Tag Archives: ex

I guess it’s over…

So the Ex, who I’ve meantioned numerous times, has deleted his facebook account. Yeah, normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but that is my only way of communicating with him.  And he deleted it without any notice or new contact info 😦

I guess that means he doesn’t want to be friends anymore.  Our last conversation was in January for his birthday, which is typically for us.  I guess I have to wait until my birthday to see if he truely has forgotten about me.

I feel hurt, since I thought we were ok.  but now he’s essentially disappeared.

I don’t know how he’ll get a hold of me.  I don’t think he has my email and he’s dumped Skype.  And I don;t think he has my phone number stored anywhere since he always facebooks me for it when he wants to talk.

My most outlandish theory is that he and his wife are expecting a baby and that he’s afraid I’ll freak out when I find out.  I’ve moved past that reaction.  I thought I was his friend again.


…Followed by Depression

So, social anxiety last week = depression for the rest of this week :-(.  I can barely move.  I can’t focus.  I know the look on my face must be horrendous.  It takes all my will power to have a conversation with someone at work.  Not to mention I completely blew off the Boy over the weekend.  What the hell was I thinking?  He’s always been so nice to me (minus the not telling me things part).  Now I may have screwed this up completely.  I don’t know how long he’ll stick around with these seeming random bouts of ignoring him and grumpiness.

Oh, yeah, I also feel completely dead inside.  I almost don’t care if the Boy walks away.  He’d be better off with someone more emotionally stable anyway.  I just know once I’m out of this funk I’ll pine incessantly after him.  Or the Ex. My birthday is coming up so I expect our annual facebook message exchange.  That should be fun </sarcasm>.

When can I start my life?

Sexual Validation – Part 1

My apologies to anyone who may find this offensive, but this post will be very personal and probably very graphic.  If you don’t want to read about sex, then move on.  Although given society I seriously doubt many will pass.  Sex is the last primitive urge that can drive someone to drastic measures.  Everyone is fascinated by sex.  From nuns to homemakers to the paperboy.  Even if they don’t admit it.  I’m fascinated by it, even though I’m terrified of it.

I’ve been avoiding this topic for most of my life, but I believe it’s at the root of my problems/social anxieties.  I think some background is in order.  I’m a virgin.  In the strictly physical sense.  As in I’ve never experienced penetration.  However, if penetration is not your definition of sex, then I lost my sexual innocence when I was 9.

Sad, I know.  Unfortunately, my experience is a far too common experience for young girls.

I was molested repeatedly for when I was 9-10 years old.  By my foster brother’s 16 year old best friend.  It started on a small scale.  The first time I remember him touching me was on the ride back from a ski trip, I was sleeping in the back of the van and I felt someone draw small circles along my side.  Then a hand reached up, quickly under my shirt to feel my training bra and quickly pulled away.  I didn’t react.  I’m not really sure why.  I must have thought I was dreaming and I didn’t want to make a scene.  So I fell back asleep.

The next time I remember him touching me was in a much more disturbing manner.  Since this friend lived a few towns over and couldn’t yet drive, he would stay overnight sometimes.  This is when the most damage occurred.  I woke up to him over me in the middle of the night, the covers gone.  He had pulled my shirt up and was sucking on my breasts (I was well developed for a 9 year old, I’m sure he must have thought I was 13 or 14).  He could fit the whole thing in his mouth.  I would just lay there, pretending to sleep and hope he would go away.  I was so confused the first time it happened.  Again I must have thought I was dreaming.  I know I should have yelled or pushed him off or REACTED in some way but I was frozen.  People always talk about the “fight or flight” response, but there’s another one: freeze.

Even though I didn’t reacted when it happened, I should have told my mother the next morning.  I was too scared to though.  I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me, and even if she did, I was afraid of the consequences.  My mother was already in the middle of a court battle with my father and I didn’t want to add any more stress to her.  I didn’t want people to know that I had been touched like that.  I felt like I was tainted, that whenever someone saw me that’s what they would think about me.  It’s not like he ever threatened me if I told.  He never said a word to me.

So I never told anyone about the first incident.  I should have, because he would visit me repeatedly in my bed, in the middle of the night.  I’m don’t know how it went on for so long without anyone finding out.  My mother slept in the next room for god’s sake.  hell, he even found a way to touch me when I slept in my mom’s bed.  The molestation got progressively worse from the first night.  He would still start by sucking my breasts (at least that’s when I woke up).  He then began removing my underwear and sucking down there too. He would shove his tongue down my throat and I would try to shrivel my tongue back as much as possible so it wouldn’t touch his.  I soon learned that those kinds of touches were not what he really wanted.  That he was just doing that so he could guilt me into getting what he wanted.  He put his dick up to my mouth and told me to “kiss it”. I tried turning my head but he just followed my mouth.  One I night I finally did “kiss it” but he was highly disappointed I didn’t take the whole thing in my mouth (what did he expect, I was 9).  He got tired of trying to shove his dick in my mouth and tried to go a different route.  He pushed it against my very small, very virgin vagina.  The first and only time I ever spoke to him was to say “it hurts”.  He responded with “no it doesn’t”.  That was the only time I felt truly scared and that he would hurt me if I fought him.  He never got in, but I will never forget him trying.

