The number one thing that has helped me in my recovery from childhood sexual abuse is reparenting my inner child. It is so hokey and 1980s and dramatic and whatever, but it has helped me. It has healed my heart. Here is a thread about how, and why, and it's for survivors.
When I was a kid, my parents used to lock me in. I was locked into that house, but I was also locked in a cupboard, locked in my bedroom, "sent to bed" for days on end.

Under those circumstances, it made sense to put a cloth to my face, make myself small, dissociate.
When I was locked in that room with that man, beaten, and suffocated to unconsciousness, and raped and humiliated, I was a young teenager. So it made sense to not want to be in the room, to go somewhere else, to be somebody else. It made sense to disappear.
When I was a kid, I lived in a house that was falling apart. There was only me, at less than ten years old, who could make things ok. There was nobody else.

Under those circumstances, it made sense to try to fix the world's problems, to take on other people's responsibilities.
When I was a kid, I had no power, no voice, no ground to stand on.

Under those circumstances, it made sense to let adult men do what they wanted to with my body, to dissociate, to take myself away in my head, to find ways not to be who I am and where I am. To drink, to use.
And sometimes, that kid that I was is so present to me. She's so present that she wants to take the driving seat.

"No, you absolutely cannot trust this person, because if you trust people they will betray you."

"Now is the time to make yourself small and hide."

"Hush, hush."
I welcome that voice. I welcome that little girl, lost and confused and frightened and hurt as she is.

I welcome her like I would welcome a foster child into my home.

Sweetheart, I tell her.

I hear you, and I understand why you feel that way. I used to feel that way too.
It's perfectly natural. It's normal, after what you've been through. But you're a kid. You're a little girl. You don't know what's the best thing for me, a grown up lady, to do.

Listen, here, I'm going to run you a bath and read you a story and give you all the snacks and hugs.
You don't have to worry about any of this grown up stuff. I got the grown up bits. It's just your job to play. I got you, lovely girl. I got your back.

I'll take care of things, ok? I'll be that grown up that you always needed. I'll be the person you needed and never had.
I boundary that lost little girl about with love. If she wants an hour with no distractions, to just eat sweets and watch a stupid film from the 80s, that's what she gets. She gets the things I needed, and never got, and she gets them under my wing.

She's safe. I got her.
I love her, but she doesn't get to drive. She is real, and she matters, and she's here with me right now, at this very moment, and she isn't afraid to say how she feels, but she knows she doesn't get to drive.

And that, for me, is the very model of child protection.
We see children where they are. We love them. We appreciate them. We do our best to engage with them in a meaningful way. We protect them and love them and trail opportunities in front of them. We protect them.

But we do not, and I cannot emphasise this enough, let them drive.

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More from @FemmeLoves

10 Nov
During our ten minute school run, morning and afternoon, my kids can request "car time."

During "car time," free speech principles apply, and they have an "amnesty" on confessing deeds - they can't get in trouble for anything they say in car time.

It started out like this:
Two kids who realised they are allowed to swear, chanting, shrieking and whooping mild swears all the way to school, cackling with delight.

That phase lasted two days. The thing that surprised me most was that they didn't go straight for the bad swears.

Then it got interesting.
They confessed to me that, about five years ago, they and their cousins had stolen, consumed and hidden the remains of a packet of jaffa cakes, then said nothing when i couldn't find them.

I ended up going to the shop to get more biscuits, which i shared out amongst the bandits.
Read 17 tweets
29 Oct
This thread got to me this morning. Probably because it is the exact same kind of thing that I used to say, breezily, to people when I taught queer theory to undergraduates. I've written about it before.

"How rude to think you would ask everybody you meet what junk they have."
My mate @DuncanHenry78 always says that there are females who can approximate masculinity well enough that they are attractive to him, but then the attraction disappears when he realises that they are females. Dick is a requirement, not a preference.
I think for men, desire is often more... obvious than it is for women. If the trouser snake turns into a lil mouse asleep on two eggs in a paper bag, then you know you don't want to. If Percy Pecker pokes out, you're onto a winner. It's more secret to women.
Read 25 tweets
27 Oct
Whatever you think about gobby, lovely women and our disagreements, I'm gonna say this.

Straight and bi women like @EcceMandy, who show up and stand up for lesbians, every single fucking time, I salute you.

As a movement, we have to get our ducks in a row, as they say.
We have to do what the gay community did a bit in the 80s, more in the 90s.

We have to recognise that we are a fucking fabulous, diverse, hilarious, wonderful coalition.

We have to unite against our common enemy.

We have to say, yes we disagree with each other, but who cares.
Who cares when they're coming for us.

Who cares when they're getting us arrested for expressing opinions.

We will have it out between ourselves, but there's a common fucking enemy and we are going after them. We know who they are. We will use their own tools to defeat them.
Read 8 tweets
26 Oct
Update: there has been some back and forth between my solicitor, the police and myself.

They have invited me again to come voluntarily to the station to be interviewed under caution.

I politely declined their offer.

They made a series of other offers.
They offered to come to my house to interview me voluntarily here.

I politely declined.

They offered to interview me voluntarily at a location of my choice.

I politely declined.

They suggested that I be interviewed by female officers.

I politely declined.
My solicitor politely declined every offer they made to me.

The police then informed my solicitor that if I was to be arrested, they would be sure to let both me and my solicitor know beforehand, and arrange a time convenient to me.

They would not cuff or manhandle me.
Read 6 tweets
25 Oct
I've been holding off on doing a crowd funder for a couple of reasons. First, I'm not sure I'm going to need a lawyer, and the first interview is legal aid funded here, and it won't go beyond that. Any work for my solicitor beyond that is to fund civil actions, injunctions etc.
I also don't want to come over like I'm grifting.

But at the same time, I'm working 40 hours a week, doing a minimum wage job, as well as looking after my home, my kids, doing school runs and juggling everything.

General terfery gets slotted in the gaps between my real life.
People keep asking me what I need, what they can do to help.

What you can do to help is free up my time.

If you send me a fiver via my buy me a coffee thing, it gives me a half an hour of free time.

It is half an hour I don't have to spend delivering pizza.
Read 4 tweets
24 Oct
You know that swooning gif that I post all the time? The one butch lesbians bring out in me? This one?

Well I'm looking through my pictures of the party last night, and you will find evidence in the next tweet that it happens in real life as well.
They asked me how I was and I grinned and told them, "I'm swooning, you'll have to catch me," and of course they did.

Reader: I am afraid I must confess to you, I wasn't really swooning at all.
Then this morning the beach to blow away the cobwebs.

There is nothing, nothing in the whole world that are better restoratives and balms to my soul than LB women's spaces, the sun, and the sea.

Why do I tweet such personal stuff about my life?
Read 9 tweets

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