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June 30, 2009


Filed under: Uncategorized — thirdxlucky @ 8:22 pm

He says I’m not a problem; that I don’t need to be fixed. And I love him for saying it. But I still hate the fact that most of the time we can’t make love because what constitutes “normal” sex in our culture gives me PTSD-like freakouts that I don’t understand and can’t explain. And I hate, when they happen, feeling like I’m crazy or I must be ‘faking’ them.

And I mean, I must be faking them, somehow, making them up, right? I must be some kind of psychological hypochondriac. Because there’s no good explanation otherwise. The bad stuff that’s happened to me sexually doesn’t hold a candle to the kind of fucked up shit that’s done to MOST women in our society. So, some boys were douchebags to me when we were teenagers, and once some people “took advantage of me” while I was unconscious, and I’ve been ridiculed for being fat and fetishized for my tits most of my life. So what? This stuff is…annoying. Unfortunate. Kinda terrible, at most. It’s not like…trauma-inducing. Not severe trauma-inducing. Not break-down-crying-hyperventilating-and-choking-in-public-without-preamble trauma-inducing.

Because if it is – if that’s a normal reaction to even the tiny degree of massively privilege-mitigated sexual abuse and gender-based violence I’ve been subject to – then what must most women be going through? And what must they being doing to themselves in order to cope with it in the face of still having to live their lives, work actual jobs, pay rent, maintain relationships, take care of their kids?

I don’t think I’m “too sensitive to live.” I don’t think I’m more or less sensitive than any other human being on the planet. I think I’m more privileged than most human beings on the planet, and that gives me the luxury of more psychic space in which to experience, feel, articulate, express, process and cope with the aftermath of my traumas. And sometimes what I see in that space scares me.

But what scares me even more is how much I – we – don’t see because we, they, everyone is keeping it hidden, gnawing, so deep down inside that we don’t even know that we don’t know it’s there – and that for most other women it’s so much bigger and more horrific than the tiny flecks I’m exposed to, and they’re still swallowing down their own rapes and the murders of their daughters every minute of every day…because that’s the only way to survive. I hate that the most.



  1. I’ve had this. Not for sex in my case, but the same thing with reacting like an extreme abuse victim when I’m not, and then second-guessing myself about it and being horrified what that means for everyone else. Thank you. It’s very validating to know I’m not the only one.

    Comment by Neb — October 23, 2014 @ 11:00 am | Reply

    • 🙂 I’m glad it resonated for you. Comments like this are nice because they help me feel like I’m not alone, too. Thanks.

      Comment by thirdxlucky — November 1, 2014 @ 2:48 pm | Reply

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