Counting my losses.

Ugh.

I got on here about twenty minutes ago, hoping to write about counting my losses, an assignment found on page 303 of the Courage to Heal workbook.

Of course, my lovely mind quickly distracted myself from thinking about it, I got distracted, ended up on another blog, on facebook, and even peeked at some online shopping, before I came back here, realizing what I was supposed to be doing.

The point of this exercise is to begin to allow yourself to grieve and mourn for what you have lost.  I’m very anxious and tense thinking about thinking about thinking about what I have lost.  It was recommended that I set a timer and just write for twenty minutes in case it becomes overwhelming……

ugh.

I’m already starting to tear up at the thought of writing these words.  I feel so scared.  I’m not sure why.

Here goes.  Be gentle on me.

Things I’ve lost due to being abused.

I lost my virginity by force, when it should have been my choice.  It should have been a moment of my choosing, whether it was with a high school boyfriend or my husband.  Instead, I have the horrible memory of my brother on top of me when I was only a child, I didn’t even have breasts yet or pubic hair.

I lost the chance to learn what love is.  (I’m looking around for a cigg right now trying to distract myself)

I never got to experiment with boys or find my own way, sexually.  I never got to find the things I liked or didn’t like, because I was forced to do them.  Things I may have liked, are forever written in my memory as linked to my brother, to being molested, to being raped, to my innocence gone.

I can’t have a normal sexual relationship with anyone.  I can’t have a healthy sexual relationship.  I can usually only orgasm if I fantasize about rape or being told dirty things and that is usually only with masturbation.  I can count the times I’ve orgasmed with a man on my hand.

I don’t know how to handle soft touches, gentle kisses, making “love”

I’ve lost the trust and sympathy of my family.  I’ve lost relationships or they are at least strained.  I’ve been called a liar by the majority of my family since I reported the incest at the age of 10, even before it ever turned into rape.  Once, he was confronted, two years ago, by my sister and he said, “oh, she’s starting with her lies again.”

I’ve lost the ability to have a big brother that is protective and loving.  My father is pretty emotionally absent as well and I just had to marry a man who is pretty “emotionless” as well.

I’ve put myself in dangerous situations, including stepping in front of a loaded gun or man with a baseball bat to protect others who probably didn’t deserve protecting.  (drug dealer.)

I’ve devalued my body, my heart, my soul by giving it to every man that paid attention to me.  I’ve made myself have sex when I didn’t want to, I’ve done some disgusting things “willingly” when I didn’t want to.  Even did them again, knowing how they made me feel.

I lost the ability to prevent further abuse from happening….. proven by the 20+ abusers I’ve had, after my brother.

I lost the ability to have a normal childhood, a normal family with normal relationships.

(seven more minutes. ugh. i can’t do it)

My two year old distracted me so I had to get up and move around.  Only four minutes left, but I’m making myself do seven anyways.

I’ve lost the ability to hear words normally.  Everything I see or touch or hear is somehow viewed as sexual.  I never know what words or mix of words will bring it out of me.  I feel perverted.  I feel shame when I feel tingles in between my legs when I hear harsh words like rape or forced and even more so when they are innocent words that I interpret as perverted.

I’ve lost the ability to look at men and women for what they are, instead of what they have.  I find myself constantly looking at a woman’s beauty (or lack of), her boobs, her butt, wishing mine could be more like hers or less like hers.  Men, I always look to see at their face and decide if I would sleep with them or not (attracted or not), I look for wedding rings, and I look at their crotch, imaging how big they may be, sometimes imagining what it would feel like.

I’ve lost love and respect.  For others and myself.  Others have lost it in me.  I’ve lost the empathy of my family.  Of people I love.

I have lost the ability to ever live a normal life.  I’ve lost my innocence.  I’ve lost my childish giddiness.  I’ve lost looking at the world through the eyes of a child.  I’ve lived in fear, in confusion, in solitude for my entire life, feeling so alone and lost, even when I’m surrounded by family and friends.

When I was depressed, I would be called being dramatic or just wanting attention.  So I’ve lost the ability for others to see me for what I am.

I’m constantly looking for everyone’s ulterior motives.  I lost trust.  I can trust no one.  And anyone who does love me definitely can’t be trusted because they have no idea who I am.  If they did know, and stick around, there must be something wrong with them.  I can’t trust myself.  I constantly doubt myself.

UGHHHHHHH twenty minutes of hell is over.  I’m going to just post this before I reread and edit it or I may not post it at all.

I’m not crying, I’m trying not to feel.  I don’t want to go into work tonight, I just want to stay in bed in a little ball and breathe.  Work might distract me but it also may set me off more.

I hate myself right now.