My history with discomfort from unwanted physical contact-Part 1

Note: This is not going to talk about sexual assault. These are just going to be parts of a story where I share an impactful moment of discomfort due to people not understanding my boundaries. Pretty much an explanation of the reason why I am the way I am.

So, for as long as I can remember, I’ve been in uncomfortable situations with either being touched or my personal space being invaded. This is going to be a little series, I don’t know how many parts yet, of me pretty much explaining why I have issues with people- even ones I trust- touching me in any sort of way.

For starters, I have one of those “creepy great uncles” that is pretty much a pedo in hiding. He hasn’t actually done anything, to my knowledge. All I know is that he makes comments about young, female, family members and possibly has some bad porn on his computer which he wouldn’t let me near when I offered to fix a volume problem he was having one day. I guess calling him a pedo is going a little too far, but I hate him so I don’t care. When I was much younger, say about 10+ years old, he’d always want portrait style photos of my female cousins and I. Usually, he would get us all together and then individually which wasn’t too weird until I noticed he rarely took photos of my brothers or male cousins in the same way. I remember asking him about it when I was in my early teens and his response was something to this nature, “Well y’all girls just grow up so fast.” I kid you not. That was just about word for word. So, I made a comment about my brothers also growing up and he either didn’t hear me or ignored the comment. From then on, I made a mental note to not visit him as often as I could. However, my mom didn’t like me going so long without seeing my great grandmother who was living with “creepy great uncle” so I was forced to go until I turned eighteen when she knew she couldn’t force me to go, anymore. My brothers still went and would report, frequently, to me that “creepy great uncle” was always asking about me. Also, he gave my brothers and I the same present every year for Christmas: $$. At one point, my twin brother and I didn’t show up for the holiday and my brother’s money was given to my mom who also asked for mine since she knew I didn’t want to show up and wouldn’t for as long as I could push it. However, “creepy great uncle” simply told her that I had to show up to get mine. Even my mom found that odd which is funny considering she’d ignore me everytime I told her how creepy I thought he was. He always made comments about “how red” my face was and that I was probably blushing because he was around. He made the same comments to my mom which she just shooed away but everytime I told her that I hated the comments, she just brushed it off as him making a joke. *cough* what the fuck kinda joke is that? I even talked with my Nana about the comments he made. My Nana is his sister and she would tell me stories of him making a lot of women uncomfortable and how she and my granny, their mother, would have to keep him in line. My Nana listened to me much more than my own mom and told me to stay away as long as I’d like and that she would handle talking to him if anything came up. She even told me about how he’d joked to one of my (many) aunts about “stealing her baby” to which, I guess, everyone but my Nana played off as just a little joke. It might have been, who knows? Not very many people trust him, though. I’m not going to see him for as long as I live and when he dies, I’ll be one step closer to happiness and I don’t care how negative that sounds.

Honestly, I’d hoped that sharing part 1 would make me feel better but I just don’t feel like I typed any of this in a clear way. Maybe I’m just overthinking it, as usual.

Published by iffybiffy

Hi! I started this blog to give some college tips and talk about my anxiety and experiences. Recently, the blog has grown and we are currently adding some members with their own agendas to the page. We hope you enjoy what we post!

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