Tuesday, January 28, 2014

True Sexual Healing- because of my now ex fiance

While I have already detailed what happened in succession in the Date Raped blogs. Also, I did already in detail, discuss what happened when my now ex fiance did to help me heal from what happened to me in http://stoptherapeblame.blogspot.com/2014/01/date-raped-part-4.html, but I want to visit it again by looking at it in another manner.

After I had been what I felt was pushed aside by the guy I was dating, I began to date other guys. Dating is so difficult though! Just when you think you have a winner, you go on a date and you find it was all a dud. Totally disappointing. In case you did not catch on, I probably went on over 50 dates in a short period of time it felt, but I never went on a second date.

My ex and I had remained friends, sharing dating tips and swapping horror stories. After almost two months I proposed that we discuss adding benefits into our relationship, since now that I had spent the better part of a decade married, I found sexual deprivation extremely hard to endure. True to form, my ex was excited at the idea. Men! The rule was that once we found someone else we would end it for good.

It happened to me first. I found someone I really liked and I was really excited about meeting him (yes I was dating online). He was a pilot for an Apache Helicopter in the Army. He was a year or two younger than me, but we really seemed to click. After a week of talking with him, we decided we mutually would like to meet. Unfortunately he was busy training for the Army and would not be back in the area and available for a date for over a week. We set a day for the big date and I was extremely excited to meet him.

Having sex with my ex seemed wrong at this point, so even though I had not met the guy yet, I cut it off with my ex. It seemed the right thing to do out of respect for the new guy. If we hit it off, I wanted to be available for him, making him feel honored. Besides I cannot share my heart between people. My ex and I were excited I was moving on and that a new opportunity was happening for me. There was also a tinge of disappointment, but this was what my ex wanted- he did not want a relationship, so he came to terms with what that meant eventually.

That is why I think he noticed that I got date raped. Normally I would have been elated, or frustrated to the point I would have been venting to him. Instead I only avoided the conversation admitting that he had in fact not been as great as I had hoped.

When he came over to check on me, his extra effort to assure that I was ok made me feel that he genuinely cared. I totally expected him to give me the awkward distance that people tend to give when they do not know how to handle someone struggling in an awkward situation. Since I hate to show my weaknesses, I was ready to bear the brunt of my shame and disgust by myself. And yet here he was, next to me, ignoring my efforts to absolve him of any need for reassurance, giving him every opportunity to feel like he had checked his I'm-a-friend-who-cares box so he could move on with his life, ego intact. Yet there he was, next to me, respecting my intimate space, yet touching me when appropriate to show concern, and most of all, looking me in the eye to make sure I was ok.

Looking him in the eye was difficult. I spent most of the hour avoiding it, trying to get him back out the door, but he stayed until he was sure I was ok. But I was not ok.

Once I looked him in the eye, I knew he could see past my facade, my carefully planned presentation- the clothes i was wearing elegant, but modest and comfortable. My makeup had been done, but it was played down. I had freshly showered before he came over, mainly because no matter how much I showered I still felt dirty. However hard I was trying, my normal emotional exuberance was dulled. I tried to hide it by acting grumpy. Short of being rude to him, my answers were cold and biting. At times it felt and sounded like I was angry at him, or at the very least cold and disinterested in his presence.

Instead of reacting to my facade, he pressed through my coping mechanisms and confronted me with gentle, but deliberate warmth. Once I realized he actually did care, I forced myself to become vulnerable to him. As I looked him in the eye, I showed him my vulnerability and pain. My mask broke as I looked into his eyes and saw he was still there, vulnerabilities and all.

My skin had not stopped crawling from the feeling of the rape. Every other moment I was physically reliving the rape, no matter how I tried to distract my mind from what had happened. Torture is the best way to describe it. After living through something so emotionally disturbing you just welcome the relief of the moment when it ends. But when it does not end, it eats away at your strength and emotional fortitude. At this point I was on the verge of screaming in wild agony. The absence of touch made the physical sensations of the rape feel real and ongoing. Once I felt safe with my ex, a frantic urge overtook me. All I wanted was for him to touch me, every part of my skin so I could ignore the less powerful memory sensations. At times, even as I sat next to him pretending nothing was wrong, I could feel the penetration of the rape, the in and out of his shaft as he held me against my will forcing himself into me.

Please do me a favor. I know it sounds weird, but will you have sex with me? I cannot stop feeling the rape.

As he obliged my request (with what I think was excitement), he began to take my clothes off of me as I froze. Not that I wanted to freeze, I had just begun to relive multiple rape experiences. I struggled to take control of my body, so every move I made looked robotic and clumsy. Halfway into him undressing me, the feelings of disgust overwhelmed me and I begged him to stop saying I was so disgusting that he did not want to have sex with me. I was vile. Repulsive. But he just looked me in the eyes with strong, caring calm and told me how beautiful i was. How I was not gross. I was not revolting.

For every horrible feeling I felt, every horrible sensation I had, he calmly and powerfully counteracted it. At some point I just gave in to him. Not that I had the power or strength to take control; I had to hold on to him as he erased the memories of the rape and rewrote the emotional damage I had been left with. MY body was half limp, half rigid from the mixture of emotions. All I could do was hold on as deftly as I could manage. To spare him the added mess of me crying, I let the tears run down my face in silence, hugging him so he could not see.

As the sex went on, I gradually began to relax into it, becoming more involved in the present than the sensations of the past. Eventually, I even began to enjoy the sex, albeit, it was a muted sexual response. My rigid body that was holding on for dear life began to respond to him. My grasp on him began to relax from fear, then it began to softly express my desire. Even though I was hiding my tears, I quickly moved my mouth to his and began to kiss him, soft, expressive kisses.

The rhythm of the sex became passionate as I responded to him finally. The sex became intense slowly as the emotional baggage fell away. Soon it was just us having sex, incredible, passionate sex, and no longer were the sensations a part of the experience. As we both orgasmed, I held him tightly again, as if for dear life. He would never understand how important that was to me. It felt as if he understood it was more than normal, but I don't believe he will ever get it.

The truth of the matter is that having someone else negate everything that someone else had forced me to endure was difficult for me to experience, but it was the quickest, most effective way to overcome those feelings. Never had I suspected that I could trust him enough to do what he did. Personally, I was used to people taking the easy way out and walking away from me, leaving me to deal with my emotional struggles alone. This was a new experience. My husband had done that in a sense of obligation, but this man I hardly knew pushed past my defenses, stood his ground against my coping mechanisms, and had even argued with my devastated self esteem until he healed me of my pain. He single-handedly changed the way I viewed people, trust, and the world.

Something that deep can never really be repaid.