This is not an easy identity. It’s usually denied by others, misunderstood, ignored, mocked, adamantly denied, very rarely, encouraged or respected. Many have blatantly ignored this part of me. I was born in the middle of the 1950’s, in the middle of a family of five children. As a young child I was harmfully ‘schooled’ to contribute to man & boy’s desire to do sex with me. It was not until I reached my 60’s that I found respect in myself for my true self and sparse respect of it from others and now I have so much peace communicating it. Much to the angst of those who had other ideas about and for me. Many of those ideas due to my own lack of ability to communicate me assertively.
PTSD+Fibromyalgia+other physically debilitating and conflicting illnesses did not help me at all, in fact they hindered me. My own ‘sex’ schooling had been successful. It began with a traumatic event in my infancy, covered up by those responsible for the wrong doers. I had no chance. Because I was so young when it happened they all believed I’d forget it. It kept haunting me, in so many ways. Still does. My brain automatically blocked it then for a few years. Forcing me to ‘pretend’ even more. I did manage to seek out some real interests and I had some real happy moments, usually with siblings or, horses and forests beaches and other natural wonders. There were many horrid distractions though.
It felt like I was observing my own life but nothing in it was happening to the real, asexual, me. Surely it couldn’t be? Because the love I felt for the natural wonders of the world and all people was part of the true, the real…wasn’t it?
In the 1960’s the sexual revolution arrived, where all were supposed to shut up and put out and love sex without attachments, a man thing that many sex loving women accommodated. Absentee paternal parents began to rise in number. But, only women and many of the children were shamed for the ideal of man. Still now, when absentee paternal parents are accepted without argument, there’s little shame about that felt by men. Women and their children are burdened with misplaced ‘shaming’ though. Why is that even allowed to be an accepted concept? A baby has been conceived, a new life, a child has been grown and hopefully will develop to an adult. Stop with that shaming of women and children bollocks. Begin a new path of shaming equally, the man. Better still no shame, even better no paternal absenteeism. Let’s see more purposeful parenting of a loving and supportive nature it will improve the lives of children and adults no end.
Myself having been sexually ‘used’ and abused kept quiet about my lack of desire for sex. I was caught up in the wilful desire of others to do it with me or with whomever else they wanted to ‘match’ me with. Ignoring or snorting in disbelief if I even mentioned I wasn’t interested or utilised the word ‘no’. I had no notion of my rights…many desiring to use me ignored them too. That I could say no loudly, fight them off, or say no quietly and be respected, was not known to me. I was already beaten into submission. I was on automatic response, with a ‘let’s get this over with and remain alive and unbeaten’ mind-set. It was a living nightmare for me which I managed quite successfully to hide. I wanted none to know they were hurting me. Why was that? Fibromyalgia made it physically painful too.
The real me kept shrinking. I’d given up on being accepted for who I truly was/am. The freedoms and rights of other individuals to desire to do sex to me, was imposed on me, a mind-set made for me, used by me in ignorance and that, at the expense of my own self. In fact I lost decades, hiding in that protective outer shell. Described as something I wasn’t by others. It was like being in a very long universal and local theatrical production, made ultra dramatic by other cast members. All of us ad-libbing. This madness added to by hormone experiments I was used in, done to NHS patients without true and full disclosure, all to benefit private patients. Mostly benefitting wealthy men who cannot accept that their women are made impotent by menopause or something similar. Sickening actually.
I was given an injury from an assault at work when aged forty years plus seven months, (January 1996) which rendered me in even more pain and unable to work for the rest of my life. I was initially traumatised for months, then I slipped into shock, a typical state at that time for me to live in. I then moved into the long process, unsupported by any, of management of the grief of not being able to work, or socialise. I was no longer involved in the sex part of the theatrical play. That was the grace part of the horror of the physical assault, the injury and not being able to work. Added to by the denial of it’s serious impact from those protecting the assault giver.
