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I can see now that there have been a lot of men in my life who completely took advantage of me, who exploited my naivety and my insecurities as far as they could. Most of these people were much older than I was - usually over 20 years my senior when I was still a teenager. Some of them I called my boyfriend. I don't really know how it happened. I guess because real boys were still very frightening to me and I avoided their attentions as much as possible (with varying degrees of success), I guess older men seemed safer.
I understand that they were wrong.They were the adults in the situation. But I am struggling with the part I played, too. There were times when I enjoyed the attention. I felt delighted and special. I felt excited. I felt treasured. I was completely in awe to find that another human being could want me so desperately, could lust for the body that I was too disgusted to look at or touch myself. They had chosen me over truly beautiful, interesting women, wives, girlfriends, other girls.... It made me feel powerful....for a while.
The actual sex did not bring out the same feelings in me. I felt disgusted and terrified and pained. I had no power and I had no choice. Their bodies, their expressions, their noises, their smells were repellent and at their touch my body felt vile and on fire with nausea and dread. It was not about me. They couldn't see me, stuck inside my little body - they didn't want to look.
As they climaxed - and afterwards - their faces changed, their eyes clouded over. The magic was gone for them, at last. Even now I can't say exactly what I saw then - hate? pity? revulsion? I didn't really understand. Was it because I'd done something right, or because I'd got it wrong? Had I not pleased them? Had I failed? Sometimes they said kind things but they sneered at me as the words oozed out. I felt they could see right through me - twisting like eels, through my body, my soul, my past.
And then they'd leave, usually experiencing a sense of panic and threatening me not to tell. Like that was necessary. Sometimes I cried, sometimes I waited until later. Often I pretended it was okay - if they were happy not to discuss it then I was, too.
I told my T I'd seen one of my 'boyfriends' recently, waiting outside the train station. He looked so old. He as so old. We caught sight of each other. T asked me how I felt. I couldn't tell her - just numbness, I think. I wish I could say that I felt something meaningful, but I didn't. All that went though my mind was 'What the hell were you thinking?'
I understand that they were wrong.They were the adults in the situation. But I am struggling with the part I played, too. There were times when I enjoyed the attention. I felt delighted and special. I felt excited. I felt treasured. I was completely in awe to find that another human being could want me so desperately, could lust for the body that I was too disgusted to look at or touch myself. They had chosen me over truly beautiful, interesting women, wives, girlfriends, other girls.... It made me feel powerful....for a while.
The actual sex did not bring out the same feelings in me. I felt disgusted and terrified and pained. I had no power and I had no choice. Their bodies, their expressions, their noises, their smells were repellent and at their touch my body felt vile and on fire with nausea and dread. It was not about me. They couldn't see me, stuck inside my little body - they didn't want to look.
As they climaxed - and afterwards - their faces changed, their eyes clouded over. The magic was gone for them, at last. Even now I can't say exactly what I saw then - hate? pity? revulsion? I didn't really understand. Was it because I'd done something right, or because I'd got it wrong? Had I not pleased them? Had I failed? Sometimes they said kind things but they sneered at me as the words oozed out. I felt they could see right through me - twisting like eels, through my body, my soul, my past.
And then they'd leave, usually experiencing a sense of panic and threatening me not to tell. Like that was necessary. Sometimes I cried, sometimes I waited until later. Often I pretended it was okay - if they were happy not to discuss it then I was, too.
I told my T I'd seen one of my 'boyfriends' recently, waiting outside the train station. He looked so old. He as so old. We caught sight of each other. T asked me how I felt. I couldn't tell her - just numbness, I think. I wish I could say that I felt something meaningful, but I didn't. All that went though my mind was 'What the hell were you thinking?'
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Guilt over enabling (trigger warning)
on Mar 15 2013 05:49 AM
I'm sorry these men treated you this way. You didn't deserve this. It's normal that you wanted to feel something meaningful. As for 'What the hell were you thinking'.. This wasn't your fault.
I apologise tha my reply is a little short Wil
Take good care of you.
I think I might bring this to T - see if I can start opening up a little.