Wednesday, 25 February 2015
Women who are sexually abused as children often struggle badly with adult sexuality. But as my shrink was saying yesterday, I seem to have dodged that bullet in that regard. I went through a horrible childhood in many respects, and yet managed to escape the pathological madness that so often accompanies that kind of history. I grew up damaged. Fragmented. Sad. Scarred. But still healthy psychologically. I found effective ways of surviving my childhood and developed good tactics for thriving as an adult in many ways. And my sexual self seems to be intact.
Post John-the-Narc mindfuckery, I have had a lot of dissonance in my head about where I really stand sexually. I've written about it a few times before in this blog. Like Pavlov's dog, John groomed me to respond to his seductive siren song that spoke words in my ear about how magnificent and sexy I was, and really did make me believe I was a sexual goddess. And even though most of that, I now realise, was pure trickery, I haven't lost all of the sexual confidence I gained during that time.
And before John was my husband - exclusive sexual partner for 15 years. I enjoyed lovemaking with him. But I also felt wrong - I was too fat for him. Too lazy. Didn't smell right. The only way I could be connected to him sexually was if I was able to fragment myself out and just keep sexy woman in the room with me, closing down the other voices reminding me that he was just not attracted to me and was with me because he needed sex, not because he desired me particularly.
What my shrink helped me realise yesterday is that I'm approaching these new sexual connections without fragmenting. Which is huge progress in my own healing process. And that the result of me keeping more than one fragment with me in those situations is discomfort. She says it's going to feel weird for a while. And that I should just sit with the weirdness. And that I need to focus on the fact that what I'm moving towards now for myself is new. Brand brand new. And that bringing the Narc sex into my mind and aspiring to reach those levels of bliss isn't useful. Because it wasn't real or sustainable. But I have the opportunity to now find a new bliss. A real real level of sexuality in me that I haven't known before. And thinking about every sexual encounter as brand new will help me with that.
I love that concept. Where I walk slowly, languidly towards whatever intimate encounter I will experience next and take it slowly for myself. Savour every slow and seductive step in the process. Feel each one in a new way as if I'm meeting it for the very first time. Not move on to any new stages until I have completely immersed myself in the stage I'm in. And feel absolutely no pressure to move on if I don't feel my body and soul begging me to, rather than moving forward because I want to satisfy the man I'm with. What if I spent an entire hour just kissing. Feeling every single sensation of that kiss until the memory of it is seared onto my soul forever?
Yum. Sounds lovely even when I write it.
I wonder when my chance will come to try that out?