Posted by: Marie | May 31, 2009

(80) So much drama – Part 2 of 2

Post #80
[Journal entry written to my therapist on Sunday, October 26, 2008 – continued from previous post]

Then, most days I’m not sure with which gender I identify. Some days I am inspired to put a little effort into my appearance – on those days, I feel a bit girly-girl . . . I like to curl my hair, wear a little jewelry and maybe even wear a skirt with cute sandals. Then, other days I feel connected with my physical constitution and truly feel masculine and aggressive . . . hormonally, I feel like a man.

But, most days I am totally disconnected and unaware of my body . . . I am simply a floating head.  Regardless of with which gender I am identifying on any given day, I always feel fat, frumpy and gross.  I can’t imagine anyone being attracted to my lumpy body and my scabby skin . . . especially if they knew of my compulsion to be destructive to my body – that is disgusting.

Ali Mountain by Martin Chen

Ali Mountain by Martin Chen

At best, I sometimes feel like a woman and sometimes like a man, but I never feel sexual.  I don’t want to touch someone else sexually and I don’t want to be touched sexually.  I wish I didn’t have these dumb jumbo boobs that attract so much unwanted attention.

So, what about non-sexual/romantic relationships?  Some days I feel excited about forming close relationships with people – like family members, the people at church or the ladies in my master mind groups.  I establish relationships with them and work so hard to keep up my end of the bargain . . . my knuckles turn white . . . I get tired . . . there are small breaches on my part . . . I get discouraged, then depressed . . . and my pod’s transportation tube breaks loose from the space station.

I have been through this cycle hundreds of times . . . I don’t like any of my commitments to be very binding because I know I will fail to meet the minimum requirements . . .  I know the other person will eventually be sorry he or she made a commitment to me and will want out when they discover the truth about me . . . that I am fundamentally defective and not of high enough quality to be in relationship with a quality person.  I keep hoping that I will be able to compensate though hard work, but I always fail in the end.

Furthermore, who would want to be in relationship with me if they knew about my addiction to porn . . . not just average porn, but perverted, violent, degrading porn . . .??  When I go there, I waste hours and hours on looking for just the right video clip or sex story . . . I search and search for the perfect one.

Sometimes I think about submitting my own story so that I can be assured of finding the perfect story . . . but I can’t bring myself to use my God-given communication skills to create such a story . . . I can’t bring myself to add to the world-wide collection of crap . . . at least I have some limit to my perversion.

Of course, I never find the perfect video or story.  So, when I am finally too tired to continue, I settle for whatever is closest.  Then, when I’m “done”, when I finally can pull away from the magnetic grip of porn and masturbation, when I am engulfed by the stillness of those moments while I’m trying to fall asleep, I am disgusted beyond words.

Who would want to be soul sisters with me?

Who would want to make love to me, knowing that gentle, loving touch does nothing for me . . . that my juices get flowing only with violence?

I can’t talk about it with anyone except you – it is the biggest of my big secrets.

I remember acting out violent sex with my Barbie dolls . . . but it was before I knew what sex was . . . I remember setting the dolls on the floor and thinking through the details in my head – never talking out-loud, never touching the dolls, never actually acting it out with them . . . just looking at them and thinking – for I knew that what I was thinking was shameful.  I remember my family commenting that the way I played with my dolls was weird – but I knew I couldn’t ever let on what was happening in my head – it was my secret even then.

And now, I think it is the secret that keeps my transportation tube from working.  I feel that I can’t be in relationship with people, or with God, until I deal with this sickness in particular . . . and with my other shortcomings in general.  That feels like an impossible task.

And that is where I am at today.

– Marie


Responses

  1. Ummmm. That was about a year and a half ago. That’s not a long time in DID therapy. I hope you are well on your way to where you are more happy, have a relationship you are growing in and find the world a better place.

    If there is only one thing I’ve learned via therapy, that I could have given you back then, it’s that you tackle only one thing at a time. I’m living proof that taking on too much can be as bad as abuse.

    Ivory

    • Okay, Ivory, I had to turn to Wikipedia to figure out exactly what DID therapy is . . . I’m a bit more educated now, LOL.

      I’m actually not in DID therapy . . . because I don’t have alters. The mix-up with my name the other day was because I typed my real name instead of my screen name (if that is what gave you the idea that I have DID . . . ?)

      I believe I actually could be diagnosed with BPD, although no one has confirmed one way or the other yet (mainly because I don’t put much stock in formal diagnoses and haven’t asked for a formal diagnosis – I just know that it is helpful to me to tap BPD-related resources for treatment-related information).

      So, I am making progress in all of this . . . this post was written about seven months ago, actually . . so I’m still working on some of it . . . but I’m doing better.

      I hear what you’re saying about tackling only one thing at a time, LOL!!

      Later!
      – Marie

  2. “but I knew I couldn’t ever let on what was happening in my head – it was my secret even then.” I hear you.

    After over 20 years I’m finally starting to talk about these to my T. I used to do a similar thing. With my toys… to myself – as an 8 year old child, who didn’t really know anything about sex or anything else, I couldn’t understand it. And have spent my whole life feeling THIS is what made me bad.

    As I have started in the last year to recover memories of stuff, I have started to see that it was probably a response to what happened to me. A way of making sense of it, the only way I knew how. A way of making me bad, rather than something bad happened.

    Thank you for being so honest in your writing.

