The Haven ~ For survivors of child abuse.

[unregistered]

 

[KarennaC]

It's been years since I thought of myself as defeated or broken; the friend who counseled me through the end of my marriage got me out of that kind of thinking pretty quickly:

"There is no such thing as damaged. You are the same perfect, beautiful creation you were the day you came into existence. The events you've experienced have left you hurt and wounded, but wounds can heal, and while the Creator sees your pain and is saddened, it still sees the perfection and beauty it created in you. Try seeing yourself that way."

I was a puzzle with a few missing pieces, since I'd locked some of my memories and the associated emotions in a box in the back of my mind so I could function. He helped me recover those pieces, and now I'm whole. Still in pain at times when a memory strikes again or if I have flashbacks, but whole. And strong and beautiful, just like everyone else on this thread.

 

[christabelll]

My body is broken. - too many broken bones, sprains, strains, ruptures and illness over the years. Chronic illness this past year and half or so... There hasn't been a single day that I have felt truly well since August 2007.
My mind is somewhat fractured- I really don't think like others. I have an internal committee as it were - and they have way too much say over me.
My soul - is whole. That I do know and its been my faith thats kept me from doing really stupid things - ya know?

Its not always this bad for me. There are long stretches of time where I am just about like everyone else. Good times, no bad things going on, confidence sparkling like a new piece of jewelry.

Then these days - being sicker than usual. Fighting in the courts fro my children again. A neglectful SO - (don't get me wrong - he provides for me on the physical - but of late has been absentee in the mental and emotional) and struggling to bring myself up and out of the dark again.

Even though I know I am suffering from depression - I still try each day to do something - whether its cooking a meal for the SO, or writing stories, or playing games. At least I am not in bed. Most days anyway. There are days where I really can't get up (too sick physically). Lurking on various boards listening to music. It all goes around -

One day I will be well again. They will figure out why I am always sick, running a low grade fever everyday, always always always have a headache - that turn into migraines way too easily (the suns too bright, my neck cracked, I got too chilled, that upset me- round and round we go).....it sucks thats all I know. They will find a way to treat the essential tremor - the hemiplegic migraines that take me all the way down and nothing short of thoroughly confused for days. One day. One. Day.

I am so proud of all of you. It takes courage to admit the damage that was inflicted upon us. It takes courage to reveal our inner workings. It takes courage to cheer another on even when we ourselves might be bleeding.

CHEERS FROM THE ROOFTOPS

My scars are a thing of beauty and proof of strength.

 

[KarennaC]

(((Christabelll)))

Depression is a bitch. I suffered through it for years, and there were days I had to force myself out of bed. I didn't have any physical or medical problems, though, other than occasional migraines.

I can't imagine how hard things must be for you some days, Christabelll, but you have my positive thoughts and my respect and admiration for getting yourself out of bed and doing what you need to do to feel functional. I hope they figure out soon what's causing your physical problems so they can treat it.

 

[christabelll]

You are such a lovely woman ((((((KARENNA))))), all of you (((((((cattail)))))

Like I said its been worse than usual lately
I'll try not to bore you all with me going on and on about it....

Migraines are not caused by depression - but it certainly doesn't help.
Medicinal allergies leave me out in the cold most times.

I don't know what happened - one day I was going to work like any one else - having a lovely relationship take turns towards serious and permanent - the next - wham I am sicker than a poisoned dog, getting sicker, losing my job, etc etc etc...
Really Really Tired of it - so freaking tired.

So -
heres a impertinant question -or three mainly because I am curious and wonder about shit like this sometimes - my experience was extremely raw -and since I have come here more and more is coming up...

when did you realize (become Fully cognizant) that what was happening to you was wrong - against the law - not like everyone else - ( I know some of you are much younger than I am so your information base from a much younger age would have been more informed than mine)

After the knowledge was acquired how did it affect how you were in the household, in school, in budding relationships, with your abuser(s)?

Did your abusers use threats and bodily harm to keep you under control? When did that stop working? Who was the first person you told that believed you? Did your abuser keep you and your other family members isolated? ie: lived out in the country, no extracarricular activities, limited family functions (gatherings), other types of control?


I'll answer these questions too - as they are bubbling around anyway

I was fourteen when I watched a show on TV. Merv Griffin to be specific. It was the first time ever that the subject of incest and its inestimable price was being revealed ala carte to the world at large. It was HUGE when this show came on. Public discussion prior to this was nonexistant.
I remember laying in the floor of our house way up in the mountains - sweating, burning hot with ? shame?, listening to a handful of girls and boys tell the world what their parent, or extended family member has done to them. For one whole hour I listened (I was alone thank god!) and felt my entire life reshape itself around truth instead of lies and terror. I know I went around for weeks feeling so afraid - so shakey, so unbeleiving but believing because there was a name for what I was going through - there were others just like me. I was not as alone as I had believed, but I went in terror - if he had known that I knew that he had lied and used me for so long??? He really might have killed me and my mother and all my sisters still living at home at the time.

It took a while - months actually - but I started secretly acting out - skipping school, smoking cigarettes and pot LOL, kissing boys and some girls - generally it was a catalyst - my body was already mature - but my mind had to follow - and follow it did - I became defiant when he would come to wake me so I could give him a bj or be fucked before he went out on patrol - that earned me more than a few unexplainable bruises. I wasn' t telling anyone - but I sure did turn into the incorrigible - I think the first time that I scared him - yeah me scared an adult policeman - was when he was punishing me for being upset that I wasn't going to be allowed to join the swim team (I had been invited to joing because I was that good back then) - he was knocking me around the room, swearing at me, calling me names and I stood there and refused to cry. refused to cry out. I remember clearly saying to him "You can hurt me all you want but you will never get my tears again." Oh shit. sadly this set me up for being systematically beaten then raped for the next several hours - I swear that man was pyschic. He knew when to stop force me to clean up and then go hide in my bedroom until he could come up with a reason for me being covered in bruises.

it was only the last two years that my mother was married to him that we didn't live so far out in the country. Although we were still rather isolated (don't you talk to the neighbors we don't trust them) we still lived way out from the rest of the town.

Bodily harm and terroristic threats ingrained into me since the age of four. If you tell anyone - it will kill your mother - then I will have to kill you and your sisters. No one can ever know. Ever. I will kill you if you tell. These threats were usually backed up with a fist or a belt and once - yes, a two by four applied to my back butt and legs. No wonder I have back problems.......

