There have been things that I can't seem to shake from my mind that have happened in the past. My psychologist calls them my "traumas" There have been a lot. The ones that are messing with my emotional well-being right now are when I was repeatedly molested in 8th and 9th grade and when I was raped in the winter of 2010.
I don't know if I've ever posted about those two incidents that shaped me and crushed me at the same time. I've been told to let it out. I have trouble doing that. I feel like if and when I let it out it consumes me. It breaks down the walls I've put up to protect myself and it crashes over me like waves. Tonight that pandora's box of twisted memories was opened. I feel like this is a good thing. Yes I'm sitting here a mess crying but you know what.. I was told there is nothing to be embarrassed about, ashamed of or afraid of anymore. I've kept it locked down inside of me for years. Both of them. I've tried so long to just move on. Normal people move on. People have bad things happen to them and they get over it. I want to know why I can't get over it. I want to know why it crosses my mind almost every day. Not in a flash back or anything but just a little reminder "You were raped" or "he's still out there".
I feel like I need to keep it to myself. That I don't want to burden anyone. I don't want their pity. I don't want the looks that tell me how damaged they think I am. They tend to hold me at arms length after they find out. They're afraid of me. People I thought loved me pulled away from me. When they find out I see a psychologist they say things like "oh.. the crazy doctor"....Yes.. if that makes me crazy for being raped. for being molested. For being demeaned, shamed, verbally and emotionally abused as a child, humiliated, taunted and hurt...then yes. If my witnessing someone commit suicide makes me crazy... then fine. Sometimes I just need to talk about it. I shove it so deep inside of me because I don't want people to look at me like I'm broken. ... even though there are times I feel absolutely shattered. I just for once want to be able to be open with someone and have them still see ...me...Sarah. ME. I'm still ME. I'm still ME . I'm still ME. It's still me. I'm still who I was. I'm still the same girl... only different. I'm still....me.
I recall seeing a meme on facebook floating around about how "One day there will be someone who comes to you who is so perfect who will see that you are broken and will hold you so tight that it sticks the pieces back together"
- I thought I wanted that. That I wanted someone to come along and show me that everything is alright and that things CAN be good and CAN be put back together. Then I started thinking about what my doctor told me "Don't look for someone to save you. You have to save yourself" At first I was taken aback by it. I wanted someone to save me. I needed someone to throw me a damn life preserver. I wondered am I strong enough to do it myself? My first reaction- Hell no. Hell no I'm not going to be able to pull myself out of this depression and the panic attacks and the fear. Why am I going to be alone again? Why do I have to be on my own? Then I realized I'm not alone. I'm not. I have my doctor. My friends. My Daddy. My family. and I'm gaining the tools to be able to put humpty dumpty back together again.
So here's the cat out of the bag::
8th grade into 9th I was going to church with my best friend at the time. We were part of the youth group and we attended "teen night" a lot. We thought we were big and bad because we were going out of town to church without our parents. A van would come around and pick up the kids who didn't live nearby and wanted to attend. So we rode in this huge van all through Canton and the surrounding areas.
There was an older guy riding with us. He was 19 at the time. I was 13 going on 14. He started by just resting his arm on my leg while we rode in the van. "WHOA this older guy is flirting with me? Is this what flirting is? God... this is weird... but kind of exciting"
Not so exciting when we were in a van full of people- and I mean people on the floor, people sitting on people. crowded as hell. And he started to finger me and grope me. I was scared. I didn't know what to do. I told him to stop. He told me to shut up.
After it happened twice I told the pastor... they said they had received complaints about it in the past... they were going to move him to the adult group... They didn't. It happened again. I decided I was done with church. Church was messed up. They let me down. I saw the whole system as bad.
I thought leaving the church would mean I wouldn't never see him again.
When I started highschool he was there. He saw me. He pulled me out to him and he did it again while people were all standing around.
I told some of my male friends... the next day he was in the icu with broken legs... broken ribs... messed up face. Baseball bats aren't as soft as little girls bodies.
Winter of 2010 :::
I thought it was time to date after breaking up with a long time boyfriend. I made an account online on a dating site and decided to meet with this amazingly sweet and romantic cuban man. He was a pastor, he would drive to my house multiple times a day to give me a single red rose until I had a full dozen just to have an excuse to see me. He wrote me love letters. He actually sent them in the mail like it should be. All in all I thought he was a keeper.
