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Showing results for tags 'graphic'.
Found 13 results
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Trauma has created a bizarre relationship between reality and my internal world. I'm familiar with reality. I know the facts— that I am not unusual, these things happen to a lot of people, it was not caused by anything I did,.etc. But I don't truly feel any of that. In my heart, what I feel is that I'm a stupid w**re. That I deserved everything that has happened to me. My bones feel full of dirt and coated in mud. I have done a lot of disgusting, dehumanizing things that I didn't want to do. I have sought out partners who treated me like dog shit, then desperately clung to them
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This post contains very graphic references to sexual abuse. I ask that you would not read ahead if you are not in the mind to do so. Please proceed with caution. I know what you’re thinking. ‘Poppy, this isn’t a Friday! Speaking of Friday, where the heck were you this week?’ My apologies to everyone that keeps up with my blog entries weekly or those of you that were looking forward to a post from me. I was taking a small break from AS after some events that transpired and caused me quite a bit of emotional and mental pain. I don’t feel that I really have the liberty to
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This post contains graphic details of sexual assault. Please take caution reading ahead. Well, happy Tuesday, everyone! I’ve gotten over the idea of posting once a week and always posting on the same day. While in theory that was a good idea, my life demands my attention to other things and sometimes I need to write about the stuff that I just can’t get out of my head. Today is one of those days. My mind is swimming in thoughts and ideas and memories and until I get them out on paper, I feel as though I will drown in them and not be able to breathe again. I’m longing for that
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When I sleep with a man, I close my eyes. I do everything I can to make it be over if it starts taking him too long. I do this even when its my decision and I came on to him; but it always feels wrong. The sweating grosses me out, the body hair, the awkward humping like he thinks he's rocking your world when all he's really doing is drying my out and causing awful friction. When I close my eyes, I don't have to see him anymore, and it separates me from the situation. I wondered when I started doing that; coming onto guys and then waiting for it to end. When I was 16, my first boyfriend P
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I want to share something. It may be a trigger warning for someone out here. I wouldn’t read this if you endured a rape that wasn’t based on intimidation. This maybe something that makes you remember something you don’t want too, or that you can relate to that may hash up those feelings again. Maybe someone can relate and helps them to know that they aren’t the only ones this has happened too. In either case, it is pretty intimately detailed, and please use caution when deciding to read this. My rapist didn’t threaten me. He didn’t hold a gun to my head, or a knife at my thro
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He told me to lay back....I did. He rubbed my stomach....He put his finger in the middle of my chest and drew an imaginary line down my stomach and belw my belly button. I was wearing jeans. He undid the button and I didn't stop him. I should've pushed his hand away or hugged him to get him to stop. He undid the zipper and I didn't fight him. All I could do was bite my lip as I started to cry. His hands were so soft and warm. I could feel them inching closer to what I valued most. He moved around and I hated it. I couldn't wait for it to be over. I didn't understand how anyone could possible e
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So I was spending time with my in-laws this evening... dinner (delicious), and company. I'm not sure what was said to make me feel this way... but I feel the need to rant a little... vent a little.. in a safe environment so that I won't hurt the ones I love. When someone hasn't been through a traumatic event - abusive parents, volatile divorce perhaps, sexual assault... something that changes how you interact with the world. Makes you inherently -dysfunctional... you are constantly having to ignore the inner voice, and even if you feel like you've buried it, worked through it, FINALLY are done
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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 w
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Last time made me so uncomfortable, driving down to the campground... imaging what P would look like, and what his reaction would be. It made me physically ill, but excited. I tried to explain that to my husband the last time we had a decent honest conversation, the other night, about all this. I can't tell him that I had a brief fantasy about P... about getting back together with him. I don't want that, not really. It's like when I think about P I get sucked back into being that 11-15 year old girl... I can't help myself, he is so tall and kind to me. He pays attention to me, he smiles at me
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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
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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 sti
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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 fulf
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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 masturbati
