Tag Archives: therapy

Why I can’t say yes

I know why I’m a still a virgin.  I know why I will probably be one for the rest of my life.  I know why I said no to the man I thought I loved.  I know why I refuse to find a real boyfriend and why I can’t be happy in a relationship.

 

I’m trying to make for the time when I didn’t say no.

 

I didn’t say anything when I was molested repeatedly as a child.  I took it, and sometimes it felt good.  Other times it hurt.  Now I finally realize, at 2 am while trying to fall asleep, why I can’t say yes.  Guilt is the only thing that drives me in life.  Guilt and Fear.

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Wasting…everything

I feel like such a waste of space.  I’ve spent the last 5 hours doing absolutely nothing.  I’m home alone, I can do whatever I want but I feel trapped.  Like I’m waiting for something.  I’m dependent on my mother for interaction.  I’m 26, I shouldn’t be like this.  I’m still a child no matter how much I fight it.  She treats me like one, but maybe it’s for just cause.

I have a 1000 thoughts I want to get out, but nothing is coherent right now.  I filled a post it note summarizing my problems in relationships (romantic or not).  I’ll feel better once I get that out of my system.  Right now I’m suffering from mental constipation.

How can I (with audio)

 I will be the first to tell you that I should not quit my day job to become a musician.  With that in mind, there is some level of peace and catharsis I achieve when I play.

With that in mind, this is the song I wrote about my cousin after he died.  It’s my first and last “complete” song.  I have bits and pieces of other songs written down, but nothing coherent.  For obvious reasons, I don’t sing in front of anyone, but I feel safe sharing it here.

 

I watched you fall around me
Get up and fall again
Blinded by winds of sand
Now I can see your end

How can I face tomorrow
How can I live today
How can I stand beside you
How can I say goodbye

I watched you fall around me
Get up and fall again
This high will bring you down
Now you have reached the end

How can I face tomorrow
How can I live today
How can I stand beside you
How can I say goodbye

How can I…
How can I…

Escaping Reality (via Television)

Whenever I’m particularly lonely or depression is at it’s peak, I find myself becoming obsessive about some fantasy world.  I find some scifi/fantasy TV show and I completely immerse myself in it.  It’s never on purpose, and I feel myself disconnect even more from reality, but it gives me an escape from the world I can’t stand.  Once I get hook on a show (it usually takes about 6-8 episodes over a period of days/weeks), I not only start watching every episode, in order, but spend all my free time surfing the internet for more information.  It could be character back stories, other shows the actors are in, outtakes, or just general news about the show.  It’s gives me something to focus on besides my life.

Below are my past television obsessions,starting with the most recent, marked with years of peak obssesion.  I typically latch on to one show at a time.  Once it’s over, or I’ve exhausted myself (that can take years), I come back to real life for a while.  Once I’m sick of that, I find a new show to “watch”.