The sex was always a little rough but I like it that way. All in all it was normal run of the mill sex but harder, faster and sometimes he would slap me or cover my mouth with his hands. All fine with me. Consentual.
He had been trying to get me to let him take me anally. I said no. I wasn't ready. He was rather big. I was scared...sue me.
He asked again and I told him no. I'm not ready for that.
One night he took me to his office. He hadn't seen me in two weeks and said he had been busy. He had some work to do and some filing and typing and wanted to know if I wanted to come spend some time with him while he did it. Of course!
He took me to the church and we were talking and he told me to sit in the corner and be quiet while he worked and then afterwards we would talk and catch up. He just had to focus for like 15 minutes. ok.
So I'm quietly sitting waiting for him to do his paperwork when he comes over and says "All done mi princesa!" yay! so now we can talk.
Nope no talking.
He shoves me to the couch and I'm freaking out "What are you doing??" and he said "Don't worry about it" I can still hear it in my head. The voice and the accent and the words.
I said "Hey, no, what are you doing" and tried to get up or at least turn around so I wasn't bend over the couch.
He shoved me harder down and told me "Just be calm, baby. It's going to be okay"
then he pulled my panties to the side and shoved himself inside of my ass. No warning, no lube, no asking, no warm up. and most of all I had told him previously NO on many occassions.
I remember telling him to stop and to take it out. It gets a little blurry around that. I think I blocked it out. I remember when he was done he said "Thanks babe" Slapped me on my sore ass and said "You helped me fill a fantasy tonight".
I didn't say another word.
He took me home.
My underwear was filled with blood.
I threw them away.
I never reported it.
I tried to convice myself that wasn't rape. I tried to convince myself that it was just sex... rough sex that hurt. That he was a man and they get what they want.
Then I realized what had really happened.
I was ashamed that I put myself in that position. Ashamed that I didn't fight harder. Ashamed I didn't report it. Ashamed I held in inside of me for three years and never said a word to even my own mom.
A lot of my sexual abuse has resulted in shame and guilt. But really... should I be ashamed? Am I guilty?
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
Wednesday HHD!
That's right, folks! It's hump day.
Being as it's hump day lets talk about the events of today in fetish land shall we?
I got another message from a guy I used to know in highschool who found me on a website I use. He offered me 75-100 dollars to give him a blowjob. I'm wondering where he got the idea in his twisted little head that I'm some kind of prostitute. He began by asking if I had ever been paid for oral sex. I told him no and asked why he would ask me something like that. He told me he would be willing to pay me. I have no interest in doing that. Period. But curiousity got the best of me. I guess we would all want to know what we would be "worth" in the sack, right? Just me? Maybe. So I asked what it would be worth to him. He told me 75-100. I told him that's nice but I have a Daddy and I can't do that. He then responded telling me to get permission to get a mouthful of his cum. I told him to contact my Daddy. I didn't want to hear about it anymore or deal with it. It seems the more I tell people I can't do anything with them the harder they push. He's not the only one who does that either.
As a submissive woman in her mid 20's it's hard to find respect in the world of bdsm sometimes. I have my Daddy to protect me and my best friend who serves as protector and who both have stepped up to the plate when I needed them. I adore them more than either of them could possibly know. They are two strong, dominant and stunningly diverse men who have the biggest hearts of any people I have ever encountered. I would trust them both with my life. I know nothing bad would ever happen to me in their care and under their watch. They simply wouldn't allow it and would certainly never be the cause of it if there was any way to avoid it.
Emotionally today has been a good day. A little worried in the afternoon after a chat with a friend about becoming involved with men who have children. My Daddy has four beautiful children. Three sons and one sweet little girl. I was told my entering the picture will make them hate their father and hate me. The thought of having Daddy's children turn on him and loath him for leaving their mother or for dating another woman crushed me. It's something I hadn't thought out in my plans. I have given hours and hours of thought about what it would be like to suddenly step into the lives of 4 children (3 of them teens or preteens) and how difficult that would be. My first reaction and thought is to allow Daddy to handle all of those things. Daddy will be the one to dicipline, or make plans, or enforce things. They are his children. It's not my place for that. It's also been a tiny strange thought that there is the same age gap between me and Daddy and his oldest son and I. I'm smack dab in the middle of things.
I hate when people put a damper on my parade and stick things in my head that I just don't want in there. I guess those are things that DO need to be thought of, discussed and weighed apropriately but I didn't want to think about them today. I talked to Daddy about them and I feel better. He doesn't think the kids would turn on anyone. Which is reassuring to hear.
