My thoughts are tangled. I’m caught up in processing my sexual abuse history, which makes me about 14 today. Many of my reactions are straight from that time. I want to run away. I hate everyone and everything. I don’t want to do the things I know I ought to do – and who’s going to make me? But I want approval and love. I want safety. I want out. I want to be powerful. I could seduce them all and show them! And I could, but now I know the consequences in a way I didn’t then. I know it wouldn’t help, wouldn’t take away the pain for more than a few moments.
It’s hard to even talk about. The culture of secrets runs deep. You just don’t tell. Of course I wish that people would somehow intuit that I am not all right. Why can’t they see past my perfect facade? Eighth grade is a level of Hell even without abuse.
I’m so lucky in the support structure that I have created for myself here and now— I do have the strength, space, safety, and love to work through these complicated teenage feelings. And it’s working. The therapy and private work that I’ve been doing for 2 years has brought me to what is probably the last really hard thing to look at. And I’m slowly getting through that too. I’m reaching a point where I can see the exit sign.
But now particularly sucks. I feel so sad. And about a million other emotions. I’m cold because I’m a bit in shock. It’s unbelievable that I’ve carried all of this crap around for so many years. I will be happy to be free of it, relieved to release the flash-backs and frustrating feelings, grateful to own my sex life. I want to be able to make love without ghosts.
Last night I had access to both of my men and a babysitter. I wish I could say that we had hours of riotous sex. We didn’t. I took a hot bath, we talked, we made dinner together, we built a fire, snuggled up on the floor together, and watched Almodóvar’s La ley del deseo (Law of Desire). It’s exactly the kind of movie that I am drawn to, a foreign art flick with lots of gay sex and a dramatic ending. It helps that Antonio Banderas is in it. He’s totally on my list.
It was lovely and perfect and still didn’t really make me feel better. I want Harold and Joel to be closer to me. I want to feel them under my skin. Maybe sex would get me that close, but I haven’t been feeling like sex. Everything is come here/fuck off. I feel so much pain that it’s hard to open up to the love I have all around me. Sometimes just knowing the love is there is enough.
I’m walking a careful path. I get lost sometimes, but for the most part I’m doing it. I’m healing my hurts and taking back my life. How do you find that balance between sex abuse and sex, fear and love? I gather the light to myself as I move through the darkness. And I just keep going. I think this place is mine now – nothing left to fear except forgetting there is an exit.