I remember - he would tell me things - about his childhood. ABout his own abuse at the hands of his mother - his absentee father. He would plead with me for understanding. Its the only way I can really show you that I love you. He would spend hours telling me all the things he would do to me once I turned eighteen and he could touch me with no one to tell him otherwise. He would ask me, if you ever get married - will you let me come and see you so we can do this some more? That one still burns. Because sometimes its like he's never stopped. When that happens - I have figured out how to stop and regroup and explain why I've gone from hot to iceberg.... then slowly working back around so he has been shut up and I can be who I am and thoroughly enjoy myself...


The first person I told was my boyfriend. Yes I had a boyfriend - after we were away from the stepdemon. It took about a year for me to understand that he couldn't touch me where I was - half a country away - Mt. St. Helens had exploded that spring and as the ashes came down, the truth came out. He convinced me to tell my mother - and like I said earlier - a bottle of jack (hehehe thanks unca walt's liquor cabinet) and a whole lot of courage. That boyfriend is still my friend. The only friend I have left from that time in my life. He still loves me and I do love him (though not like he would prefer) we do keep in touch.

There is a healing modality that I use to help with the worst of the emotional holocaust. Tapping on the meridians using keywords to help defuse the triggers. Its potent. Its incredible. And it works if you are diligent with it. Its hard to do it alone - too easy to get caught up with the emotions being tapped in the body-mind - but it does work. WHen I first started using the technique - we were tapping on anger - becuase I was SOOOOO freaking angry - this was right after my divorce - when - I kid you not - my face started killing me - omg - the healer who was directing the session wasn't in the least surprised. My step demon had had a habit of striking my face - whether a punch or a slap. But what surprised us - was that as we were getting to the deepest anger trigger - a handprint appeared on my face. I swear to god, a handprint as angry and tender to the touch as if I had just been struck appeared. WIth her help and tons of tapping later the handprint faded and the TMJ went away with it. How awesome is that!

Anyway my dears - I am just wondering - if you will share these milestones of self....?

I think I would rather dwell on our acts of courage, our defiance, and struggle to get over, past, around the conditionings of abuse. Hope you all don't mind.

 

[mylaceratedheart]

Hey guys, Just popping in with hugs for everyone. Sorry I haven't been about the last couple of days.

 

[unregistered]

 

[christabelll]

*****Christabell***** My heart goes out to you...

Like I said earlier, my step-dad didn't threaten me...he involved me in the decision to do "what we do." He did say something along the lines of, "I'll be sad when you grow up and marry. I'll miss what we do and I'll be jealous of your husband." I think I was 9 or 10 when he said this.

OH God yes, how they involved us. Made us part of their disease in so many ways. I still squirm, still hang my head sometimes that long about 9 or ten years of age - YES - we became their confidants. Their unannounced 'mates" everything that happened to us we brought on.... "I only do this becuase its the only way you'll let me love you. Its the only way I can love you." How do we deal with this? How do we let go of the guilt and shame that at some points it was about the affection, twisted as it was? It was about recieving attention that wasn't backed with a fist? Damn I thought I had tapped that one out - apparently I haven't.
My SO while he understands intellectually - everyonce in a while he asks - do you expect me to be like him? Ice Water Message for sure. Shuts me up for a while - Do you need me yelling? Do you need me to be that terrible to you? The answer of course is Hell No. But it catches me out - learned response, fishing for that learned response. Thats how it always is isn't it? Then realizing that he is right sometimes. I deliberately provoke him - then get mad when he doesn't respond the way I have been trained to believe he should respond. Its an eye opener. The man has the patience of a saint. expecially with me.

When did I know it was wrong? Hmm...it didn't feel "right" at any time. But, there are two incidents that really stick out for me:

The first, my aunt (my mom's sister) kept me for a weekend. A survivor herself, she had "the talk" with me. You know, if any one ever touches you...your private parts are for you only...you can tell me anything. Right there I had the most amazingly perfect opportunity to tell someone, and I didn't. It had already been going on for more than a year. I felt guilty.

The second, one day after school my brother and I were watching an HBO after-school special on molestation/incest. I don't remember the specific context, the relationship between the abuser/victim, but I remember my step-dad's face when he realized what we were watching. He turned the TV off and told us the show was inappropriate and too grown-up. His face was red. I knew he knew it was wrong, too.

Yes I too was handed a few opportunities to "tell" as I reached my early teens. As much as it wanted to spew out of me - I couldn't speak of it. I was that afraid of him - and his brother (who also tried to rape me when I was 15). A family of abusers all of whom were cops. Oh yeah I was gonna say something. NOT. on your life. Even when the truth came out - and me and my baby sister were pulled out of the house by the police in our town. (My elder sister had moved out and away that winter.) They knew I was lying - they even said so - but I wouldn't speak. Couldn't speak. I just shook my head and told them no never. Two years later - I did go back and tell them everything - by then he had been brought up on charges of molesting a 13 year old baby sitter (he had remarried and had a baby daughter Lord Help Her Please). It lead to him being banished from ever returning to his home state. But that was the extent of his punishment.

See way back in the late 70's early 80's incest /sexual abuse wasn't something most were aware of unless you were a clinical psychologist or a cop. After Merv Griffin did his show - there was an explosion of information - Phil Donahue - Dinah Shore - they all began doing shows on the subject. By 1990 there were scads and reams of information out there Groups and Treatments and Reasons and Behaviors all catalogued for the masses to digest and protest. In many ways the 70's and 80's babies were much luckier than us 50's and 60's babies. There are no shadows to hid behind.

Any of you remember the book "Sybil"? Sally Fields portrayed her in the Movie Version.... That book came out then too. A fractured Soul. A horrifically fractured mind becuase of sexual and physical abuse.... Now you can see it everywhere - abuses of every kind documented etc....Just a note to consider that right about the same the information went public - we started seeing books and movies and shows dedicated to the subject.
So when you saw that show - and he turned red - you were being given knowledge much much sooner than I was. Thats why I made the reference about information bases that I (and others my age) never had.

But there are plenty of refusals to consider these things possible or true. Especially for women who level these charges at spouses, boyfriends, family members.... No way not Him nuh unh -

Oh god don't get me started on how the court systems actually do handle this stuff. Way too close to me.

Yeah the demon knew. Confided in me that he knew it was wrong. But he couldn't stop himself. my sisters and I all suffered at his hands but he Knew.

 

[KarennaC]

My experiences were different, because I didn't have ongoing sexual or physical abuse. I knew that the incidents of molestation and rape I suffered were wrong because my mother had made it abundantly clear that anything sexual was wrong, and also because I didn't want them, and as far as I was concerned if someone did something to me I didn't want, they were wrong.

