***This post is about sexual abuse, sexual situations, and a bit about how sexual abuse messed up my own understanding of sex. If those topics bother you please stop reading now and go to a blog more pleasing to you with my thanks for stopping by. Oh it also got very long. Hugs ***
I was going to write this post yesterday but I kept putting it off because I guess I just did not want to deal with it, with my own feelings. I have been on edge lately caught between needing to voice some of the things from my past, and feeling a huge need to just hide that it happened, that it happened to me. A grand lady sent me a link to a great video. I loved the video. But because I am raw right now on this subject what I normally hide burst out of me. I sent her an email where I basically divulged some things I had not voice before. At least not sober. 🙂 She being a grand lady and a great friend wrote me back saying we should talk. I panicked. I wrote her I could barely write about it and no way I could verbally talk about it, I begged her to let it drop. I hid again. She understood but I knew she felt if I did not address it I would blow a gasket. I agree with that, I need a safety valve to slowly release the parts I can. Here is some thoughts I have, my letting it out safely if such a thing is possible.
The article below talks about things I know because I have experienced it. I do not in anyway give Milo a pass, I do not agree with the direction he went, I oppose his hateful nasty ways of trying to find worth and fame. However I did go through the stages the author mentioned. Let me start again as my mind went off to protect itself and I had to wrestle it back here.
I was sexually abused. I had a working knowledge of sex, the ways of it and the male body. I did not have any clue about the emotional aspect of sex. What emotions I associated with it were all wrong. When kids in school talked in hushed tones about getting a blow job, laughed at dick jokes, and talked about boning a girl, I was confused and felt left out. It was not because I was gay, that had its own problems. See I knew about penises, I knew what sucking a cock was because I was doing it, I was the girl getting the cock and trust me it was not like the boys talked. I was not able to join in on these boyhood dreams and fantasies. I was mentally not able to process the disconnect between their words and my reality. Sex for me was not pleasant and dream like, it was not something that made one happy and fulfilled. It was power, authority, it was control over another, over me. As I got older my body responded and in truth I felt this was normal sex. I grew older and angry. In my teens I desperately wanted what everyone around me talked about, what movies and books hinted at, but I was clueless and did not believe it existed.
I remember being about 14 or 15 and wanting sex with my history teacher so bad. I knew what guys wanted from me, to show they owned me, they could do what they wanted to me, that they could satisfy themselves and throw me away. But remember I had no warm human contact. I craved it, attention from a man who seemed so kind to me. Surely if I came to him willingly he wouldn’t hurt me much right? So I put myself out there for him. I don’t know what he thought of the things I hinted. I won’t describe the things I did , they are bad enough to remember and worse to share. After a couple weeks he asked me to stay after school. He would take me home. I thought this was it, I was going feel what the boys all talked about. But the teacher was a grand man, an honest man. He figured out I was abused ( I think many knew ) and wanted to help me. He tried to talk to me in the classroom but I couldn’t understand what he wanted, why was he not ordering me to pull my pants down, why was he not saying the angry words I normally heard if I was talked to at all during it. He then figured I would talk if he took me home in his car. In the car I waited for the order to “make him happy” but he did only talked and talked and talk. My mind drifted off. Soon we were at my home. The only thing I learned was it was true that no one wanted me, I was not worth anything, I was below humans and not even a teacher had a use for me.
