Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #317: Dipping toes in water

My ex-wife had genital reassignment surgery a few weeks ago. She told me she was a woman 2 1/2 years ago, and has been living as a woman on the outside for a year and a half, and she felt it was time to go ahead and get the surgery. What a fucking ordeal that kind of surgery is, holy shit. The recovery takes forever!! We knew that going into it, but still, holy shit. She is in a lot of pain but she is doing okay.

I am in a lot of pain too, but I’m doing okay too I guess. I suppose the truth is that no matter how much you anticipate a punch, it still hurts when it comes. This surgery was like a punch for me.

She has a look of freedom in her eyes that was never there before. It is almost painful to witness it.  It’s kind of like looking at a butterfly who has been caged and is now free.  The problem is that her freedom has now put me in a cage, kind of, and I am not ready to leave yet. I wish I was. The thing is, the safety of living with her is still better than the alternative for me right now, which would be not living with her.

I wish I could learn from her courage.  Against all odds, she did this enormous thing.  She risked losing everything – her family, her friends, her job, her home – everything – just to be who she really was inside. Now that she has a vagina, she feels complete and whole.  I wish I could learn from her courage and risk safety and leave her and fall in love again. We formally ended the marriage about a month after she told me she is a transgendered female, but I was still in love with her.  Grieving over the loss of her is over its roughest point, but there are still little nicks and cuts.  Losing your husband in this unique way is really a death by a thousand cuts, and there are still cuts. Like for instance our roofer stopped by unexpectedly and asked how my husband was. Great, I thought, another person I have to come out to. And how much do I tell these people?  We still live together.  No, the marriage is over. Yes, we probably will get divorced eventually. Right now we are still living together, raising our son. And up until a few weeks ago, the inevitable ‘yes, she will probably get the surgery’.

A few days ago, I cried at my therapist’s office about all of this, about losing my husband all over again.  It’s not the same kind of grief as when I first lost him, but it definitely feels like a loss all over again.  I guess somewhere in the back of my head, I kept thinking ‘When is he going to stop this craziness already?’ But the truth is, he was never going to stop that craziness because he is a she on the inside, and now on the outside too.

So my therapist asked me if perhaps this finality, this ‘nail in the coffin’ made me ready to have a funeral for my husband. We had touched on it before in the last two years since ‘he’ came out as a ‘she’ to me. But I had never been ready before.  I feel ready now. I guess that is the nice thing about the surgery — it set her free.  Maybe now it will set me free too. So I am preparing a eulogy about all the wonderful things that I miss about the only man I was ever able to trust enough to have sex with him.

Get this though…

There’s a guy at my job that I – I don’t know – that I think about. Okay, I guess I “like” him. He started there last year, and since then we have seen each other around the office sometimes.  We have both been to some office functions, and sometimes we talk to each other when we see each other. I told my therapist “I think maybe I like a boy.” That’s how I said it because that’s how I feel.  My sexuality is still stuck in fucking teenage and childhood years.  They say that when you go through abuse as a kid (or when your parent is an alcoholic, or any other kind of traumatic shit we force kids to live through), that your emotional age kind of ‘arrests’ at the age you were when all your shit started.  I had three abusers – the first (the babysitter) when I was 5, the second (my brother) when I was 8, the third (my dad) when I was 15. When I talk about liking a boy, I feel 15, the real age I was when I started actually liking boys. It’s just that my shit never progressed beyond that age.  You’d think that since I was married and had a child, that somehow I would stop being afraid of men and sex and all that, but no.

I wonder if he sees me as the fat office girl he has to say hi to sometimes.

So anyway, I told the therapist I like a boy. She smiled and asked me about him. I told her what I knew, which really isn’t much. He’s a tall guy, kind of a bigger guy, and he has longer hair. I told her he seems nice and that everyone only has good things to say about him. Then I told her that I basically contrived a meeting with him for tomorrow under the pretenses of working together on some project when really I just want to see what he’s about. Honestly, this whole thing is so stupid. He never talks about having a significant other, but I could have sworn that someone told me that he used to be in an 11 year relationship. I don’t even know if he is still in that relationship or not? If he is, then this is the safest crush in the world, since I refuse to mess around with that sort of thing. (I have a mantra that I will not screw over other women just for a man. And messing around with a married man screws over another woman. That’s my own personal mantra; no judgment for anyone else doing that. Everyone has their own moral codes.)

The therapist told me that setting the meeting with him is a good thing.  She said that even if nothing else comes of it, it is good that I am socializing and not taking to my normal hermit instincts.  She said that this is probably a safe way for me to dip my toe in the water, by liking a guy who is probably in a relationship because nothing can come of it (which makes it safe).

