Got it all the way in again!!! not a fluke. Still, not even remotely close to how sex works. But I'm amazed at how the healing process seems to be going lightning fast as I become more and more comfortable in my sexuality and attitudes on life.
On another note. Not that I feel the need to explain myself, but here's some things I thought about in the past few days. And because I feel socially removed from the world, painfully single and confused, and I avoid talking to people at work to avoid conflicts, here I am talking to my blog.
When I was about 7-8 years old I had a neighbor I never wanted to be alone with but always got stuck alone with. I didn't like him. He was frightening and weird and I wanted to hang out with the girls. When we were alone together he swore at me and choked me. When he didn't like the way video games were goin he'd put the controllers down his pants so they'd touch his junk and then we couldn't play anymore. One time he 'accidentally' swung a huge stick and hit me in the head with it. I don't think for one second that this was an accident. I was facing the other way minding my own business when he came up behind me and did it. My head swelled up for days. Nobody did anything about it.
When he had to play with all the girls and he didn't like that we were playing barbies, he literally poop on our stuff. He'd just poop in his boxers, stand up and let it drop on our stuff. One time he was in the pool, and when he got out he came into the house, took off his swimsuit and shook his dick at us until my sister and I hid behind and cried.
Then we were walking in the woods one day and he found a knife in the ground and chased us around and it was so incredibly scary/why were we allowed to be in the woods alone at age 8/why didn't anybody stop him/why did we continually have to endure this persons presence/ it's so mind boggling to me.
That's the stuff I remember clearly and succinctly. I used to pee my pants constantly for most of my childhood. Like not a full on pee. Like, it just came out in little trickles every time I stood up and walked around. Like my bladder muscles weren't strong enough to hold in the pee. I walked really funny because I was trying to hold it in. People remarked on it, it was really painfully obvious. Nobody did anything though. I never ever said anything to anyone or figured out why that happened. Was I injured? Did something happen?
My scary neighbor made a clay statue of dick when we were sitting on the driveway one time. I asked what it was? He said, "Haven't you seen your dad's?" I had a nightmare that night about it.
I used to suffer from a lot of intrusive thoughts and fears about sitting on a pokey metal objects--getting penetrated by strange metal spikes. Why did I think about these things? Where did I get this imagery from?
Was I molested...? Honestly I don't know. I think I'd remember something like that. But really, the fact remains that whatever these things were that happened, my brain and body reacted like I was. To think that I need to explain myself, or need to be 'really traumatized' or whatever the fuck dumb shit I previously thought isn't productive at this point. The point is, some disturbing shit, followed by some more disturbing shit, coupled with a lack of any reliable sexual info, a religious upbringing, a late sexual flowering, a struggle with anxiety, lead to a gross and out of control soup of intense sexual dysfunction, which has taken years of effort to realize and actively correct. A lot of blood sweat and tears in which the only visible product is going to be the outcoming sexual productivity I will experience in the rest of my twenties and thirties and onwards. And when I'm fucking 97 years old I'm gonna hobble over on my walker to the near male and have the best sex I can reasonably have. Because I deserve it.
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