Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids

Reason #210: Feeling like a disgusting fat pig
December 29, 2010, 7:44 pm
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Things are still weird with my mom.  Ever since she told me that she resents me for making her feel guilty for the sex abuse, it’s like she opened up a vault of shit for me and I can’t close it back up.  Even though she has apologized, I feel weird talking to her.  So I have tried not talking to her very much since the apology.

The truth about sex abuse is that it happens because there’s no ‘good’ adult around to stop it from happening.  Predators know this.  Predators count on this.   So they swoop in when there is the best opportunity to fuck a child.  First they ingratiate themselves into your life, make nice-nice with the adults around you so that they can look innocent when they are caught.  ‘What?  So and so couldn’t have done that!  He’s such a nice guy!’

My mom was just not around (sometimes just not even emotionally there when she was actually physically present) when the three abusers abused me, all at different points in my life.  So to tell me that I make her feel guilty for it, and that she resents me for it, well, I have a strong reaction to that.

I talked to my mom last night and I said that I think this problem is probably bigger than us, and that now that it’s out there in the open between us, I can’t make it okay inside myself.  I suggested that we do a ‘together’ session in therapy.  We’ve done this several times in my life, usually due to the sex abuse, and these sessions have always helped us have a better relationship with each other.  She immediately agreed, and said that we should use my therapist because that’s who I am comfortable with.  I am grateful she wants to work on it with me.

I threw up yesterday; first time in a few months.  I was surprised by it.  I don’t know why I was surprised; every time shit gets stressful in my life, one of the ways that I handle it is by forcing a bunch of food down my gullet and then throwing it all back up.  It’s so disgusting.  That’s how I feel, disgusting. 

The sex abuse wasn’t my fault, but I feel like a disgusting fat pig.  I throw up food at will.

Reason #209: Beating up the little girl inside

The other night, my husband and I were in bed, and he started kissing me.  As my regular readers know, we are having trouble trying to fuck each other, and the kissing was a really welcome surprise.  Anyway, so we’re kissing, and a picture of my brother flashed into my brain.  I quickly pushed the image away and told myself I am with my husband, I am safe, everything’s okay, and BAM – there’s my brother again.  Dammit.  So I push his image out of my mind again and beg myself not to fuck this up for us, that it’s been so long since we have kissed like this, and BAM – there he is again.  ‘Okay,’ I tell myself ‘He’s not really here.  It’s just me and my husband. Please, please don’t fuck this up.  It’s been so long since we have kissed like this’ and BAM – there’s my brother again.  At that point, I stopped kissing my husband.  I yet again fucked it up for us.

My husband realized what was happening and said in a quiet, soothing voice, “Everything’s okay.  It’s just us in bed, just two adults relaxing.  We only do what we want to do and when you don’t want to do something, we stop.”

His hand was still on my hip, and I was laying there trying to breathe, but it was dark and I was afraid and I kept staring at him and trying to will his hand away.  He realized what was happening and took his hand away, gently.

“I’m sorry” I said. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, baby.  Like I said, nothing’s gonna happen that you don’t want to happen” he said.

So we talked about it in our marital therapy session this week.  She said that I have a “sex map”, that we all have “sex maps”, and that my road always goes to that scene with my brother.  She said that the more times it happens like that, the more times it is imprinted on the map.  She said that I keep trying to will it away, but she explained that instead of trying to be a hero with this, I need to listen to myself.

Then she said some pretty interesting stuff.  She said that these flashbacks and scary thoughts are really my body’s way of warning me.  She said that when the sex abuse happened to me, I didn’t have a choice, and now I am in a situation where I am about to be sexual again, and this is my body warning me that last time this happened it was bad.

She told me I need to stop beating myself up over this every time I fuck up our intimate times.  She said it nicer than that, obviously.  Whenever I say ‘I fucked it up’, she says “You didn’t fuck it up, the trauma fucked it up, and you’re reacting to the trauma.”

Anyway though – this is the part that stuck with me – she said “When you beat yourself up like that, you think you are going to beat yourself into not ‘fucking it up’ again, but that’s not what happens.  When you beat yourself up, I want you to imagine beating up that little girl inside you, the one who is trying to warn you about the bad stuff. When you beat yourself up like that, you are really beating her up.  She’s trying with all her might to protect you, and you keep beating her up for it.  Instead, you need to open yourself to listen to the message, not beat yourself up for getting the warning signals.” 

Then she said that in our next alone session, she would teach me how to find out what my body was trying to tell me.

Reason #208: Resentment, Part II
December 21, 2010, 2:14 am
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In my last post, I talked about finding out that my mom resents me for “making her feel guilty” about the fact that I was sexually abused.