The emotional abuse that I did go through on a near-daily basis... I remember having a fascination with reading about child abuse when I was pretty young, eight or nine. In one of the library books I borrowed on the subject, it described emotional and verbal abuse, and I realized that was what I was experiencing. But I wasn't being hit, I was fed and clothed, and sometimes my parents were pretty okay, so I didn't think I could do anything about it. I felt the same way as an adult when my husband screamed, swore, or threw things at me.

It wasn't until I met the friend who sort of counseled me that I really understood how wrong what I lived with growing up was. He and I were discussing, via pages-long emails, some memories and emotions that had come up for me, and he said, "I am appalled at the way your parents treated you." I've never forgotten that, because his statement gave me permission to be appalled as well, and that was the beginning of my recognition that not only had I not deserved the emotional abuse as a child, but I didn't deserve it as an adult either. He gave me the validation I needed; I wasn't the only one who thought my parents had done something wrong.

 

[mylaceratedheart]

The little defeats and humilations. The falling back on learned behavior rather than finding a new way to be. Not to mention the triumphs and small accomplishments that we dismiss as not worthy of mention. Its amazing - even after all these years how easy it is to fall back into the resentful, angry, worthless feeling mode of being.

This I can really relate to. It's like shoving a boulder up a hill; blink, lose concentration or experience a lapse in strength and it just rolls all the way to the bottom again. The classic exercise in futility.

But it's not futile. The more times you roll the damn thing up the hill, the easier it gets and the stronger you become. There are times when I have watched the boulder roll away from me and just laughed at my own stupidity. That's definitely progress. To start with I would sit, cry, despair and refuse to try again for a while.

Then these days - being sicker than usual. Fighting in the courts fro my children again. A neglectful SO - (don't get me wrong - he provides for me on the physical - but of late has been absentee in the mental and emotional) and struggling to bring myself up and out of the dark again.

My scars are a thing of beauty and proof of strength.

Yes they are.

I always find it so hard when a relationship goes awry. I always start off blaming myself, trying to be better, seeking to atone. No matter how many times I sit and inform myself that it takes 2 to build a relationship and at least 2 to destroy it I always end up with the same feelings of worthlessness and guilt. This is something I really have to work on but that will depend if and when the opportunity arises for me to address this little section of psychological code.

 

[mylaceratedheart]

So -
heres a impertinant question -or three mainly because I am curious and wonder about shit like this sometimes - my experience was extremely raw -and since I have come here more and more is coming up...

when did you realize (become Fully cognizant) that what was happening to you was wrong - against the law - not like everyone else - ( I know some of you are much younger than I am so your information base from a much younger age would have been more informed than mine)

Interesting one. I'm 25 and I don't remember a time when child abuse was absent from the media. It was something significant in my peripheral vision from what I now know to be an inordinately young age but for some reason I failed to join the dots inside my head. It was probably partly an act of self-preservation but some of my experiences left me so confused. I remember asking my sister leading questions, confidently expecting her to confide in me, to have some solidarity and another person who understood. That never happened and for quite a while, it actually made me doubt myself. My self esteem and confidence had been systematically dismantled to such a degree that I really had little faith in my own powers of reasoning.

The light bulb moment was when I was 11 and he started 'preparing me for being a woman' (i.e. penetrative sex). He started inserting a finger and a very small vibrator, neither of which was bigger than a small tampon and neither of which broke my hymen. At the same time, I made the change from primary to secondary school and had more formal sex education. I went to a girls' secondary school so there weren't horny teens kissing all over the place but I was surrounded by much older girls and overheard enough chatter to dispel my remaining myths. Also at this time, my father decided that as the oldest I needed more space. He had me move from my poky little 8' by 8' bedroom and into a room downstairs. This isolated me even further from the family at night. I didn't have the courage to protest much and it seemed strange to my mother and sister that I didn't want a bigger room, so I dropped it.

After the knowledge was acquired how did it affect how you were in the household, in school, in budding relationships, with your abuser(s)?

After he first had sex with me, I was so traumatised I simply went AWOL for 3 days. I was 12. There was nobody I wanted to see or speak to, nobody I felt able to tell. I felt filthy and disgusting and I just walked for hours and hours. I met some older kids and sat drinking strong cider with them. That was the first time I got drunk and the first time since I was 8 that all the existential shit drifted from my head and I actually achieved a state of calm and peace. I grew to love that feeling far too much. Those kids weren't really a bad or particularly anti-social bunch. All we really did was sit around getting pissed, pooling our pocket money.

When I finally went back I don't know what I was expecting but I didn't get it. I was less than sober, filthy in clothes I'd slept rough in and thoroughly demoralised. My first surprise was that nobody had really gone looking for me or reported me missing. The first thing I heard when I walked through the door was my father saying 'didn't I tell you?' That was the first time I ever suspected my mother of being complicit in any way but to this day I have no real clue whether she was. In retrospect, they were too calm and too focused on punishing me for staying away rather than panicking about where I might have been. Predictably, my father decided we should go to my room for a 'chat.' My mother never even blinked. He was so savage later that night that my fear of him actually diminished for a while. He became an inevitability and I began to stop caring what happened to myself.

After I emerged from that particular low, I pretty much went AWOL at every possible opportunity. I ignored curfews, went to friends' places, roamed around on my bike and generally avoided going home. When my pocket money was stopped I got a paper round, which had the added plus of getting me out the door at 6am. From a very early age I made the connection that cash meant options and freedom. I think the only thing that stopped me going completely into self destruct mode was the knowledge that if I kept myself together and focused enough, one day I could walk out the door on my own terms and never look back. It meant I was in for more trouble when my father eventually got hold of me but I quickly came to the conclusion that spending hours out of the house forgetting my woes was far preferable to behaving myself and waiting for the next time.

With my first relationships I was hopeless, as I alluded to before. That's a whole other essay though and those issues are more recent and more upsetting at times than what happened to me at home.

Did your abusers use threats and bodily harm to keep you under control? When did that stop working? Who was the first person you told that believed you? Did your abuser keep you and your other family members isolated? ie: lived out in the country, no extracarricular activities, limited family functions (gatherings), other types of control?

Looking back, my father was so very arrogant. There are so many people I could have told and didn't. It exacerbated my self loathing too. Knowing that I had not told anybody just made me feel even more weak and contemptible. He used threats when I was younger, particularly against my family. When I was older those threats were less convincing but he made them anyway. By that time, I was all but institutionalised. When he said jump, I fetched a tape measure. For all my petty rebellions, if I was in the house and he had me cornered I complied because I was well aware of the consequences if I didn't.

I think I would rather dwell on our acts of courage, our defiance, and struggle to get over, past, around the conditionings of abuse. Hope you all don't mind.

