Because of You

I am an abuse survivor.  I was beaten and degraded by my mother.  Every bit of who I am has been touched by this. 

Getting into grad school was probably more about proving I was 'good enough' than a genuine desire to spend a third of my lifetime as a student.  Without that pain to drive me I would have settled into a much simpler career path.

Being a good mom was my number one goal in high school.  I was determined to not repeat my mother's mistakes.  I'm still driven by this, but the irony is that I'm not always sure what being a good mom is.  I'm not like my own mother, but I'm not perfect 'either.'  I'm often consumed with guilt that I'm not 'doing it right' no matter what I'm doing.

Having my safety on the line required me to become uncannily sensitive in reading other's moods and feelings.  Conversely, it's made it much more difficult to express my own .  I have to be conscious of trusting people.  It's exhausting.  It's infuriating.  It makes relationships exponentially more tricky.

I have emotional triggers that can be set off anytime, anywhere.  For example, I cry every time I hear Kelly Clarkson's song, 'Because of You.'

 

One time I tried to break myself of this habit.  I played the song on repeat for a couple hours until I'd stopped crying.  I was proud that it no longer affected me.

Today I heard it on the radio.  Turns out that it still makes me cry.

Sexual Wounds?

Reading on fetlife a few minutes ago I came across this thread which shares an article by Dr. Deborah Taj Anapol.  I haven't read much of what Dr. Anapol has written, so I'll reserve my judgement on her expertise. I do find this particular article very interesting in regards to my own experiences with polyamory and group sex.

As I shared the other day in my post about Jute's new partner, I'm not all that comfortable with group sex.  I don't really enjoy it because I spend much of the time 'in my head,' worried about what each person's physical and emotional state is at the moment.  In the article Dr. Anapol states, "It's not possible to enjoy having multiple partners if you're sexually insecure."  Is that my problem then?  Am I sexually insecure?  I'd like to believe I'm perfectly sexually healthy, but something about the way I'll sometimes shed tears after orgasm hints to me that I'm not.

Dr. Anapol continues with, "Many people give up on polyamory, or at least retreat into the safety of intellectualizing or fantasizing about its glories, once they realize the amount of sometimes painful healing and deconditioning which may be involved."  I did that.  When our quad collapsed for the final time I retreated, not just from polyamory, but from relationships in general.  Including my marriage.  I spent a few weeks 'single' in my heart.  I was afraid of more pain, but also I needed some time for personal growth.  During that time I opened the door to ending the black depression which had consumed me for months.  Taking care of myself became a priority and becoming healthy seemed possible again.

The Black Depression (I'm kind of liking the phrase all of a sudden - it's a catchy way to describe that time in my life), was the catalyst for a lot of my growth this year.  Now that I'm on the other side I feel like I am so much better able to recognize flaws in my emotional health.  I can also accept that I am flawed, without feeling nearly as guilty about it.  I know I'm healing, and I know it will take time.  I also know I will always have scars.  Scars I'll choose to wear with acceptance and wisdom.

I think I've always had some 'sexual wounds,' as Dr. Anapol would call them.  Right now I think I have a mixture of ancient ones, and those which were ripped open only in the last year.

Prayer and Magick

I invited Jute to attend the Full Moon next weekend with the local Wiccan group.  We've participated a couple times in events with them, but honestly I've been somewhat hesitant to revisit them. It was Star who introduced me, both there, and to Paganism in general.  When Star and I first met she followed a different style of Paganism, but she had old connections to the Wiccan group.  At one point in our relationship she was considering converting back to Wicca.  I don't know if she's still feeling that way or not.  My guess is not.  Her mercurial whims frustrated me to no end.

Regardless, I've wanted to return and learn more about their teachings, but I've been afraid to step onto their grounds on my own, without her presence as an introduction.  I've also been afraid that, should I arrive there, I might find her as a participant.  Every time I see her, my heart wrings up.  We are gracious with each other, but internally I am shrinking away, guarding my soul from being burned again.

I've tried reading Pagan books and websites on my own.  I'd love to figure out what draws me toward the belief.  I spent a good number of years a staunch atheist, comfortably unconcerned with matters of the spirit.  Star and Carter's beliefs were interesting to me, but only academically.  That changed last spring, when I was taken by a dark depression.  One night, crying in the shower, I began to pray.  I prayed to 'I-don't-know-who-or-what-you-are-just-please-help-me,'  and after that prayer I began to question my belief in nothingness.  I began to feel as if there was more to be understood.

It seem to me, the same as the Christianity I was raised with, that Pagan religion is riddled with inanities.  Some folks will propose that X is the way to do things, and if they aren't in the exact place or at the exact time they are meaningless.  That plain seems wrong to me, on a primal level.  Nothing spiritual really makes sense to me yet though either.  What does speak to me, is the power I feel radiating from the sacred fires.  The windsong I hear in my minds ear.  The caress of water droplets running down my body in the rain.  The warm core of the earth steadying me when I reach for it.

I'm going to return to the Wiccan group, because they might have some answers for me.  I can't forget the anticipatory buzz I felt the first moment I stepped onto their grounds.  It called to me.  The earth seemed to be saying, "There is magick here."

Cuffed

I wore my cuffs to sleep last night.  I was held by baby pink faux leather lined with fuzzy faux fur.  The short shiny stainless chain restricted me in a peaceful way.  I haven't worn my cuffs to bed for months.  The last time I did Jute caught me and teased me about it.  He thought Carter had told me to do it, but Carter hadn't.  At least Carter didn't think it was a silly action though.  He figured it meant I was feeling insecure, that I wanted comfort.  Carter understood that bondage, cuffs, rope, can mean more than physical sensation.  There's a powerful emotional release when I am bound.  Carter wove ropes around me and I saw it as an expression of art and love.

As far as I can tell Jute has never felt the magickal aura of bondage.  It is functional to him.  Mechanical restriction which can be used to facilitate physical pleasure.  Months ago, during a week where Star and I had been fighting and I couldn't be with Carter because of that, Jute thought it would be a good idea to arrange a date for me with a rope top.  I was unsure, when he proposed it, but decided it might be fun.  He found a nice enough man to do it, and I even enjoyed myself through the process.  The problem arose the next morning.  I dropped *hard.*  I sobbed.  I felt dirty.  I felt like I'd sullied the purity of my love for rope.  I'd cheapened it.

Star and Carter were furious.  They both knew how powerfully I react to being bound, and were incredulous that this idea - a fling to get my mind off them - had ever been given merit.  Even though she had been angry with me the other day, Star comforted me.  She spoke soothingly to me as I sobbed to her over the phone.  That afternoon she brought me chocolates and held me.

Even now, recalling that, I'm starting to cry.  I miss her friendship, her touch.  We were volatile together, almost because we understood too much.  We fought so many of the same internal demons - histories of abuse, abandonment and depression.  We have mirrored histories, and they link us together.  As distant as I've become from her I cannot 'un-love' her.  My heart is forever roughly bound and cuffed to hers.