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Whiplashsmile4 -> RE: If You Love Your Doormat... (2/26/2010 4:08:17 AM)
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Deep Thread
This has been one the deepest threads that I've read in a long time. I read slowly through each and every post. Many of which hit home on many personal levels for me.
I see bits and pieces of my life scattered in posts from different users. I can realate very deeply to the experiences and perspectives people are tossing out. It's painfully clear to me that I'm a strange composition of "when worlds collide". Dilemma, iI can not take one person's side when I can equally relate to the opposing sides. "When worlds collide".
I realize that I'm not the best writter in the world, often my sentences can be more condensed. This post my turn out lengthy.
World Collision
Ialdabaoth and jujuBee's posts both hit home with me deeply. Because as a child I was "abused" by a teenage boy that lived across the street from me. He also went to the same school. It was a central school, that consolidated all grade classes together. Needless to say I became the target victim (doormat) for physical and mental abuse as well as sexual abuse. As in addition, he had attended the same "vacation bible study" program at the local community church, yes something very ugly happen there as well.
My first experiences as a doormat happened when I was around 4-5 years old, all at the hands of 16-17 year old boy. I was not a passive doormat however, I resisted and I developed skills to protect myself. None the less, dispite this, it did not stop the attacks.
"The auditorium"
I still remember being stipped down naked and stuffed into the darkness of the school auditorium. He had taken my clothes, I did not know or realize that they layed 10 feet outside the doors. Alone naked in the dark and crying. For years afterwards I never looked at auditoriums quite the same way that normal people would. None the less, I was stranded in there, then finally working up the courage to peek outside the doors. To see my clothing, then making the decision to B-line for my clothing, scooping it up and going back inside the doors and getting dressed quickly.
when I got to class, I was a literally mess. You see this was not the worse of the attacks I had suffered by this guy, this was the first time it happened at school. A place I had always felt safe. In fact, he caught me trying to avoid him. He caught onto my secret path to class even. Still, none the less. I got into trouble and got sent to the office. I was a mess, and explained what happened to me. Nothing got done to him. In the end it was just one more sweep under the carpet's of many. I was an unprotected Doormat, the target of sexual, mental and physical abuse.
"How bad did it get"
This guys sister used to baby sit me at times, they just lived across the street. My first memory of when the attacks started, was the day she was baby sitting me and she needed to make a quick run to the store for birthday candles. It was her daughters first birthday, and I still remember the cake, it was white with red frosting trim, it was a circular two layer cake. It's a mental image forever burned into my mind, even more so considering I was staring at it later when I was telling her what had happened. She had left me with her brother while she went to the store. He needed to take a shower. Anyways, he took me into the bathroom so he could "keep an eye" on me. Needless to say, He ended up trying to stuff his cock down my throat, I ended up puking all over him, and it pissed him off that I puked on him. Yes, the experience was terrible with him trying to shove his cock down my mouth, when he had his hands on me. I felt helpless.. however, when I puked and how he reacted. I actually sort of broke out in a bit of a laugh. That did not sit well with him. He was bitching and carrying on about how I fucking puked all over him. In a sense, my magically puking powers sort of made me feel slightly empowered. Anyways, I told his sister, and she begged me not to tell. That he'd get into so much trouble. Guess his old man was a piece of shit too. I ratted him out to her. I ratted him out to my grandmother when I got back home. A lot of things got sweep under the carpet, as usual.
Still, this was just the start. There were the times when he held a knife to my throat, threaten to kill my dog and my family. All kinds of crazy mean threats. Then there was the bathroom experience at vacation bible school. He had dragged and trapped in the bathroom, had me face down in the toliet, pants stripped down to my knees, with him trying to fuck me up the ass, and the knife to my throat. I still remember him bitching about how I was too tight, him telling me to loosen up. I squeezed down as tight as I could get. I was resisting as best that I could. Still there was a day, fated when he did capture me one saturday morning. It was like the Devil literally raped me. It tore me a new asshole literally.
