Aftermath

I know I've never had a healthy or normal view on sex in my entire life, and I just realised that probably a strong reason for that is that so many supposedly "good" sexual experiences that I've had have been directly connected to, and ultimately ruined, by sexual assault. I know that the first time I really felt aroused was directly connected to the abuse when I was 9 and I strongly felt as if "he awakened that shit within me" and that's a terrible fucking way of viewing my own sex drive and is probably why it still disgusts me. Even though I know that it's not reasonable to blame my body's basic functions on that boy, but still.

I also did get a terrible relationship to masturbation at the same time, as I used it as some form of psychological self harm and punishment cause I really couldn't fucking deal with what I had been through or the massive amounts of guilt, shame and self hate within me that constantly threatened to explode. I also did punish myself for having a sex drive at all as that was something I completely couldn't accept the existence of, at the same time as I felt extremely guilty for actually enjoying masturbating. And then that it also later became my weapon against someone else obviously made it even worse. If I had been able to stop masturbating at that point I certainly would have, but I was already addicted and way too scared to bring it up with anyone I knew.

I keep wondering if Anna was ever intended to protect me from the abuse I had been through, or if it was much more likely that she was intended to punish me for the abuse that I had committed. I did split after the latter, not after the former. That certainly would make more sense. Being down on her level now though, we do get along much better. We haven't even had the slightest dispute in over a month now. And I realise that it's way more important for me to find ways to live with myself, although perhaps controversial and damaging, than I am to find ways to live alongside anyone else. So I guess ironically, my relationship with Anna is to me more important than any other, cause ultimately, she's a part of me.

Doesn't change the fact that I hate her for what she's done to me though. If I'm even capable of feeling love for her though, I don't know. But I am definitely protective of her and care about her. So to the point that I lie for her sake, keep most of what's going on between us from other people, and I also think it's possible me not letting her take over the steering wheel could be another form of me trying to protect her from the outside world that she knows so little about. Or maybe I'm just scared of her abusing that power again. I know that I have never truly wanted to get rid of her in terms of some kind of ultimate destruction, except from that one time when she abused me a bit too much and I hoped that a suicide could fix the fucking problem of sharing body with an abusive alter, as I thought killing me should probably be an effective way of killing her too. My goal was to kill her, at the cost of my own life.

Honestly, I think she's the only person I've ever truly wanted to kill at some point. Except from that classmate of mine back in 6th grade maybe. But I never even truly wanted to kill my rapist, although I'm sure I'll eventually get to explain as to why on that point as well, later on in this entry.

Speaking of him, by the way, I think that would be the next event chronologically for me to get into. As that was how I lost my virginity which also screwed up my perception of what the fuck sex was actually really supposed to be good for in this world. As a kid, by the way, I legitimately thought that sex was always rape. That literally every sex having been made ever was just about power, domination and owning another person. I wasn't even 10 years old when I had that belief, but I don't remember for sure if that belief came from the abuse in my life, or if I had somehow gotten it from somewhere else before. Logically I probably didn't start thinking like that until after though, but my memories don't always make sense to me.

However, I did eventually learn, at least on an intellectual level that sex wasn't supposed to be that way. Although it was certainly another thing getting my emotions on board with that after the rape. I think I both still held my childhood belief at the same time as I kept hoping and dreaming for the kind of sex most people seemed to believe instead, or perhaps it was a glorified version of that. More likely a glorified version, yeah.

It is difficult still, to process that the best sex I had was with R, who treated me so badly in our relationship, just months after the rape. I guess there's some truth about psychopaths being good in bed, maybe. But as far as I'm aware, he was a virgin before me, but of course that could have been a lie just as much as it could have been the truth. What do I care anyways.

I think I might know why intimacy has been much harder for me lately than ever before. My self discovery, back in 2013. I started remembering more, way more than I could ever have been prepared for. Obviously more than I could handle as it landed me in the psych ward, suicidal again. I didn't immediately make that connection cause that was almost 4 years ago now, but it kinda makes sense. That's when I kinda became asexual and couldn't feel any sexual attraction for anyone for the next 3 years. Not even the person I was in love with. Something like that had never happened before. If anything I had always been on the other side of the spectrum.

But when I fell for you, those kind of feelings started coming back to me again, and it confused me even more. Although I think that me carrying more of the burden since 2013 almost has to do be the reason, cause that's when things changed for me. Anything that even had anything to do with sex or physical intimacy both disgusted and scared me since then. It felt like the hell I was always trying to run away from and towards at the same time, leaving me locked in the middle.

What Anna did to me back in 2011, I can only really describe as my ultimate loss of control over my own body. As sexual abuse usually feels that way no matter who does it to me, but being raped by my own hands really is in a special category by itself. And it did come very unexpected for me as well. I certainly could never expect anything like that to happen. Not even from the darkest person I've ever known. In many ways, that experience felt a lot more brutal, invasive and difficult to deal with than the rape at 17. Although I guess now I wouldn't be so surprised if she'd do something similar to that again. Yes, of course I'm aware it could happen again. Every single day. I'm not even remotely safe from her, no matter how dark I'd possibly become myself.

Just because darkness feels more comfortable than light, doesn't mean it can protect me. I know that much.

Getting lost in my own thoughts again... I did want to at least briefly cover why I feel unable to hate my rapist, or wanting him dead. Well not that he needs to be alive for it, but I kinda feel a need to have him around in my sexual fantasies since a few years ago. But also I noticed, just days ago, that I can't really let go of the thought that I want to find him again and give myself to him. I'm very much not likely to find him, however. I've been trying for years, nothing. I just don't have nearly enough of personal information about him to have a sodding chance at actually finding him again. And I also know that it's very unlikely that he'd even be interested in me now, considering what a homophobe he was at the time. God, it feels weird saying that I want for him to want me.

But this makes it difficult for me to hate him regardless of if I'll be able give in to that wish at any point in the future. Doesn't mean I suddenly like what he did to me though, no it's simply a strong conflict within me where I on one hand am still suffering the consequences of the horrible thing he did, while on the other hand have developed some kind of twisted attraction and dangerous wish to be close to the one person on this planet it makes the least amount of sense for me to ever want closeness with. Not sure what to make of that yet.

I don't know much about what could change in the future. Maybe I still cling to that glorified version of what I think most people believe sex is like, too damaged to be able to know for sure. Maybe I could change things around, I don't know.