forgive... yes; forget... I wish

I am an open book; ask me anything and I will share with you what I truly feel or think. I believe that is why I have a following with this journal/blog.

One of the more traumatic events in my life is the sexual abuse that occurred for a number of years by a man that had been considered family. Since the age of 13, it hasn’t been a secret. My thinking has been, if I open up the conversation, own the events that shaped my sexual being and show those around me that I have moved past it all; than I would eventually live through my positive intentions. I want to prove my strength and share my wisdom but the truth is, even to this day, I am flooded with memories. I have a few triggers that bring me back to my pre-teen years. I quickly retreat, in my mind, to fear and disgust; for myself, more than anything. I feel shame often, even though I am rational and I know it was not my fault. My husband knows my triggers, he is very conscience and caring when it comes to these things. One of the physical reminders is any type of lotion being rubbed onto my skin. The last memory I have, before I gained the courage to tell an adult about the abuse, involved the use of sun tan lotion. It would have escalated to sun screen or any other form of cream, if he could find it in the house. I have forgiven the sick individual that did this to me and it took additional years and therapy to forgive the loved ones that couldn't or wouldn't protect me back then. I am so fortunate to live far away from the person who hurt me but it's more "out of sight, out of mind" because I have trouble forgetting. As an adult, I had planned what I would say if I came face-to-face with him; I wanted to look him in the eye and ask - why? I found out that I wasn't his only victim, his oldest daughter had memories of sexual abuse but I never did talk to her even though I wanted to. This is on my mind because I was triggered yesterday by watching a wellness show on Netflix. The episode was about sex, being open as a sexual being. Most of the show was entertaining until the experience of a grown man, in his 50's, shares how he is still emotionally dealing with loving himself. He had been sexually harassed by a family friend in his teens and he was struggling to see himself worthy of love and pleasure. I felt more than sympathy for his story. I started re-living, through his account, what had happened to me. I believe there are multiple factors to explain why I struggle in this part of life. The sexual abuse started when I was 8 and there are a few memories that I have suppressed. It's harder to admit my dysfunctional view of sex than it is to talk about my past traumatic experience. I enjoy porn, I masturbate when it tickles my fancy, and I am working on verbalizing my wants and needs in the bedroom but I know something is way off. For instance, my husband is vocal about his attraction to me and instead of accepting the compliments, I sarcastically argue with him. It’s a knee-jerk reaction that makes me inwardly flinch. If I make it funny than it takes the seriousness out of the debate. He'll look at me with those eyes that say, “I want you” and playfully touch me while expressing his desire but I cut it short, without a second thought. From the outside, some may see this exchange and think I am fishing for compliments, wanting more of them to feed my ego; this is very far from the truth. I would give anything to see myself through my husband's eyes; if that was possible, maybe I would easily accept and love myself.

It helps me to know that I am not alone. These feelings I have, my confusion and frustration with myself, is emotionally exhausting. When I hear that others can relate, it gives me strength. I think that's why I share the more intimate parts of my life in this public way. The conversation has to start somewhere and talking (or in my case, writing) is another form of therapy.

P.S.- I haven't been writing as often as I used to because I have been feeling conflicted. I am struggling with the question, "what makes me so special?" I don't know the answer, most people have something they could write about, I'm no different and yet I chose to publish a website. When the words find me, not forcing it or making it up, I plan to write it all down. As long as the posts continue to help me feel connected and give me a sense of identity, I plan to continue, with or without an audience💞