Now I was even more terrified to tell anyone, since I didn’t say anything after the first time, I felt like it was my fault that it kept going on.  That I had no right to claim rape since I didn’t the first time. And that I enjoyed it.

On a very physical level I did enjoy it.  I mean, the sensations he was giving me felt good and he never hurt me (except the one time mentioned above).  A more psychological aspect to this has alot to do with daddy issues.  My parents separated when I was 6 and my father never showed any love or affection towards me.  On some level I was actually happy to have the attention of a “man”.  I enjoyed this and the physical sensations so much that not only did I not fight him, but would willingly go along with the molestation.  I would choose to sit next to him in the back seat of the car so he could rub his hand over my pants when no one was looking.  I would rub my hands on his back when he was over me in bed.  I wanted a man’s approval.  I wanted him to feel good too, so he would keep touching me, keep paying attention to me.  I knew it was wrong of me to want that, and deep down that’s probably the reason I never told anyone at the time.  I didn’t want him telling them that I was “willing”.

My brother moved out a year later and so his friend had no reason to be at the house and the molestation stopped.  I’m not sure why he took a liking to me anyway.  I never told my mother.  She still has no idea and it would crush her if she found out this happened in her house.  The damage has been done and there’s no reason to hurt her as well.  I’ve only ever told one person in my life (my first and last boyfriend).  Until now, where I’m telling the entire internet.

So begins my adolescence and a hateful and fearful attitude towards sex.   In the next post…


Initially, I was going to title this post “Stalled”, since I feel as though my life is stuck and there’s nothing I can do about it. Partially, that may be true, but everything comes down to the decisions I make (or don’t make, as is often the case). I am inherently risk-adverse, essentially over-analyzing every situation to a point where I convince myself the reward is not worth the risk. I can see the pattern in myself but I’m too afraid to break it. I’ve had encouragement from my ex, since he used to go through the same set of feelings, but since he’s no longer a part of my daily life, I’ve been too content to sit back and watch life pass me by.  I’ve been distracting myself with random hobbies, from guitar to sewing, to claymaking, to photography, to consuming way too much internet. My mom has told me since I graduated that I need a hobby. Just nothing cries out to me. I’ll get on a kick for a while but lose interest if it gets too hard or non productive.

I’m one of those people that need to be working toward a goal to feel satisfied.  Ever since I was a kid, that goal was to be good at school then complete my degree, and my graduate degree.  Since I’ve left college, I have a good stable job (even if it’s not what I thought I was going to do) and I don’t have any significant goals left.  Realistically, I don’t know if I want to get married, but ideally I think I would.  I’m not sure emotionally based goals are the best thing for me anyway.  I’ll probably just sink back in to my complacent lifestyle and depression once that goal is accomplished.  I haven’t felt myself since my last big project at work ended 6 months ago.  Ive been coasting and I’m tired of it.  But I’m afraid to change jobs, or even departments. Currently I don’t have the internal strength to meet and get along with new people and re-prove myself to a new boss.  I probably shouldn’t define myself or my life by my work, but it is a significant portion of my day, and alot of it is something I like.

I need balance.  I need a different perspective towards life.  I want to start living, but I’m afraid to and I don’t even know where to start.  Life is ok right now.  I have a job, I have a place to live, I can afford what I need.  What is considered better?

Friend: Defintion

The definition of a friend varies person to person. growing up, I also consider my friends the people I saw in school and could talk to on a regular basis. I rarely saw anyone outside of class. I was so naive. I never realized that it takes more than sitting next to someone for 7 hours to become a friend. They were just stuck with me, and were nice to me because the were bored and it would do any good to ignore me for the hell of it. I guess that’s the way to make the best of the situation. I can’t say i ever had a single best friend growing up. Every school year, i would spend my time with typically one person. I never hung out with anyone in the summer months, and the next school year they would inevitably end up in a different class, and I would find someone else to bond to.

I never knew how close two people could become until I met my (now ex) boyfriend back in college.  He gave me the best definition of a friend, and I still go by it today.  He said a friend is someone you can confide in, and be comfortable talking to.  A friend wasn’t based on how often you see them, or how nice they are to you.  Everyone who didn’t fit the description of a friend was an acquaintance.  I’ve had may acquaintances in my lifetime, but I can say I’ve only has 3 friends.  One I see/talk to only a few times a year.  We don’t really have much in common anymore (we met in middle school), but we still get along enough to be supportive of each other.  My only real best friend was my boyfriend.  I was devastated when we broke up, since I lost my only true friend.  I’ve tried to fill the void with someone else, but it’s nowhere near the same.  there are something you can only talk about with someone you’ve been intimate with.

I think another reason I feel compelled to post my problems to the internet, is that I’ve burned my friends out.  Friends are supposed to be there to support you, but I think I’ve just exhausted them with my issues.  Hopefully by posting here I can just let go and be a good friend to those I have left.  and maybe be able to make new ones.  Once I figure out to be a friend…