful people have contacted me via email and other online ways including comments here.  I want to thank everyone.  Even if in my replies I stumbled a bit.  But mainly everyone wants to know how I am doing and how Ron is handling it.  

That night as I wrote, Ron came into the bedroom where I had retreated to trying to hide my tears.  He was very gentle, moving slow enough to not startle me in any way, and rubbed my back and arms until I fell asleep.  The next day that morning he was so soft with me, again trying not to be in any way abrupt with me, and even though we were rushing to get things done before his sister got here for a visit.  He asked me several times if I wanted to talk more.   Then she arrived.  

While his sister has been here, we can not talk openly about my abuse or what I told Ron about it.  It would kill me.  So Ron has been finding me alone either in the bedroom or in the Pink Palace, and quietly telling me he loves me, holding me and asking if I am OK, or at night holding me close and telling me how much he loves me.  At night he asks if he can hold me or if I would like to hold him.  Anything to be close in a nonthreatening manner, to remind me those days were far behind me.  

If that was the end of the story, I would feel better.  But I have a building nervousness.  After his sister leaves, he is going to want to talk.  At some moments I want to … and at others I feel so much unease about it. I doubt he would want more details, and if he did I would give it, but that is not Ron’s way.  But he is going to want to talk about me, how I am feeling, about what I need to move forward and heal.  And I simply don’t know what to tell him.  All my life until just a short time ago I tried hard to bury it, to ignore it, to deny it.  Ron really understood I was suffering in 2014 when I had my breakdown and started cutting my self again while refusing to leave my bedroom.  I have not even shared the details with my doctors, only telling my primary I was abused as a child and also because she noticed the fresh cuttings on my arms and needed answers before she would give me my needed treatments / medications, I told my pain doctor.   Her response was wonderful and the only doctor who has done this.  She inquired if she could hug me, and I told her I would like that.  So we to this day always start each visit with a hug and end it with a hug. She also was the one who helped me get therapy at a cost I could afford and I have not seen it show up in any of my records.  

So I have anxiety over what Ron will want when his sister leaves.  But also I know now that Ron will be careful and gentle with me.  But even though I told him some, I left out so many details.  Should I tell him more?  Do I go back to hiding everything?  I am so uncertain and worried.  I know I shouldn’t be, he loves me and he proved he will not hold my abuse against me, he has shown he doesn’t think I am all the things they told me I was.  But still I am worried, I am scared.  Hugs.  Scottie

I am sorry for posting so many videos.

I am struggling emotionally.  I am sorry I am posting videos.   It keeps me from having to acknowledge or admit my current feelings.  I just admitted to my husband of 33 plus years something I had kept vague, and every thing about humans says would make me damaged.   So I just don’t want to deal with life really, I guess.  But that is not a choice, so I am moving gently forward.   Hugs.  Scottie

Shit, shit, he knows, hell I told him. It hurts. He hugged me.

I don’t really know how to write this.  It has been so upsetting to me, yet he needed to know, and his not knowing was also becoming a problem.  I was trying so hard to hide it all from him that it was causing him to wonder why some things were causing me to have issues.  

Yesterday I arranged for each of us to get three vaccines from our local Walgreens pharmacy.  We both got the covid, the flu, and the RSV vaccine shot.  Then today I went and got my three allergy shots.  

When I got home I started doing dishes, Ron talked about not wanting me to work so hard in the house, as he was trying to get a door up between our living room and the rest of the house that the Hurricane Ian ripped off.  But then we started talking.  And my world went South, East, North, West, and all over the map.

I don’t know how the conversation came up, but it had something to do with my adoptive family and the hell spawn that abused me.  Ron said something about one of the hell spawn siblings, and it just slipped out.  I really never wanted to tell him, I told myself I wouldn’t.  But dogs that love gravy I did.  

I told him how the hell spawn knew I was adopted, and because there was an ambiguity over if I was really a member of the family or not.  Because the adoptive mother wanted me, but it became clear fast the adoptive father did not.  He made it clear I was not a member of the family.  But when I stopped being a cute toddler, she lost interest in me also.  

But back to today.  Ron mentioned something from the hell spawn, and I just started to tell him.  As I have said in 2007 on our way home I told him I had been abused but never told him more details and he said he had figured that out.  But then he has lived with me having terrible nightmares where I relive being raped or beaten.  So really I understood he would understand.  He has woken me when I was begging or screaming in my sleep.

