|One of my healed self-inflicted physical scars.|
I do not know what the hell is wrong with me. I am making love with the boyfriend and I am wanting to enjoy it, but I am not getting there. We even have a toy that I use so that I can enjoy it, but it does not seem to help sometimes. We switch positions three or four times and it still does not help me. I either do not get there at all, or I get there after he does.
Tonight, rather than climaxing after enjoyable intercourse, I burst into tears. I wish I knew what my problem is. Could it be old scars from long ago? Not the physical kind, mind you, but the emotional kind that are at once ugly and invisible. I have tried everything to get rid of these scars. I have talked to those that did me harm, heard their apologies, forgave them their trespasses, but to no avail. I have done hours of painful soul searching. Short of expensive therapies I have not the money for I do not know what I could do.
Why cannot I get over things that other people seem to have no problems dealing with? I know it is not normal to cry after making love, but I could not help it, and I did not know where it was coming from. He loves me, and would never intend me any harm, physical or mental. I love him as well, so why am I crying? I hate the fact that something so beautiful and natural as physical love could become so ugly and horrible due to someone else’s crimes against my body and soul.
I should not have to flash back to something worse in my head while I am trying to enjoy the man I love. I should not have to force myself to concentrate. Years ago, when I was repeatedly being violated by those that should have known better and purported to love me, I took myself out of my head. While awful things were being done to my body, I was somewhere else, enjoying the things children should be enjoying, instead of being tortured and punished for a crime I did not commit.
Why should I be made to feel sorry for them that they, too, were abused as children? I did not abuse them, so why should they have done so to me? If it was revenge they wanted, it should have been sought elsewhere. What right had they to ruin my life this way? The physical wounds have long since healed, and any scars that remain are hardly discernible and, except when I have a bowel movement and someday when I intend to have children, those scars probably will not affect my life anymore.
The emotional ones, however, are here to stay, and cause me so much pain. I have abandonment issues; I am afraid to be alone; I have various and complex emotional symptoms that in my opinion can only be described as bipolar; I cry before, during, or after sex even if it is wholly consenting; I cannot concentrate on sex long enough to enjoy what is happening to me; I intentionally inflict harm upon myself in various forms; the list goes on and on.
Some would say, “WAH! WAH! BOO HOO! Get over it!” but it isn’t that easy. Having been spurned by familial love is the hardest heartbreak to overcome. It cuts deep into you, through you, like a butcher knife, taking little pieces of you with it as it goes, and if you are stabbed over and over again after that it just makes the whole thing worse, and your heart hardens and your anger festers because that wound is still very much open and painful, and no manner of companionship and caring from other people will doctor and bandage that very first cut.
Sheryl Crow–The first cut is the deepest.