And golly am I tired of it. I did it growing up to help those around me in pain set it down, unfortunately that meant keeping it in my lap. The blame for the struggle in my “surprise” birth. Really there was truth in it though, with a society that doesn’t support a single parent of either gender until a serious class shift comes in and even then there are shame issues… to the point of not allowing single parents of adoption yet the country moves away from a woman’s right to choose her life and body. Is a single mother the proof of sin this “christian” society demands in order to maintain their precious hierarchical order? Mind you many aren’t christians still live by their code. But who’s watching, right? As long as theres comfort found on similar grounds.

All this guilt I took for existing created a vacuum set of beliefs about self. To the degree of accepting any guilt in the name of having what I didn’t: connection. Not that connection is possible in falsity just that I was taught who I was held shame as a being born unclaimed. Many will say this is self created, to avoid their active impacts as they dismiss my works, washing right down their backs. They avoid their work but still I seek the better me without their aide, even if all humans need the others. No one needs abused just to be. Avoiding the truth impact places the self wholly above other. Holds space for the ego to not question self. Keeps a trauma being safe from questioning their developed behaviors. “Judgements = safety” cries the trauma brain in all black and white.

Then there’s misdiagnosis and adverse reactions to prescribed drugs. There’s my belief so certain I was to blame for all of life’s strife that I didn’t report how I or those around me were treated. I had tried that in my youth, desperate for safety, it failed and so I became convinced that it was true and I deserved hit, mocked, and isolated. The moment came when there were so many prescriptions for morning and night that holding onto my sanity was a roller coaster ride. And for seeking health through psychology via partially revealed reality, what resulted? Being arrested after accepting guilt without a crime committed.

A day of shopping for the painful cycle in action. A mall full of clothing too small, unless they were moomoos. I just barely considered overweight at the time was chronically tall and that in itself is an upsize. So here I was fully cycling from trauma, on huge amounts of psych drugs for a disorder I didn’t have because I claimed their abuse as righteous. If someone said it about me it must be true because nothing I ever said was valued: this is the belief system with its origin. The way I kept their ego’s comfortable while I attempted to bend, maybe even inside out some days to be safe.

So there I was in a major chain store: the last place I would expect fat shaming and yet the younger sizes (which were age group appropriate in style) had nothing above a medium. On any rack of fully stocked clothing. I do mean brimming with the new stock. There is was, a shirt I almost ordered from a catalog, not one size larger than medium. But more than 15 of each down to extra extra small. Multiple racks but no room for the averaged sized human. I needed a large y’all…

The drugs stolen my sanity and every way I had sought out logic slapped me in the face with a whole mall of fat shammers in the middle of a region that illustrates it as disproportionate consumer statistics. My anger grew beyond a logical space. Also known as triggered: the adrenaline plus the drugs created a fog I couldn’t see through. The injustice of the whole world suddenly linked to a single top I couldn’t even wear.

So naturally, I went to try it on to try to rectify and repair my mindset which I could tell was off yet couldn’t stop. No it didn’t fit. And my rage grew. So I did the stupid thing and sat in the changing room trying to breath myself down. I even left and smoked outside, I wish I had walked to my car instead. Because what I did during the smoke was fight with myself and reality only to find two options available (classic ptsd perspective by the way): contact the manager and confront them with the biased sizes or steal a shirt that didn’t fit and hope one day it would. Trauma mind didn’t want conflict or hit again…. So I went inside and hide the shirt in my bag. Then continued to walk around the store, wrestling myself about how illogical two choices were. How both violated promises to self for protection…just as I returned to the rack to put it back: his hand landed on my shoulder.

A shirt not stolen, even returning, I offered to pay anyway. Cop felt righteous and denied me. After going through my things and finding I had bought everything else, he continued to verbally degrade me. My trigger built, fawning and freezing kicked in: nods were all I had. But he had power and judgement and I tattoos and anger written on my face from a life of pain and injustice boiled over with the aide of drugs that made me sicker dependably. He told me I stole, and my autistic fawner agreed. As he cuffed me, I puked on the other’s shoes. Hands behind my back triggering me beyond fawn or freeze into regurgitation of acid and water, nothing to eat that day. (I wonder if I was already hyperglycemic.)

Once at jail, it was past dinner before they finished harassing me per protocol. I guess had I committed a crime the undressing and search would of been fine, but the words used to talk and explain to me were uncalled for misuses of power. But as a cptsd autistic, I accepted every word as truth. That night I had to beg for food from the guards. I asked four times before they brought a soggy sandwich. I guess thats all fifth deserves, it came with more mockery to boot.

They denied me the medication I was prescribed. Save one: the birthcontrol. Talk about an -ismed existence. Now I got the delight to detox in a room full of women who looked at me like my mother did after a long day. The triggers lay on top of eachother until my existence was a joke at best. Total insanity was setting in. All I could think about was the next day and MAYBE getting to go to court: as no solid information was shared with me until they come to bring me. Thats right, keep the prisoners unaware and guessing: what a grade A psychologically abusive system.

Triggered again by the sudden shift and total lack of knowledge as what was next I asked the same questions on repeat of the other’s present. They annoyed, ignored mostly but occassnally answered, generally with laughter. It must be great fun to watch someone spin out on drugs they were told would help in a cell for a crime I hadn’t committed. Never once did they offer a public defender or tell me how to get one. They asked for my plea and I still triggered for more than a day now, claimed guilt. Paid the court and fines. Stayed on probation a year. Waited another year to remove it from my records. My whole life on hold for a shirt marked from $32.67 to $15.63 that I was FINALLY able to put back on the rack after an hour of my medicine and disorder taking me out of logical head space due to very real -ismed corporate and government systems designed to make money, not facilitate change. Every piece of cash I had they claimed as state property, not even towards my court dues.

What was I guilty of though? Believing what a man said? Thats happened so many traumas this life: so please learn how to listen. I know survival mind makes power even more precious but these actions per the system do equal abusive. It doesn’t matter what a society allows, we know in our gut when our actions are harmful and sometimes that feels appropriate because our abusive homes taught us to accept it as a comfortable norm. Its still a choice though. And as long as we are doing it to the other, know it is being done to self on a subconscious level. I’m tired but not guilty of anything but being autistic and having cptsd; neither of those things fall on my head and yet I take more than my accountability. My heart yearns for other’s of the same flock to burst forth in a world of the hurt passing hurt. Alas, time only flows as I observe the self.