Not in the least.

It's a bit of a ramble and not all of it's relevant but I'm finding it therapeutic to type my train of thought on here and refrain from editing it too much. It's as enlightening to myself as it might be to any one else who reads this.

 

[christabelll]

My experiences were different, because I didn't have ongoing sexual or physical abuse. I knew that the incidents of molestation and rape I suffered were wrong because my mother had made it abundantly clear that anything sexual was wrong, and also because I didn't want them, and as far as I was concerned if someone did something to me I didn't want, they were wrong.
Absolutely -
The emotional abuse that I did go through on a near-daily basis... I remember having a fascination with reading about child abuse when I was pretty young, eight or nine. In one of the library books I borrowed on the subject, it described emotional and verbal abuse, and I realized that was what I was experiencing. But I wasn't being hit, I was fed and clothed, and sometimes my parents were pretty okay, so I didn't think I could do anything about it. I felt the same way as an adult when my husband screamed, swore, or threw things at me. Emotional, mental, spiritual abuse is ABUSE no matter which way you slice it. It was n't always bad - my basic 'needs' were met. but it was all the other stuff that colored the world in grey. Once I figured out how to read I used books to escape into sunlit worlds

It wasn't until I met the friend who sort of counseled me that I really understood how wrong what I lived with growing up was. He and I were discussing, via pages-long emails, some memories and emotions that had come up for me, and he said, "I am appalled at the way your parents treated you." I've never forgotten that, because his statement gave me permission to be appalled as well, and that was the beginning of my recognition that not only had I not deserved the emotional abuse as a child, but I didn't deserve it as an adult either. He gave me the validation I needed; I wasn't the only one who thought my parents had done something wrong.

You have survived grown and understood things that some never do. We all have. Many cheers and kudo's to you. x10milas many as you want.
I was 19 before I truly gave vent to it all. All of it. Took a few days - and a whole lot of time afterwards to stabilize myself, but once there - I found a form of forgivenness. Have taken it back and given it many times - but over all I do okay with letting them go - then of course another whammy floors me and I have to work through it again....

 

[christabelll]

My Lacerated Heart

Thank you for sharing that.
Your struggles to defy your circumstances. The intimate knowledge that you still couldn't get away but soon... makes me want to cry screaming Exactly Exactly! OMg...
He was anally penetrating me by the time I was 7. Right before my 11th Bday he managed to break my hymen. Most of the time it was oral and anal for him - but once I was big enough to take him the other way - he became so disparaging of me. The wounds he inflicted onto my psyche from that point until it ended still scar me. I still have issues with some of it. The Body Disphoria he engendered has only recently surfaced fro me to work through.

The postive part is that I took my sexuality into my hands and spent four years in my later twenties exploring every avenue of it. Lesbian, Hetero, Bondage, Submission, Masochism... I had to. I was compelled into it in many ways.
I discovered SO much. I was with a trusted partner - and he took me through all of it so I could decide for myself. (Thanks Snakeman )))))

I know what I like, don't like, will tolerate if it makes my partner that happy*and usually ends up turning me on too - as its a turn on knowing that my partner is that turned on) and what I will slice your nuts off for trying

Such a paraodox - sometimes liking it rough some times liking it soft and sweet - and as your quote says - I like a MAN

And there is a specific body type of woman I like too

that said the scale is about 98 /2 straight LOL

 

[KarennaC]

Mylacerated and Christabelll, thank you both for sharing so much about yourselves. I'm learning a lot from both of you. You're both so strong, it's amazing.

I've been struggling with learning about sex and sexuality, because that was always the biggest issue. Sex was "bad" and "wrong", both as I was growing up and hearing negatives from my mother and when I was an adult hearing negatives from my then-husband. I had a hard time viewing sex as anything even remotely positive, and I certainly didn't want to want it because that would make me a bad person.

I was 36 before I could I allow myself to enjoy sex, and for a while I went a bit overboard because I met men who were sexually interested in me and liked having me interested and enjoying it. But I still don't know everything I like, or even everything I'd like to try. I was in tears a couple weeks ago because I wanted to suggest something to my boyfriend and I didn't dare to because I wasn't sure what he'd think. (I posted about it in How To, it was about using toys.) I did finally manage to spit it out, but he had to pretty much drag it out of me, along with a couple other things I wanted to try. He's very open sexually, so will go along with almost anything I suggest, but without knowing what to suggest or how to bring it up if I do think of something, it's very difficult.

He only knows a fraction of what I've experienced, but he knows enough to understand why I have trouble talking about sexual things or making suggestions, so he's patient with me when I do try to talk about it. He wishes I'd be more assertive/aggressive about what I want sexually, though. But along with learning to fear and avoid sex, I also learned throughout my life never to ask for anything, from anyone, no matter what, and it's now nearly impossible for me to ask for things without working myself up into an anxiety attack first, or at the very least mentally rehearsing it to death. It's equally hard for me to ask my boyfriend for the grocery money that he'd already offered me as it is to ask him to fuck me doggy-style. I'm making progress, though, and that's all I can do.

 

[VFaulkon]

I only recently realized how much my family put me through as a kid. I even hate calling it abuse, because I know it wasn't intentional on their part - they just don't know what they did. What they're still doing.

But it was abuse. It was abuse for my mother to criticize every single thing I did and never be satisfied with anything but perfection. It was abuse for my sister to treat me like a plaything well into adulthood. It was abuse for them to never accept how I felt and always try to offer advice to change instead of understanding that this just may be how I am. It was abuse to continue acting mysandric right in front me, sometimes right to me. And it was definitely abusive of them to tell me that, even if people don't say anything bad about me, they're always thinking it. These are things you just don't do to a kid.

I've been in therapy for almost six years now, dealing with post-depression, low self-esteem, self-isolationism, and general anxiety, all pushed onto me by my miserable family. Realizing how everything they did has affected me has made me put up a wall in my heart between them and me, because they haven't changed a bit and leaving myself open to them is only going to hurt me more. I'm hoping that once I move out on my own and detach from them (and hopefully get my mother, who is extremely overprotective, to detach from me a bit), I can let them back in.

I know it could've been a lot worse, and I'm grateful they've been willing to provide for me like a proper family should. But whether or not they meant to, whether or not they understood how what they did affected me, they've hurt me, and I know if they had their way I'd never escape from them. Worst of all, I don't know how angry I should be at them, or how angry I should be at myself for not being able to accept how they are.

Sorry, I don't know what else to say.

 

[KarennaC]

(((VFaulkon)))

Whether your family "knew what they were doing" is irrelevant. Their treatment of you is/was abusive. And regardless of their intent in saying and doing those things, they knew they were saying and doing them. People control their own actions.

