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Found 13 results

  1. 7/12/18

    Since I started my healing I have good days, bad days, and days where I'd rather lock myself away with a blade and go to town on my own legs. Healing started when I told my husband my whole story with nothing left out. First time in my life i let someone in and for him to be angry with my rapist made it so much more for me. The things he's telling me were so milder than my own thoughts of hurting the one who hurt me for years. After I told him it took a few hours for me to realize that I finally did it and when I did it all came pouring back like a movie. My little cracks I made to let him in shattered and I couldn't pick myself off the floor. I broke into a million pieces sobbing uncontrollable and when he found me all he could do was hold me until I stopped. When I finally calmed down the inside of my body was fighting, throwing things, and screaming all while the outside was empty, cold, and silent. Since that night I can't go to sleep with the lights off, the nightmares have slowly started to get better, I still wake up in the middle of sleeping in panic searching for my husband. A few days later I sat down with my dad to ask the questions iv had for years but always to scared to ask. Talking to him helped alot with our relationship because I was told he knew about all of it and like my mother allowed it. He didn't know at all and I'll always remember him saying you never truly know what is going on with the people closest to you and crying. It took me about 15 years after it ended to finally let someone know my pain I live with daily. Thank you for reading.
  2. Life.

    So... life has this way of sucker punching you. Although recently I have become more distant from reality... which I am realizing is fucking dangerous... it's not so much... distant from reality, because I am aware of my life, but more... just... being ambivalent about it, and even if I feel the emotions, I'm not overwhelmed by them.. I've carried them for so long.. I feel... just... yeah. So.. my mom just called. The man who has worked for her, for my family since we moved here and bought the business, Rick, just died. Suddenly, unexpectedly. He was one of those... kinda creepy... criminal record, but basically a fucking good person. Would do anything for you, just a little rough around the edges. He helped my mom through the divorce, he was fiercely protective of us kids. I distinctly remember one time P (my abuser) made me cry, don't remember why, and Rick asked me who made me cry, and I told him, and he yelled at P. If he had known that P had.. that we had... were involved sexually, he might have killed him. Or beaten him up. He was funny, he cared about me, was proud of me, and was overall a father figure. Here's where this gets all kinds of fucked up... but I wanted to explore it because it's... So.. even though he never ever EVER touched me sexually, never even anything close.... he did... sexualize me? Or.. add another layer to it? Let me be fucking clear. I love Rick. I love him, he NEVER did anything to hurt me. I am not trying to befoul his name, I am just... realizing some serious shit. I just need to process this.. and work through it. So. I also have distinct memories of when I started... developing. Who knows how old... sixth grade through 8th grade? 7th and 8th? Anyway, I seem to recall wearing a thong or something, and that a man (I think it was Rick...?) made a comment about it. Not in a way that made me feel threatened at all, I was flattered by it. There's another time I clearly remember that he told me I swung my hips when I walked, or something about the way my ass moved. Ever since then, I am pretty aware (and hopeful) that men are noticing the same thing.. And, his tattoos were some of the first ones I ever saw. He had a Tasmanian Devil, a naked Smurfette, and a naked lady with a truck running up on her body. The truck had these... tubes? suckers? that were attached to her breasts, and her groin. I... I liked those tattoos. I liked the things he said to me (that I'm pretty sure he said to me) about my body. What the fuck... I also know that when he found out about P, because he did find out about P... he cried... I know he loved me. I know he did. He was someone who was very important in my life... just.. maybe in ways I wasn't really expecting. So. Yeah. Life. And today my husband and I are going to therapy too. Ha. Anyway... Life keeps rolling. There's no stopping it. I guess over all, I am just realizing how fucked up I am... that feeling abandoned by my dad, and searching for it, then receiving it in sexual ways too young... I can't... that is what I am good at, that is what I know, that is what I want. I am this way, sex runs through everything I do, it is a constant thought, a constant thread... And that so much of my own self fulfillment and contentment comes from being.. from being the most prized, coveted, and cherished thing in a man's life. Yes his possession, at least in some capacity (sexually). Is that fucked up? Maybe. Probably. It's me. I'm just trying to figure out how "me" fits into the life I've built.
