From: anon-1218@twwells.com (Anika)
Newsgroups: alt.sexual.abuse.recovery
Subject: coming of age
Date: 6 Nov 92 21:15:56 GMT
Organization: Anonymous Posting Service at twwells.com
X-Email-Accepted: yes





*sigh*

I keep going into these states of limbo without really knowing why. I feel
nothing but know there's something under the surface that hurts. And
eventually it comes out. Such has been the case the last few days, and last
night it came out.

I've been reading the posts, and in e-mail I quoted Peter Warton's post about
the worst thing about the abuse being that you never develop your own
sexuality naturally. (Very bad parphrase. Sorry, Peter, I don't do you
justice.) I was reading them all, and though I'd never really thought about it
my response was something along the lines of "yeah, yeah, of course". But
somewhere along the way I slipped into limbo. Then on election night, I was
flipping over the channels and saw a commercial advertising Beverly Hills,
90210 's next episode. This probably sounds stupid, but for whatever reason,
seeing these young beautiful kids having their high school heartaches and
loves really really hurt me. So much so that I rearranged my schedule so I
could be at home to watch the show. It has bothered me *so* much these last
few days. And last night, it came together.

People who were not abused (hereafter referred to as "normal people" though I
know that appellation isn't fair) are excited and intrigued, nervous and
anticipatory about their first kiss. The first boyfriend is an exciting
experience. Their virginity is a *gift* and it's special when they give it
away. They can have heartaches and breakups, and be aware that the decisions
they make are good, and the failure of the relationship doesn't reflect on
them. Their lives are bright and exciting, full of new experiences.

The first time I kissed a guy, I thought it made me a slut. The first time a
guy touched me, I thought he was going to jump back because I was sure I was
flawed. Failed relationship? It must've been my fault. I have some horrid flaw
that made me undesireable or unable to support the relationship. I can't even
be flattered or excited by the interest of a guy. Instead, part of me is
scared, part of me feels dirty, and part of me is off in the corner analyzing
him and trying to determine exactly *how* dangerous he is. Normal people can
have sex without it being a battle to fight back the nightmares. For me, it
is, at best an annoying thing to swat away, but those nightmares are still
there. Virginity a gift? HA! Even though I hadn't acknowledged the abuse the
first time I chose to have sex, I did it because I was sick and tired of
hearing that I was the "last american virgin" and getting pressured by my
boyfriend. It was no big deal. It was a chore. My memories of the past are
very dark. I don't remember the sun. It should've been a bright time.

Until last night, I never allowed myself to understand that the natural
development of these emotions, the natural "coming of age" is a wonderful
exciting thing - and I was robbed of that. I feel like one of the most
precious things I could have was stolen from me. I am so sad, so angry, so
frustrated. I feel that, at best, I can hope to be able to suspend these
doubts and fears for a little while. Is that the best I can hope for? I have
just one thing to say and it may constitute a spoiler.

FUCK YOU WHO TOOK THIS GIFT FROM ME. FUCK YOU FOR MAKING ME STRUGGLE TO
ACHIEVE A SECOND-RATE LIFE AND ONLY PRAY TO ACHIEVE WHAT LIFE SHOULD'VE BEEN.
FUCK YOU, YOU THIEFS OF THE SOUL.

I seem to have lost my desire to forgive my mother.

						Anika



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