I couldn’t take being so angry anymore, so I wrote her an e-mail saying that when I last saw her in person, she said something that upset me, and could we please set aside a time to talk on the phone about it.  She called me a few minutes after receiving the e-mail, but since she was at work, I didn’t feel comfortable talking to her about it then.  We set a time to talk about it tonight after she got home from work.

She asked me what she had said that upset me.  I told her it was about her resentment list, and how she told me that I was on it because I made her feel guilty about the sex abuse.

She said “Sweetie,  I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings.”

I said “But what do I say that makes you feel guilty?  Why do you resent me?”

She said, “Honey, resentment for me is really just a mask for my own guilt.  I hate myself for what happened, and I know I can’t take the pain away for you, and it hurts me terribly, and I know that if I am in pain about it, your pain is 10 times worse.  I carry tremendous guilt over it, and I will for the rest of my life.  You didn’t do anything, and I am so sorry I hurt your feelings with this.”

I am not sure if she was saying that because she knew it would make me feel better, or if she really felt that way, but honestly, tonight I don’t care.  I am grateful she either feels that way or grateful she is smart enough to say what I need to hear.  I accept her apology, mostly because I need to in order to get what little sleep I do get.  I need to have a mom, and thus, I need to accept my mom – warts and all. 

I am worried that the survivors who read this will think I am copping out by forgiving her.  You’re right – maybe I am.  This is where I am in my healing journey, and honestly, it’s probably why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  If one parent fucks us, we hold onto the ‘good’ parent for dear life.

Reason #207: Resentment

My mom and I were driving together in the car the other night, and inevitably the conversation came back to her recovery from food addiction. My mom is a member of a 12-step program for her addiction to food, and she loves to talk about it. For her recovery, she has to write these assignments based on the 12 steps. One of the things she has to write about is her resentment. She said she had like 75 things she was resentful about in her life, and each thing is an assignment unto itself.

I thought about that, and asked her “Hey, am I on the list?”

She appeared hesitant, and said “Yes.”

I thought about that. I wondered if maybe it was because I was so messy when I lived with her – she hated that. Finally, I said “So what is it? What’s the thing that put me on your list?” At this point, in the dark car, I was kind of smiling, not really taking any of this seriously.  I mean, really, if we were all to make lists of shit we resent, all our lists would probably be a mile long.  So at this point I figured who gives a shit what put me on her list.  But I was curious enough to see what exactly I was on there for.

Again, my mom appeared hesitant, so I said “Come on, why am I on the list?  Why do you resent me?”

And then she hit me with this bombshell: “Because you make me feel guilty about the sexual abuse.”

How do you like that, folks?  I make her feel guilty about the sexual abuse.  Mind you, she has never read this blog, so she has no idea all the ways that I am fucked up from the sex abuse.  I have purposely kept her away from this blog, because I was so worried about her feelings. 

I think when she says I make her feel guilty, I think what she really means is “You talk about how fucked up you are from the sex abuse, and I feel guilty because of it.”

When she told me she resents me for making her feel guilty though, I got PISSED.  Well, first I felt like a truck hit me, but after that passed, I got PISSED.   I mean – look – she did hire the babysitter that molested us.  She did NOTHING after I told her the babysitter did this to us.  I mean, wouldn’t a normal person try and track that person down?  Call the cops?  Something?

She did leave me home alone with my brother while he was molesting me.   However, to her credit, when I told her about that, she put an immediate stop to it.  She still left us alone, but she apparently threatened him with the beating of his life, and he left me alone after that.  For the most part.

Then, and this is the most painful part – she left me continually alone with my father and brother in my teenage years so that she could go fuck the guy she was having an affair with.  She was out almost all hours of the day and night, and there I was, alone, in a house full of animals.  Even after I told her what was happening with my dad, her response to it was to tell me to put some more clothing on, and she went to the doctor to get Valium for herself.  At no time did she actually stop the abuse from my father.  Not the punching, not the choking, not the belt, and not the inappropriate touching and exhibitionism.

She only left when he threatened to kill her.  She only got me help when the state threatened to take me away from her if she didn’t seek treatment for me.

And now she resents me.  For making her feel guilty.  I’m pretty resentful too.  Consider this my 207th resentment, frankly, and a reminder as to why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  Everyone resents it.

Reason #206: It fucks our partners’ jobs too

The huz and I were talking last night about his job.  There is a possibility that another job will open up in his company, and he was thinking of trying for it.  I always think that trying to better yourself is a good idea, so I encouraged him to try for it.