  3. Talking.

    So we had a big ass talk. My husband and I. I don't think my husband has fully understood the depth of my need for a man to possess me. Sexually,. to be submissive to a man. To be his precious thing. I'm realizing that a lot of it has to do with my family falling apart, and feeling abandoned by my dad. The one man who was supposed to be my number one, the one who was supposed to love me forever, who was supposed to cherish me, protect me, and teach me... he left. I was around 11 or 12... and I was searching for a man to fill that void. Enter P. A 16 or 17 year old. He showered me with attention, told me he loved me, and professed how he would marry me. Innocent enough, but I gravitated towards it like a thirsty man to a cool stream. Then it became sexual. Who knows when. And who knows how long between that first interaction and the first time we had intercourse when I was 15. Suddenly, me, this young girl who has always felt sexual - masturbated, played games with her dolls involving kidnapping and domination - suddenly I was getting this sexual attention from a man. After that... there was no... hobbies... no .... I mean... I went to school. I had a job. I had one really good girlfriend in high school. And then I had boyfriends, or boys I messed around with... One after the other after the other until I met my husband. When I was 18. I knew he was a good man, a kind person, so I quickly snatched him up. Up until now, we have been happy in our marriage... or... as happy as you expect to be, you know, with life and all. Then we met these poly people. They basically invited us to play.. and one of the guys, he just KNEW what kind of attention I wanted... he could fucking smell it. Dominating, controlling, aggressive. I felt like someone suddenly was shining a light into the deepest part of me. It was like, who's that back there, I haven't seen her in such a long time... she's been chained up in the deepest part of me... but she's been creeping out... She's been creeping out in the way my consumption of erotic literature has raised over the past few years... to the way I have been masturbating more then ever, and creating pictures and elaborate fantasies... but it's not satisfying. She's going fucking crazy... I am going fucking crazy.. So I told my husband that I feel like I need this attention... and that he has (by his own accord) no desire - nor feels capable of being dominant. I told him I want to feel like his possession, and he said, "Kimmy, I can never treat you as a possession." I asked him if he could even in just a sexual capacity. He said "You know that's not me." It was... it was fucking hard. He feels like I am trying to make him change.. but I'm not.. I'm asking him to try.... I don't know what the hell I need... I would love it if HE could boss me around, use me and make me feel so fucking good because I know he loves me so much that he wants to fucking possess me. Is that fucked up to want to feel that? To need to feel that? Sometimes I feel like the ONLY skill I have is sex. Like... that is the way I know you like me, that you care about me... it's like ultimate Kimmy time. Whatever the fuck that means. Anyway... we basically ended with... I know he loves me. In his words, "I'm here, aren't I?" We're trying. I want him to come to counseling with me at some point... And... honestly... I was fucking choking an integral and deep rooted part of who I am.... she was dying... now he knows... it's out... Maybe we can move on? I want to move forward with him. I just want to move forward... but feel happy and fulfilled. I also really hurt and feel ashamed that he is hurt because I am not feeling happy.. or like he can give me what I need. But I can't help the way I'm built.... I have always been this way. I never remember NOT being this way. No more than he can control the way he is built. A sweet, passive, honest, gentle person. I don't feel like we're at an impasse... it's more like... there was a minor explosion... but now there's a clear little space. I guess... also... I must remind myself.. this is all very fast in his perspective. Whereas even though my willingness to be honest with him and myself is fairly new... I have known this, lived with this, forever. I also said the words, "I need a sexual outlet? What else can I do?" to him. And that what I AM doing, is not enough. I don't really know what this means... and now that I'm writing it out like this... I feel like a fucking selfish person. Horrible and disgusting and just... wrong. Oh yeah, he also said, "I thought you wanted to, like, like you didn't want those feelings. That you thought they were unhealthy." And I was like, "Yeah, I know they're not... normal... but because of my age when my abuse started... coupled with the trauma of the divorce... I am forever stuck with that sexual charge. I can't not be that way. I don't see myself ever not being that way." So yeah... that also felt fucking amazing... scary... like... I didn't know why I was fucking saying these things to my spouse... I said a few times, "I don't know why I am telling you this, I don't want to tell you this" There was lots of crying on my end. He was incredibly uncomfortable and luckily we were going to go do something that allowed him his space to process. So it's ok. He was loving on me the next time I saw him, and joking around... good ole G. Just wanted to throw this out there to all you other peoples in the abyss. You too can roll the dice and risk everything to feel free within yourself. To know that your spouse sees all of you... and that maybe(?) they will roll with you.... but also... maybe they won't want to. And they deserve to have the relationship they want too. I am strong. I can make it through anything. It was scary as fuck. It's terrifying to lay my soul bare to him.. to admit these things that are so socially unacceptable and "not normal".... to basically tell my husband that he is not giving me what I need... I felt terrible doing it... and I didn't like doing it. But I felt... cleansed afterwards. Like there was a little more space in my head for me to just... think. To just... breathe. Be ok with who I am. It's crazy. I feel like I'm in a waking dream sometimes.
