So this past year or two I started finally accepting I might have experience CSA. It took years before I ever questioned it, yet more years before I considered it could be rape (around the same time I started realizing sex doesn't require a vagina, that cis lesbians can have sex, etc), months after that before I could tell Briar, a year after that before I could type anything about it or say 'sexual trauma' outloud. It's terrifying, both because it happened to me and could say things about me, and because it says things about the other person (who I still hold much fondness for). That, and the fact that I'm always wondering whether mine 'counts', if I'll be seen as attention-seeking and over-reactionary for claiming this language, etc.
It's been a hard road since I began seriously processing this. It's changed the timeline of when I assumed trauma began, with the beginning now stemming before John ever faced me in person. It's changed because I get a lot more sex nightmares than I used to. I recognize things about myself now that make me uncomfortable, like how a lot of the porn that catches my attention revolves around children with children and how I find myself noticing how pretty my sister's hair and eyes are.
One of the hardest things has been the change in how I honk about my sister. Having been seriously processing this for the past two years, she's almost constantly on my mind, in very new contexts. When she came back from Japan after half a year of being gone, I found myself afraid of her? Scared of touching her things or being in a room alone with her, etc. it's strange to feel our bond, which has always been so strong, shift on my end.
But of course it has. (Mastrubation cw) Every time I mastrubate, I go back to an old memory. Sister and I were fingering each other (this night have been the last time it happened to such an extent) and I was, as usual, feeling obligated to put in a lot more effort than she was (I might have had a pad in which made it hard to get anything on my part, but I remember feeling distinct cheated so maybe not). A few minutes in, she told me to stop, saying my nails were too long and it hurt. At the time I had been confused because I knew I liked it better when it hurt (possibly due to my high tolerance, having been semi-addicted to mastrubation at this point and having my sensitivity dulled considerably). I might have wondered whether her poor taste was the reason I was getting such a bad service, too. And now, I'm even more confused, since I know she's a masochist. It makes even less sense why she wouldn't have thought similarly to me.
Again, this is something I think about practically every time I mastrubate (which is still pretty frequently). I should not have constant memories of being fingered--and being made to finger--my sister. That shouldn't be just a regular, everyday memory.
I hate that this is what my life has become--what it has been--but at least I'm far further on the road to processing than I was a year ago. The fact that I can type these things out now attests to that.
Life is good.
It's been a hard road since I began seriously processing this. It's changed the timeline of when I assumed trauma began, with the beginning now stemming before John ever faced me in person. It's changed because I get a lot more sex nightmares than I used to. I recognize things about myself now that make me uncomfortable, like how a lot of the porn that catches my attention revolves around children with children and how I find myself noticing how pretty my sister's hair and eyes are.
One of the hardest things has been the change in how I honk about my sister. Having been seriously processing this for the past two years, she's almost constantly on my mind, in very new contexts. When she came back from Japan after half a year of being gone, I found myself afraid of her? Scared of touching her things or being in a room alone with her, etc. it's strange to feel our bond, which has always been so strong, shift on my end.
But of course it has. (Mastrubation cw) Every time I mastrubate, I go back to an old memory. Sister and I were fingering each other (this night have been the last time it happened to such an extent) and I was, as usual, feeling obligated to put in a lot more effort than she was (I might have had a pad in which made it hard to get anything on my part, but I remember feeling distinct cheated so maybe not). A few minutes in, she told me to stop, saying my nails were too long and it hurt. At the time I had been confused because I knew I liked it better when it hurt (possibly due to my high tolerance, having been semi-addicted to mastrubation at this point and having my sensitivity dulled considerably). I might have wondered whether her poor taste was the reason I was getting such a bad service, too. And now, I'm even more confused, since I know she's a masochist. It makes even less sense why she wouldn't have thought similarly to me.
Again, this is something I think about practically every time I mastrubate (which is still pretty frequently). I should not have constant memories of being fingered--and being made to finger--my sister. That shouldn't be just a regular, everyday memory.
I hate that this is what my life has become--what it has been--but at least I'm far further on the road to processing than I was a year ago. The fact that I can type these things out now attests to that.
Life is good.
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