I feel like I either ate too much at dinner or it's just the birth control pills trying to kill me from the inside. I've been having horrible cramps. It feels like someone has taken a sledge hammer to my entire abdominal area. I'm on day 4 of the pack and it's been like that since day 1. It's also been making me feel really nauseated after I take them- not just for a little bit but for the entire day until I wake up the next morning and then I take them in the afternoon and it starts again. I hate birth control.
Being as it's hump day lets talk about the events of today in fetish land shall we?
I got another message from a guy I used to know in highschool who found me on a website I use. He offered me 75-100 dollars to give him a blowjob. I'm wondering where he got the idea in his twisted little head that I'm some kind of prostitute. He began by asking if I had ever been paid for oral sex. I told him no and asked why he would ask me something like that. He told me he would be willing to pay me. I have no interest in doing that. Period. But curiousity got the best of me. I guess we would all want to know what we would be "worth" in the sack, right? Just me? Maybe. So I asked what it would be worth to him. He told me 75-100. I told him that's nice but I have a Daddy and I can't do that. He then responded telling me to get permission to get a mouthful of his cum. I told him to contact my Daddy. I didn't want to hear about it anymore or deal with it. It seems the more I tell people I can't do anything with them the harder they push. He's not the only one who does that either.
As a submissive woman in her mid 20's it's hard to find respect in the world of bdsm sometimes. I have my Daddy to protect me and my best friend who serves as protector and who both have stepped up to the plate when I needed them. I adore them more than either of them could possibly know. They are two strong, dominant and stunningly diverse men who have the biggest hearts of any people I have ever encountered. I would trust them both with my life. I know nothing bad would ever happen to me in their care and under their watch. They simply wouldn't allow it and would certainly never be the cause of it if there was any way to avoid it.
Emotionally today has been a good day. A little worried in the afternoon after a chat with a friend about becoming involved with men who have children. My Daddy has four beautiful children. Three sons and one sweet little girl. I was told my entering the picture will make them hate their father and hate me. The thought of having Daddy's children turn on him and loath him for leaving their mother or for dating another woman crushed me. It's something I hadn't thought out in my plans. I have given hours and hours of thought about what it would be like to suddenly step into the lives of 4 children (3 of them teens or preteens) and how difficult that would be. My first reaction and thought is to allow Daddy to handle all of those things. Daddy will be the one to dicipline, or make plans, or enforce things. They are his children. It's not my place for that. It's also been a tiny strange thought that there is the same age gap between me and Daddy and his oldest son and I. I'm smack dab in the middle of things.
I hate when people put a damper on my parade and stick things in my head that I just don't want in there. I guess those are things that DO need to be thought of, discussed and weighed apropriately but I didn't want to think about them today. I talked to Daddy about them and I feel better. He doesn't think the kids would turn on anyone. Which is reassuring to hear.
I feel like I either ate too much at dinner or it's just the birth control pills trying to kill me from the inside. I've been having horrible cramps. It feels like someone has taken a sledge hammer to my entire abdominal area. I'm on day 4 of the pack and it's been like that since day 1. It's also been making me feel really nauseated after I take them- not just for a little bit but for the entire day until I wake up the next morning and then I take them in the afternoon and it starts again. I hate birth control.
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
The Return of The Lavender Ink
It's been suggested that after going through some trauma recently I should begin keeping a journal or blog again. I've been going to therapy for a few months now and I feel like it's helping to a point. I was referred for psychological evaluation and assistance after I told my doctor I was depressed and she started me on Citalopram. I had been on Citalopram for a few years prior and it worked in the past in stabling out my mood.
When I went on it this time it didn't have the same effect. Not in the least. A few days after taking it I couldn't tell a difference. No biggie, I mean it takes a while to build up in the system. Three weeks later and I wasn't leaving my room. Every thought in my head was about how worthless I was. What a horrible awful person I am and most of all what a complete burden I am on people. It then turned to "Well... people would be better off without me. They wouldn't need to deal with me or my problems or my bills or anything else that I seem to dump and radiate from my being"
I made a plan to commit suicide if I had not become a better person by my birthday in June. I had planned on taking all of the pills I could get my hands on and just letting it take me over. I also planned to starve and dehydrate myself to make sure my body was weaker and less able to handle an overdose.