  4. Therapy

    So... I've had two therapy sessions... The first one was just an intake.. so it was like I was just crying, spewing shit I haven't said ever.... and just... unloading all this emotional damage. This second time, we started discussing me... how I feel like I've lost myself... and here are two major revelations. 1) We were discussing feeling like I've lost myself... that I don't know who I am... and she asked me who I was before my abuse... I honestly don't know... I feel like my entire teen years were dominated by sex. Having sex, finding sex, getting attention and love and acceptance through sex. There is nothing else in my core.... It makes me sad... but it's more like... an absence of emotion... I never knew that girl... so how can I miss her? 2) Sexual attention. We talked about the growing frequency of my consumption of erotic literature, masturbating, and creating my own erotic illustrations and stories... Like... when I first met my hubby, even though he wasn't giving me the TYPE of sexual attention I wanted... we did it so frequently that it didn't matter... I was still getting fulfilled. Then... it tapered... and I started masturbating more. Then it tapered more... and I started drawing erotic pictures.... Until now I feel like that is all I think about. She asked if that was enough, and I said no. It's not just coming, having an orgasm... it's about feeling connected sexually to another person. She asked if I had told this to my husband... and I have... but not so.... bluntly. She said I need to. And I was like... yeah, but who wants to go home and be like... C'mon, let's have an open marriage. --- Sigh... She's right. But it's so scary... especially after I have tried to delicately bring this up to him before... and his response is "I'm not that person", "I never wanted an open marriage", "I am monogamous".... basically drawing a very definite line in the sand... so I am scared to broach it again with him. --- Not sure what's going on in my life.....
  5. Weekend...

    Waiting for the weekend to really "start". I have a friend coming upstate to visit me... someone who I haven't hung out with in almost a year, it'll be fun to hang out with her. Why do I feel so.. non-enthused? I have a long weekend... I don't have to go and be around P at my mom's house.... all in all a fairly good weekend... I guess I'm also really stressed about next year, upcoming summer break, summer school..... my job. I am happy I will be doing summer school - a little more pay is fine by me - but I get nervous about planning for next year. I never feel like I'm covering the standards which I am required to cover... I've also been thinking a lot about grammar, incorporating grammar and mechanics into my curriculum... but I didn't even understand grammar when I was in school. Yes, I am an ELA teacher, but my area of interest is in creative writing, or reading comprehension. Basically literature, discussing literature, and expressing yourself thru writing. I mean, obviously I grasp grammar... I write according to "the rules"... but trying to figure out how to teach those "rules" when I don't fully understand them is daunting. Part of my professional development this year was teaching grammar... and I just felt like I was not doing what I needed to be doing. I know it was fine... but I care about my job... and I care about doing everything to the best of my ability. Yeah... teacher thoughts.... sorry. It's like my mind just hovers in two spheres - sex and work. - - - - OK, now here comes some ranting/complaining/etc.... Sometimes I feel so invisible at home. I know G loves me. I know he does.... but when he is playing his videogame, reading about the game, or whatever... it's like I come home, and sit... waiting for him to pay attention to me. How can I get him to give me more attention without bugging him, pressuring him... or pestering him? He's pretty easy going... but when you "nag" him about stuff, he is more inclined to do the opposite... so how do I get him to pay attention to me. I've jokingly told him, I'm going to give you a word requirement - like you have to say 20 words to me a day. It was a joke... but he didn't think it was funny. So that's like... ok dude... I'm trying to communicate what I need. YES, I recognize that you need space, yes, you need to think and stew and not just hash it out right then.... but