Ringing bells now and it triggered memories and anxiety attacks stemming from incidents of beatings and the imposition of desired sex of others, imposed on me in my infancy added to by other sex ‘incidents’ when I was a child and as an adult and .. the beatings .. traumas that happened during my life, mainly, causing similar ‘hush up jobs’ to the initial childhood traumas. How cross every one of influence was that I…yes me, not those who caused me harm, even mentioned it let alone reacted to the horrors of it all. Apparently if I mentioned it or showed my true reaction I, not the attackers, brought shame to others and … myself. Misplaced shame belonging to the attackers. I’ve now mostly shaken that, misplaced on me, shame off, thanks to today’s knowledge and experiences in society, about victims rights and voices. It was bad enough that I had to ‘pretend’ I wasn’t disabled, because from childhood my disabilities were not visible, except when everything Fibro’ flared up. No one understood Fibromyalgia even at least as little as they do today. My reading difficulty, likened to and now even spoken of as dyslexia. Mixed with a Fibro’ fog the extra reading lessons I had as a young person, to give me ‘tips’ about managing that part of my life and hide the mis-labelled ‘shame’ of it, go out the window. Now 65, when I’m brave enough, I let people know about my reading an understanding language difficulties and they help without shaming me👍
That final injury at work, gave me much needed ‘alone’ time alongside such debilitating physical hip and spine agony that I was muddled in the head trying to ‘manage’ it without help on a daily basis, and still found some interest, happiness or distraction but it was very loud pain. Reduced only in later years by reclining and medication. Even with support and medication when I move or sit stationary in my wheelchair for any length of time loud, TOO LOUD PAIN screams in my body and brain. I am angry that the attacker forced me to claim benefits and be in need of much more medication and medical consultations, expensive scans and such at cost to the tax payers not him or his family. The ‘organisation’ of his protection racket reached far and wide, I was refused industrial injury benefit as well as being insulted by their indifference to my self worth. Often I’m seen as a ‘drain’ on society whereas before the injury I was working, all be it for low wage, paying my wack and would by now, have completed training programs enabling me to work on well beyond normal retirement age, earning more than a catering assistants wage and paying more tax and NI into my country’s public fund pool. I was planning the courses necessary to train catering assistants. This with supportive reaction from the bosses. Head chef was my brother but like he said when I first approached him for work, “I can get you the interview but not the job. You have to earn that.” The training job, once qualified, would have suited the Fibromyalgia aspect of my physical illnesses beautifully but, it didn’t happen thanks to a privileged, overly pampered, 14 year old public school boy thug. Who got off Scott free at tax payers cost! Yep, still finding anger about those insults adding to the injury and illnesses. Shameful behaviour from him and all protecting him, shameful.
Very recently, last year to be precise, women began helping me, not men, women without a male mind-set. The help they give is most welcome. I am made aware that there are some helpful men mindfully respectful of the existence of asexuals in this world but I’ve yet to encounter them in person or see them in public.
The time I had alone, isolated if you will, I used to purposefully shed the victimised, misunderstood character I’d been expected to be for the theatrical plays of man and woman. Now aged 65, I am completely at mind-set peace. In pain, managing that to the best of my ability with medical assistance as and when. Now I’m mostly content with who I am. I am finding my voice and putting all the fragmented pieces together. Yes I have much of the needed help and support. I have suffered through many misunderstandings and denials of my illnesses to get that help. Yes I believe I still have quite a lot to contribute to my locality and further afield in society. Skills gained along the journey, in the play, useful to myself and perhaps to others. I now choose whether to socially encounter people. But due to my physical illnesses which not only limit how long I can sit in stationary position before pains begin their loud, undeniable screams but also have degenerated, so I choose virtual socialising when able.
