Triggers
By: Cary Bach Donahou
Tags: Sexual Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Metoo, Trigger, PTSD

There are literally so many things that trigger me, I wonder if I will ever know them all, or understand them. Tonight though, I want to talk about one specific trigger. Because I was triggered tonight, like I have been in this way many times. However this was the first time in a very long time it was this bad. This will be about childhood sexual abuse, so if you feel it is not in your best interest to continue, then please make sure to stop and take care of yourself.

I was in the shower, and had the water pressure on full blast. I turned, just the wrong way, and it hit my nipple and felt like it was going to rip off. And I nearly puked. I had this gag like tickle in the back of my throat. It seems to connect my nipple to my belly button to my throat and I want to vomit. This is not the first time I have experienced this reaction to my nipple being touched. This probably won’t be the last.

When I was 13 and just began being sexually active, I hated for anyone to touch my nipples, at all. Every single time I would cringe and get that feeling in my throat and want to puke. I didn’t understand why I reacted that way. I just hated it. I thought, that surely there must be something wrong with me. They seemed to really like it.

There is nothing wrong with me. Everything wrong about this reaction has everything to do with my dad. I can vividly remember him touching my nipples. A little fucking girl. An innocent little girl, who did nothing to deserve this lifetime of torment. My dad would pinch my nipples. He would also bite them, or flick them with his tongue. I can still remember how fun he thought this was and how he smiled at me. I fucking hated it then. And I hate it now. I cannot handle my nipples to be touched, whether sexually or not. On purpose or accidental. Even if the seat belt rubs them the wrong way… It is never okay.

I have been ashamed of my reaction my whole life, and have tried so hard to allow others to touch them because it brought them pleasure and I felt I was obligated. Each time I cringed and just wanted to puke, while that horrible feeling in the back of my throat was all I was aware of. That and hoping it stopped soon.

I hate that I can see his face, in my memory. I hate that he bit them and grinned at the same time. Or bit them and then flicked them with his tongue, while he was still biting down. I hate that for years I didn’t understand and thought there was something wrong with me. I hate that even when I did understand I still felt I was obligated to give people what they wanted even when it hurt me.

I was scared when I had my daughters. I wanted to be the best mom I could be and breastfeed them, but I was so terrified. I am so so thankful that when my milk came in, and when I nursed them, it wasn’t an issue at all. It felt completely different.

While I nursed my breasts were 100% off limits for anything but nursing. When I was done nursing, I thought maybe it would be different. Hell no! I still cannot find pleasure in having my nipples touched, or even my breasts. I cringe, it’s a no go. It’s never going to fell good to me.

And you know what? That’s okay. I don’t have to like it. I don’t have to allow it. This is my body. These are my breasts. This is my choice.

I am thankful for being triggered tonight. I am thankful for the will power to journal about it. I am thankful for the strength to share this publicly. I am thankful, that I have finally decided that it is perfectly okay for me to not allow anyone to touch my breasts, that there is nothing wrong with me. The shame, and guilt over these feelings… not fucking mine. It’s my dad’s and he can fucking keep it.

Don’t touch my fucking nipples!