I remember being taken to the Doctors, I had had this cover story, because I was scared to death to tell. I made up a story about swallowing penny's and that is what caused the tearing in my poop hole. The Dr. did'nt look at like this, started to question me, and I was starting to get upset, I started to tell what really happened. My Grandmother put it to a hault, told the Dr. he did'nt know what he was talking about. Needless to say, I never saw him again. One the way home, I tried to tell her that it was not the Dr. fault. She did not want to listen to what I had to say. Sweep Sweep Sweep, it away.
A Doormat, that kept getting swept off.
"I Dispise"
If it were not for the TOS, I'm afriad I'd be cussing and swearing at some of you. Do I feel like flamming people at times, you bettcha, i seriously fracking do. If anything, it prokes the sadist urges for me to want to shove the broom stick up some sweep it under the carpet asses. Seriously, I am not nor will be a nice person about this. In fact, I would dare call people bad and foul names. I'll also will have no shame nor no remorse in doing so. There's a limit to how fuck all my mind is open, when it comes to the Topic of what is or is not true abuse. All I gotta say, if you want to sweep it under the carpet, come here, let me show you the fucking meaning of true abuse, perhaps you'll be singing a different tune, after you're pull the boom stick out your ass.
I was a doormat without trying to be a doormat, and even a resistful doormat at best. Some of you people need to look at the word Doormat from other Contexts in which it's intended to be used. I seriously question the IQ's of some people's critical thinking skills.
At the moment, I'm seeing like 3 context's of the word and how it applies, or can apply.
"Social Level Interactions"
In regards to this matter, I can relate to NZ experience as not being so popular in school. In fact, I had to figure out and learn to climb or otherwise deal with the ranks. There is in part a very Geeky side to me, yet a side to me that's rather DomiGuy and there's even a side of me that's a bit like Merc. Multiple Facets of sorts.
Any time saw a group of guts trying to do what was done to Ialdabaoth, I stepped right into the middle of things, even if it was Hazing practices going down. Mind you, this at the risk of becoming a target myself, but seriously I did not give a fuck. I developed a Masoschistic tough side that could deal with it. Plus, I was known for fucking revenge. Hence the Sadistic side of Merc I can relate too. Payback can and will be a bitch. Ethical Sadism. It tend to freak people out, when you're Masochistic and Sadistic, nobody really wants to get into a physical altercation with you.
In regards to paybacks, I'm afraid I took advantage of the School Rules even. Again, I can indentify with Merc in regards to screwing with people by the rules. Let me give you an example; Game of floor hockey in Gym class, had a problem with this one guy who was a well known bully asshole. I was his target for awhile, anyways. We are playing Floor hockey and he's trying to be all slick, pinning down my hockey and other rough illegal jabs. Him and I both were verbally going at it back and fourth. I warned him he'd better back the fuck up. He did'nt. He was being slick about it, doing crap when the couch was not looking. Okay, fine.. I'm gonna play by the rules here and put a real big fucking hurting to him. Teach his ass a fucking lesson. He went to pin down my stick.. and I simply completely let go of the whole damn thing. I planned this out too.. (wicked). The laws of physics works extremely well. All the force he had devoted to forcing the end of my stick down turned against him. WACK!! my stick literally snapped against his and right across his fucking nuckles. MAN was he pissed, jumping the fuck up and down.. holding onto his nuckles.. he was hurting extremely bad.
I was standing there fucking laughing and I truely truely enjoyed and got off from feeling his pain. My wicked Sadistic plan worked like a charm. I take pride in things, when a well thought out plan comes together. I stood there openly admitting that I had lost grip of my stick, I did not tell the couch I had planned it out ahead of time. He got into trouble because if he had not been doing what he was doing, it would have never happened in the first place. Me, I played by the rules and did not get in trouble with the couch. However, I had planned this shit out in my head. Since when can you hold somebody responsible when they just lost grip of their hockey stick? I'll unethically play by a set of ethical rules, should it be in my own best interests. At times some of us Doormats, will trip you up literally and make you fall on your face. That's perhaps one of the best things about being a Doormat, is that people don't see it coming until it too fucking late.
