My childhood was pretty messed up I have to admit. My mother had a miscarriage when I was 6 and started to get abusive with me and I was sent off to live with my mother's aunt for two years until my mother got on the right track (even though she was far from normal still by then). Those years were hard for me, my dad was always trying to be there for me, but somehow he felt like he had to be there for my mom too, and I felt like I was the second choice because after all I had to go away. My aunt was really nice to me, she was strict, but she was very caring and I don't think there was any better place for me at the time than with her. But at the time I wanted to be with my parents, but they weren't there, and I felt like they didn't care about me in some way and when I was back with them, my parents escaped in workaholism.
My first sexual contacts I had when I was 11, I had guys and men masturbate on me. It was very nice for me. I felt charmed by the attention I got, and I felt very mature and adult by this, which reinforced my behaviour probably. I was probably lucky, because they were treating me well, and none ever forced anything upon me, but I guess I already felt somehow like it was something I was supposed to do - it didn't feel sexual to me, I knew what they were doing, but I guess I wasn't mature enough to understand the gravity of what I did.
When I was 13 I was going out for the first time, and in the wake of drinking too much and being tricked to drink even more after I realized I shouldn't drink anymore, I ended up puking and passed out, which one guy - yes, of course it was the one who poured vodka in my drinks - used to rape me. I remember that I tried to say things to make him go away, but that my mouth wasn't able to say anything. Well, that was the first time I had sex, even though I gave a few handjobs before. At the time after this happened I really didn't give it too much thought and I guess I would have just "accepted" it as an accident, but just like two months later I got raped again.
That time I was sober and I said that I didn't want to have sex, and the guy heard me and he just didn't care. and I think that was the most painful part about it, to be just ignored, that it didn't matter what I felt and said and wanted. It sounds stupid, but at the time I blamed myself for what happened - partially also to the tactics that the guy employed, the things he told me. It got burned in my mind. I had nightmares for a long time after that experience.
Nonetheless, about three days after that second rape I had sex again, with another man, I just let him do what he wanted to me - and I actually enjoyed it very much, maybe also because it was totally different from what happened the two times before. I guess from then on I felt like its what I am good at and what I should do. So I had sex with lots of guys, and most times I even enjoyed it. I liked that they enjoyed me even more than I enjoyed what they did to me.
But there were occasions where I was not feeling like having sex, and I said that I didn't. most time guys just told me things like "come on, just a little" or such, and often I let myself get talked into it. It happened three more times that I told them that I didn't want to and that they didn't care about it and raped me. I felt like it was my fault all the time, because: hey, OK, once? Maybe. But five times? Of course it must be my fault, that I just "asked for it" :(
Nonetheless, as crazy as it sounds, sex as itself was something I basically enjoyed much. I also tried three steady relationships with guys until I finished high school, but all of them lasted about a month, the last of those boyfriends was quite abusive (not physically, but verbally), but luckily I was able to dump him.
When I finished high school I guess I was a bit shaken up by life, and I got into a relationship with a guy from my class. He was very caring and tried his best. We sticked together for four months. It turned out that he has had some mental problems too.
During this time though, I talked to my father about how I felt and he talked me into getting counseling. I was afraid of it at first, but he offered my mother as an example how it can help people (my mother is by now quite well, she even shows affection for me since I am not living at home anymore much more often).
So I went into counseling and I felt a relief, I guess it made me feel like I arrived in adulthood to be able to say those things, to express how I felt. And even though by then I knew that it wasn't my fault that all those things happened to me, it felt great to have somebody just say so to me.
By now I finished my studies and started working, I had a relationship for 1 1/2 years, we broke up and I am still on good terms with him (I still love him after all though) - its a complicated matter. I feel like I am on the right track - I know that I will never be "normal" and others can sometimes think of me as being weird, but I feel good about myself, I am happy with who I am, no matter what happened to me, I know it changed me and became a part of me, but its not who I am.
My first sexual contacts I had when I was 11, I had guys and men masturbate on me. It was very nice for me. I felt charmed by the attention I got, and I felt very mature and adult by this, which reinforced my behaviour probably. I was probably lucky, because they were treating me well, and none ever forced anything upon me, but I guess I already felt somehow like it was something I was supposed to do - it didn't feel sexual to me, I knew what they were doing, but I guess I wasn't mature enough to understand the gravity of what I did.
When I was 13 I was going out for the first time, and in the wake of drinking too much and being tricked to drink even more after I realized I shouldn't drink anymore, I ended up puking and passed out, which one guy - yes, of course it was the one who poured vodka in my drinks - used to rape me. I remember that I tried to say things to make him go away, but that my mouth wasn't able to say anything. Well, that was the first time I had sex, even though I gave a few handjobs before. At the time after this happened I really didn't give it too much thought and I guess I would have just "accepted" it as an accident, but just like two months later I got raped again.
That time I was sober and I said that I didn't want to have sex, and the guy heard me and he just didn't care. and I think that was the most painful part about it, to be just ignored, that it didn't matter what I felt and said and wanted. It sounds stupid, but at the time I blamed myself for what happened - partially also to the tactics that the guy employed, the things he told me. It got burned in my mind. I had nightmares for a long time after that experience.
Nonetheless, about three days after that second rape I had sex again, with another man, I just let him do what he wanted to me - and I actually enjoyed it very much, maybe also because it was totally different from what happened the two times before. I guess from then on I felt like its what I am good at and what I should do. So I had sex with lots of guys, and most times I even enjoyed it. I liked that they enjoyed me even more than I enjoyed what they did to me.
But there were occasions where I was not feeling like having sex, and I said that I didn't. most time guys just told me things like "come on, just a little" or such, and often I let myself get talked into it. It happened three more times that I told them that I didn't want to and that they didn't care about it and raped me. I felt like it was my fault all the time, because: hey, OK, once? Maybe. But five times? Of course it must be my fault, that I just "asked for it" :(
Nonetheless, as crazy as it sounds, sex as itself was something I basically enjoyed much. I also tried three steady relationships with guys until I finished high school, but all of them lasted about a month, the last of those boyfriends was quite abusive (not physically, but verbally), but luckily I was able to dump him.
When I finished high school I guess I was a bit shaken up by life, and I got into a relationship with a guy from my class. He was very caring and tried his best. We sticked together for four months. It turned out that he has had some mental problems too.
During this time though, I talked to my father about how I felt and he talked me into getting counseling. I was afraid of it at first, but he offered my mother as an example how it can help people (my mother is by now quite well, she even shows affection for me since I am not living at home anymore much more often).
So I went into counseling and I felt a relief, I guess it made me feel like I arrived in adulthood to be able to say those things, to express how I felt. And even though by then I knew that it wasn't my fault that all those things happened to me, it felt great to have somebody just say so to me.
By now I finished my studies and started working, I had a relationship for 1 1/2 years, we broke up and I am still on good terms with him (I still love him after all though) - its a complicated matter. I feel like I am on the right track - I know that I will never be "normal" and others can sometimes think of me as being weird, but I feel good about myself, I am happy with who I am, no matter what happened to me, I know it changed me and became a part of me, but its not who I am.
Last edited by a moderator:
