unpleasant possibilities....

Got a note on this yesterday, and figured I would actually write it out, as I never have before.

I've always wondered if I was sexually abused as a child. I certainly don't remember it - but it would make a lot of things - not necessarily CLEAR, but understandable. I honestly don't remember most of my childhood - from about 5 until 15 is mostly a blur in my mind. I can't remember all the places where we lived - and there were A LOT - some places that my mom will talk about, and I have TOTALLY no recollection of ever living there, much less the people that we interacted with - though sometimes I will get flashes of places in my head, or someplace will REMIND me of someplace else, and I'm never sure if it's a true memory, or just some odd deja vu.

So - what makes me wonder?? Hmm... I've ALWAYS been sexually aware - always. The first sexual encounter I actually remember I was about - 4? and I was 'playing' with a little girlfriend of mine during a slumber party. I can't remember exactly what we did, I just remember us being either under the covers or in a sheet tent, me talking her out of her pajama bottoms, and then playing with her girlparts. After that - I honestly can't remember how many of my little friends I 'explored' with - boys and girls - but for me, it wasn't really exploring - I knew exactly what I was doing, and what results there would be. *frowns*

I finally stopped when I was around *thinks* 13? 14? and it really hit me how HORRIBLE what I was doing was. I remember when I was about 8 or 9, my mom taught me about the facts of life - and that book turned me on. I would sneak it out of the bookshelf and read it repeatedly - it was a kids picture-comic style book, and the page where the mom and dad were under the covers doing their thing got MUCH play. At the same age - I remember because we were living in a house (the only one we ever lived in) and I would go through my stepfathers bookshelves (once again sneaking books) and read every book I could find that had sex in it - there was this one about this country girl who went to DC and fucked her way to the top that I was obsessed with for at LEAST 3 years - I would read the book over, and over, and over, and over again.

A lot of my 'obsessiveness' I suppose, retreated when I hit puberty - at least that I can recall. But of course, that's when I started packing on the weight - whoooo boy, did I start gaining weight. In fact, hah - looking back on it, I was one sad, depressed, smart little girl. All I did was eat and read - usually hiding away in my room, escaping to the wonderful world in the books - but I always tied that to the misery/loneliness that were part and parcel of my puberty years as a Muslim girl living in my mothers' & stepfather's marriage. What a misery of love that was...

There's a boyfriend of my mothers that I DISCTINTLY remember - his name was Omar, and I think she dated him when I was about 3 or so - maybe a little younger and when I was around 13, I wrote a 'letter' to myself - basically an autobiography, and I included him in the list of men that were in my life at one point or another. I showed it to my mother, and she said that she had no clue who he was (and I know that I'm not quite remembering what she said right - but it was basically - he shouldn't be in there) - yet I remember this man CLEARLY, always have. I think it's because - when I was little, my mom would braid my hair into about 5 or 6 thick braids - and I got it into my little head to cut OFF the braid right at the crown of my head. I think he was the one who disciplined me, and if he wasn't, he was definitely in the scene somewhere. I always thought it odd that my mom denied this guy existed - I never had a doubt that I remembered him - in fact I think that he was the one that first introduced her to Islam.

What else? I don't know really - it seems like such a 'faddish' thing to claim *swoons dramatically* Alll of my sexual problems are rooted in the fact that I was abused as a child - even though I don't remember it!!! Gah. I've got several close friends who WERE abused, and who clearly remember their abuse, and - *shudders* castration is too good for the men who abuse children that way.

*frowns* I have a very hard time associating sex with love. It just - it doesn't feel right. I feel like I shouldn't be having sex with someone that I love - that it cheapens/dirties the love somehow. However, having multiple one night stands - well, that's perfectly acceptable, and almost - normal, somehow. The more I love someone, the more platonic it becomes - which is something that I acknowledged about myself a while ago - once I FALL in love, I swiftly fall out of lust - and I've always wondered why my partners didn't value the purity and innocence of my love as much as I did.

Sex to me, is always more fun when there's a power play involved. I've always wished that I could be a stripper - in fact, my VERY first OD entry wayy back in 1999, and right at the start of my rampant promiscuity talked about me either being a stripper or a hooker - and me lamenting the fact that I was too damn fat to dance, and too damn picky to fuck just anyone for money. Sex for money however, or the 'illusion' of sex for money has always made PERFECT sense to me. It's worth something, and I don't mean that in the LEAST bit in an emotional way. And somehow, I don't feel like paying for pussy devalues it - in fact, I feel more like it ACKNOWLEDGES it's value in something concrete, rather than that wussy ass emotional floaty ghostliness that is love.

Incest is one of my 'nasty' little fantasies. Usually uncle/niece, or stepfather/stepdaughter. Rarely father/daughter, and NEVER mother/son. And usually, it's the girl who initiates - who basically seduces the older man - makes him want her, and fuck her well. I've actually never admitted that - it's - horrid. It's taboo, both socially and biologically, and it's one of the few things that'll get me off faster that a 17y/o virgin surrounded by gyrating naked playboy models. I feel - dirty - just admitting it, but - it's a hot, sexy, dirty.

And - see - that's about it. *shrugs* Not much to base anything on. Really - nothing to base anything on. Nothing to even SUSPECT anything on. Simply odd tweaks in my personal sexual personality. The fact that I don't remember most of my childhood I always chalked up to just natural childhood forgetfulness, and the fact that I was homeschooled, so I didn't have the 'regular' schedule of school/home/grades/summer vacation to stabilize my memories in time. My sexual obsessiveness, which turned into rampant promiscuity, and now into sexual withdrawal, I've always chalked up to me just being me. My mother's forgetfulness of Omar is the only thing that - seems odd, almost unexplainable. I need to see if I can find that letter, I know that I still have it.

So - it's just something that I wonder about sometimes - a worry that curls in my gut, that one day I'll wake up from a dream screaming and sobbing with the memories that I don't want to have, don't think I have, yet I worry lurks deep inside my subconscious somewhere. And really, I don't think about it that often - in fact, I usually only think about it when someone else brings it up - I don't want to 'create' memories, and dammit, if I have them, I'd really rather they stay in the deep, deep basement of my mind.