I told my doctor when she asked how I was doing that I was having severe suicidal thoughts because although I was having them and a voice inside of me wanted to end it I didn't want to die and I didn't want to end my own life. It was a battle inside of me that took me to the darkest depths I had reached in my life. We switched my medication over to Effexor (way more expensive) and suddenly POW no more suicidal thoughts, no more depression at all actually and I began seeing my psychologist.
In 2013 I ended my relationship with my fiance. He stole 10,000 dollars from me and tried to ruin my credit by stealing my credit cards and opening other ones without permission as well as draining all my accounts. I filed with the police and they helped me recover about 1/3 of the damages though none of the cash and he ended up paying off the smaller things that he did. They wouldn't follow through with pressing charges on him because the cards were settled and I felt very betrayed by the system.
Around the same time I was in and out of the hospital. What I thought was a stomach flu lasted 4 months. I was in the bathroom every 5 minutes and was terrified to eat anything becase it seemed like everything made it worse. I went to several doctors. They put me on a bland diet- toast, bananas, rice, jello, stuff like that and it went haywire and landed me in the hospital for dehydration after I lost 15 pounds. I was sent to a gastroenterologist and was diagnosed with celiac disease. I was told to go off of all gluten. Instantly better.No more panicked trips to the bathroom- no more pain. I wanted to test it out to see if maybe it was a fluke. I ate some food with gluten and was horribly sick shortly after.
I wondered if it was all in my head. That I was sick because I expected to be sick. I tested again on a low stress day and was fine- a few more times with no reaction and I was back to eating gluteny items. It was then decided that it was caused by extreme stress. Go figure ... my fiance was robbing me blind, my work was threatening my job for missing so many days and I worked in a daycare with toddlers and infants and a coworker who was out to cause me trouble and dealing with a mother who was having health issues.
I moved back home in September of 2013 and I haven't had any more problems with that. Only from the general things I've always had- no grease and monitor dairy due to my lactose intolerance. I can handle that. I've had both issues since my first round of the war with the parade of eating disorders that seem to prance in and out of my life.
In other news... I've entered into the world of BDSM. Yes that seedy underground your mother always warned you about... and it's been wonderful. I've always had kink and fetishes that I thought were wrong to have. I thought "normal" people don't think like that. Especially not those who have been victims of sexual abuse in the past like I have. Guess what? It's normal. It's fine. And it makes me happy.
I'm currently in a relationship with a wonderful man who is my Daddy in a Daddy/Babygirl relationship. We are long distance for the time being but I do plan on changing that as soon as humanly possible which is looking like I'm going to have to wait until at least fall or winter. The idea of waiting sucks. I'm an impatient person and I love him. Being that I love him I want to be with him and near him and be able to make him happy. Let alone the fact that I want to have sex with him. It's been a while.. a long while... Not that life revolves around sex but it's been too long haha.
I'm looking at relocating to Connecticut to be with him. It's away from my family which is going to be hard on me. Both of my parents have a lot of medical problems and it makes me worried to be far from them with everything that keeps happening between my father's cancer and my mom's seizures and my closest cousin is also dealing with recurring non hodgekins lymphoma right now. It's been a rollercoaster of chemo, radiation, bone marrow transplants and days both good and bad.
I'm trying to get a grasp on my health and weight and try not to fall back into binging or starvation or purging. I'm on a medically supervised 1200 calorie a day diet and supposed to work out daily. Anything higher than 1200 and I gain weight. Which makes no sense to me logically speaking. I feel it is a real possibility that I ruined my metabolism with my eating disorders. That added to the fact I was on a medication that has now been proven to cause "dramatic and permenant weight gain". I don't like thinking of this as being a permenant situation. I'm determined not to let that be the end all be all of this fight.
My goal weight is 200 or to be under 200. It depends on what I think when I get there. Which is currently one heck of a journey being at 312. I began at 340 in 2013. Let the battles begin again! This time I have a wonderful man in my corner... half-hearted support along with the usual intense shame, criticism and general displeasure form my family. That's a whole different post though.
I'll be posting frequently and hope some of my readers are still around out there in cyberspace some where. I miss you all very much!
When I went on it this time it didn't have the same effect. Not in the least. A few days after taking it I couldn't tell a difference. No biggie, I mean it takes a while to build up in the system. Three weeks later and I wasn't leaving my room. Every thought in my head was about how worthless I was. What a horrible awful person I am and most of all what a complete burden I am on people. It then turned to "Well... people would be better off without me. They wouldn't need to deal with me or my problems or my bills or anything else that I seem to dump and radiate from my being"
I made a plan to commit suicide if I had not become a better person by my birthday in June. I had planned on taking all of the pills I could get my hands on and just letting it take me over. I also planned to starve and dehydrate myself to make sure my body was weaker and less able to handle an overdose.
