Devolving

Devolving

But I'm guessing you already knew that.

Part 2 : I did get up.

Anthem

While working in the basement one day, I did something that upset him (likely the board I was holding wasn’t straight or flush enough for him, or something we screwed together wasn’t square).  He pushed me to the ground and I hit my head on something.

He stood over me, triumphant and imposing. I locked eyes with him for a moment, stunned.  Then he sang “Who runs the world” in a mocking voice; he sang Beyonce daring me to get up.

Anthem

While working in the basement one day, I did something that upset him (likely the board I was holding wasn’t straight or flush enough for him, or something we screwed together wasn’t square).  He pushed me to the ground and I hit my head.

He stood over me, triumphant and imposing. I locked eyes with him for a moment, stunned.  Then he sang “Who runs the world” in a mocking voice; he sang Beyonce daring me to get up.

Sexual Abuse - tw for sexual assault

I have survived a series of predatory sexual experiences. Examples relevant to this post:

1. In highschool a boy asked if he could fist me. I said no, but he tried anyway. It hurt quite a bit and he did not succeed. I squirmed away.

2. While on vacation in Brazil, my friend's roommate got me ridiculously drunk on tequila (4 or 5 double shots) then proceeded to perform oral sex on me. I vaguely recall this occurring, but i distinctly remember him putting his dick in my mouth and forcing it down my throat. I proceeding to puke all over him, the couch we were on , the floor, the rug and myself.

 It was a really difficult thing for me to get over. I have since called it sexual assault.  He - my ex- called this my "Rough Deepthroat."

Sometime after he found out that I had been unfaithful, he demanded to have "all of me" - to perform all of the sexual acts that i had done with other people with him. Confusion ensued; I had explored with him well beyond what I had done with anyone else.

Funny thing was he wasn't just referring to consensual sex acts I had been a part of, he meant, among other things, the two above. I rationalized that this was the kind of punishment I deserved for the crimes I had committed, and reliving these experiences couldn't be so bad because I knew he loved me.

I agreed to the "Rough deep throat" first. He sent me home twice that night. Once I was dressed too "plain" and the second I was dressed too "slutty". I am ashamed that I begged to come back the second time.

Can you call it sexual assault after you've begged for it? He skull fucked me with no mercy. He said he wanted to have me like I meant nothing "just like they did". I vomited into a garbage can we had handy for the occasion. He told me he couldn't " be like them" anymore and I didn't have to finish him off like that. He felt too bad. Plus he was annoyed that I wasn't tilting my head back like he was asking.

So he rolled me over and fucked me till he came. Then asked me to leave. We'd save the fisting for another time.

My mind has done a superb job of fuzzing up some of my most horrible memories, but the emotions I felt this night are still vivid. I remember telling myself to smile and look pleased the whole night while the pain and panic and misery built up in me with steady pressure. I was so proud of myself that I kept it all bottled until he couldn't see me anymore. When it broke though, it came with the force of a broken dam.

I sobbed hard on my way back to my car. Ashamed I had let him do that do me. That i had asked for it. That i had begged for it knowing it was bad for me. But he had my best interests at heart; he was doing this all so we could be together again. So why and how could this be hurting so bad?

This was a terrible one for me to share. I have avoided the term for a long time. I have said he was physically abusive and certainly emotionally abusive. But his use of shame and past trauma mixed with sexual acts that any reasonable human being would know I would not want to do leads me to only one conclusion.

Just barely.

Careful.

When I was young, I romanticised suffering. I hoped that some day I would have terrible things happen to me. It would make me glamorous and interesting and everyone would be dying to talk to the girl who'd experienced real darkness.