Dilator 3 not a fluke and Other Assorted Childhood TMI (Trigger warning)

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.

Manly Man's Men -- AKA WTF Gender Roles

A man decided to tell me today that I needed a man's man. I asked him to explain more. He said I needed someone who would pull my hair, wouldn't ask for permission and wouldn't want to talk about his feelings. I nodded intrigued, but really I'm like WTF WHY WOULD I EVER WANT THAT?? Aside from the fact that I really don't like rough sex, (Presumably that's what the pulling my hair and not asking for permission thing was about) this sounds like the most boring, confusing, chock full of resentment hypothetical relationship I could ever conjure up.

A relationship should be a partnership, not some weird play where one half tries desperately never to show the characteristics of the other half, which he thinks are weak and inferior. If its so inferior to be feminine, why are you continuously drawn to it? Why do you want my crying, emotion feeling, hairless, over makeup-ed body so much if its so abhorrent to you? (for the record I am not hairless or makeup-ed , not that there's anything wrong with that, more just the standard of that) Maybe you should do the real manly thing and just have manly rough emotionless sex with other manly rough emotionless men.

This confuses me greatly, because even though the men I dated had plenty of stereotypically masculine characteristics. They seemed way more nuanced and equal and smart than the men this guy describes. The world this guy describes sounds like a gross crisscrossed place where people are constantly being tempted and then loathing themselves for giving into the simplest urge or desire. Where women 'rope' men into a stale relationship and marriage, and men 'trick' women into having one-sided sex with them. Which would just continually cycle into the same feelings over and over until eternity.

Imagine a world with guys wearing skirts, crying when they hold their newborn baby for the first time, women had multiple orgasms, didn't feel like they shouldn't have sex on the first date, people had open and honest discussions about their relationship problems.

And you man's men can talk about all those girly girly men with their long eyelashes, and pretty, soft, uncalloused skin, and thin muscle-less bodies wearing ladies panties...like that's supposed to be an insult or something. Sounds like heaven to me.

For lack of insightful things to say

Feeling breakup pain, confusion, a desire to succeed. Constantly trying to be a pillar of strength for other while figuring out the meaning of love. Not an easy task.

Rebounded with ex. Or exes to be exact. Two people that I love. And yet, they have failed me so much in so many ways that it confuses me. So instead I have sex with them. Beautiful loving and confusing sex. Because I think that they are beautiful, and they think I'm beautiful. So in a fucked up way its nice to be desired. But honestly I'm having trouble feeling anything but the most surface level feelings. I am warm on the surface but dead cold on the inside. Rolling through the days really. But it's okay.

Third dilator went all the way in today. All the way in. Took some time, was not feeling good due to being on the downswing of the menstrual cycle. Tends to make things feel more burny than usual. But I kept persevering and trying to figure out how the muscles worked. And it didn't seem to be worked but I was so sure I could do it. And then suddenly I feel this gentle current inside me. Seemed to be accepting it like peristalsis almost. and then it was in. Like really in. If I let go of it it didn't get pushed out. Pretty crazy stuff.

Perhaps more perplexing was that although I was expecting to see the dried brown blood that was already inside me, there was a new red blood that also came out. Did that come from me? Did I hurt myself. Was there still hymen? Thinking about that made my head hurt a little. Blood doesn't usually bother me, but vagina blood is a whole other story! It's not the blood itself, but the fact that I had something in me that needed to be broken. Blech. I haven't pushed my body unreasonably, so it could just be an inevitable thing. Glad to have discovered it by my own hands and not somebody else.

