It is 6pm and I have literally been willing the hours to go by so that the day is finished. Last night I went to bed for yet another night under the influence of prescription drugs and booze. It makes me really sleepy, I literally cannot keep my eyes open. Any of you who have been chatting with me will know how my words make little or no sense. The amount of times I have been drifting off and remembered that I am meant to be responding to someone is more than I would like to remember. Truthfully, the majority of the time I don’t recall these conversations and its only through looking through my tweets, dms and texts that the night before may ring a bell and even then its at a push.
Despite being sleepy, I drifted in and out of sleep, waking from nightmares. My head at times so full of images and voices. Today I have not been able to shake off this deep dark feeling that is literally dripping out of every pore of my body. I have been triggered for the past few weeks, the extent of which finally came to a head yesterday.
My husband and I had a huge row. I don’t remember all the ins and outs of it, I don’t even remember how it started, but I do remember feeling frustrated with him, angry and hurt. He got really pissed off and basically told me that I should leave and in that moment I wanted to do nothing more than to walk out and never come back. I would have happily jumped of a bridge or walk into speeding traffic (these are thoughts I have never had before).
This bit is hard to write as its really personal, but I need for this to make sense…I am nervous of what people are going to think and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable…so apologies if you sex is a taboo subject, a trigger or something you feel uncomfortable with reading….I would suggest you dont read further…..
I am sure that there are many of you who can relate to what I am going to say. Depression can cause libido to go, anti-depressants can make it go completely or you still want to be intimate but it doesn’t fulfil your needs….my heart is pounding as i write this and I can feel myself being embarrassed…
So, sex is something which has been a part of me since I can remember. When I was very little I touched myself (aged 2 or so)…I remember my mum caught me when I was about 4 yrs old and she told me off. She told me that it was dirty, evil and wrong. That I was disgusting and that I should never do it again. For whatever reason I didn’t listen to this and I got caught again and again and again. I got told the same thing numerous times but it was attached with being smacked. So when I was 6 and someone else touched me I knew that it was wrong, that I was evil and disgusting. Telling my mum would just result in me being smacked and I hated that. I didn’t like what the girl did to me, it hurt and was different to what I did. I actually didn’t do anything any more.
As the years passed and experiences changed sex has become a way of communicating with people, but in order for me to do anything I have had to be drunk or stoned. Until I was almost 24 I had not had sex with anyone sober. If I was sober it was against my will. It is an important part of feeling close to someone for me and in the past I put my hands up to being a complete whore. Sex is not something that I hate, its like a necessity to feel normal, but I can and do enjoy it and not always in the mundane missionary, submissive position which many people assume about me….THEY CAN FUCK OFF!!!
Yesterday, in the middle of our row about walking on eggshells and how hard things were individually, my husband, C, said to me that he no longer felt like he knew me, that perhaps he had never known me. This cut deep, but then he amazed me by bring up something that happened a decade ago. He brought up the first time we had sex.
It was about 2 and bit months after the breakdown of my first marriage. C and I had been dating for a little over a month and I guess the fact that we had already known each other for so long, the sex part was a scary prospect for us both. He had been single for a couple of years and his experince was limited in comparison to mine…for some obvious reasons. I don’t remember whether we had discussed about my not being sober for sex, but I vauguely recalled that he had said to me that when it happened, I had to be sober, he didn’t want me to be drunk.
My daughter was at school and he had come over, just because he wanted to see me. He had work so there was only a few hours that he had before he had to go. He kissed me, hard and deep. He literally took my breath away and I knew that this was the time. I was scared, I had never been in this situation before and I was ridiculously nervous and embarrassed. It was like being a virgin again. He touched me like I was glass and would break in an instant. The look in his eyes was tender and loving and for the first time someone made love to me whilst I was completely sober and awake for every minute of it. I cried as he hugged me afterwards. Not because it was terrible, far from it. I cried because for the first time in many, many months it wasn’t an act that was degrading, or that made me feel ashamed and dirty. I didn’t feel the sudden need to go and scrub myself clean. I have no idea how many people I have been intimiate with in one way or another, but this was the first time that it was on my terms with nothing distorting my thoughts or feelings. I cannot explain how much this really mattered to me, really made me feel and I did not mean to burst into tears. When you have only ever considered yourself to be there for someone elses pleasure and that you don’t matter, that you are a chore and not worth considering, you believe this. C has taught me that when it comes to sex I do matter. That it should be something where we both get something out of it.
