A Project for 2013

With the world apparently (and thankfully) not ending, I have started to think ahead a little towards next year.

I’m not really one to make resolutions at the turn of the year – or well, I’m probably not good at making resolutions, period. I have trouble predicting how I am going to behave later today, so making resolutions about stuff that lies even farther in the future would probably only mean setting myself up for disappointment by overcharging my abilities. So I won’t. No promises, no nothing.

But having said that, one thing I really do want to tackle next year is working on overcoming at least some of the repercussions that my abusive childhood has left me with. For this purpose I have decided to check out “The Sexual Healing Journey” by Wendy Maltz, because my therapist suggested I have a look at it. Also because I guess if I wait for my own inner inspiration to deal with my experiences of sexual abuse to just magically hit me, I’ll probably be waiting for a long time to come. And quite honestly, I have grown sick of myself in this regard by now, sick of my attitudes and behavior, sick of getting triggered and feeling like shit over it – which might be a good sign that maybe the time has come to carefully face those demons.


So there you go, my notebook is ready, my favorite pen, too, and I am ready to have a look at the book. Probably only after the holidays, because it would be a bit much to deal with anything sexual on top of the whole Christmas thing, but hey, I figured I might as well make it a bit harder for myself to chicken out by posting about it and calling it a project for 2013.

I plan on posting about my experiences as I go along. Or, in case I end up not liking the book, I’ll write down what I don’t like about it and why. So I suppose it is a resolution of sorts, after all. Which means I managed to contradict myself within one and the same post. But then, what else is new.

Here’s to sticking to resolutions and being a walking contradiction!

Sex from the perspective of my troubled mind

I have been avoiding this topic, because it’s triggering for me, but I feel like I am in a good place today and it’s been on my mind lately. So I figure since it is a vital part of my struggles, I’ll write about it. The good thing about writing myself is that I’m in control over what I write. Even so, there will be mention of some unpleasant aspects of what is part of my sex experience, so if you are sensitive to that, please read with caution and stay safe.

Okay, so I guess what I’m writing about is what a sick puppy I am in regard to sex.

Sexual abuse was an ongoing part of my family experience growing up, and that’s all I’m gonna share about that for now, because I’m still uncomfortable facing those experiences more close up than just knowing they are there. What this is about is the mess I am in now in regard to sex. An inventory of where I’m at, so to speak.

When I’m in a good place emotionally, having a good day, I am not interested in sex at all. I don’t have sexual feelings, I don’t flirt, I don’t think about sex, don’t want to think about it. I even feel repulsed by it and like I’m going to be happy ever after if it never becomes a part of my life again. I shy away from thinking or talking about it.

When I’m in a less good place, however, it’s one very different story. Negative emotional upheaval is dangerous for me with regard to sex. I find myself nursing thoughts of sexual scenarios and they all include things that I feel repulsed by when I’m in a good place. Violence, humiliation, punishment, pain, getting used and dominated – that’s what I think of then, and what I get aroused by. It’s hard to describe it, because it’s not even a positive kind of being aroused, but a form of self-harm, I guess, similar to the desire to cut. Only instead of a razor blade, I go looking for destructive, degrading sex, because I feel turned on by it, even when that’s sick. Sex with repulsive guys, old lechers, creeps who are into sick shit, fantasies that involve family members and impulses to act upon them . . .  everything, whatever opportunity comes along.

I have come to a point where I don’t act upon those desire anymore, but it’s still very much there, and a really terrible thing, because being very sexually aroused yet knowing I mustn’t act upon my sick fantasies to stay safe is awful. And afterwards the shame and guilt and self-hate for feeling aroused by those sick scenarios in the first place is overwhelming.

It is one more reason why I really should tackle that stupid basement of mine, as I guess all the unresolved childhood trauma and the sick connections it left in my brain play a big part in this mess. I literally feel like two people about it. One side, the side when I’m well, wants to have nothing to do with sex, feels repulsed and everything and does not have any sexual feelings whatsoever. And the other side, when I’m unwell, gets up to no good in the blink of an eye, aroused by the sickest sexual shit. That’s a conflict that’s really hard to live with.

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