  • Doctor Who (current)
    My current obsession, and I don’t even like the show very much.  There’s too much time travel, not enough explanations of why things happen (give me some scifi rules to go on!) and it took me the whole first season to get hooked.  If I do look past the awful scifi and just accept it as fantasy, the show is a bit more entertaining than I think it’s going to be.  What really hooked me was the relationship between the Doctor and Rose.  At first a little weird, but once they started showing love toward each other, I couldn’t get enough of it.  I’m a sucker for a good love story.  i just finished season 2 and Rose is gone, so I’m not too excited about the remaining season.  i get attached to the characters and Doctor is known for it’s heavy actor rotation.  I just hope the episodes where Rose comes back are worth it.
  • Buffy/Angel (2006-2008)
    I got hooked on this pretty mush after the series ended.  Honestly, I couldn’t stand it when it was on. I can’t stand waiting week to week or month to month to continue the story.  It doesn’t give me that high I need from watching 6 episodes in a row (which I do more often than not).  Again, sucker for a good love story,  and what’s more epic than a vampire and a slayer? (for full disclosure, I’ve read all the twilight books and I am completely offended by Stephanie Meyer.  That woman should never be allowed near pen and paper again).
    I got lost in the whedonverse.  I followed news sites, watched random independent films staring tertiary actors, and found “dailies” showing unused footage.  This obsession actually started when I watched a countdown show of the most unexpected moments in television on a new year’s eve (seriously, how pathetic am I?).  They covered the musical episode, and from there I started watching, in order, starting at season 6.  That was a very dark and sexual season that got to me on multiple levels.  I found the outtakes from when Buffy and Spike had sex I would watch that over and over like fantasy porn.  I couldn’t get enough of Spike.  I’m still a James Marsters fan.
  • Charmed (2005-2006)
    Again, I didn’t start watching this show when it aired, but a few seasons behind.  I enjoy the idea of witchcraft and the empowering feeling I get when I practice.  I know this show is a hollywood bastardization of wicca, but I ignored what I had to.The Piper-Leo love story got to me, and also a bit of the Phoebe-Cole, good over evil thing.  Cole’s character/actor also got me trying to watch nip/tuck, but that pretty much ruined my fantasy of Cole.
  • Star Trek (the original series) (2004-2005)
    The first start trek I ever saw was Voyager, and I was content watching that on a weekly basis before bed.  It wasn’t until I was 18, and on spring break from college that I had the chance to watch the original series.  At first I thought, “Hey, and old 60s scifi show, this should be hilarious”.  It was incredibly campy, but after a few shows, I was hooked.  The stories were good, and I began to understand why Trekkies exist.  I used to qualify as one.  I could easily lose myself in the online fandom.  I tracked down as many star trek references as I could.  From Leonard Nimoy in futurama, to Kevin Pollack doing his william shatner impersonation.
  • ReBoot (1998-2000)
    This was my first ever obsession (TV or not).  this started when I was 10.  My parents were separated and I had mentally shut down from the rape.  I got lost in the computer world.  I was angry when I couldn’t watch the show.  I even made my mother change plans to go out so I could hit record on the VCR and not miss anything.  I trained my body to wake itself up at 1am to catch it when cartoon network changed the airtime.  This obsession is still with me, but in a controlled sense.  I just finished and AndrAIa cosplay outfit I hope to wear someday.

It’s not always about the plot thought.  Actually, it rarely is.  It’s always about the characters, and their relationships with one another.  When I’m lost in their world, I form attachments to them.  It allows me to feel something, safely, without judgment from the real world.  It’s sad, but losing myself in the fantasy is the only time I feel alive.

 

p.s. You’ll notice a gap between ReBoot and Charmed. This was when Harry Potter took over my life.  I don’t include it here since a) it’s not a TV show, and b) this didn’t withdraw me completely.  I made my best friend and bonded with her over HP.  I’m still a major HP fan and it’s universe is ingrained in my existence.  It’s part of who I am.

The Ex

I talked to the ex yesterday, as part of our semi-annual catch phone call (semi annual since it’s typically my birthday and his birthday as the catalyst for conversation).  It went…really well.  I was a bit surprised actually.  No crying after the call, no pangs of withdrawal and no crushing feeling  that I won’t ever talk to him again.  I never thought I’d be able to say this, but I can really be friends with him, and it can work.  I’ll always have a special place for him since he was the first guy to ever really care about me. He showed me physical intimacy can be a positive experience (even if I fought him at the time).  He’s had such strong influence on me.  Talking to him again has given me that push I needed to do something about my life.  It’ll still be baby steps, but at least I won’t be stewing in my own depressing thoughts for a while.  I hate that I need an external push to get my life going.  I’m still so unsure of myself and what I want, but he did give me good advice (as usual).  Our conversations always turn philosophical and i love that.  He’s the only person I can have that kind of conversation with.  We’re eerily similar and I’ve never been as open with anyone as I am with him (even now, 4 years after breaking up).

I told him how I blog about my problems, and how it’s helped to just get my thoughts out of my head.  He wants to see this site, but I’m (naturally) a little hesitant.  There isn’t much I wouldn’t share with him, but most of these posts are written during extreme emotional upheavals for me, and I may not necessarily feel the same way anymore.  I’ve also mentioned him in previous posts.  I’m not sure how he’d react to that, and since he’d be reading this on his own, we couldn’t actively discuss anything.  I don’t want him to have the wrong impression.

I’m also afraid that I would start censoring myself if someone I knew was reading it.  This blog mostly helps because I can let every thought out with fear of judgment or offending anyone.

So i don’t know if I’ll show him this.  Maybe in a few years and I can distance myself from who I am now.

 

…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…