I don’t like talking about this, but I feel like I have to get it out so that maybe one day I can get past this.
One of the blogs I read on a daily basis is one written by a lovely woman who survived some pretty horrible sexual abuse as a child. It’s been eye-opening delving into her path to acceptance, recovery, and journey through healing.
I have spent my entire life pretending that certain things never happened to me. I never want to use words like “molested” and “raped” because it admits to being victimized. I was taught that victims are frequently weak. Weak in my mind… well, it means that I was somehow deserving of what happened. They were things I could have, should have stopped. If I had been stronger, even as a child, I could have walked away from the situations before they ever happened. It was my fault I was taken advantage of. But it’s not. I know that logically, but I have never been able to get past the nagging voice that I am somehow responsible for what happened.
It is very, very difficult for me to admit that as a result of the abuse that happened, I have some pretty messed up reactions to certain situations and things. The control the Catholic Church takes over sexuality, and the way my family taught me that I was a dirty human being if I had sex before marriage adds some serious complications to the equation.
I am horribly ashamed to admit that I don’t believe I will ever be “okay” sexually. I will probably always struggle with feeling disgusted with my body or embarrassed to admit that something feels good once the orgasm happens. In the moment, sometimes I can let go completely. But then I realize that I allowed myself to enjoy a sensation that I learned to be a forbidden thing before marriage- and one that I sinfully admit to having time and time again- by the Church. Or I experience a sexual thrill at a memory of being taken advantage of because for some fucked up reason, I sometimes get aroused at the thought of being abused.
Today, I am overwhelmed by the memories and the understanding that I have been living a life tainted by what happened to me. No amount of denial, therapy, repression, etc., can erase the damaging events that have taken place in my stupid little life. And to think that what happened to me was so minor in comparison to the abuse that others have sustained makes me feel positively ill. I feel so pathetic.
God, I’m a mess.
Current Mood:
Sad