People tend to walk around you instead on on you, also take care in making certain their shoe laces are tied. Never under estimate what a Doormat can do. (wicked evil grin).
Actaully, it can be rather entertaining to play the role of a doormat, to see how far somebody will go. Little do they know they are being setup, and in the process are revealing more of their true nature in the process.
I really did not take pleasure in tortmenting the Geeky poeple or social misfits at school. Some of my best and better friends were such. Yet at the same time, I had a rather DomiGuy (blue collar) thing about me. Sure, I was out partying on the weekends in my teenage years. In fact, I have discovered the path of Rock-n-Roll. It was 6th grade when I made up my mind that I wanted to play guitar, mind you for more reasons besides music and music alone. I had in part a Social Agenda in mind. Climbing my way through the ranks of school bullshit socialization. In part, I was sort of a Geeky misfit myself. Not to mention the fact, that when I moved down south, I was branded a Yankee and I had to deal with some redneck motherfuckers wanting a piece of me. Again, the Doormat target of Popular games such as Smear the Queer. Being at the bottom with 10-15 kids piled on top of me. I still remember this one day. It was a special day, when I ended up giving a notorious bully a bloody nose, In a single moment my reputation changed in a heart beat. All those other kids that he had bullied, they all were praising me. I thought the world gone mad. Since when do people condone violence? I got in trouble for it, but I was well rather happy and smiling inside. Took my paddle licks in the princpals offices. This was back in the day, when kids got paddled and such at school. Then again, it helps to be a masochist, the paddle licks ain't worth a shit.
Doormats
This truely is a fun and interesting topic, because I have been a doormat myself. I've also been the kind of doormat that will let somebody walk on them for a bit, until I figure out what they are up to, then trip them up in a single instance to watch them fall face down in the ground. You'd look down at me, and see a great big smiley face. A Happy doormat. Nice to be walked around instead on upon.
I've gone out of my way to stop bullies and such from using people as doormats. People that enjoy using other people in bad ways really provoke a yummy sadistic streak inside of me. Make no mistake, I know the origins and creations of the sadist inside of me. I had to grow up with it, learned to control it and deal with it. A lot of dark urges. Stuff that got combined with sexual thoughts too. The only people that get the pleasure in seeing my inner sadistic sides, are those that wish to see it. The Masochistic people who want to play, and those Bullies or Doormat walkers that love to use and abuse people for real. At times it does spring up here and there.
I try to cause nobody any true harm, when I do cause anybody any harm, I'm playing by the rules and have some form of ethical application to what it is I'm doing.
I have been in a Doormat realtionship before, much like NZ was. Where I was held in check to some moral Idealism I had, where I myself suffered for the sake of moral values. It's a bad and costly mistake for anybody to make. One to which I have to hold myself equally acountable for as well as her. So I was a Doormat because I was a prisoner to my own moral codes. I was a Doormat, and I'm happy to admit that I was.
I'm a little shocked and stunned, that only submissives get the title of being True Doormats. I feel a little chip and jaded and robbed here. I'm sort of pondering some musing thoughts. There are times when I myself enjoy being a Doormat, Whooops... you'd better catch your fall. Then again, this is well sort of Merc like in nature.
I can't begin to bang out the full range of wealth of my own human experiences to do justice to such a topic as this. These are just my own experiences and not some text book theory, and all kinds of ripping apart of subjective labels.
A comment was made, about how it's best to keep our own experiences out of this Debate, yeah, right!! I think human experiences count more for reality compared to fiction.
There's parts of me that are like NZ, Merc, Ialdabaoth, tazzygirl, jujuBee, and other posters. All these Worlds on Collision in a thread such as this or the other threads realated to this thread. I'm sort of fuck all stuck in the middle, because the of reality of my own life experiences. Things that has shaped me.
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