Warning ~ In this post I talk about sexual abuse in quite a matter of fact manner and the effect it has had on my life and relationships. Over the years I have not searched for sympathy but rather how to move forward and away from what happened to me as a child.
This post came into my mind a long time ago when I wrote Time. But at that point I simply wanted to outline that incest/pedophilia is a fungus that operates from the inside.
Now I want to elaborate –
the fungus puts out spores that never quite leave you.
Putting out a post like that is a nerve-racking experience as the article is more for my benefit, a way of processing, than for the reader. So I honestly won’t be offended if you choose not to read it…
Thinking about Threesomes and Things
The other day I saw a twitter thread asking which other sex bloggers would you love to include in a threesome. I have to say it was quite an amusing read and more importantly it got me thinking. I fantasise about threesomes a lot but doubt I will ever participate. Not because I think such things are too kinky for me. Come on, I let a guy piss on me in the park. But rather I’d worry the activity/extra person would simply not do it for me.
Because of my past sexual history many people in my life eventually leave me feeling cold and unresponsive – sexually and often emotionally too. Frigid – because of their lack of understanding as to the person I am or what I need.
Each time it happened I felt like a failure as a person and a partner – and maybe the sensation of being slightly removed from a lover contributed to me behaving badly at times.
Sexualised as a child
When I was about seven I was sexually abused by the man who adopted me. Could have been younger. Not raped but I was fiddled with and coerced to do the same in return. He told me he loved me.
I recall it as an embarrassing experience. There is no point in saying much more. I wasn’t hurt, it was just all very uncomfortable and wet. Not very childlike. The abuse would happen when the rest of my family were at church. Perhaps that is why to this day I have an odd liking for Jesus. Irrationally I wondered if I’d chosen to go to mass maybe he would have saved me?
I didn’t tell anyone what was going on but my behavior changed radically. Exhibiting regression was one thing – acting like a toddler. Also I retreated into my own head. I am not sure if I have yet come out from that space!
Thankfully my dad left us and I never saw him again. Bigamy actually, and then died
It is good to talk
When I met my man he took the time right at the start to talk to me about the past. He didn’t ignore the fact it had happened to me like some men I have been involved with. Or tell me I would be an abuser because I had been abused. He spoke to me sanely and at length. Not only that we investigated why some kinds of thing work for me while others leave me cold. He gave me time and it actually felt like an eureka moment to me.
This means I trust him with me sexually like I have no other. Being abused as a child leaves several marks that mar your relationships with all kinds of people. And of course awareness is the first step to understanding.
However, you can’t turn back the clocks. I was a sexualised child. I knew it. From then onward, even though I didn’t really know what sex was, I understood it was important. I was sure going to try and take that forward.
Aged nine I tried with the boy who sat next to me at primary school. Asking him to meet so we could touch each other. He bailed out. Chicken, I thought.
Apparently I attempted a similar thing with several of the boys from the neighborhood too.
Then during that period I met David. My mum was looking after him and his brother over the summer holidays. He was about three years older than me and we formed an intense relationship that to this day I have not forgotten. So young yet we seemed to have a genuine connection. And we began to touch each other. My mum found out and I didn’t see him for a long time. I pined and felt lost.
Uncle Tony (my mums cousin) was a great man. Later I learned he had suffered abuse at the hands of his brother, who was my dad’s friend. He took me under his wing, nurturing. When I stayed at his house for the weekends I thought surely he would want to do something to me. But of course not everyone abuses kids. He enjoyed my company without needing anything from me. But at night I would lie in my little bed and almost wish he would come in. I loved him with a passion. And once sexualised you can’t erase those thoughts. After all, sex and love go together. Don’t they?
I erected an invisible shield as body armour and plundered along into teenage life. Luckily I mixed with a very nice set of kids so didn’t get involved in anything I shouldn’t. Looking back it could all have been very different though.
I wasn’t particularly impressed when I started having sexual relationships. It seemed as if the lads just wanted to take what they could get and after a short while my body and mind would become cold and not respond. Things worked a little better with Vic as we were best friends so there was so much more than just sex to our relationship and often I’d take the lead. Making me feel like I had more control. I was doing the taking and not the other way round. But what I really wanted was a guy to relieve me of that overriding need to be in control. I wanted to relax, enjoy sex and not be the instigator. But every time I want down this road it eventually felt wrong. Dirty, and not in a good way.
Masturbation would also leave me feeling strange and unclean.
It’s all in the mind
Then I had my kids. What horrors lurk in the mind of a previously sexually abused woman with a child?. Every man is seen as a potential abuser and the constant, overriding need to keep an eye on the child when any guys, even family members, are around is exhausting. One evening I was eaten up inside by concern when a friend let her ten year old daughter wear a short skirt at an adult gathering. Mine had jeans on.
All of this and still trying to be the best mother I could.
I truly believe now is my time to heal and in a way my man has helped me to take back my sex. The sex taken from me as a child. His attitude means I am not so scared to let go and be myself – the person you know as May More.
Whether someone can fully recover from the repercussions and pain of abuse, I don’t know. Blogging helps me. Writing about it feels like an Exorcism
I am taking back my sex but that threesome may just have to wait a while 😉