I am not sure how it started now, my mind is trying hard to bury it.   But I started by telling him of the Vet across the street that was fucking me at 4, then I told him the worst of it, starting with how the hell spawn daughter / sister who was in charge of us at night would get her boyfriend sexual excited and then let him have me to satisfy his need.  She got pregnant at 14 like her mother, married by 15.  Three marriages, two of her husbands would molest / rape me.  One of her husbands loved to play with little boys wieners, especially when he was inside me.    I told him how each of the male hell spawn of the family who were teens used me repeatedly.  And how they let their friends have me.  I told him one of their fun games was forcing me to the top of the staircase, then pushing / throwing me down it.  Betting on how far I would go, how many times I would bounce, stuff like that.   And then the most painful, I told him parts, but not all of the abuse by the adoptive father.  He more than any others enjoyed hurting me. Maybe because he never wanted me at all, but regardless, the things he enjoyed doing to me, I still can not face today.   

Once I started, I just couldn’t stop.  I told him of the beatings, the sexual assaults, the fear of them all, the time the one hell spawn I thought I could trust to be my friend lay on top of me hitting me saying admit your gay, admit your gay.  I was 5 years old and she was 10, and had no idea what she was hitting me for.  Then she said because guys fuck you, you play with their dicks.  What, why is that wrong?  It is not like I had a choice!  I told him of the beatings, and other attempts to break my bones, and how the hell spawn used me sexually.  I nearly broke when I told him how one of then raped me so badly, I described to him how I was then beaten for soiling my sheets.  One of the hell spawn like to pee on me at night to get me into trouble, and when I finally got a bed I would wake up to him peeing on me and I knew in the morning I would again be blamed for wetting the bed.  The adoptive parents either did not believe me or thought it funny.  

He already knew how until I was like 7 or more, I slept in a hallway, because as my adoptive mother told me I did not need or deserve a bedroom / bed like the other kids.   Often they would take me to their beds, and I knew the price for the privilege and yes I willingly paid it.   Wouldn’t you?  I told him parts of my summer in Canada, and he said it explained why I wouldn’t have anything to do with the adoptive father’s mother when I was an adult and she would be visiting.  I refused to be in the same room with her.  He always wondered about that.  

I could go on, but I got a lot of stuff out that I had hidden from him.   Then suddenly after I was done explaining everything to him, or at least a lot that he did not know, I suddenly had the fear I always have had all my life.  I suddenly worried he wouldn’t love me, I was damaged, I had been fucked by a lot of boys / men not him.  I was less than, used and … Hell and shit, why did I tell him so much I had kept hidden!   Why now damn it!  34 years I had kept it hidden … yet today I exploded with the sexual and physical abuse information.  I know that is stupid to think that way, but he never knew the details.  I had kept them from him, leaving it vague.  He knew I was abused, but not the details, now he knows details.  

I did not even tell him about the court ordered visits to doctors or therapist. And how the cop that escorted me used it to have a tryst with his mistress, with me listening through the open door, seeing some of it.  Thankfully I don’t remember him telling me to join them, but as conditioned as I was, I would have.   

But as I was getting to the worst of it he sat next to me, and then as I was starting to falter and feel I did the very wrong thing, he slowly reached out to me.  I realize now that he did not want to trigger me. He stood up, came over closer and gently hugged me.  I was trying to say I was sorry, I did not mean to tell him, but he just held me.   Then after he let me go he suggested I go wash my face but he told me as I turned away.  “I love you, I have always loved you.  This changes nothing how I feel about you.” He said a lot of comforting things, things like they can’t hurt you and you won’t ever have to see them again, some are dead.  But he knows they still hurt me, they haunt me.  The memories are always there somewhere, waiting to pop back up.  

He made me a small supper but I was so upset I hardly ate.   Then he suggested I go to bed for a while.  But I struggled to sleep.  He came down to check on me and then rubbed my back and arms until I fell asleep. 

All that happened yesterday.   We got up about 3:45 am because Tupac wanted food and then out to do what cats do outside.  I am fixing errors, stuff that needed reworking, then I will post it.  Ron is treating me really softly this morning, he knows I got very little sleep.   My emotions are all over the place, my nerves are raw.  Maybe getting it out, letting him know the details, maybe the memories will let me rest, let me be for a while.   I have a doctor’s appointment this morning.   Oh well.  Hugs to all.