TRIGGER ALERT: If you’ve been sexually assaulted, raped, bullied or know anyone who has, you may wish to pause to decide whether or not to read this post.

So, I’m lying here in bed, watching TV after some dinner and pondering my “Red Wine Test.”  This is distracting me from the TV. Or is it? If you’re at all confused about the “Test” it’s because I have developed an allergy to beer and I wasn’t sure if it was to alcohol period or if it was only limited to beer, or something in it. As far as the wine, I think I’m alright but I don’t want to drink in excess, if at all, really.

NOTE: See Twitter blather if you wish.

Which brings me back to being distracted from the TV.  I was thinking about alcohol consumption.  I was thinking about seeing my Therapist tomorrow and what I was going to say, since she knows I “have quit” drinking.  My mind then meandered off to my drinking history.

Well, to cut to the adult chase, I became a complete addict when the Bipolar hit in my early 20s.  Crazy, non-stop, drinking.  My tolerance was so high, it would probably put the “average” drinker or just the “average” adult into an alcohol induced coma.  I’m not kidding.

But as a kid? Holy fuck.  No way! I was “The Good Girl!” My older sister and I had to parent our parents.  I went good? She went bad. The whole sex, drugs, rock and roll deal.

Being an Aspie, I went to how many parties? Well, a few more as I got older.  Or maybe a few more due to this. Because the same shit happened.  Again.  And again? I just didn’t realize that this was the first. I think? And wait.  Two assaults in one night.  Yes, it was the same night? YES! Because the first one was laughing at this dumb quiz in the morning.

The guy who held the party was not only beautiful in looks but in spirit.  He helped me before the second and worst.  Fuck me (oops) about the bathrooms that night!!!

So Guy #1 drags me into the upstairs bathroom and tells me all this shit about how this is what you do, and how I’m gonna like it and he’s REALLY gonna like it and ALL the girls like it and this is WHAT I WANT TO DO TO YOU.  YEAHHHH…JUST.TO.YOU.  He went down on me and I had no fucking clue what he was doing.  I don’t know if he got off, but he didn’t ask me to give him a blow job.

Guy #2.

Break.  Dissociation.  Head Fuzz. Weird tingling in my body.  Just smoked a cigarette and took a Valium.  I’ve already taken my meds.  I hope I can sleep now.

Guy #2.  I can’t remember how old I was, but I was born with impeccable manners.  When invited to a party, always bring something for the host etc.  Non-bio dad told me as soon as I started going to any parties that he would buy me whatever alcohol I needed.  Well, I brought something for the host, much more than I needed and some for “friends” who couldn’t get any.  I was a walking liquor store.

After Guy #1, I ran back downstairs in terror and began drinking anything I could get my hands on, and doing it as fast as I could.

Bathroom #2.  I had to go to the bathroom at some point, obviously.  So I went to the downstairs one, locked the door, sat to pee and passed out–subsequently puking all over myself.  The lovely boy, the host, FINALLY managed to get the door open and was…god, I don’t know how he felt when he saw me, but I know by what he did.

I woke up and he said, “We’ve got to get you out of these clothes, but don’t worry.”  He moved quickly and tried to keep things private.  When I was naked, he gave me his robe and guided me up to a bedroom to sleep while he washed my clothes.

Guy #2.  I was so fucking out of it.  I knew him.  Host, Guy #1, Guy #2, me? All friends? Guy #2 said you’re freezing, shivering.  You’re so cold! Which I was. He was in a double bed with a duvet.  He said come in here with with me.  I kept saying, “NO! NO! NO!” Did he pick me up? Did I wander as I was freezing?

Then he started fucking me.  I tried to fight him off and I did.  He was laughing, laughing so hard.

Bullies.  Somehow, word had spread that we were in bed? We were having sex? I don’t know, but all I ended up knowing, was that while I was fighting his cock, and to get it away from me, a bunch of other kids came running up the stairs, turned on the lights and one had a camera.

Extreme adrenaline when a human must survive to live.  Right before the flash when off, I whipped the duvet over my head so only some whisps of dark brown hair were visible.  That bitch with her camera was going to pay.  The host came to my rescue again (or at least to calm down the ruckus.) But there were only the two of us in the room.  He knew I wasn’t a slut.

And yeah.  Guy #1.  How I knew he was there? I woke up to get my clothes and they were all looking at this dumb teen magazine.  The Quiz.  Just as I turned the corner, he read a question: “What is the worst thing you’ve ever put in your mouth?” He yelled out loud, not knowing I was behind him, and howled, “PAs CUUUUUNNNNNNTTTTT!!!!!”

He eventually noticed me and no expression on his face.  Like nothing existed at all.  Including the party.  Including me.


  1. In a situation like this, addictions are free to blossom. Unfortunately, the addictions create far more problems than the original situation. When I was a teenager, I drowned my trauma in sugar, which stole my mind. This had major repercussions for me in terms of my mental health.
    From Barbara Altman, author of Recovering from Depression, Anxiety, and Psychosis, available on amazon.

  2. Hi Barbara altman. True enough. Although, this didn’t fuel any of my alcohol addiction.

    I pin that on a horrific genetic history of substance abuse (not limited to alcohol but mostly the booze.) Also the Bipolar when it sent me to the moon in my early 20s (thank you genetics as well.) Wee PA is quite pro-genetics.

    However, as far as Bipolar goes with genetics, this has been known forever. It’s a “propensity.” All the ammo is there, you just need someone to pull the trigger. If you aren’t triggered, hey, you got away lucky!




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