Trigger warning for this post
I don't know how triggery it might be, but having many "landmines" myself, I didn't want to take any chances...
Fuck PTSD. Fuck triggers. Fuck all the people in my life who've told me I'm bad, dirty, nasty, evil, deserve to be used and abused, etc.
Fuck it all.
On Sunday night, I reached into my nightstand drawer for my vibrator. It wasn't there.
I knew where it had gone. So I called my 18-year-old and asked if she knew anything about it. To be fair, she immediately admitted she'd taken it.
And I lost my shit entirely. She had invaded my privacy. Betrayed my trust. Taken something excruciatingly personal that I don't even like people knowing I own.
She came home. I was at least smart enough to bring her into my room and close the door, and turn on white noise, before I started ranting, raving, and swearing. I felt like she had violated me.
But, to make matters worse... Somewhere in the course of ranting, I picked up my cell phone, and without realizing it hit her father's number. He heard most of what was said, including what she had taken from me. And my 15-year-old, despite the closed door, white noise, and music she was listening to in the basement, heard it all as well.
So not only was I completely and utterly humiliated by my 18-year-old going into that drawer. That wasn't bad enough. My EX-HUSBAND and younger daughter found out about something I'm not even comfortable with Hubby and Guy knowing I owned.
I was raised by a mother with very warped ideas about sex. My body was "nasty." Sex was something good people didn't have, unless they were having kids, and even then sex was bad. Women were supposed to have sex because men wanted it; women weren't supposed to want it. I lost my virginity at age 20, and my mother told me I was a slut who would "want it all the time." (This was after she made me go on the Pill at age 18, because "You'll be having sex and once you have it, you're always going to want it, so you'd better be protected.")
I was molested several times throughout my childhood by various people. I was raped at age 17. And to my mother, those were *my* fault.
And to top it all off, she walked around in a sheer nightgown and walked in on me in the bathroom and told me I had no right to expect privacy because "you don't have anything I haven't already seen".
And then my father... He couldn't cope with having a daughter. As I grew and developed, he became more and more uncomfortable, and often didn't even look at me. I can count on one hand the number of times he hugged me during my childhood and teen years. But he left Playboys lying around all over the house and wrote pornographic poetry--which he also left lying around.
Mixed messages + molestation = very negative view of sex, and the complete belief that if I even considered wanting sex, I was a horrible, vile human being.
Reinforced by my first husband, who insisted on sex with the lights off and wouldn't completely disrobe--but expected me to. Who yelled and swore at me if I made even the slightest sound during sex, and who accused me of cheating if I actually enjoyed sex but told me I hated him and made him feel like he wasn't a real man if I didn't *pretend* to enjoy it.
After I left him, I felt free to explore sexually. For the first time, I wasn't ashamed. I had learned to shut off my body during sex; I learned to turn it back on. I learned that it was okay to make noise, or not; it was MY choice.
Then I met Hubby. When we moved in together, he "forgot" for weeks at a time that sex existed. When I talked to him about it, he told me to initiate, but when I initiated, he got mad at me. When we first got together, I told him I felt like there were some things I still wanted to explore sexually (minor things, like having sex in a car) and he said he would do those with me, but after we moved in together, everything I asked was met with comments like "Only people without beds do that." To him, he was telling me he wasn't interested; to me, he was condemning me for wanting to try those things.
I lost a lot of the ground I'd gained. I learned to be afraid to ask him for anything, because he might judge me negatively. I learned that my wants and desires didn't matter, because he wasn't interested in them. I learned to wait for him to initiate sex, even if I went a month or two without, because that was better than him thinking I was a bad person.
That was a huge factor in the decision to open our marriage. By then, I had learned to speak up for myself at least to an extent, and during Yet Another Sex Discussion, I told him, "You made promises to me about helping me explore, and you've consistently not only refused, but made negative comments. My sexuality has become defined ENTIRELY by yours, and that is not fair to me."
His solution was to tell me he was okay with me going to other men to try things I was interested in trying. That made me feel worse, as if he were saying, "My wife is a slut who wants all this perverted shit, and I'm damn well not going to do it, so she can take her horny self elsewhere."
