Bitter Remembrance

It's getting close. Close to the anniversary of what that thrice damned peice of shit did to me. Maybe that's why I'm so angry. I hate the bastard. I hate him for what he did. I hate him for the fact he doesn't even remember. My life went to hell that day, but he continued on as normal.
Why? Why shouldn't he be the one who hurts? Why can't he be the one to need drugs just to be normal? Why should I be the one who has to fight back suicide thoughts? Why should my marriage suffer because of him?
WHY?!?!?!

But there's no answer. Nothing that helps. Sure it's because of sin entering hte world. I know that line. You know what? It doesn't change a damn thing! Nothing changes. Except I sink farther into feelings of inadequacy, of being forever flawed. And why? Because Brian didn't give a shit about me! All he cared about was getting his dick wet.
I hate him so much. I hate him I hate him I hate him.
I hate him.

I hate sex.
I hate the pressure.
I hate power play
I hate unfairness of it all.
Damn men.
It's so easy for them.
Then they get "frustrated" when we aren't interested.
Why the fuck should we be interested?
All it is is pressure to do something that we get nothing out of.
I hate it I hate it I hate it.
I hate how much I fear sex.
I hate me. I hate that I am so different.
I hate being broken.
I don't wanna be broken
I want to be normal.
I want not hurt anymore.
I want the pressures to go away. I just want them to go away.
I don't want to think about sex
I just want it to go away.

Good Vibrations

I always feel so strange after masturbating...like a tensed up bundle of nerves. If I don't stay tense, I will get depressed, and I don't want that. But I don't want tense either. So I'm going to try some relaxation breathing. If that doesn't work, I'll go smoke.
To be honest, it is probably not just sexual tension. I can feel all hte days tension coming back and climbing on board. My big insecurity right now is that I haven't orgasmed. But it's a generouse insecurity, it makes room for all my other worries too.
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But, anywho, for tonights report. Two very intense pre-orgasms...once again stalled by my thinking about them to much. But what the hell. Maybe I'll get a little further each time...
Holding my electric bvibrator to my face felt good and distracted me enough to get me pretty far along. It was nice. Also, if you hold it on your nose, you sneeze.
I'm trying to get more comfortable with my pussy, so I tasted my moisture, mixed with lube. Kinda sweet and salty.

Decision I've made today: Work on orgasm during self love, just have fun with sex.

Walls

I want walls. Walls to protect me. Walls to keep me safe.
But there is no wall high enough. No brick thick enough. Walls are not safety.
Guns. I have a gun. When I'm alone, I carry it around the house.
But Guns fire when the trigger is pulled. Who it is aimed at doesn't matter.
Guns carry safety and danger side by side.
Peace. I crave peace. I desire so much to be free of fear.
But fear is the only constant I have.

When I dream at night, I dream of my husband hurting me. Not rape, nothing so extreme,just not stoppingwhen I ask him. Not letting me go. And I hit him. Ipull his hair. I hurt him, to make him stop. And I don't feel it is wrong.

But when I walk in the waking world, and he pulls me close, I pull away, terrified. Desperate. Ready to lash out. Ready to hurt him. Ready to make him stop.
And it does not good.
Still, I feel helpless.
Still, I feel afraid.
And for these feelings, I would hurt willingly the man I love.

Walls. I need them on all sides, to keep him away. To keep him safe. So I don't have to carry my gun. So I don't have to be afraid that I'll shoot him. Or myself.
Walls, I need them to trap me. But I'm already trapped, with walls of terror.

I wish...

I wish, that I could feel safe. I wish every creak and groan of the house settling didn't set me on edge. I wish, I didn't fear so much.
Perhaps it's my PTSD. That made it worse. But I never remember a time I wasn't afraid of the dark. Oh, I know, the dark can't hurt me. But the dark hides so many things that can.
I am carrying my gun with me tonight, all around the house. And I hold the unfinished teddy bear I am making close. It's missing an ear. I'm making it for my nephew. He turns 1 next Wednesday.
Sometimes, I look at him, and my heart breaks. So many broken children, broken people, were once as happy and as innocent as he is. Will his fate be the same? Will he ever feel safe?

So I thought

That I was done.
But can I ever be done? Can I ever truly heal?
Fuck it, yes, but I guess I'm not there yet.

Goodbye

I've changed.
I no longer have to focus on the assault. In fact, I don't want to.
Sex still frustrates me, but that's not going to change, till I can learn to let it go.
To be less serious.
So I'm saying goodbye. I may come back and add entries, but I have no idea when.
Don't be sad, I'm at a better place. The place where I'm at is healty. It means I've finally stopped being a victim. Now, I'm just a survivor.

O

Last night I lay in bed, you guessed it, depressed. ONce again upset that I just can't seem to orgasm. I can't explain the twisty curvy path my mind trod, but lets just say I was tempted to be angry at God, realized that it was just a way of ignoring my own despair, and actually found some peace. Peace you say? I thought this was a bitchy depressed, narcisstic blog?
But yup, I found some peace. One thing M, who I'm still mad at, had told me that was useful, was that I had to allow myself to grieve, and to feel angry. So last night, I grieved for my inability to orgasm. I face the fact that I may never have one, and I let myself hurt, be angry, and cry over that.
It was a huge relief. A tension inside me just vanished. I think because I didn't want to let myself believe I couldn't orgasm, that I wasputting a whole lot of pressure on myself to orgasm, making it less likely, etc etc.
After the tension left, I started noticing something in my genital area. It's hard to describe, but it was a bit of hightening of sensation. I can kinda control it, I just have to think about it. So, I'm playing with that for awhile, and trying to not fall into the same circle I described above. Trying to just be. Perhaps it's the first step to letting go and not focusing on the big O so much. Sex can be fun, even without O. I need to just not care as much.

Hell

I sit down to write, but I’m not sure what to say. I haven’t been able to write lately. Too much has been going on. Too many things that I just don’t understand enough to express them.
I’m trying to be less self focused. M says that my not blogging is a sign of that success. Ahh, M. My Counselor for almost 2 years. He’s helped me learn so much about myself, and J, and Marriage. And yesterday, he dumped me.
No, this isn’t a lifetime story where I fell in love with my shrink. I say he dumped me in reference to him telling me there as nothing else he could do for me. During, and afterwards, it felt like a break up. I understood where he was coming from, but I was scared. Who would help me now (Romantic Relationship Version: Who will love me now)? Was I unfixable (RRV: Was I unlovable)?
I felt so abandoned. So alone.
I cried, wept all the way home. Not safe for driving, but what the hell? I couldn’t stay there, at the source of my pain.
I had to be alone, so I could be free to hurt. Those of you who know me real, real well, know I can be down in public, but I don’t cry in public. It took along time for me to be able to cry around J.
So here I am, my world turned upside down. As I write, my internal dialogue starts up: “Make sure you put something positive in there. You don’t want them to pity you, or think you whine.” My inner self is ever conscious of others thoughts.
But, I’m going to choose to not be. This is my life. It sucks right now. Depression sucks. Getting dumped by your counselor sucks.
But it’s my reality, and I just have to deal with it.
So don’t pity me. I’ll live. If you think I’m whiny, well stop reading my blog. I vent here. If you think I’m a bit bitchy right now, you’re probably right.
But, if you want to see the struggles millions of people go through with depression, then perhaps I’m a window. If you aren’t here, be glad. If you are, then at least you’re not alone in hell.