How angry should you be at them? As angry as you want to be. Their treatment of you is unconscionable. How angry should you be at yourself? Not at all. You don't have to accept the way they are, because the way they are is abusive and, to be blunt, shitty.

I give you the words my close friend gave to me, the words that gave me permission to be angry and to realize that I wasn't the only one who thought my parents were wrong in what they said and did:

I am appalled at the way your family has treated you.

 

[VFaulkon]

(((VFaulkon)))

Whether your family "knew what they were doing" is irrelevant. Their treatment of you is/was abusive. And regardless of their intent in saying and doing those things, they knew they were saying and doing them. People control their own actions.

How angry should you be at them? As angry as you want to be. Their treatment of you is unconscionable. How angry should you be at yourself? Not at all. You don't have to accept the way they are, because the way they are is abusive and, to be blunt, shitty.

I give you the words my close friend gave to me, the words that gave me permission to be angry and to realize that I wasn't the only one who thought my parents were wrong in what they said and did:

I am appalled at the way your family has treated you.

Thanks. It's nice to know I have support like that.

What you're saying makes sense - my therapist has said essentially the same thing as well - but even if I can be at peace with myself, it's hard to be appalled at my family. Ignoring the fact that I've heard stories much worse than what I've been through...

I dunno. I guess I'm just not at that point yet. Even when I think of all the shit they put me through and how neurotic it's made me, I can't bring myself to be really angry at them.

Is that normal to feel like that? I'm kind of worried now that I'm more messed up than I thought.

 

[mylaceratedheart]

Mylacerated and Christabelll, thank you both for sharing so much about yourselves. I'm learning a lot from both of you. You're both so strong, it's amazing.

I've been struggling with learning about sex and sexuality, because that was always the biggest issue. Sex was "bad" and "wrong", both as I was growing up and hearing negatives from my mother and when I was an adult hearing negatives from my then-husband. I had a hard time viewing sex as anything even remotely positive, and I certainly didn't want to want it because that would make me a bad person.

I was 36 before I could I allow myself to enjoy sex, and for a while I went a bit overboard because I met men who were sexually interested in me and liked having me interested and enjoying it. But I still don't know everything I like, or even everything I'd like to try. I was in tears a couple weeks ago because I wanted to suggest something to my boyfriend and I didn't dare to because I wasn't sure what he'd think. (I posted about it in How To, it was about using toys.) I did finally manage to spit it out, but he had to pretty much drag it out of me, along with a couple other things I wanted to try. He's very open sexually, so will go along with almost anything I suggest, but without knowing what to suggest or how to bring it up if I do think of something, it's very difficult.

He only knows a fraction of what I've experienced, but he knows enough to understand why I have trouble talking about sexual things or making suggestions, so he's patient with me when I do try to talk about it. He wishes I'd be more assertive/aggressive about what I want sexually, though. But along with learning to fear and avoid sex, I also learned throughout my life never to ask for anything, from anyone, no matter what, and it's now nearly impossible for me to ask for things without working myself up into an anxiety attack first, or at the very least mentally rehearsing it to death. It's equally hard for me to ask my boyfriend for the grocery money that he'd already offered me as it is to ask him to fuck me doggy-style. I'm making progress, though, and that's all I can do.

I've had issues like this and I used to find it very hard to confide in anyone or have enough trust that a person I confided in wouldn't change their perception of me irretrievably or find me disgusting. I had trouble bringing sexual stuff up with my ex (who was lovely btw) because I felt guilty and ashamed for wanting sexual pleasure. As an intelligent person I knew at the same time that the shame was irrational but still couldn't shake it, it's difficult to explain. I also had a huge problem with eye contact, I still do, particularly with new people. I found I had become such a consummate bottler of emotions that any deviation from that coping mechanism really scared me.

My ex and I used to lie spooning for intimate or important chats. It helped so much that I knew he was there, holding me and being supportive but also that I didn't have to hold his gaze. I also used to read too much into people's expressions and invent shit that wasn't even there and P recognised that not being able to see his face when we discussed these things dispelled all that. I could cry without him 'seeing' me, something I also found difficult. Even now I absolutely hate crying when other people are around but I don't cry easily or often by normal girl standards.

Anyway, some of this may be useful to you.

 

[mylaceratedheart]

I only recently realized how much my family put me through as a kid. I even hate calling it abuse, because I know it wasn't intentional on their part - they just don't know what they did. What they're still doing.

But it was abuse. It was abuse for my mother to criticize every single thing I did and never be satisfied with anything but perfection. It was abuse for my sister to treat me like a plaything well into adulthood. It was abuse for them to never accept how I felt and always try to offer advice to change instead of understanding that this just may be how I am. It was abuse to continue acting mysandric right in front me, sometimes right to me. And it was definitely abusive of them to tell me that, even if people don't say anything bad about me, they're always thinking it. These are things you just don't do to a kid.

I've been in therapy for almost six years now, dealing with post-depression, low self-esteem, self-isolationism, and general anxiety, all pushed onto me by my miserable family. Realizing how everything they did has affected me has made me put up a wall in my heart between them and me, because they haven't changed a bit and leaving myself open to them is only going to hurt me more. I'm hoping that once I move out on my own and detach from them (and hopefully get my mother, who is extremely overprotective, to detach from me a bit), I can let them back in.

I know it could've been a lot worse, and I'm grateful they've been willing to provide for me like a proper family should. But whether or not they meant to, whether or not they understood how what they did affected me, they've hurt me, and I know if they had their way I'd never escape from them. Worst of all, I don't know how angry I should be at them, or how angry I should be at myself for not being able to accept how they are.

Sorry, I don't know what else to say.

Hi VFaulkon, thankyou for sharing.

I can't imagine what you must have gone through but the one piece of advice I feel able to offer is this.

Anger as a catalyst is incredibly powerful. Anger carried around and nursed like a grudge is corrosive.

You have every right to be angry but to hold on to that in the long term is not a good thing. Anger is like fire, it must be handled with care and only used when strictly necessary and in a proportionate amount. I do believe that as women, anger is potentially more damaging sometimes, simply because we're less used to welcoming it and channelling it effectively.

I've done anger. I've also done slow burning rage and I clung to it for a number of years. I tried to articulate to my family what I had gone through and they didn't want to know. I railed against that, yelled, stomped and hated them for it. They have never changed one iota and they never will. I accept that now and I accept that being angry is pointless. It also maintains a negative emotional connection between me and my family, which just holds me back as I try to rebuild myself into something other than what they made me. Hatred still saps power from me just as futile, exasperated and unrequited love once did.

