cottonsox

This is a bit of a more personal thing, which feels weird to..

Published: June 3rd 2024, 8:10:42 pm

This is a bit of a more personal thing, which feels weird to say considering I post very personal things like my naked body and such, still I kinda feel like this is even more personal than that stuff.

If you enjoy my TikTok’s/Reels, you probably know I have a real issue with the wind. I don’t know exactly how much my dislike for it comes across; do I sound like a funny clown complaining about a completely expected outdoor phenomena, or is it apparent just how badly it gets inside my head and ruins the experience of being outside?

I like being outside, well, I want to be outside. I love the fresh air, the smells of flowers and cut grass. I love how the air is seasoned by the nearby ocean, I love the sun on my skin and the colour of the sky. If only that were all there was outside my door.

It sounds pathetic, hating the wind. I always worry someone is going to call me silly for complaining about it, no reasonable person would go outside and expect the elements to cater to them. Truthfully, I don’t expect the wind to leave me alone, I know moving air is a fact of the outdoors, that’s why I go outside regardless. It doesn’t change the fact that when the air moves around me, ruffles my hair, chills my skin under my clothing, It makes me feel violated.

No matter how I try to think about it, the wind feels like a predator. Some malevolent presence hiding outside my door, waiting so it can touch and harass me when I dare to leave the safety of my room. It will patiently linger, still in the sky, letting the branches in the trees and the leafs on the floor rest peacefully to fool me that it’s not there when I look out my window. It will watch me from a distance like a stalker while I leave my home and wander, holding itself back with practiced restraint until I’m far enough away from safety that it can jump on me, and then it will. Far from home, just as I feel safe, the wind will slip its cold hands through the fabric of my clothing and grope me. An invisible pest who takes great pleasure in inflicting itself on my helpless body. That’s how it feels to me. I know the wind has no intentions like that, it can’t plot or plan, but my body and my brain feel this way regardless.

It’s been a long time since I brought it up, but I was the the victim of sexual abuse for most my life. When the wind runs over me, I am just put back there in a way which is surreal and painful. A light breeze feels like an unwelcome hand caressing my breasts. A gust is a savage hand gripping my hair to tug me to the floor. Gales are an oppressive crowd I can’t escape from and I am a little girl whose clothes are being torn off and exposed and I am helpless and scared. I know, logically, this is not real. But it is real.

I don’t want to be touched, I don’t want to be seen. Do you know why I spend so much time in that grave-yard? It’s not because I’m a quirky weirdo who’s made that her thing, it is because it is one of the few places nearby with few people and shelter from the wind and I go there because I can be outside and feel safe there. I wan’t to go to other places but I just can’t manage it right now.

I wish I wasn’t like this. Facing it is supposed to help but I don’t think it has. The other day I went out to make a video and the wind blew my skirt right up in-front of a man. He saw it, he looked straight up my skirt and saw my panties, it was truly the worst possible thing that could happen. I only want to be seen like that on my own terms.

That’s probably why I like to explore scenarios like this through drawing and writing about them. Even if I depict a horrible scenario happening to myself, I am the one in control of it. Everything that happens in something I create is safe, it’s fantasy. I wouldn’t want any of this to happen in real life, I guess I’m just trying to take possession of the times when I had no control and lost possession of myself.

That’s why, when I think about what could have happened if that man had lost control and become the wind in that moment, if he’d decided that seeing my panties was enough consent to throw me down and take me right there in the empty street or lead me away fawning to take his time with me, it’s a relief in a fucked up kinda way. I’m still in control and I’m owning what is probably the worst possible way it could have gone.

Anyway, I think I’ve kinda lost the point of what I was trying to say, I hate the wind.

Love you XOXO