Physical Autonomy

There’s a pretty sad story about child murder in here, so if that’s not for you, bail.

Here’s a thing I discovered after therapy and weed today – during some of the times Mother was practicing murder on me ¹She was willing me to suffocate but not yet able to complete the act, or torturing me until I lost consciousness I learned several things. One was how to render myself unresponsive to escape such situations, as I discussed in Self-Induced Loss of Control. Another is the fear that I would, after this pain, not be dead and instead merely be disabled and even more trapped under her authority ²I didn’t used to imagine myself as suicidal as a child, but I can see now that what I was practicing in the pool – holding my breath – was an attempt to do it myself. I imagined that at the time as training, but I meant it like she meant it – murder training. This is also what I mean about having trouble with definitions of depression that … Continue reading. That I’d be in need of even more care and less able to do it myself.

I learned that the only survivable option was to need less from Mother over time and hope I could become completely independent before the inevitable end of our relationship. Which is still how I feel about every relationship I have ever been in – that I must have always have a plan to let it go completely. That I can only ever expect less – less care, less attention, less joy, less connection – than I have right now. That expecting anything else would risk my death.

And most recently I discoverer feels about the practical loss of bodily autonomy and the physical sensation of dying, which are conveniently wedged into the same space as the feels about authority and loss. So when I don’t want care from a physician, when I worry about being physically confined, one of the reasons is the flashback to being murdered. A flashback to the fear that I would not, if I were not lucky enough to die now, be able to escape until Mother did kill me. A current anxiety that the state might do it to me again ³One of the reasons I got married was to ensure the state would not select Mother by default in the case the assigned me a new owner. It’s also one of the reasons I changed my name. – submit my body to the control of Mother or some other authority who is not capable of or interested in helping me.

I’m not sure yet how to use this information. I can see how this survival fear pushes me away from humanity, and how it drives some of my beliefs. How parts of it came from before I had words, and how I measure my life against that state of absolute self-abandonment, when the only hope I had was the promise of inevitable mortality. I suppose the first step is to grieve about it, since it’s new and painful even for someone experienced, and find the places where it slashes at my heart.

On a related note, while confinement or other bodily subjugation is something I could adapt to, I can confidently say that I will not. Not ever again. I would tolerate it without acceptance for maybe 30 hours if I had faith in a forthcoming resolution, but I will jump off this slave ship and learn to accept drowning before I risk being sold again.

ZiB

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Sent from a phone.

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