The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.

Now I have a 15ft high wall of reinforced concrete topped with razorwire, sentries, alarms and trigger happy snipers erected between me and my family. I do not care what they think of me, how they want me to live my life or whether they're disappointed with what I do. I have as little to do with them as possible because their attempts to make me feel like the lost little girl I was are damaging to me and indicative of their insecurity in the face of my own, brand new self assurance. I don't discuss my plans and give them the opportunity to be critical. I don't offer love or affection only to hand them an opportunity to snub me. I don't hand them power of any description over any aspect of who I am. I am not their business anymore and when you are able to move out of home and make your own way, your family will only have the influence over you that you give them.

Someone once said, 'nobody can make you feel like crap without your permission.'

You have to learn to stop giving that permission, to stop giving their opinions credence and allowing them to make you doubt. Everyone makes mistakes in life and falls flat on their ass every now and again but that does not make your choices wrong; it makes them yours. You have as much right to fuck your own life up spectacularly as you do to make it a wonderful success but their opinion and approval or lack of it must not be your benchmark.

It's hard and it goes against all our biological pre-programming and natural instincts but the only way to gain and retain power over your family and their abusiveness towards you is to genuinely cease caring. Anything less than that will just continue to demoralise you and hold you back.

 

[KarennaC]

Thanks. It's nice to know I have support like that.

What you're saying makes sense - my therapist has said essentially the same thing as well - but even if I can be at peace with myself, it's hard to be appalled at my family. Ignoring the fact that I've heard stories much worse than what I've been through...

I dunno. I guess I'm just not at that point yet. Even when I think of all the shit they put me through and how neurotic it's made me, I can't bring myself to be really angry at them.

Is that normal to feel like that? I'm kind of worried now that I'm more messed up than I thought.

However you feel is absolutely okay, as long as it's how you truly feel and not how you think you're "supposed to" feel. You don't "have to" be angry; you don't "have to" forgive them; you don't "have to" do or be anything except true to yourself. And even that's optional.

I had to get angry with my family so that I could get strong enough to work through what they'd done; for me, anger gives me an initial burst of strength to start dealing with something, then once I've found a deeper source of strength I let go of the anger. Like Mylacerated said, the anger is a catalyst, not something I hold onto. For so many years I locked my anger away in a little box because I didn't think I had the right to be angry, so now I've given myself permission to feel that anger as long as I don't direct it toward anyone else, just toward events, and as long as I release it when it isn't useful anymore.

VFaulkon, if you're at peace and feel that there's no need to be angry at your family, that's wonderful. It's only a potential problem if you've chosen not to be angry because you "shouldn't" be angry at family or because "others have had it worse". Your experiences are your experiences, they made you feel the way you felt about them, and they shouldn't be compared with anyone else's experiences, because you aren't anyone else. The others who've posted on this thread have been through far more sheer hell than I have, but that doesn't mean I was any less abused or that my feelings and issues because of it are any less valid. My experiences were different, not lesser. It's not a hierarchy.

You're not "messed up", you're just finding your way through. Like the rest of us. Welcome, and please, take only the parts of what I say that make sense to you and ignore the rest. You're the only one who truly knows you.

 

[KarennaC]

I've had issues like this and I used to find it very hard to confide in anyone or have enough trust that a person I confided in wouldn't change their perception of me irretrievably or find me disgusting. I had trouble bringing sexual stuff up with my ex (who was lovely btw) because I felt guilty and ashamed for wanting sexual pleasure. As an intelligent person I knew at the same time that the shame was irrational but still couldn't shake it, it's difficult to explain. I also had a huge problem with eye contact, I still do, particularly with new people. I found I had become such a consummate bottler of emotions that any deviation from that coping mechanism really scared me.

My ex and I used to lie spooning for intimate or important chats. It helped so much that I knew he was there, holding me and being supportive but also that I didn't have to hold his gaze. I also used to read too much into people's expressions and invent shit that wasn't even there and P recognised that not being able to see his face when we discussed these things dispelled all that. I could cry without him 'seeing' me, something I also found difficult. Even now I absolutely hate crying when other people are around but I don't cry easily or often by normal girl standards.

Anyway, some of this may be useful to you.

(((Mylacerated))), it is useful, and thank you for posting it. That's exactly how I felt, that guilt and shame for even wanting to want to enjoy sex. At the same time, I've always recognized that my view of sex was unhealthy. I have two daughters, and even when I've cringed, even when I've had to shut myself in my room to cry afterward, I've always tried to explain sex to them as something that can be loving and positive with the right person. I've also told them that I've had things done to me that cause me to have trouble thinking of sex that way and to be uncomfortable discussing it, but that I want them to come to me with questions and to talk because the way I feel is because of bad things that happened, not because sex is bad.

I've always had problems being touched, as well, especially unexpectedly. My older daughter used to come up behind me and hug me without warning, and I invariably yelled at her for it, to the point where she stopped hugging me and wouldn't let me touch her. When I thought she was old enough to understand, I explained that my difficulty with being touched was also because of the bad things that had happened.

My boyfriend is a total cuddler. He loves hugs, loves to sit with his arm around me or one of my kids, absolutely drinks in any type of human touch. That's one of the most important things I've gotten from him. Because of it, not only have I become comfortable with him touching me, but for the first time I've become comfortable initiating hugs or a friendly touch on the arm or anything like that with someone other than my kids. And my kids and I have become more comfortable hugging each other. My older daughter is making up for all the hugs she and I didn't give each other for a while. lol

I have trouble with eye contact because I used to believe I wasn't worthy of looking others in the eye. I have to remind myself to do it now, and sometimes I still slip and forget. Crying... I think I've cried more since I met my boyfriend than I ever did before, because it's finally safe to let all those tears out. He doesn't mind when I cry; he just holds me and lets me let it out, whether I'm crying because I'm so happy about something he's done, or because I'm stressed about money, or because I've had a flashback. It doesn't matter to him. Early on, I apologized for crying so much and he said, "That's what I'm hear for. This is what partners do." I looked at him blankly and he said, "Honey, this is what a relationship is. I'm here for you no matter how you feel, and if you cry, I'm just going to hold you and let you cry." Then he said something about tears being little demons that we have to release, which made me laugh; he always manages to make me laugh no matter how upset I am, but he knows when it's okay to do it and when I need to be upset just a little longer.

I think all the crying is just me washing out all the negativity from the past 38 years now that I've finally found someone completely positive.

