I had another flashback during taiji today. I tried to do the meditation to see what would happen, and yeah, won’t be doing that again any time soon.
Now, a little context. I had three hours of sleep this morning before taiji. My sleep, in general, has been even more fucked-up than usual since returning from Taiwan. I hadn’t planned on going to taiji today when I went to bed at eight in the morning, but when I woke up at eleven and couldn’t go back to sleep, I decided to go to taiji.
Now, I have been in a deep funk since returning for many reasons, so I probably would have been wise to sit out meditation. However, I was curious to see what would happen because it’d been two months or so since I meditated. The second I shut my eyes, I was in trouble.
This time, my father held his hand out to me and told me to suck his thumb. I did. I had a nightgown on–a different one–and we were standing up. After I suck my father’s thumb, he jams it into my pussy under my nightgown. Yes, I was seven in the flashback, or a tad bit younger. With his other hand, he pushed me against the wall–by my throat.
I had tears in my eyes as I meditated. I tried (per Julie’s instructions) to push the images outside my circle of concentration, but I couldn’t. They stubbornly refused to remain pushed. The second meditation was over, I bolted for my bottle of water in order to clear my head.
This was a new flashback, and while it wasn’t as horrific as some of the other, it shook me to the core in another way. One thing I like during sex is to be pushed up against the wall and ravished. I also like (or liked. I haven’t done it lately) to be choked during sex.
The flashbacks are taking away my sexuality. Many things I find arousing are based in the abuse I experienced. I knew that on some level before the flashbacks, but they are really driving the point home:
My sexuality has been shaped by the abuse. And, it fucking pisses me off.
I love sex. I always have. I consider myself fortunate in that respect, but I have the tendency to want to please in sex. Oh, I know that’s not a bad thing in and of itself, but as I have written about before, that usually equals me being a smiling sex doll who quashes her own needs, wants, and desires in order to please, please, please.
Now, I have had sexual experiences that weren’t based on the previous formula, but the bulk of my sexing has fallen into the same pattern.
For many years, I have gotten on of BSDM. Even as a kid, I would make my Barbies have rough sex. I didn’t play with dolls besides that (and chopping off their hair), and I always felt ashamed–but I couldn’t stop. I thought it was a sickness in my head, and I tried my best to tamp it down–to no avail.
Once I had the experience in Thailand, I went off the rails concerning sex. Anything was fine, anything was acceptable. I was the slut who would do anything and anybody–always with a smile on my face.
I’d like to be clear that I enjoyed most of my sexing. It’s just that I didn’t always enter into the situations for the healthiest of reasons, and I never felt like I could say no to anything. If someone wanted me for sex, then I had to give it to him/her. In addition, I was always amazed that someone would want to have sex with me because I was so damaged, disgusting, filthy, and vile. I should have sex with anyone at any time because who knew if it would ever come my way again?
I’m not saying my thoughts were rational, logical, or in anyway made sense. I’m just trying to explain my mindframe. In addition, I figured that since I was ruined anyway by my experience in Thailand, I might as well give it away on the cheap because that was all I was worth. And, I was really damn good at sex. Starving myself and sex. These were the two things I was really good at.
Starving: It was the one thing I could control in my life–how much food I ate. The flip side to this was the large amount of weight I gained after my experience in Thailand. That was another way of controlling what I ate, and it made me safe, so to speak. The fat was my shelter. I noticed that my recent gain was in correlation to the start of the flashbacks. That’s why it’s not so easy for me to lose weight–because of all the emotional baggage that is tied up into my weight.
Sexing: This is difficult for me because I don’t know how to separate what is mine from what is his. All the BDSM shit stems from the childhood abuse and my experience in Thailand. While I realize this on an intellectual level, it’s hard to distance myself from it on a physical level. The rough shit gets me off, to put it bluntly. What am I supposed to do with that? Granted, I haven’t done the truly rough stuff in a long time, but I know it still arouses me. And, after the flashbacks started, I had the impulse to find the biggest, baddest dom ever to figuratively if not literally obliterate me. I still have the impulse. I feel like shit right now, and there’s a part of me that thinks I deserve to remain the whore I was/still think I am.
I’ve talked about this new thing in BSDM called edge play. It’s rough sex with no safeword. Now, while I probably would not do that, does it really matter? I have a safeword, but I’ve never used it. In fact, I’ve prided myself on not using it. So, in the end, does it really matter that I have one if I won’t use it?
The flashbacks are messing with my head, and I don’t like it. As I said, I’ve had very positive sexual experiences as well, which help to mitigate some of the demons in my head, but as I continue to have flashbacks, I feel the conflict over my sexuality continue to grow.
On the one hand, I unapologetically love sex. I talk about it (as anyone who reads this blog knows); I joke about it; I make sexual innuendos. I am still in my sexual peak, which means I’m horny as hell, but I’m depressed, which means that I don’t really want to do anything about the horny part.
When sex is good, it’s a beautiful, wondrous thing. Good sex is very healing, but there has been little of it in my life. I don’t mean raw hot sex, which is good in its own way, but sex that doesn’t demand me to perform or to think about what I’m doing all the time. Many times when I’ve had sex, I’ve been painfully aware that I’m HAVING SEX, which means I have to be on my best behavior and give the ride of a lifetime.
In other words, the perfect sex doll.
I keep coming back to this, touching on it like a sore tooth. The flashbacks are showing me that so much of my sexual tastes and behaviors are based on my training. Therefore, it would seem prudent for me to stop engaging in said behaviors. However, said behaviors also truly arouse me–even if they sicken me afterwards. Being humiliated during sex is a huge turn-on (or was, I have to keep reminding myself that it’s been years since I’ve done that), but I know it comes from a very bad place.
I don’t want to deal with any more flashbacks. They are breaking me, even though the images occurred over thirty years ago. I hope there aren’t many new flashbacks, but I have a hunch I am not at the end yet. That knowledge makes me want to freeze up again. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.