I get so frustrated... doesn't he understand that I need attention and communication???? I don't know, just frustrating. Like I said... I KNOW he loves me. - - - I've not brought up any of this.... sexual tension/frustration/etc with him since earlier this week... I am scared to open that door again... last time he was mad, frustrated, and we did get into a "fight", even though we were ok again by the time we went to bed. I worry that he thinks this is "over"... but I feel like it's kinda just beginning.... - - - Yeah so, my mom called to talk about our plans this weekend. We're meeting up at the lake house - no douche bag zone - and I just wanted to solidify when. Anyway, she tried to talk to me about it. About him. That she was proud of me for being able to talk about it, and that I tell my students about assault - that consent must be ENTHUSIASTIC consent, otherwise that is assault. Whether it is words, touches, or actions... anyway, that's all nice. It was, awkward.. but I appreciate that she at least brought it up... brought up that she is planning on firing him as soon as she has a replacement.. Ok... yeah... and then she goes into, and she's just telling me, "not that this is an excuse or whatever", but how he is going to church and going to counseling. What am I supposed to say to that... like, oh good for him? Or... I don't know... I just prefer that he not be in my life/mind/heart at ALL. And just think, he has sat there and told my mom of his horrible life... how he regrets how he's acted in the past(what actions.. who knows..), that he and his wife cheated on each other, yadda yadda.... I don't get why she wanted to tell me, and I don't get why... like... fuck him. I don't know. That's great that he can get help... that he can improve himself. Anyone can do that, and most "bad" people have had to go thru some kind of trauma... I am doing it. But anyway, I genuinely do hope that he IS trying to heal... everyone deserves that. But - I DON'T FUCKING CARE. But I do... kinda... I mean, I do and don't hate him. And I do and don't love him. - - - I was asking my sister if she remembered when P started like... showering me with so much affection... My best guess is 11 or 12. Let's say I was 12, or even 13 when he first touched me sexually, she said that then he would have been 16 or 17. And I'm almost positive we had sex when I was 15, so that would make him 19. Does that matter? It's strange how little of my adolescence is clear to me. I mean, I remember like... specific events... but the actual details and ages seem hazy. Maybe that's just normal... does it matter at all? I asked her if that was normal... me liking him, him flirting (kinda) with me. She said that when she was that age, an older boy would kinda "like" her, but she said the difference was that they never touched her - not even to throw her in the river. So that makes P pulling me onto his lap and hugging me... did he ever do anything more than that before he came to me on the couch... I don't remember. God I hate him, because it's like even thinking about that shit makes me feel all sexually flustered. I wonder if he knows that my mom knows as much as she knows... and she doesn't know much... or... I don't know if she knows the details... So when he's having those "heart to heart" convos about him improving his life... do they know how skewed my own life became after those first attentions... and the real shitter is that I did like it.. and that doesn't make me any less a victim. I never really realized that he was THAT much older, that he knew it probably wasn't ok... So since I... since I loved him, it's like... I can't hate him, but I do hate him, because all he ever did was hurt me, use me, and lie. Maybe that's what I'm stuck on.. I believed that maybe he would marry me... I imagined it back then. It wasn't just a one time thing, him telling me he would marry me, he did it a few times, and usually in front of other people.. coupled with the hugs or pulling me on his lap. Ugh, fuck him. I have to remind myself that the life, this real, healthy, generally happy life I have with my G is so much better than what P could have given me. He would never have helped me find myself, and work through my shit over and over and over like G does. That's the other fucked up thing - back to self blame - what right do I have to complain about what I have? What right do I have to think dangerous thoughts that seem so fucked up and shameful that I am doomed to wreck my relationship with G. But I'm not. I'm not. I have always been honest, will always be honest - as much as I feel comfortable... Shit, this is where I spew the thoughts as they come to me.. it seems really fucking dangerous if I do that to my sweet G. Yeah... should try to get into friend/hang out mode... lol
  6. Explitive Explitive Explitive

    Extreme content - mind rambles and just trying to work through this. Mother fucking fuck. I don't understand why these... memories... this.. .this fucking life altering moment when P fucking fuck face made me his. Sick, made me HIS??!?! I don't understand why these memories have now made me have to realize that I'm.... what.. what? So fucking preoccupied by sex and men sexualizing me? It breaks my heart typing those words. It breaks my heart because who the FUCK takes this shit and uses it in a way that is so.... misunderstood. My mom always used to tell me that she'd slap me if she found out I was having sex before marriage. Ha. hahaha. Sorry that I was not only having sex by age 15, but with multiple partners - unsafe sex I might add, until I met my G. At age 18. Anyway, why any of that matters, who the fuck knows. Why does this shit just open up another Pandora's box full of sexual desires and utter wanton fantasies that... yes, I knew I had them... but I didn't want to become consumed by them. I feel like I'm being consumed by them. I feel ever the more shameful about being... sexually excited by these things, these interactions... I'm trying so hard to be truthful and open through this healing process with my husband... but I don't know that he wants to deal with this shit... or if he can. Fuck this fuck that fuck everything.
  7. I Don't Want It.

    I might go down to my mom's campground this coming weekend, Memorial Weekend. If I think about it too long, my belly gets all.... filled with butterflies, gets upset. I get excited. Like I'm going on a date. I'm NOT. I am NOT going on a fucking date with him. I am married to a man, a GOOD man. I hate him so much for being in my heart still. I don't want to be.... excited at the prospect of seeing him. What kind of a masochist am I? Seriously, I am happy (aren't I?), loved, and supported. Blah blah blah blah blah. I fucking hate him. I fucking hate that the memory of him, of what we had, is still making me feel like a inexperienced girl. That I LIKE feeling this way again. I've been waiting to feel this way again. I'm sorry G, I'm so sorry you're with me... how could you still love me when I am letting my mind run free with these fantasies? I hate myself right now. I hate P, but I hate myself more. He didn't put these thoughts in my head, I am the one letting myself go down these roads.... I just wish I didn't have to deal with this. I want to see my mom/sisters next weekend... but I really don't want to be around him at all. Not only because I hate him, but because I am scared of myself being around him...
  8. Sickness, It Is, Isn't It?

    So yeah. I am really embarassed to admit some of these fantasies...I am constantly thinking them, but I haven't admitted some of them to my husband. Some, but,not the ones I am afraid of, shamed by... Secretly thrilled by. It's like I got my first sexual awakening, and that's all I want, from anybody. Yes of course I want stability, yes I want a partner, YES I want all these things... But I also want to be overly sexual. It isn't enough, being in my monogamous relationship. BAD Kimmy..that is probably the most shameful thing I have admitted. I want to make it work.. Desperately. I want to fulfill my sultry desires in a way that still allows my husband to love me; without hurting him. I have thought about creating an erotic blog, like...to just unleash all these thoughts. Is it wrong that I am really thrilled by the thought of strangers reading my words and,being excited by them ? What the fuck is wrong with me... I feel like a predator myself. I have NEVER acted on these thoughts... NEVER even admitted some of them to living people... I am just scared, scared of me. I feel like this site is helping me find others like me, but it is also terrifying. I have never admitted these things to myself...so discussing them here makes them real. Why can't I just be happy with what I have?
  9. Layers - What I Did.

    So, I'm trying to work through why I am like I am... is there something broken inside that led to this? Am I a perverted person? Is it wrong to be perverted? I feel like the right answer to that has to be YES. Good people aren't like this, proper, respectable people don't think these thoughts, have these desires. It's gross, I feel gross, because then by that logic... I AM wrong. Bad. I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say either.... so I guess I'll just go right into it... TW/GRAPHIC - you really don't have to keep reading. So like, ever since I knew what my parts were for, I was masturbating. I used all kinds of things, really anything that got me off. Bathtub, toothbrush and hairbrush handles, couches, backs of chairs, decorative glass bottles... and as often as I could get away with it. Again, that *get away with it*.... am I truly disgusting for being into masturbation? I walk a constant line of I think the thought, get turned on, feel shame, repeat. Then I discovered the internet and flirting online - nothing serious, I never was brave enough. Then boys started paying attention to me.... the dates are all so confusing, my teen years are all jumbled... Let me work through this... First "boyfriend" - 5th grade, Jarrod. We went on a date (with my family) and we got "married" on the playground. Not even hand holding. Then middle school (7th and 8th grade?) Brett. We held hands on the bus to Cedar Point, then we talked about it on AIM afterwards - sweet, innocent, and we actually kissed too! After being dared by friends, of course! So this is where it gets fuzzy... because I know this is when P and I first started interacting... or were we always? It seems like I remember being so young and having this older boy fawn over me. But when? P. He was my first real sexual encounter with a boy. I loved it - I think. I mean, I clearly remember him telling me "I love how you're shaking" (right now I hear him whispering that to me, and I feel warm - I hate myself) he touched my breasts and maybe fingered me, and it was the first time I felt a penis. Daniel - (but I honestly don't remember if he was before or after P....) we dated, we would go to the church's baseball field behind my house and make out. Dry hump, fingering and handjobs... he asked me for sex once, but I said no, and he never pushed. Why didn't I let him? (that's why I sometimes think it was before I was with P) - We also used my old elementary school playground as a secluded spot to mess around. Oh, it must have been 9th or 10th grade because I could drive and I would drive him home sometimes. So that was after I had had sex with P. Why didn't I let Daniel? Chris. Very sweet, and never pressured me. He was also older, but truly a gentleman. He had had sex before (I think) but he let me set the pace and wouldn't push. He offered stuff, he offered once to eat me out (in a teasing/off hand way) but I didn't get it at the time, and he sensed my inexperience and it never happened. I get it now. P. Letting P have sex with me on the night of Chris' dad's funeral. How much I despise that I was there. Did I let it happen? Didn't I know what an erect penis would do if it was near my vagina? But still, "somehow" it happened. Immediately afterwards I went upstairs and cried/puked. But didn't I also like it? Did I? I don't remember... Also don't remember exact dates, but also had a series of encounters with P. No relationship - just fuck buddies I guess. I sure wanted him to love me, be my boyfriend, marry me like he said he would. Not sure when/how that ended...but eventually it did. This is where I feel like I just... slept with anyone who would sleep with me. It's just a cycle of - date a guy who'll fuck me, fuck some guy for fun, use a guy friend who was really kind for sexual encounters with no real intentions, attempt and be rejected by other male friends for sex... I honestly can't remember who came before who... so I'm just going to do my best to go through them... Chris2 - Actually respected me and tried to love me. I used him. Let him finger me and get me off, but not actually date him. I feel really shitty about this... he was genuinely a nice guy, and I feel really bad about leading him on and using him like that. I burned a bridge there. Nick - Also used him for sex. I didn't ever actually LIKE him. He was annoying, immature, and frankly... a little stupid. He was willing to mess around with me, though, and had a nice body. So that whole thing was pretty much me using him for sex, maybe he thought we were dating - I didn't really care. Campground guy - I don't even remember his name... but I met him at my mom's campground, hung out all night around a fire with him... and the next morning flashed my panties at him and his friend on the swing by the river. We exchanged numbers, and I drove 2 hours to visit him on three or four occasions (he never drove to see me, I just realized... what a fucking dummy I am). We watched porn together, we got eachother off orally and with our hands. We did stuff while his friend (the one I flashed) and his girlfriend did stuff - had sex? - on the other end of the basement. I clearly remember his friend commenting on how he liked how loud I was. I feel sick that I am almost proud of being like that... and still kinda like it? Don't know why that ended... but I do also remember once leaving his house at like 4am after his mom called down the basement stairs "Campground guy, it's time for your friend to go home." Your friend. Ha. Warren - younger than me. Inexperienced, afraid to even let me touch his naked penis or see it. Believe me, I tried. Lots of phone sex, parking behind the old school to make him cum in his pants. His mom hated me, or at least I felt like she hated me. I broke up with him after a while... Looking back... I wonder if I dumped him because he wouldn't have sex... Ryan - I really liked him. He was just the right amount of physically attractive, aloof/di*k, sensitive, and dangerous. He had a utility van, and we would fuck in the back of it all the time. We went on dates too, but I was always fast forwarding in my head to being dominated by this guy. I remember setting up an elaborate lie so one weekend when my family was up at the campground, we stayed at our other house alone. I went to Germany that summer as an exchange student.... sidestory - I got drunk at the disco one night in Berlin, and one of the other US boys, Kurt, came back to my hotel room with a US girl, Tracy. We got in bed and started making out... did I make out with Tracy? If I did, I let her do most the work... I wasn't/am not into girls... Maybe she left at some point? But I know I jacked Kurt off and he fingered me. It ended when another student came in the room and was like, "Mr P says everyone has to go to their own rooms!". I'm terrible. Nothing more after that. I came back to the US, and Ryan dumped me the next day. Ironically, or was it karma, he had cheated on me while I was gone with an ex girlfriend, and he was getting back with her. Café Guy - Another one whose name I don't exactly recall...I met him at a café in highschool listening to a local band play. He showed interest, which meant I was all about it. We left the café and found a path in the woods (how fucking stupid can I be). We went in the bushes and made out with some heavy petting. He broke my bra in his efforts to get it off, and I left it in the woods. I don't remember what friend it was, but some friend admonished me about leaving with him that night. Then we started "dating", or at least he wanted to be dating. He was nuts. His family was extremely religious, and he was constantly asking me to attend church with him. I found it weird how he was so religious, but not above having a quickie (and I do mean quickie..) in his parent's house. We also were messing around in his car in the church nextdoor to my house and a cop was called on us. The cop made him get in the cop car. He said Café Guy said I was his girlfriend, and was I? I didn't want to get anyone in trouble, and I was mortified, so I said I was, even though I didn't consider myself that, or call myself that. The cop asked where I lived, and I said nextdoor... He chastised me, told me to go home. Let us off with a warning I guess. I couldn't let café guy into my house seeing as my siblings were home, but it was summer, so we fucked in the backyard on the trampoline. I ended up basically telling him to fuck off and leave me alone- that we weren't dating and I didn't like him. I feel bad because I used him for sex, and then ditched him when he wasn't getting me off anymore. And then there was my G. I knew I was going to this college, and a friend offered to have me come visit him. You know, check it out. SIDEBAR - is it interesting that this friend was best friends with P growing up? Does that matter at all? - So my best friend came with me, and we three were hanging in a hotel room. My friend suggests we call his friend G to hang with us. We call him up, go to his house to meet him, and he comes to the hotel room later. Of course we were drinking, I don't really remember who started hitting on who, but I'm sure it was me. I basically threw myself at him until he relented and had sex with me. But I had to convince him, he was very apprehensive of having sex, but in the end I got what I wanted. I immediately pursued G, and we started dating, and we've been married 7 years. Looking through this, having actually had to stop, rewrite, think back, rewrite... I am realizing how intertwined my natural(?) sexual urges were fucked by being used by P. Like... instead of just being a super sexually driven woman and being healthy in that... I feel disgusting for being that. I still enjoy sex, masturbating, fantasizing, reading erotic literature sometimes online. But there is always this underlying shame in it all. Then I get scared. I've almost been married a decade, and I've never been with one guy for this long. Recently G and I met some poly people. They were fun, different, exciting. Their "leader" - why didn't I see how fucking despicable he was- took an interest in me. Commenting on my body, lingering hugs, flirty texts hinting at a dom/sub thing. Basically inviting us to play with them. G wanted nothing to do with that. He let the leader do his flirty shit because he knew I wanted it. I feel like such a shitty human being for putting him through that - for having the audacity to do it and know that if our roles were reversed, I would raise holy hell. It's terribly unfair to him, yet he still loves me. We ended our "friendship" with them when their creepiness and cultish vibe, and utter toxic controlling leader showed his true colors. You know, telling me that if a woman was elected president, we were basically asking for terrorist attacks(the fuck?) and telling me he was sorry I didn't love myself enough to wear high heals, revealing clothes, and do my makeup and hair. Again, the tangled web where he acted just like my father - why didn't I see it? Ah... because he was offering sexual attention. I don't know if this forum is the right place for this. I don't even know what I want to get out of writing this. I just want to live free of shame. I don't want to hurt my husband or disrespect him and our relationship. But I am sexually frustrated and I'm nervous about it. I'm scared of myself. I'm sorry... if you read this, I understand if you find me gross. I kinda feel gross right now. Plus now P is back, so I'm remembering our trysts (did I just call them trysts?!)... not that I didn't before... but before it was in the past, so I felt safer looking through the window of time. Why can't I just be me and be ok being me? I don't want to be ashamed, but I can't stop these thoughts/fantasies.
  10. The Final Give & Take

    Can I open up to you? The can of worms sat undisturbed on the top shelf in your bedroom But can I speak with you? Words left undone I’m overrun Gold thread left un-spun What is there left to do? The spindle lays down useless; how could we get stronger through this? I deserve to know what the goddamn truth is Or what truth may be today- But tomorrow it may change The heart is clay (washed away) As you present your sins in chains to be slain Finally I state: “Don’t insult my intelligence- for I have felt more deeply than you ever have in your moments of weakness.” To that, what would you say? Clarity is the direct result of pain If I could I would sit down forever and watch you on replay Going away, slowing the day, dreams starting to fray Like you would give a fuck I must have been a tiny sliver of your life that you flushed down the pipe and refused to think of. I should give up- but damn. I guess that’s ok, I could give every piece of you away if only (if only) I didn’t Love Now begins the final verse of giving up, But I will sit on this stool and pour my soul into these six strings Write a song about destiny- the flame’s smoke hit my lungs on repeat Never felt more misunderstood-no clue how to handle such huge things The burden on my back is weighing me down relentlessly Single notes always lack when I’m drowning in this symphony But who cares? No, really- who gives a shit at all When we’re eye to eye in silence- waiting for the draw The trigger on your finger looks like it’s about to give A moment from the end of a life that has not yet been lived Stretch me ‘till the silence ends or until my bones begin to break Is this the theft of mortality- or the final “Give & Take?”
  11. Lost Memories

    Warning!!!! I'm going to talk about my miscarriage and 2 abortions WARNING!!!! I lost a pregnancy due to my ex husband. That's the way I feel because we didn't realise I was pregnant or maybe we did (I don't remember) but he continued to have very rough sex with me until the day I miscarried. No one knows about it because it was before we were married and I would have been disowned if my family knew. I got pregnant again 2 more times before we got married and I chose to terminate the pregnancies. (Please don't hate me, it was the best choice at the time for all of us). The thing is, I have no memories of this time. I know I must have been in pain. I know certain facts....I didn't take any pain medicine the doctor recommended for fear that my parents would find out, I had to work or my parents would find out, I lived life like it was normal, I don't remember anything else. I remember being under for the first termination and I think I was almost 12 weeks? I'm not sure, I remember that my blood pressure was dropping, I remember hearing the doctor say that they were losing me but then nothing.....anyone have any idea how to find these memories? Does anyone have this problem?? I'm sorry if this bothers anyone!!! It's just on my mind and I can't get rid of it. Thank you for any advise!!!
  12. Control Part 2

    Today I did it.....I told my best friend everything. He knows more about me than anyone else in the world!! I have a new problem now.....he has my control. I used my story as control over everything. If something didn't work out right, well, it must be because I have this huge secret that no one knows about....now he knows. I'm scared. He will never hurt me, that's not what scares me. What scares me is he was strong enough to handle everything. I call him Superman because that is who he is to me. I just had to get this off my chest. I told someone & they are ok. They don't think I'm disgusting, ugly, vile, nasty.....so should I still consider myself this way? He says that I was forced to do the things I did with my husband, but if it's your husband.....is it really considered force? At some point, I have to admit I allowed the things to happen. I said no but I still allowed it to happen. I'm confused and scared and worn out and need my best friend by my side. I want to look into his eyes and see that he doesn't feel any gross, disgusting, ugly, vileness towards me and then I want him to hug me. That's what I wish.
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