VFaulkon, I just read Mylacerated's post to you, and I want to second what she says about letting go of caring about your family. Any emotion is a connection, and (okay, I"m an energy healer, so take this for what it's worth to you) sends energy to the other person. As long as they're receiving your energy, the connection remains. Cut the connection, if you feel it would benefit you. Don't let them have that power over you. When you're ready, of course.

 

[christabelll]

Seconds and thirds - MyLacerated and Karenna....

It took me until my 30's and some really intense soul baring conversations with my sisters - to really come to the same conclusion. Discussing the varying degrees of abuse between us - at one point seemed to be a contest of "who'd been done wrong worst." In the end it didn't really matter - but that end was also that I was the worst of his victims.

For years I couldn't talk to them - or my mother - about any of this - after the initial 'confessions of a survivor."

The self esteem parts - oh good god - I was the intrepid stage singer artist - and could barely hold my head up in public. I would sing my heart out - and then once the show was over and sometimes, much to the consternation of the audiences - cry through the songs - off the stage - chain smoking (yes I know).... I could barely look any one in the eye... rarely took my gaze off the ground. Except when I was onstage. But see It wasn't me on stage it was a Character...

I think - after reading all this - thats one of the single most common denominators - unable to raise ones gaze - to tell the truth without fear of terrible consequences. God I still find myself staring at the ground, or anywhere but who I am talking to. Its only been in the past ten years that even that has changed. I will stare a person down now if they've pissed me off enough. But the point is I think thats the single defining thing - unable to hold our heads up proudly.

And rage and anger comes in cycles. Some things shoot me through the stratosphere....Others just make ineffably sad. I used to get horribly violent with things when I was angry - throwing shit, slamming doors. I will admit that I still slam doors. Oh do I slam them. But - after breaking one too many even that has calmed. My So generates quite a bit of frustration on my part even though I know that is not and never has been his intent. Just a man who lived with silence (20 years of it) - and breaking his silence has been like pulling teeth :0

Anyway - My family is my family - we have all been through it - its been 22 years since we were all together in the same room. I was making sounds the other day that we should - before Mom passes - get together - as we are the only family we have. I never heard so many excuses - or changes of subject from them on the same subject LOL.... but the seed has been planted. We all know that anything can happen - Anything - and we may well regret the choices we have made....

As for valuing their opinions and their ability to sway how we feel.... Thats a normal thing. Even if we don't like it - its normal. I've learned that I can share what I doing - what I am thinking - hoping-dreaming - and they all provide the soundboard - but in the end they have no say - none whatsoever - over how I, as an adult, do something. Thats the beauty of it... It all comes down to you. Not them. You. But sometimes - it hurts- hurts bad enough that I can't talk to some of them for months at a time.

Eldest - Whining Practical - talk it to death -round and round till we've seen the same street sign from every possible angle....
Elder - Miserly Midas- will it make you money - and damned vicious about it if it doesn't do something to make you money - forget pleasure - does it make you money -and don't you know that sign is gonna cost you everything?
Me - The Dreaming Poet - what if - this and this and this - isn't it beautiful? Even the death throes of a beetle are beautiful, by the way that street sign should be Purple and Silver with streaks of irridescence.
The Baby - THE BABY - I don't care about any streetsigns, they can get lost for all I care, but If they miss my party because of it I will never speak to them again. Besides, mom loves me best.

Then Mom - All the above and then some LOLOLOL.... Its a balancing act that she has failed so far LOLOLOLOL..... God Love her. She is still mom - I still love her as angry as she can make me - Doesn't matter - She may or not be with us over the next few years - but I will take what I can get -because she is Mom and we Have worked through quite a bit of our past together...


There is no hierarchy to abuse - Of course some seems worse than others - in in reality they are - but Abuse is abuse - no quibbling about it at all.

The end result of verbal, emotional, spiritual, mental, physical and sexual abuse is that we question and DOUBT everyone and everything. We assume what we reveal will poison them against us. We believe that anything shared will be used as a weapon upon our all ready aching selves. We assume a level of unworth - and as I am sure some of you have recognised work dilligently to maintain that - Looking some one in the eye means confrontation. And lord help us we have had a lifetime of confrontation that we had no hope of winning.

But it does get easier - I know - we blossom - we fade- we blossom again - we fade.... it cycle is erratic - but eventually we become the blossom with a natural rhythym (sp?)...


And boy howdy ~~ reading things into faces and postures and words that are by no means there..... Jiminey Christmas - How many times have I repeated what was said to me - and discovered that is not what was said at all? Its what I read into the look on their face, the posture of their bodies - the tone of their voice? THat can be embarrasing. But oh so enlightening. It seriously reveals the inner dialogue or monologue or ensemble cast -

Once I was auditioning for a very well known casting agent - she would audition you then spend up to three hours with you going over strengths and weaknesses -----I was nervous and Afraid - pouring sweat - shaking in my boots type thing - she nailed me. Oh did she nail me. Afraid of my own shadow - Violent with myself - yes I abused MYSELF in my head. That while I displayed undoubted skill it was my inner dialogue that was going to ruin any chances I had in the cutthroat world of acting, theater, opera etc. No one had to criticise me. I did it all by myself. It took a while but I was able to take her advice and work towards easing that.... Have I succeeded? Hell no - but I am aware of it - and that is half the battle.

Thats where (when) "my internal committee" came into focus. I actually took the time a few years back- to define who the "voices" in my head were. 23 of them to be exact About half of them positive with positive attributes the other half mean and scared and worried etc. All faces that I present to the world depending on whats going on around me. I even worried that I might be schizophrenic. NO - but I do have quite a few masks that I put on. The SO has seen all my masks... and seen Me. Truly seen me. God Love him that he didn't run screaming for the hills......

All masks that allow me to survive and continue and be.


I am so proud of all of you.
Its hard as hell to share these things sometimes. To even admit that we came from less than ideal situations. The learning curves, the unlearning curves. The sheer YO YO of finding a way to be whole... or as whole as we can manage.
It takes courage to confront, courage to admit, courage to find a way through.
We all do. Quickly, slowly, imperceptibly. We do.

We are all stained glass masterpieces. Every single one of us.



(sorry if I meander here and there - funny how the mind works )

 

[KarennaC]

I think this thread is meant for mental meandering. I know it's helping me focus myself.

I've been finding myself getting frustrated with a few people on my "Want to Play" thread over in the main part of How To. I asked how to bring up the subject of using toys with my man. No matter how many times I've said, "I don't play games, I don't like 'playing'", people keep saying, "Make a game out of it." No matter how many times I've explained that I'm almost unable to ask for things, sexually or otherwise, and even why that's so difficult, people keep saying, "Just ask him." Most people have understood and have given very good, very helpful suggestions, but the ones who have posted this type of suggestion, ignoring the fact that I've already explained why they wouldn't work, are getting to me. This is also not addressed toward the people who first suggested making a game of it or "just asking", only those who've suggested it after I've posted two or three times that I can't do those things.

