Healing.

September 27, 2011 at 3:29 pm (Real Life, Relationship, Sex) (, , , , , )

I’ve reached a point in therapy where I need to go deep into an old wound. I need to do so with compassion, the objective being to forgive myself for something I once did, something I am ashamed of, which I believe to be the root of a lot of my issues. This is that story.

When I was twenty-two years old, I married a man I’d met about a week prior. Actually, I’d known him for several years, but we had never spent a moment together until then. He had been in prison, and we’d corresponded with letters and tapes. He professed to love me. No one else ever had. I didn’t think I would find someone else who ever would. I liked being wanted, being needed.

I wasn’t attracted to him. I was pretty uncomfortable with him, actually. But I had promised to marry him, and I did.

I am deeply, deeply ashamed of that. I should have known better.  But he had crossed the country to be with me. Actually, he’d broken laws to be with me, which led to our first few years being a pretty fucked-up mess. At the time, I didn’t think there was any way I could have said “no”. Deep down, I may have felt that the risk of saying “no” was greater than the risk of continuing. I chose to continue.

The marriage lasted seven years. It was about two years into it when he began using heroin. He’d been a junkie before, and I knew it. I pretended not to realize what was going on for another year. By then, we were deep in debt. The first time he overdosed, I called 911 and we went to the hospital for him to be revived. The second time he overdosed, I just sat on the bed and waited to see if he would come around or not.

Eventually, he went back to jail for a few months, and somehow I found the strength to tell him he couldn’t come home when he got out. He did anyway — he had nowhere else to go. It took about a week of constant fighting, and an OD suicide attempt, before he got it through his head that I was serious.  He packed up and moved out of state, and he has never come back.

Except in dreams. For years I dreamed about trying to get him to leave; dreams where I would come home and he’d be there, acting like he belonged there. I’d have to convince him all over again to leave.

And there were dreams about a panther lying on my chest, patiently waiting for me to make one wrong move so it could tear my throat out.

I still have these dreams sometimes, over ten years later.

I did a lot of work to get past this, to build up my self-esteem and re-enter the world as a strong, confident, single woman. I did a pretty good job of getting my life back together. Except for one thing. I still blame myself for those seven years of hell. I put myself into that situation. I let it continue. I let myself be abused both emotionally and physically. And I’ve never forgiven myself for that.

And there’s one more thing. The night before he left, we had sex. At this point, I truly hated him, but was so relieved that he’d finally relented and was leaving. I had no desire for him, but he knew how to touch me, and I gave in to him. I had an orgasm.

Let’s pause for a moment and think about that.

If you’ve read my blog, you know I have difficulty with reaching orgasm with a partner. Now, truthfully, he was not wholly responsible for this orgasm, but when we had sex we frequently used a position where I could reach my clit while he was inside of me. So not only did I let him fuck me one last time, I brought myself to orgasm while he was doing so.

I feel sick to my stomach every time I’ve thought of this in all the years since. I despise myself for allowing that to happen.

I’m starting to realize that somehow, deep down in the festering heart of that wound, I may have decided that I would never be allowed to have an orgasm with a partner again. That my body’s refusal to orgasm through a partner’s stimulation is my punishment on myself for doing something that so disgusts me to remember.

The first man I got involved with after the marriage ended told me, directly and explicitly: “I am not your ex.”  I took that to heart, and I’ve never again projected my distrust of my ex onto any other man. I don’t have trust issues, I don’t expect every man to abuse me, and I can stand up for myself in a relationship.

But I certainly don’t trust myself. And I’ve never forgiven myself. And in order to move on, I need to learn how to do both of those things.

 

 

 

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1 Comment

  1. zinner1 said,

    It’s not what you don’t forgive yourself but you’re punishing . This is normal it not only you, when you don’t like someone but you still have to fuck or stay with. Especially the one last time that you free yourself complete like I have had it ,I don’t care any more. But after, you feel disgusted yourself. However passed is passed cannot call it back. This lesson is part of your life that you must live with. If you let passion to freedom ,unlock your lust that you feel ashamed completely with the new one you like. Let yourself to orgasm then you will come normal. But you have to love and forgive yourself first. Remember you don’t have the less of life for the passed of your mistake. But you have future that guide by your passed. (…to orgasm again and again)

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