That your past has nothing to do with your future. I beg to differ)
I was alone in my nightmare.
My mother was going through her own depression of a failed marriage.
They both wanted their own ways.
Two rams locking horns. She wondered why I started to stutter—badly.
Why I suddenly turned into a shadow.
But she never took the time to see.
I made up my own personal language
I said to my dolls who were my understanding babies.
( till they got killed by the two demons)
I withdrew from the world and from myself.
In order to not feel my emotions from them,
I had turned them off form myself.
But sometimes it merged into other parts of my life.
That is the problem with survivors or sexual abuse.
Their tools to survive later get in their way to live.
If I accidentally cut myself or bumped into a post,
I didn’t pay attention to the pain.
And this led to not really taking an interest in my body.
I grew my hair into my face, I wanted to hide.
I sat in the corner to the room and didn’t care that I wore old patched clothes.
While my sister was complaining about not having the latest styles, I didn’t care.
I knew I was ugly and nothing would change that.
I didn’t know why I thought I was lower then pavement, I just knew I was.
(My mom thought I was so great at never complaining but it really was a warning sign)
When I was 10, my mom separated from my step-dad
and only took with her my little sister and me.
I had come to adore my other stepbrother who always was nice to me
but he grew suddenly cold towards me after we left.
Later I found out he was so hurt that he was left behind.
He had grown to love my mother and had felt abandoned.
(Why was I always baring the brunt others sins?)
He has remained cold toward me to this day.
During the teen years, repercussions almost got me in trouble.
Besides my mother insisting that I be her replica and frowning on anything
that I loved but pushing all that she wanted me to like.
(Further and further into low self esteem here.
To please her, was to deny myself, so I did).
Putting the mother issue aside (a whole other site, eh?)
I felt all I was good for was sex, even though I adhered it.
It was a good thing I was an introvert or I would have gotten into worse trouble.
I went looking for a father or brother.
It was a need for protection and love.
But I didn’t know how to act so I came off as a flirt.
When I was called that I decided to hide in my house and not go out.
I just couldn’t do anything right.
At 16, I was introduced to a guy who was electric.
We talked on the phone for hours. He was 23.
My mother never knew.
He invited me to his home to listen to the latest records and meet his mother.
I felt it was innocent enough. I had no warning bells going off.
I had shut them down years ago cause they were so loud.
At his home, he talked me into a dizzy spell
and even though I told him I didn’t want to,
I ended up having sex with him.
I really should say, he had sex with me.
I just lay there and wished it over but I didn’t know how to end it.
I was never taught I was worth having respect.
I was never shown how to ward off demons.
After 5 hours of his needs being met, he got off me and told me to go home.
I wandered the streets till I was lucky enough to find a familiar place
where I knew how to take the train home.
I felt dirty and hated myself. I thought everyone knew how sinful I was.
(Another slip into depression)
Luckily I was smart enough to deny another meeting with him and he never called me again.
I do have one gift.
Once I find I make a mistake, I figure out how to make sure it doesn’t happen again if at all possible.
So for a year I hid out.
No one could get me to go out except for school and I even failed that.
My sister was out going and fun. I was the shadow.
For a little while. And he was my age!
We were 17 and he was amazed at how far I was willing to go with him.
He was a virgin and was a little clumsy which made me feel experienced.
A virtue that was honored at that time.
We were hot and heavy. He took my mind into another world.
HE made me feel worth something. I felt a little special.
Sure, I thought I had to have sex to keep him.
After all, that is what I was taught all men had to have.
But He didn’t hurt and he didn’t hate.
He was gentle and loving. We soon found love. He never insulted me.
He even seemed at times a little lost boy himself. My mothering emotions took over also.
We married and had children.
We went through the normal tough times new marriage brings
but as the years went by I noticed something.
He was a sex-aholic to a point.
He never slept with anyone else, as I know.
But he wanted sex with me everyday and in any way.
I had a hard time with that. My sex drive was at that time, once a month.
I was willing twice but anymore then that put me into a panic.
(Still not sure why at the time)
Over the years he made the mistakes of threatening to go elsewhere
when I tried to turn him down on anything that had to do with sex.
I descended into the old feeling of being used only for sex.
That is all I was here for. That and mothering.
I seemed to emit a sex tone and many of his friends thought that is what I wanted.
Strangely, I was saved from them before things went too far.
It would have been nice to had been saved a long time ago.
For 12 years I lived that.
Fear of losing him cause I was sure I would never get a man interested in me again.
And fear of what he wanted next tore me up.
My depression went so deep, I begged God to kill me off.
After each sexual experience, I would regress
into a 3-year-old child and curl into a ball in the bathroom floor.
Rocking myself into numbness. This is what I had come to.
34 years old and I was hiding in the corner.
Gee, I am so mature.
A Turning Point
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