So, for him to bring this up yesterday it really got to me, on top of everything else that we had been arguing about I never thought for one second that this would come out. I couldn’t speak…I just asked him if he wanted me to leave, if that he really didn’t want us to be together. My plan was to go to the MH treatment place that I attend and see the duty worker. I needed help, any help. He told me to go there and get some help, to tell them that this couldn’t continue.
I was shaking, in tears and really didn’t know what to do or what to say. I FINALLY got to meet my care-cordinator who I actually liked and who listened to me. I told her about feeling suicidal, about my self-harming, the row with my husband and how bad things are. In the morning I also overslept so the kids were late for school. I decided that the school needed to know what was going on. I spoke to the welfare lady who has been amazing. I told her the truth and now there is a bunch of things happening to help my babies….this I also shared with the cc.
I obvioulsy love my children with all my heart. But C and me have something special and I know that. I have always known that. Its one of those things when someone asks you what it was about them that made you fall in love you cant answer. I simply have no idea. I just do. We don’t agree on everything, we have different interests but we have this deep connection which despite all the crap is still there. He annoys me and I annoy and frustrate him.
In recent weeks there has been a major disconnect, talking has become painful, we have been switched off from each other and saying I love you to one another has vanished from our day to day talk. Something which is what happened within my first marriage when I stopped loving him. This distance has also translated into things being non-existent sexually. And when that goes I feel panicked and really worried. I know relationships don’t rely on sex, but its an important part of being with someoone and it is hugely important to me. Over the past few years sex has become something which doesn’t happen so much. Its something which he has taken to leaving up to me to instigate and I find this frustrating sometimes because I feel like he’s not interested. On monday night I decided to break the recent drought and tried to reignite something between us. To try and save my marriage…I wanted and needed to feel loved, I needed to be held by the man whom I adore and love to the ends of the earth. But communicating was still an issue. Having this argument made me feel dirty, evil and disgusting. I felt ashamed for having sex and before I left for the MH centre I turned the shower onto a high heat and scrubbed skin within an inch of itself. I have scolded across the top of my shoulders and have taken a layer of skin off across my chest.
Today, I have struggled with all the different emotions and feelings I have. Last night my nightmares were about my ex husband, I dreamt that I wasn’t allowed to be with C and that I had no choice but to be with my ex. I have felt so much intense pain for the little girl who was told how evil she was and got smacked. I have had flashbacks about the times when my ex raped me, incoherent memories of random faces of men and women who I did things to for some pot, fags, booze and money. I feel deep shame and guilt for these things and despise myself intensely. I feel utter hatred for who I am, for the fact that I am a fucking failure. I cannot exist without popping a pill, I am drinking at night in secret so I can sleep. I am craving something else to make me feel better and in the midst of all this self-pity and hatred are my husband and kids. I am destroying the best thing in my life and I seem to be incapable of stopping it. I don’t want to hurt them, I don’t want them to think that this is because of them. This isn’t. Its all because of me. Perhaps the reason why I was sexually abused in so many ways and by so many people is because I am evil. I was dirty and disgusting for touching myself when I was younger and the consequence is that this happened.
Even now, if I feel so inclined as to do that to myself, I feel intense guilt and shame. I feel disgusted with myself, revolted for being pathetic. For doing something which is so wrong.
My children know that they can touch themselves, they have all done so since they were tiny. I have had to stop the two younger ones on several occasions from doing things to each other, but have always told them that if they want to do something to their own body then that is fine, but right now, at their age it is wrong for someone else to touch them. I have also had to explain that siblings shouldn’t do this to each other and that they need to stop. They have asked questions but they understand and we have a very open attitude about sex and sexuality. This has been essential this week given that I walked in on my 16 yr old having sex….fortunately not for the first time but was more than I wanted to see of either of them.
Why is it ok for them and not for me? Why do I feel all these intense feelings and why do I need to punish myself? No matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, these feelings continue. Right now, I feel ashamed, disgusting, dirty and evil for even having talked about sex….