I have an incredible little dog. She’s a cross mix breed with dachshund and springer strengths and weaknesses because of the unusual mix. Often mistaken for jack russell but not. She encourages me to get out and endure pain for a park visit. Luckily for me the distractions from the loud noise of pain are plentiful within time limits. I’ve managed nearly two hours on more than one occasion. She loves mixing with other dogs and, is getting used to humans, in fact enjoying the brief company of quite a few now. We are very lucky in this area to encounter a lot of friendly people, both genders, briefly though with no funny business involved. Very lucky, so far. Wheelchair condition allowing…that’s another one to tell…maybe. My relationship with her blossoms. She’s a traumatised rescue so we have a lot in common.
I have to encounter people in support networks of both genders. I do my best to dismiss any theatrical dramas and get to the truth of matters quickly. Fibro’ fog and other pain screaming in my body and brain. Not from my mouth, (schooled young about screaming in pain) doesn’t always help me, in fact confounds and perplexes medics.
I’m finding folks of all ages who’re not in the play either, they’re easier to communicate my truth with, than those who insist on being part of the global theatrical games. Those who insist on the play, rapidly discover that I’m no longer part of it. My asexual truth is now ‘out of the closet’ as they say. My ability to be assertive to any, is improving but needs help and work. I still have concerns that I’ll be physically beaten, those come and go in the form of panic/anxiety attacks, usually after disclosing the real me. I am on a waiting list for trauma therapy. Only been waiting 40 years to get on a waiting list so, it’s a busy field folks. Very busy, do not expect the UK health services to be otherwise, too many jump the queues using their pretences. Shame on them all, especially those enabling them.
I look forward to the day others feel able to step off the global stages and help with the task of clearing up the catastrophic, harmful situations ‘players’ keep adding to or, are creating…Yes I do. It can and it does happen.
I see the children born off stage and crying out loud for the damaging play to stop. I am in awe of them, I was a little jealous at first that they are free of the stage from birth. Only a little jealous, it was brief as I clearly see that they have their own mammoth plights. I aim to help them whenever I see the opportunity to do so, having stepped off, well…been shoved off that global stage straight into the turmoil it created. I contributed to parts of it myself, even though I was unaware there even was one, born into the play and prevented from leaving it for a long time. Now my real life and works begin, still young enough to enjoy my new found freedoms…yus.
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Any, while reading this piece, who assume or conclude, from their own thoughts, that I don’t like men, would be wrong. I just don’t like and cannot love, how mad-bull loud they are about their desire for sex. I also absolutely detest any man’s or woman’s desire to kill other people. How casually indifferent, often cruelly argumentative, they seem to be when called up about those two unlovable to me, desires.
I do love people of all gender identities. Absolutely yes. All can be caring, creative, funny, hilarious even, interesting, kind, supportive…oh the list goes on into all sorts of lovable. Yet not all choose to make loud those lovable aspects of themselves. I’ve seen those aspects in every single person I personally encountered. Yes every one. Whether they were abusive, cruel, forceful, loud &/or indifferent to me or not.
Instead the loudest choices of indifferent, unlovable sex and killing, are obvious. Sex and killing the main desires, apparently expected of all people in the world, whether they honestly desire them or not. This proven to me personally by direct & indirect experiences and observations, added to by population overloads. I observe that there exist a great many feeling unwanted by others, who, just as others, were born via sex, directly into loud and public preparations of “desire to do sex &/or killing”. This added to encouragement by public titillation, and the sorrowfulness of loved man, when he or woman he’s used to, perhaps even loves, experience impotence.
I don’t love or desire killings either, both individual and genocidal. Those desires, sex and killing are not in the least bit lovable to me or desired by me. My body and mind, react unfavourably for my liking, in those situations, when seeing them too.
I’d prefer to see the lovable parts of people, not have hinted or blatant desires about and for my sex parts. We all have them, it’s true. That isn’t anyone’s right to assume or say that we all desire, must desire, attention to them. Expectations today are so loud, even little children are exposed and consequently expected to desire it and prepare themselves for others who desire it. That is wrong. I respectfully request peace for all, including me, about those two highly emotive desires which actually are subjects that do matter and contribute to the global crises.
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R.A.S. 2020
Ruth’s Place 