Fast forward to me in the Navy stationed in San Diego. I was 18. I was fit and trim, I was cute even though I did not know it. I did not make friends, I stayed to myself, I couldn’t connect to others. The ways they acted and the things they wanted I could not understand. Understand I was so very horny, I carved sex. I wanted so much to have something, I just did not know what it was or how to get it. I hated the sex I knew , but my body wanted the feeling of sex, to mate, so badly it was driving me mad. So I explored the city, something I had never seen having grown up in a town with more cattle than people. I had no fear, I was clueless. I ran and jogged and looked at it all. One early evening I had just ran the length of Broadway because running felt good to me, and was at a bench outside a bank stretching when a young guy came up to me. He had been watching me but I did not know that then. To me he was an adult and so I responded to him as an authority. He really was just barely 25 and unsure, but I was trained by both my childhood and the military to submit to those older than me. What was about to happen was my first consensual adult sexual experience and it will show how screwed up I was. He asked me to his apartment. I followed him. I still had no clue what he was really doing. He was a young cute gay guy with a new job as an architect. He thought I was a coy young gay kid who knew what I was doing and what was happening. In truth I was clueless. He had asked me to go with him and I was. When we got to his place he started to do all the things people trying to hook up do. It went over my head. When he kissed me I froze. When he touched me I understood what I was to do. I peeled out of my clothes and my body went to auto pilot and my mind took a vacation. The guy must have thought he went to gay heaven. He had found a young cute compliant guy to do what he wanted without asking for anything. After a couple weeks we had a pattern. I would come over , get naked, he would have sex with me, I would perform for him as he wished. He would then shower, go out to the clubs and party, come back to his apartment and have me. He told me after we broke up he couldn’t believe how lucky he was, I never complained, I just waited for him. He could do as he wished. He thought he had it all. I thought I loved him. He was basically my first. When he touched me it was not to hurt, he never hit me, he never was angry , he never yelled at me. He was kind, gentle, he made sure it did not hurt, but felt good. There was only one thing he wanted and I couldn’t give it because I did not understand. He wanted to reciprocate for me what I did for him. When he would try I would draw away. I was not trained for that. I had been taught this was for something I did for others. I was not to have the pleasure they did. It had been beaten in me so I resisted him on that. After about a month of this, one weekend at his place he had enough and confronted me about it. I had no way to answer. He tried to make it happen and when I pulled away and tried to roll over he pushed me down and did what I thought I was to do to him. Sorry trying to not be graphic. It did not go the way he thought it would. I simply had never had those things done to me, I had no idea what to do or how to react. I was scared, had flash backs because he had used force for the first time, I expected pain next and so did not respond the way he wanted or thought I should. He had only wanted to give me pleasure and instead he realized it went badly wrong, but he did not know why. Instead of the happy willing kid I had been I turned into a silent zombi who did not move or respond. He finished the act and for the first time there was no joy in it for either of us. My fear caused us to break up. He had seemed so great in my mind, I was desperate for him, but now my body was scared. If he had know, if he had taken more time. He was young, it was not his fault.
I left the Navy and entered the Army. I watched others have the relationships and joy I wanted, some of them good and some of them bad as life normally is. I became the boyfriend of my sargent, again willing to please and he was willing to take. He was the boss, was subservient. In the military it was not strange because of the rank difference between us. I won’t go into details of those years. I came home with no more understanding of love and relationships than I had before.
I became a civilian, and I got a good boring job. I bought a home, and a new truck. I stayed alone. I never went out. I was angry , oh so angry. It was not worth living. I was in dark places in my mind. The only company I had was the memories I hated so. The only people I talked to not at work were the 70 year old lady across the street I took for groceries and the people who had homes around mine. I greeted them in passing. A family moved in next door and they tried hard to start a friendly relationship with me. I had stopped caring about myself, my needs. I came home from work, drank until I passed out, storming to myself all the time, trying to sleep without the nightmares, and going back to work. In truth I was starting to think it was not worth living, life was just pain.
Then before I could work out how to die, my neighbors decided I was going out to a gay club that had opened in the last year or so. I had worked a shut down, so I was flush with money and vacation time. My work forced me to take a month vacation as I had so much built up. I went out just to shut up the neighbors. I figured I would go out, sneak back in an hour or so and it would be over. I went to the gay bar. An old gay guy hit on me, I said no. A sleazy man who seemed like a used car salesman tried to hit on me, I got up and went down stairs of the bar. That was more a sitting area with big arm chairs, a couple pool tables, and a u shaped bar. I sat as far away from everyone as I could. I was watching an awesome blonde guy behind the bar. He was all I could focus on, he filled me with such feelings. The sleazy guy came over and I asked him to leave me alone. He saw where I was focused and went to the bar to tell the bartender. The bartender had been watching me also. He came over and asked me to stay till closing and to not leave. I agreed. After the bar closed down the bartender and I spent hours talking at the bottom bar. Then he took me to his place. I was stunned. This person seemed to know what I felt, what I needed. My world was changing and I did not even know it. The person behind the bar, the bartender was Ron.
Well I am wrung out. This is long and it drained me to write it, to remember it, to experience it again. But it also felt good. It feels like a boil that just got lanced. It hurt bad before, it still hurts , but the pressure of it is less. I know people will want to respond and even ask questions. That is OK, I am ready for it I think. I think in some ways it would be helpful. I can answer at my own pace and do what I need to protect myself, which I can’t do verbally. If you have read this far, you are a kind generous person. Thank you. Hugs
The professional bigot’s actions and speech cannot be condoned, but it’s possible to understand where it comes from
Source: I recognize that furious, screaming child that lives inside Milo Yiannopoulos – The Globe and Mail