    • Hi, K –

      Yes, we were little girls — good little girls — trying to deal with a really bad reality — we reacted normally and in an effort to preserve ourselves by forgetting — so what else were we to think of ourselves except that we must be bad little girls when bad nasty thoughts were generated from our own minds? Bad thoughts must come from a sinful mind and only nasty girls would embody sinful minds . . . so, for me now, it was a relief to start remembering because I could consider the possibility that I had been a good girl all along, trying to deal with a bad reality — and maybe, just maybe, that goodness had been retained and maybe, just maybe, I am a good woman now.

      BTW, I did the same thing to my own body, as well . . . dolls first, then later to myself . . .

      I’m still working on feeling like a “good” woman, but I’m doing better . . . thank you for reading and commenting! And thank you for being willing to write and share your story . . . have you considered writing a blog? I’m finding the sharing of my story to be healing . . . I’ve heard others say the same . . .

      – Marie

  3. Hey Marie, thanks for your reply. Yeah you are right in some way there is some relief with starting to remember – but the thing I struggle with is that I tell myself I’m just making it up to make an excuse for the badness. So the memory is false, but my way of absolving myself for what I did. But only part of me believes that. But it’s a loud part!

    And the rule I apply for myself isn’t what I apply to others – so I do think you are a GOOD person, to whom, very wrongly, bad things happened.

    I found this blog really helpful: http://faithallen.wordpress.com and especially this post: http://faithallen.wordpress.com/?s=masturbation. Also this http://ouradopt.com/adoption-blog/dec-2008/faitha/trauma-tuesday-sexually-abused-children-and-frequent-masturbation

    • Hi, K –

      I also really like Faith Allen’s blog (Blooming Lotus) . . . she has a good following for good reason!

      Tell you what … I’ll declare you to be a good woman and you can declare me to be a good woman . . . we’ll just hold that space for each other . . ok?

      – Marie

  4. ok let’s try it!

  5. I’ve been reading your journels in order and I haven’t read ahead so maybe you have addressed this already. I was wondering is it still a secret? What makes it not a secret anymore. Does it stop being a secret when you tell your T.

    Does this become just a privacy issue outside of therapy? I am still thinking about your secrecy vs privacy thoughts. I hope this isn’t too many questions and feel free to ignore them.

    This post resonates with me and I struggle with the secrecy thing as well.

    Thank you for your openess and honesty. This is the first time I have ever read anything like this.

    • Hi, lostinamaze –

      You ask very relevant questions! I’m so glad you are asking them . . . and I’m happy to answer.

      The main part of my “secret” was the fact that I use violent and degrading pornography, as well as fantasies of child rape (with me as the child being raped) to orgasm during sexual intercourse and/or masturbation. The shame around this was accentuated by the fact I could not achieve orgasm in a “normal” sexual context (like loving, gentle sex or with wholesome fantasies).

      At the time my therapy started (Feb ’08), I was so ashamed of this fact that I believed I would “just die” if anyone ever found out. I never told anyone . . . ever. Not even my best friend. It was this crushing secret I carried with me for most of my 40+ years.

      Then, I was able to tell my therapist about it in detail . . . and, I didn’t die. Then, I was able to talk about it in very general terms with some close female friends . . . and, I didn’t die and they didn’t run away screaming.

      Then, I started telling a few more people . . . and then it was like this gushing well exploded and I had to tell anyone who would listen . . . maybe not tell everyone everything, but tell most people something. I knew it was inappropriate to tell some of those people what I told them, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself. The pressure valve had exploded open and I couldn’t shut it down.

      It was about that time (Dec ’08) that I decided to start my blog because I had been finding many other women who were having similar experiences. They felt they couldn’t talk about the sexual abuse they had experienced and the impact it was still having on their life, which for some included a need to use violent images in order to orgasm.

      Through the blog, I pretty much told “the world” all of my secrets . . . from a safe place of anonymity. So, I guess it isn’t much of a secret anymore. There are a handful of people who know me in the 3D world who also read my blog — so, they obviously know “the truth” about me.

      And, I haven’t died of shame yet.

      At this point in time (Sep ’09), my shame and my need to “tell everyone” have both become manageable. I usually only tell if it is appropriate — and, I use the blog to share the really gritty stuff because it is a very safe way to do that. I feel that the blog serves as a way to purge what needs to be purged while still maintaining a “normal” life in my day-to-day activities.

      So, that brings me to your question: “What makes it not a secret anymore?” I cannot speak for anyone else; however, for me, that shift came when I gained a sense of freewill over the choice to share or not share . . . if I want to share, I feel free to do so without feeling I’m “going to die” of shame. Sometimes the shame still comes up for me, but I can embrace it and let it move through and out of me. It doesn’t stop me from telling my story when I need to do so.

      And, if I don’t care to share or if I think it is not appropriate to share (for professional reasons, for example), I feel I have control over that and I feel I can refrain from telling that person at that moment. So, I am able to exercise freewill in either direction.

      Does that help?

      – Marie

  6. Thank you Marie for answering my many questions. It helps a lot. I have been trying to figure out the why of my behaviors. I have just started sharing some of the deeper stuff with my T.

    For me shame has been and is a big road block in being honest. I would like to tell my secrets even if only to my T. Even writing about ‘stuff’ in a blog is hard. But each step is a step forward.

    Reading your story helps with the understanding.

    • It is my pleasure, lostinamaze . . . and the sharing and helping others (like you) is all part of my healing . . . it is a win-win situation. I learn from others who are telling their stories, also. It is a community effort.

      The shame is a biggie. When I told my therapist my secrets, I had to first do it in writing. Then, I was able to speak it. That is where I started. It got much easier after that.

      Anyway, please feel free to add your insights and ask questions as much as you care to . . . it is a joy to hear from you.

      – Marie


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