I have just this second realised something!!! Half of my blog, if not more is aimed at my T. I put more on here than if I were to e-mail me, because this is mine, this is in my control, and I can simply deny it being meant for her if it’s a problem. Is that cowardice or smart? Anyway today is no different, I’ve been itching to e-mail T all day, but have refrained from doing so, because I don’t really have a set reason to…. I don’t think just feeling odd is a legitimate reason!
So here the rant begins, yes I am feeling very odd. Almost lost in a backward planet. My whole life turning backwards towards a painful and very distressing childhood. Going through my late teen of college, work, badness and parents, early teens of school, parents and badness. Then a childhood I have worked so hard to forget, but that is haunting me more than ever! I guess my brain is trying to make sense of all it knows. Maybe just trying to accept it. I don’t however believe we ever will just simply accept it. So our mind is going to continuously go back and forth remembering, remembering more, and remembering more. It’s awful.
I had a total new memory last week. I wanted to tell T about it on Friday, but couldn’t. During menses with the body memories being so bad our head was crazy. With memories and stuff. I guess I was almost sure it was just a fabrication in our mind because of the menses but the memory is becoming stronger, and I know that isn’t so. It’s not a fabrication of a story, it’s the truth. It’s a memory, and a horrible one too. My mind is already trying to forget it, and I don’t remember it exactly as well as last week, the pain memory is gone, the clear picture is gone, but the vague memory is there. Getting stronger I guess.
TW** I had a new memory of an event during my sexual abuse as a girl. The first time i was subject to truly horrible acts. With penetration. I told T I couldn’t remember much of it, other than blood, and pain, and being put in a bath, with what T believes was salty water. Now though I know more truth about it. I didn’t remember how blood happened, I believe now that’s because I fell unconscious and was that way during most of the act. I believe this because 1) I can remember the beginning, and the end, but nothing from the middle. 2) In the new memory he said I was just sleeping, and was worried about keeping me awake. 3) I don’t remember any pain until I saw blood and him stood beside me with his hands on my shoulders, panic written all over his face. There were no tears from me, i just new when he bathed me that I hurt! Really hurt. END TW**
So what do I do with this new memory? That’s not a memory but kind of is a memory? Did I pass out from intense pain, or did he drug me? Does that make it better or worse? That he may have drugged me to make it easier on me? Or worse because he continued despite me having passed out? I’m unsure what to think. All I know is it makes me feel odd. It makes all of us feel odd. More violated even because i have no idea what caused so much blood. I just don’t know!
Other than that memory I guess we aren’t so bad. Except for maybe in our relationship with SO. Well not bad but something strange is happening. I just feel stupid talking about that with my T. I almost don’t even want T to know I have sex. Which clearly she knows, I’m wanting a baby for gods sake. I almost feel that sex, good/bad is shameful. Maybe that’s why I struggle telling T what happened? Sex is just, bad or something. Makes me look real bad. I have to be realistic though, of course SO and i have sex. He isn’t like i have experienced before, he is understanding, compassionate, and actually helped me I think, to achieve something good from sex out of pleasure not habit/fear. He doesn’t have to hurt me to make me enjoy, orgasm or whatever, during our intimate time together, I guess it’s just love isn’t it. Anyway back to the point. I am feeling very weird when we have intimate moments lately. Like I am reverting back into a child state almost. A softly spoken, innocent child, rather than the consenting, in control adult i actually am.
I am curious as to why this is? Is this my brain way of fighting against us trying to do things in therapy, more childish things, such as play, interact with toys and etc. Is my natural reaction confused? Do I subconsciously think that because I am trying to build up new ways of doing things in therapy, by trying to do things I fear, or missed out on as a child, that I have to be a child during sex too to stop being scared of that as a child? Does that even make sense?
It’s weird. I feel like i am getting somewhere though. Like I am learning to use my brain in a different way than just solely to keep us safe, to keep us going. Just by messing with Ts magnets, or even touching her hippo, It’s like I am letting myself know it’s okay not to focus on only keeping safe, even if only for a minute. I feel like I’m learning to be a child! To be careless. Like I’m experiencing play. I know it sounds stupid but I don’t know play, I don’t know what it genuinely feels like. Messing with things at T’s is like a whole different world I’m stepping into, a whole new world. It’s strange but exciting too, and I am grateful T is taking baby steps with it, even though i don’t think she realises just hos difficult play is for me! Does she know it is something I’m not familiar with. Yes I’ve encouraged my Brother to play as a little boy, i sat with him and played to him, with his toys, but I’ve never experienced play for myself.
I’ve never been encouraged to play, to be carefree and to be a child. I only remember in my whole life ever having one toy that my Mother actually got me. I didn’t have tonnes of toys, I was a child who was to be seen not heard, out of sight, out of mind. They were my Mother’s favourite quotes. I was the little girl following my Brother and Sister round the streets watching them play with their friends because I didn’t have my own. I was the girl who picked up and ate a chocolate ice cream from the street because I didn’t have such luxuries at home, only to go home with a chocolate covered face and receive a beating for stealing, then a beating for admitting I’d gotten t from the floor, in which case i was instantly branded the family scruff for a while! It was an innocent childish mistake, I was a little girl!
I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes though. I wasn’t allowed to play, I wasn’t allowed excitement, I wasn’t allowed to be a child! I didn’t dare try be a child!
Make no wonder that once my Mother removed us from that hell hole I accepted the first bit of love I got. From a sexual predator! The first bit of encouragement to smile and laugh! I wanted to please, to thank him for his attention, for singling me out. I loved that he picked me and not my sister. For once I felt special. I felt important. I felt like I wasn’t just meant to be seen and not heard. I felt cared about! Granted I didn’t feel that way for long, but he knew I needed what little good he had to offer! He knew I’d do whatever to make sure i felt the good for as long as possible. Of course the good ended almost as quickly as it had begun. Yet impressionable as I was, i still tried to please, and experienced every snippet of good I could. I almost relied on it to get by. It’s sheer crazyness that someone who caused me so much suffering also gives me some of the only memories I have of felling more important and special than my Brother and Sister. That is and hard concept to deal with! I hate hate hate him, but he cared. Not for long, but he cared, more than anyone else ever did.
Make no wonder I struggle accepting people who “care” about me!
I feel like a weight is lifted. Just saying what i have here. Just writing it. Just because T is gonna know it. I am worried, what will she and others think of it? Does it make it any less distressing? No. Does it make me hate him less? No. Does it confuse me? Hell yes!
So what should I think? What am I supposed to think? Just tell me what to think!