I told my doctor when she asked how I was doing that I was having severe suicidal thoughts because although I was having them and a voice inside of me wanted to end it I didn't want to die and I didn't want to end my own life. It was a battle inside of me that took me to the darkest depths I had reached in my life. We switched my medication over to Effexor (way more expensive) and suddenly POW no more suicidal thoughts, no more depression at all actually and I began seeing my psychologist.
In 2013 I ended my relationship with my fiance. He stole 10,000 dollars from me and tried to ruin my credit by stealing my credit cards and opening other ones without permission as well as draining all my accounts. I filed with the police and they helped me recover about 1/3 of the damages though none of the cash and he ended up paying off the smaller things that he did. They wouldn't follow through with pressing charges on him because the cards were settled and I felt very betrayed by the system.
Around the same time I was in and out of the hospital. What I thought was a stomach flu lasted 4 months. I was in the bathroom every 5 minutes and was terrified to eat anything becase it seemed like everything made it worse. I went to several doctors. They put me on a bland diet- toast, bananas, rice, jello, stuff like that and it went haywire and landed me in the hospital for dehydration after I lost 15 pounds. I was sent to a gastroenterologist and was diagnosed with celiac disease. I was told to go off of all gluten. Instantly better.No more panicked trips to the bathroom- no more pain. I wanted to test it out to see if maybe it was a fluke. I ate some food with gluten and was horribly sick shortly after.
I wondered if it was all in my head. That I was sick because I expected to be sick. I tested again on a low stress day and was fine- a few more times with no reaction and I was back to eating gluteny items. It was then decided that it was caused by extreme stress. Go figure ... my fiance was robbing me blind, my work was threatening my job for missing so many days and I worked in a daycare with toddlers and infants and a coworker who was out to cause me trouble and dealing with a mother who was having health issues.
I moved back home in September of 2013 and I haven't had any more problems with that. Only from the general things I've always had- no grease and monitor dairy due to my lactose intolerance. I can handle that. I've had both issues since my first round of the war with the parade of eating disorders that seem to prance in and out of my life.
In other news... I've entered into the world of BDSM. Yes that seedy underground your mother always warned you about... and it's been wonderful. I've always had kink and fetishes that I thought were wrong to have. I thought "normal" people don't think like that. Especially not those who have been victims of sexual abuse in the past like I have. Guess what? It's normal. It's fine. And it makes me happy.
I'm currently in a relationship with a wonderful man who is my Daddy in a Daddy/Babygirl relationship. We are long distance for the time being but I do plan on changing that as soon as humanly possible which is looking like I'm going to have to wait until at least fall or winter. The idea of waiting sucks. I'm an impatient person and I love him. Being that I love him I want to be with him and near him and be able to make him happy. Let alone the fact that I want to have sex with him. It's been a while.. a long while... Not that life revolves around sex but it's been too long haha.
I'm looking at relocating to Connecticut to be with him. It's away from my family which is going to be hard on me. Both of my parents have a lot of medical problems and it makes me worried to be far from them with everything that keeps happening between my father's cancer and my mom's seizures and my closest cousin is also dealing with recurring non hodgekins lymphoma right now. It's been a rollercoaster of chemo, radiation, bone marrow transplants and days both good and bad.
I'm trying to get a grasp on my health and weight and try not to fall back into binging or starvation or purging. I'm on a medically supervised 1200 calorie a day diet and supposed to work out daily. Anything higher than 1200 and I gain weight. Which makes no sense to me logically speaking. I feel it is a real possibility that I ruined my metabolism with my eating disorders. That added to the fact I was on a medication that has now been proven to cause "dramatic and permenant weight gain". I don't like thinking of this as being a permenant situation. I'm determined not to let that be the end all be all of this fight.
My goal weight is 200 or to be under 200. It depends on what I think when I get there. Which is currently one heck of a journey being at 312. I began at 340 in 2013. Let the battles begin again! This time I have a wonderful man in my corner... half-hearted support along with the usual intense shame, criticism and general displeasure form my family. That's a whole different post though.
I'll be posting frequently and hope some of my readers are still around out there in cyberspace some where. I miss you all very much!
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