what if

I wanted sex with my dad?
I can't remember most of what we did.  Subconsciously I know I had orgasms with him though. Maybe when he went down on me...I'm pretty sure this happened...
I know he made me turned-on, I only remember hating it. I don't imagine I always hated it, or maybe I came to love it alongside the loathing.

What if I wanted the sex, went after it.
What sort of sick, twisted little fuck was I?
How could that be forgiven?





Edited on 11/9/11...to add...hooboy....TRIGGER

The other night I got a memory back.

I became frantically self hating.  I beat myself, cut myself, poked myself with a pin...went crazy.  Stayed up all night trying to shake the horrible feeling.
Then I started crying...and what came was what I was afraid of:

I remember his arms looped around my thighs.  I was trying to get away from him as I pushed at the top of his head and wiggled, but he kept his mouth on me...he kept licking me, and I was helpless, I could not help it I had this feeling, it was too much.
I stopped pushing against the top of his head, I could not help myself, I felt so helpless and dirty.

Yes he made me come. Gods, that's disgusting.
I write it down now and I don't want to believe it.
I want to think I made it up, I want to hope I made it up.

He wanted me to have an orgasm, even though I was trying to both get away from that mouth and not make him angry enough to hit me. He clamped onto me like a suckerfish...and kept going at me...

I was just a little kid!

GAAAAH!  I don't think I'd feel any more disgusting if someone smeared human feces all over me.


I loved him with all my heart.  He destroyed me.  I would ask why, but I don't guess why matters now, because some part of me is never going to heal.

Therapy Friday

Friday was therapy.

We did some digging.  I still feel guilty, disgusting, and filthy inside... and it really hinges on the fact that I went to my dad.  That I don't think he ever forced me. 

That is why I hate myself, why I feel so, so guilty, so weak, so worthless.   My T says that my mom left me alone with him, I was already traumatized, and so I had a need for comfort, not a want.

My mom left me with him, so I had no way to meet what was a need than to get affection from my dad.

 

This still makes me feel oh-so-disgusted and ashamed of myself, that I needed.

Getting a second evaluation

I had a psych evaluation Tuesday.

 

They listened to the litany of childhood abuse...blah blah blah slapped around blahblahblah verbally abused blahblah raped by my uncle, by my upstairs neighbor blah blah became my dad's primary sexual outlet from 6-8 blah blah...

 

I like my current hat, I can look at the floor and I don't have to look in the eyes of real people while I tell them all this. 

 Even better, I can sit in a chair and pull my knees up to my chin, then all you can see is the hat and the knees, and I can see you, but you can't see me, which, since I don't feel entirely real anyway, is how it should be...I can be the person who isn't quite there, I'm not all there anyway.

 

And when the pain sweeps in and rips at me you can't see it.

 You can't see how much I hurt, how I'm wounded and bleeding, there are people who will smell that blood and want a taste...

 

 I don't want anyone looking at me directly anyway because I'm afraid they are going to see the disgusting part in my eyes because I know that's where it is.

 

Then the two docs- the doc and trainee doc doing the evaluation left to confer with the senior doc.  I sat there and pulled my knees up, I pulled them up and rested my forehead on one of them.  I was so tired. The light was on a motion-detector timer thingie and it went off.  I sat there in the dark looking out the door at all the sane people outside the door and I didn't quite cry, but they were all so sane and normal and cheerful and I felt so lost...

 

I feel so very lost...so lost and I don't know that I will ever find my way out of this hurt I've fallen into.

Sorry for dropping off the map

I've been being compost mentis on a social networking site and talking to my bestie Squirrel...like daily-ish.

I wrote a poem...

If I could

I'd disappear
Into the wind

Without a tear-

My memories filled of anguish would have never been,

All my worldly detritus gone in a flash,
Revealed to be barren of worth

As all my rootless hopes and dreams.

And there would be no more me,
One less broken being,

To litter the landscape and annoy the ears with its' pitiful bleating-

A world with one less wastrel of many talents,

One less aching idiotic thing,
None to long for my useless, agony-ridden, bumbling presence,

A sigh of total release,

Then no memories of me, but only the most blessed absence-

(Copyright of the author Oct 2011)