Dilator Three

So after an incident referred to in the last post, which was involved a confusing event later referred to as sex. I straddled my partner's half erect penis and tried to put it in. Which was slightly stressful and confusing and close to intercourse but not quite there yet. So we went back to the drawing board. We left off at dilator 2, which went all the way in. And now yesterday and today we put dilator 3 roughly 50% of the way in. (I put it in gently of course, at a distance of roughly 50%). There are 5 dilators. The last being of a relatively gratuitous size. If I graduate to dilator 4, I could potentially take an entire dick of modest size. However, I try to remind myself that laying still and slowly inserting a piece of rigid plastic into my vagina at a snails pace and leaving it still for 5-6 minutes isn't even remotely close to real sex. But knowing that I have the space for a penis sized object would be a huge improvement, Huge. So for positivity sake, lets go through the list of milestones I've achieved:

1. Complete desensitization to body: I have touched every part of my body.  Put my finger in as far as possible, can look at my body parts in the mirror without feelings of nausea. Even the ass region. Can simply touch in between the labia and etc. It's a non-issue.

2. Learned to orgasm by someone else's hand: Multiple times! This shit is great. Tiring, but great. Feeling myself let go, feeling crazy insane feelings that border too much, not enough, tears, smiles, over the rainbow good. Terrifying. Ecstasy. Again and again.

3. Learned to orgasm by my own hand: Work in progress, but I managed to orgasm during a mutual getting off event. It was cool.

4. Went to the gyno: I went, and talked about my issues. And then took my underwear off. And stuff. Then I peed in a cup and got charged 100 bucks for it. Live and Learn

5.Insert a finger during sexual activity: Only happened once where it went in all the way. But it still happened.

6. Talked to people I didn't necessarily feel close to or trust about sex: It's almost not a big deal anymore to talk about sex casually to friends, or even to reveal my 'disability'. Almost may be a little overoptimistic. But I still have consulted with people about sexual issues.

7. Inserted dilator one all the way in: 2.5 inches long

8. Inserted dilator 2 all the way in: 3.5 inches long

9. Had the tip of a penis enter. Unsure of how deep it actually was. But it was in there. There was a little thrusting action. I certainly wouldn't be able to join a nunnery.

10. Cried tears of joy during sexual activity. These weren't scared tears, trauma tears, no curling up into a ball. Just joy tears. Sweet sweet hormones.

So there is much much progress. Unfortunately it seems I went and got myself single again .May not be permanent. Or it may be. I don't know. I couldn't handle it. Sometimes its okay to admit you cant handle it. 

Practice makes perfect

I may have had the closest thing to sex in my life thus far. It was pretty much a nonevent as far as these things could go. I'm thankful for that. To be completely honest, I can't even tell if something is in my vagina most of the time, so I couldn't actually tell you whether I had sex or not. Boyfriend seems to think so. So let him make the call. He knows more about these things than I do.

The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.

You know, I think of myself as a kind and forgiving person. A person who doesn't like conflict, a person who is honest, forthright,tries to do the right thing. I'd like to think that i'd absorb the sins of the world if it made everybody feel better.

But you know, sometimes, sometimes its just way more than I could reasonably handle. Way more than could be reasonably forgiven, reasonably swept under the rug, reasonably swallowed. I didn't ask to be born you know, just like I didn't ask for the childhood trauma that made me be the way I am, I didn't ask for my dog to be so messed up, for four of my family members to die, I didn't ask for the depression, the ocd, the anxiety, I didn't ask to be here. I didn't ask for you to hurt me the way you did. I didn't ask for that. I wouldn't ask for your forgiveness if I misstep like that in my life. I didn't ask for that.

I didn't ask to be a sad sad person who just takes and takes it. I can't be anything more than myself. I really just can't. So why, why is it never enough? When do I get to be good enough, strong enough, sexy enough? When do the tears stop? When does it get better?

Happy fucking birthday to me. Happy birthday you stupid piece of shit. You will struggle. You will open your eyes and walk your tired stupid sad self to your stupid piece of shit job and you will do it again and again and again. And you will do that because you are alive and breathing. You hurt because you live. So live for those who can't. Even if you hate yourself. Live and loathe.

Why am I suddenly following my own blog?

"Good porn is like good music. It's out there, but more often than not, you have to go looking or you'll end up with something repulsive you can't get out of your head."

Comment from last weeks Savage Love