Then he said “The only thing is that it requires a lot more travel than I am doing now.”

In a spectacularly selfish move on my part, I said “Ugh, forget it then.”  He is, of course, free to do what he wants.  If I know him, he’ll try for it anyway, and will try to take care of me in some other way (like hire his sister to stay with me).  He is a sweet man who tries to think of my emotional safety; one of the many reasons I love him so much.

The thing is, he married someone who is afraid to be alone.

Bad things happened to me when I was left alone, and consequently, I am terrified of being alone, especially in the dark.  I have already written about the trauma of his business trips before, and the idea of him having to take more of them in the future already causes me no small amount of panic.

The whole time we were dating, I tried to warn my husband about my fear of being alone, and I tried to warn him about it some more the whole year we were engaged to each other.  I tried to explain to him how difficult it would be to be married to me, and it was one of many reasons I told him it would be stupid to marry me.  There’s no arguing logic with someone who is in love though, so he married me anyway.  Plus, I guess you can warn someone all you want, and they won’t understand it until they are living it with you.

When I was still with my ex-girlfriend, she had this job where she was required to do overnight shifts.  Being left alone at night fucked me up so much that I asked her to ask for a different shift.  Her boss told her she would lose her job if she didn’t do the overnight shifts.  My sweet girlfriend chose me over her job.  I really don’t know why she or my husband put up with my shit, but they do, and I am eternally grateful. 

I suppose the right answer to all of this is for me to learn how to not be afraid of the dark, or to learn how to be okay by myself.  I am 37 – I haven’t figured it out yet, and I have tried so many things to reduce the panic that constantly encircles me.  I am not entirely sure there will ever be a ‘cure’ for me, though my marital therapist seems fairly confident that survivors of sexual abuse can heal.  I hope she is right.

I have already written before about how the abuse has fucked me, my mom, my job, my choice of life partners, and my partner himself.  Now we know it fucks our partners’ jobs too.  That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  The effects are much more far-reaching than you’d think.

Reason #205: Praise G-d

***This post is controversial, and might be perceived as somewhat preachy.  I hate proselytization (when you try to convert someone to your religion, or your way of thinking about G-d) more than most other shit in the world, so if G-d (or this way of thinking about G-d) isn’t your thing, I apologize for how this post might come across.  Know that my healing journey may differ from yours, and both are good. ***

I was watching an episode of “19 Kids and Counting” today – it’s that show about the Duggar Family.  The Duggars believe that every child is a gift from G-d, which I personally think is a lovely way to think about children.  The show is probably somewhat controversial though, as people have opinions about how many children is okay and how many is too much.

Anyway though, in today’s episode, Michelle Duggar (the mom) developed pre-eclampsia in the 25th week of pregnancy and had to deliver the 19th baby early.  Jim Bob (the father) was scared out of his wits – he was facing the possible loss of not only his 19th child, but also his wife – but he choked back tears to say this: “When good things happen to us, we praise G-d.  When bad things happen to us, we praise G-d.”

I thought this was so beautiful.  I mean, if you think about it, when good things happen to you, you never sit there and say “Why, G-d, why??”  But when bad things happen, you can bet you ask why!  Why G-d, why?  Why did that babysitter molest me?  Why did my father punch me?  Why!  How could You let that happen to me?

When I look at my situation through a lens of “praise G-d” though, I think about how if G-d has a hand in this, then maybe there is a plan.  If there is a plan, then there is a purpose for all that has happened to me.  That maybe G-d allowed this to happen to me for a reason.  Maybe that reason is a deeper understanding of pain, which allows me a deeper understanding of empathy.  Maybe G-d allowed this babysitter to hurt my brother and I through some sort of divine plan, and if that is true, then He will lead me through the healing part of it too, right?

I read somewhere that people who are spiritual have a better chance at healing from their traumatic experiences, from drug addictions, from all sorts of things.  Maybe if I believe in praising G-d in the bad times, then I will heal from this whole thing. 

Something terrible happened to me.  Yes. Yes, there have been 205 ways that being fucked as a kid has fucked me so far.  Yes.  I seem to have a hard time healing from it.  I have a hard time trusting people, and I can’t seem to fuck my husband without images of my brother popping into my mind without my permission. I can’t raise my child without thinking about my own experiences in childhood.  I have nightmares and panic attacks. Yes.  That cannot be denied.  These things happened to me, I survived them, and the process of surviving them has caused me 205 fucked up things that wouldn’t otherwise be a part of my life experience.  Praise G-d.

Praising G-d when you have lost all hope of any other way of surviving what is otherwise unthinkable.  That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.

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