Sometimes I wonder if my child sex abuse stuff shows on me.  Does he know? Does everyone at the office know who I really am?

This, of course, is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. Our thought processes around dating are completely different than normal people. When a non-abused person likes someone, they wonder ‘does he/she like me?’ You know what I wonder about? ‘Will he rape me?” “When is it safe to be alone with him? Is it after 6 months of dating?” “If I bring him to my home, will he force himself on me?” And of course, my most popular thought process revolves around him gaining my trust only for the purposes of abusing my child.  All this, and I don’t even know him, and he’s probably in a relationship so all of this is moot anyway.

I will be glad when this stupid meeting is over tomorrow so I can stop worrying already.

 



Reason #309: The obesity problem in society

I would like to lose weight.  I am unhappy at the weight I am at. The problem is that whenever I have lost weight in the past, I get to a certain point and no matter what I do, I can’t lose any more weight (even though I would be considered fat at that weight on any doctor’s scale).

Two years ago, I began The Sugar Addicts Recovery Program.  Kathleen DesMaisons feels that if you eat enough protein in the morning, you won’t have as many cravings through the day.  I think she is right, so I have been doing that ever since.  Then about a year ago, I found the Jon Gabriel Method. He explains that if you are anything more than 10 lbs overweight, it is because you do not feel safe losing the weight.  He says that as long as you don’t feel safe, your body will never release its hold on the weight because your body simply doesn’t want to be thin.

I couldn’t agree with him more. I have always known that my fatness was about safety.  I didn’t start gaining weight till my brother began molesting me. As an adult, every time I have tried to lose weight, I have mostly failed.  A thinner body is a smaller body.  When I was in a small body as a child, three people used my smallness to their sexual advantage.  They used my body for their sexual pleasure, and enjoyed their power over me.  When I think about being in a thinner body now, I equate it with smallness.  Smallness hasn’t worked out well for me in the past.  These thoughts and anxieties have thwarted many attempts to lose weight, and eventually my subconscious overtakes me, and I have put on more weight than I have lost in diets.

This, of course, is why you shouldn’t fuck kids. You don’t like the obesity problem in America?  Stop fucking kids.  I was once at a conference on incest, and I swear to G-d, every single one of us (and I’m talking hundreds of people) was overweight.  Some of us were massively overweight.  We have all cleverly figured out that weight is a good shield, a good measure of insulation that keeps people far the fuck away from us. And honestly, this has worked pretty well for me so far.  Somehow when I reach a certain weight, I become invisible to men. This weight has kept me safe.

But the truth is that my adult self is unhappy with this weight now.  I don’t feel protected by it so much anymore. Instead, I feel hampered by it. I feel like my weight is holding me back from being my best self.

As you know from my last post, this year is my year of trying to empower myself. I have spent a lot of time working through this issue in therapy, and listening to Jon Gabriel’s visualizations.  And today I had such a lovely thought.  I tried to imagine myself in a thinner body.  And immediately my mind did its usual thing where thinness=smallness=me getting violated again. But today I changed the ending of that thought. The violator still tries to violate me, but in my thinner smaller body, I am confident and fit.  I am strong and I have a good relationship with my body.  My body and I work together and I fight my would-be violator, and I KICK HIS FUCKING ASS.

He will think twice before ever fucking with me again.



Reason #278: Manipulating Body Size to Avoid Sexual Attention
February 1, 2012, 8:34 pm
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I happened upon the Incest Survivors’ Aftereffects Checklist by E. Sue Blume , and I was perusing it.  I, of course, have many of the symptoms on this list.  But then my eyes rested upon this one: “Manipulating body size to avoid sexual attention”.  This is SOOOO me.  Somehow every time I am in a relationship, I end up gaining a shitload of weight.  I gained so much weight in my marriage that the number was pretty astounding.  The number of pounds gained was so much, it would almost seem like a conscious decision to gain it.  But it wasn’t, and I have always been generally consciously unhappy with my weight.

I first started gaining weight after my brother began abusing me.  I didn’t start throwing up my food until my father started molesting me.  I have always been overweight, and I have tried every possible diet that there is to try, from Atkins to Weight Watchers to counting calories to nutritionists, etc, etc, etc.

The truth is, and I can only understand this now in retrospect, I have been manipulating my body size to avoid sexual attention.  During my thinner times, males have felt perfectly comfortable walking up to me and asking me out.  They have felt okay with talking to me to get to know me better in order to ask me out.  They have felt okay talking to my friends about me to see if I like them.  I cannot even count how many places I have literally run away from because some guy has done these things. Once I was in a restaurant and when I was in the bathroom, the waiter told someone at my table that he thought I was cute.  She told me about it when I got back to the table, and the way I handled it was to hide behind her as we walked out of the restaurant.