After we opened the marriage, though, for a while at least, he was willing to stretch his boundaries. He discovered a Dom side he hadn't known he possessed, which dovetailed nicely with my submissiveness. We found some sexual things that he had either forgotten he enjoyed, or had never tried and didn't know he would enjoy.
But in the back of my mind, I had--and have--trouble shaking all the voices from my past, including Hubby's, condemning and judging me. Added to which, I was having sex with men other than my husband, and "society" tells us that's wrong.
So...when I realized my 18-year-old had seen the contents of that drawer, I was horrified and humiliated, and half expected her to tell me I was disgusting and repulsive. Having my ex find out that I owned a vibrator was even worse. And having my 15-year-old, who constantly tells me I don't act like a "real mother" anyway, find out that I had that... I was just waiting for her to tell me that I'm a bad parent for owning things like that, real moms don't do that, etc.
Sunday night, I apologized to the 18-year-old for what I'd said, and to the 15-year-old for my being loud enough for her to hear. Monday, my ex called to see if things were sorted; I apologized to him as well. By then, he seemed more amused than anything, though he was a little disturbed that our daughter had stolen the vibrator. He didn't seem to be judging me for owning the thing, but that didn't matter, I was judging myself just fine.
Yesterday I lost it. Complete, utter trigger/PTSD meltdown. My privacy had been invaded. (Privacy is a hugely sensitive issue for me.) My trust had been violated. (I have massive, massive trust issues.) And I'm a parent and shouldn't be having sex or owning sex toys or enjoying sexual contact even with my own husband, let alone anyone else. I shouldn't have a boyfriend. I should just keep my legs closed and never let anyone touch me. Ever. Because it's bad and nasty and dirty and all that other shit.
I went to Hubby, who spent over an hour just holding me. But he doesn't always know how to handle me when I start spewing the crud from my past. He wants to FIX it, and he knows he can't, so he tries to avoid. I've told him when I'm like that, I don't need him to fix it, just to hold me and reassure me, but he doesn't always remember that.
Guy called and stayed on the phone with me for over an hour. When Hubby realized it was Guy on the phone, he told me, "Just let me know when he starts saying the same things I said." And because Guy and Hubby seem to share a brain, Guy did say most of the same things as Hubby.
But I couldn't shake myself out of it. I spiraled down even further. Regressed. Rocked and whimpered and tried to decide how I should hurt myself. I cleaned out the nightstand drawer and went to Hubby and said, "Is it worth keeping any of this?" He said, "No, I never really wanted to use it anyway."
That set me off worse, because not only was I bad for owning the stuff in the first place, I was bad because Hubby didn't want it, even though when I bought it he'd told me he was willing to "play" with some of it. I threw it all away, everything I'd bought over the past several years. The only thing that didn't get thrown out was the vibrator that started the whole thing, because I told my daughter to keep it since there was no way in hell I wanted it back knowing she'd used it.
All in all, it took about 6 hours, a loud argument, and a lot of tears and whimpering on my part before Hubby and I were able to put me back together. Thank God neither of my kids was home.
I'm still shaky. Hubby offered to replace the vibrator, but I don't want him to, because I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust that my daughter won't go into my room and into that drawer again. Plus I "shouldn't" have stuff like that anyway.
Usually I miss Guy, since he's so far away and I don't get to see him, but right now I'm thankful as hell for that, because I "shouldn't" even be having sex with my husband, let alone another man. And I shouldn't be in a relationship with another man, because that's "wrong" too.
I do recognize the incorrect thinking in some of what I've just typed. And I've been in counseling for years to deal with that stuff, and fortunately I have an appointment with my counselor tomorrow morning. But I don't know if I'm going to be able to get back into a positive mindset about sex, I don't know *how* to do so, and I really kind of don't want to, because if I shouldn't have sex, then I shouldn't think about it positively, because if I think about it positively, I'll want to have it.
So yeah. Ugh. And way too long post.