If someone reading this is one of the people who's said one of those things, please know my frustration is more with myself, but also, please read the entire thread before giving the same answer I've already shot down two or three times.

I didn't play- the G-rated, general meaning of play- when I was a child. I used my dolls for acting out stories I wanted to write; I occasionally played card or board games with my father when he could be bothered; and I had no friends with whom to play the way "normal" kids play. I've never played with my children, I've just handed them toys and let them play with them, other than occasional board or card games which usually result in my getting impatient because I have other things to do. I'm not comfortable with play at all.

That carries over into the sexual areas as well. I don't play games with my partner because games have nothing to do with sex. I probably take it far too seriously, but it is what it is. I understand that some people like that sort of thing, and I understand from what people have said in that other thread that "accidental" discoveries and so on are fun for them. *Shrug*. For me, "accidentally" leaving a toy on the bed for my man to find feels dishonest, because it isn't accidental. I got accused of lying far too much as a kid, and I'm now honest to and beyond a fault so no one can say I'm lying. And if I'm not comfortable enough sexually to talk about what I may or may not like, or even what I already know I do and don't like, and I'm not comfortable with normal G-rated playing, I'm sure not going to be comfortable with "sex games". Just writing those words together makes me feel like vomiting.

 

[christabelll]

((((((((((((((KARENNAC)))))))))))))

I know intimately where of you speak.
For so many years I had no voice in the bedroom. My explorations in later in my twenties served more than one purpose (heheheheh).... that was to find my voice. Its hard.
I still have a hard time even with all of that...

ASking for what we need or want is one of the MOST Difficult things we do.
The rest is easy in comparison.

Playing games - I too have that problem. Games? What are those? Heres your toy go play. What, you mean I am supposed to play too? No way. I am better able to play with my children now. But I don't know how. Never did know how.

Playing with my partner? Uhhhhhh........ I have gotten better about it. I can verbalize SOMETIMES what I want specifically. but no its still hard for me to uncover my mouth and speak.

Here's an idea - for what its worth....
since we are writers make a wish list....... then pick one thing - one thing only - and promise yourself that that one thing is your goal.
a for instance........ I like having my hair pulled. but not the grabby yank pull....that hurts!
But if you fist my hair up at the nape and pull........ no short hair pangs! during key moments of sexual intimacy - It rocks me ............... it took me almost a year and half to explain this to my SO - and without much more than showing him with his own long locks - heheheh - he finally understood - and with a few mistakes LOL found how and when to do this for me..... had to be really hot and heavy though - couldn't and can't stand it other wise......

But it was on my wish list - and I chose it as the least difficult to ask for.
While we haven't been intimate since last june (before I fell into a coma for nearly two weeks becuase of an acute hemiplegic migraine) I know that he knows that its hard for me to initiate - and since he doesn't beleive in pressing his own desires onto anyone - ...... it has been an intersting time for both of us.


And gosh If I did half of what is in my stories!

The point is - its not a game. Its not dishonest. Its being honest with yourself and through that finding a way to get what we desire. I know Karenna - I know how hard it is. I know that it can make you physically ill to assert anything beyond acceptance of what is done to us....

But I have faith in you....

As you are an energy healer have you tried clearing the first three chakra's?
and the throat chakra? The expressed will is not surprisingly one of the most ignored areas for healing an abused psyche. You can clear the first three - but - the throat chakra needs it more than the others at times..... my throat still hurts sometimes becuase I choke back what I have to say. Out comes the crystals and tea's and the work begins again.... Just suggesting it might be something you can have another work with you on.


Many hugs - much understanding - and Kudo's

bella

 

[KarennaC]

Christabelll, my throat chakram has been cleared, unblocked, reshaped, and I don't remember what all else. Periodically I sit down and write letters to people who've pissed me off or hurt me, just to help keep that cakram somewhat functional. (That's why I wrote the post about being irritated with people on the other thread, to express that instead of keeping it in.)

When I first started trying to talk about sex with my friend Chris, the one who "counseled" me (and also taught me energy healing and did many healing sessions with me), I couldn't use the words, so I kind of talked around the subject and hinted at things. He knew what I meant, but trying to avoid speaking about it actually made my throat cakram into a square. Cakra (chakras, western spelling) are supposed to be round...

I get what you mean about it not being a game. To me, and only for me since I don't speak for others and try not to judge, I still think the idea of leaving a toy lying around for my boyfriend to "accidentally" find would be dishonest, because it wouldn't be accidental if I left it lying around for that intent. I do agree that asking or showing what I want isn't a game, it's the people who say "make a game out of it" that frustrate me.

I like having my hair pulled that way too. My boyfriend is very good at it, and did it without my saying a word One of the things I wanted to ask him about was using toys together, and I did eventually manage to do that, but it took a lot of tears and frustration on my part and a lot of patience on his. Since he responded favorably to that and I was on a high from being able to mention it, I also told him at that point that I'd like to try having my hands tied and/or being blindfolded. I have a complete terror of not being able to see, but I wanted to try not being able to see with him because I knew I'd be safe. That night, he took my shirt off me and used it as a blindfold; it was pretty hot!

Yesterday I busted down a couple of mental walls for myself, though. I'd gone to visit a friend of mine, and knew that there was an "adult" store near his place that a few people had recommended to me, so I decided to seek it out. I didn't find it, but when my friend called to see if I'd found my way out of his town (beach town, all one way streets, trying to confuse tourists, lol), he gave me directions to another store. Meanwhile, my boyfriend called to wish me a happy Valentine's Day and I told him what I was doing. He was pretty happy about the idea, though it took me about 15 minutes to get my face back to its normal color because I was blushing so much. But I told him I was looking for an adult store to get us a couple toys to use together, and being able to say that to him was huge. So was being able to go into the store once I found it, without having an anxiety attack, though it was a near miss, and actually make a couple of purchases. It was only the second time I'd been to an adult store, and the other time I had moral support because a guy I was dating at the time went with me (and pretty much dragged me inside).

The sexual abuse I experienced was only a small fraction of what I went through overall, and wasn't done by family members, but my sexuality and my ability to express myself sexually and accept that it's okay for me to do so seem to have been far more affected than almost anything else, except maybe my self-esteem. And it's been much easier for me to rebuild my self-esteem than it has for me to be able to deal with sexual stuff in a positive way.

My posts here keep getting longer and longer... I've written more here today than I have on my stories. lol