Somehow when I gain weight, the number of males that show interest me is greatly reduced.  It’s like by becoming fatter, I actually become more invisible to men.

The heterosexual female part of me likes the idea of attention from men.  But the molested girl part of me usually takes over and then all of me runs away.

I asked my therapist about the manipulation of body size stuff, and she said that in her practice she has noticed that whatever way the child looked like while being molested becomes the opposite of what they choose to look like in adulthood.  So, for instance if a little girl has been thin her whole childhood until some asshole molests her, then she chooses to become fat (subconsciously, in my case). And if a little girl is overweight, she becomes anorexic, etc.  I don’t think this applies to everyone, but shit, it sure is true in my case.

I don’t think I would have ever had such profound weight issues, and such profound eating disorders, and such a profoundly fucked up relationship with my body and with food if three people hadn’t molested me.  This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #210: Feeling like a disgusting fat pig
December 29, 2010, 7:44 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

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 #173: We Have Social Phobia
May 7, 2010, 12:09 pm
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My co-workers invited me out for drinks the other night.  This is like the millionth time I have faced this sort of situation.  I thanked them for the invitation and said no.  When they asked why, I decided to go with the truth.  I said “I’m not social”.

Then came the same reaction I always get when I say that.  “What?  How can this be?  Everyone loves you.”

And inside, I nod my head and think “Yup, that’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  We get scared of social situations.”

The truth is that in these one-on-one conversations, I am mostly okay.  I am even okay when another person or two joins.  Once the situation becomes a “dinner” or “event” or “party”, I am immediately overcome with anxiety.  I begin picturing myself there and everyone looking at me, and I feel fat, bumbling, and stupid.  Then I begin thinking of ways that I might not have to go to the event.  And if it’s an event involving my husband’s work friends or even sometimes his family, I feel ashamed as I beg him for ways for me to get out of it.  He has gotten pissed more than once about me missing one of his events, and he has that right.  I’d be pissed if he missed one of mine just due to fear.

Sometimes I face the fear head on and just go to the damn party.  Sometimes I am not feeling that courageous and give in to my inner fear.

I think the core of my social anxiety is my fear of people judging me.  Survivors of sexual abuse are constantly judged.  ‘Is she telling the truth?  Did it really happen?  Maybe she made it up?  Even if it did happen, maybe she wanted it?  It wasn’t that bad anyway.  She’ll grow out of it.  She’s making a big deal out of nothing.’ 

My name is Butterfly, and I am afraid of parties.  That is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #56: My Fat Ass

I suppose I cannot blame my whole fat ass on the sex abuse. I mean, I am Jewish and come from a family of Jews. We Jews are not exactly known for our restraint with the food. Plus, my whole family is a bunch of fat asses too.

BUT. When my brother started molesting me, I did start eating in a conscious effort to change my body. I thought that perhaps if I ate enough and got fat enough, he wouldn’t want me anymore. When my dad started molesting me, I ate for the same reasons. Only his shit made me so sick, I would throw it all up. I couldn’t take it. I would literally have bulimic attacks anytime I thought about it. For years, I binged and threw up on his birthday.

This Monday, I had six weeks of solid dieting under my belt. I hit 10 lbs of weight loss. I got excited. I went shopping for a new shirt. I calculated how long it would take for the next five to come off. I thought about how great I would look. How I would fit into my skinny jeans again. How men would find me attractive. How being thin opens me up to the possibility of rape.

Just so we’re clear – I understand that women (and men) of all shapes and sizes get raped. I get that. In my mind though, if I am thin, it is easier to overtake me, to overpower me. The size of my ass is directly related to my own comfort level, both up and down the scale. It’s not rational, but frankly, fucking kids isn’t rational either.

I told myself that I was getting healthier, not thinner. Rape doesn’t have to happen just because I get thinner. I will never be a child again, and no one can ever do that to me again the way it happened to me those times with my brother, and my father, and that babysitter. I am an adult now. Getting thin is just about getting thin, and that’s that. And then I binged my brains out and threw it all up while crying.

This seems to happen to me every time I hit some sort of milestone on the scale, like 10 lbs or 20 or 25, etc. The whole process of weight loss is just so fucking frightening. As more weight comes off, more of my real body shows. I am so used to being hidden under layers of fat, and as the real me emerges from underneath – well, it’s terrifying, frankly. Last time my real body was shown, a babysitter took interest in it, a brother used it against my will, and a father stared at its growing parts. This is probably why I hide my body in layers of fat, and this is also why you shouldn’t fuck kids.




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