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Victim blaming

Oh my god.

I had a realization today of how much I still completely blame myself for all my problems. I was talking to RS today about how I troubled I am and he totally disagreed.

He has a theory that everyone has the same amount of problems. He believes they are just manifested differently.

And I totally realized that I think I can help having my issues. It’s like I think I am choosing to have them. I was born with my issues as much as anyone else was. I can’t help or change the things that have happened to me.

It felt so good to come to that realization. And so weird to realize I wasn’t already thinking it. I don’t know why I decided to start blaming myself for the things that have happened. But I am stopping right now.

I wouldn’t blame someone for being lactose intolerant. Or for having a heart defect. So why am I blaming myself for my issues?


Dating Woes

That last post was pretty short. And so is this one. Two in one day…

The other day my therapist and I were talking about my poor dating choices. Why I continue to get into relationships with abusive men. And how to avoid doing that in the future. She told me that she once heard a story that she felt applied to me.

The best thing that I could do is go to a party. Find the guy that I am the most interested in and attracted to. And then go out with the guy standing behind him.

JM and I were talking about this and she agreed with that statement. She said she isn’t going to pursue another person ever again. She is going to wait for someone to be interested in her and let them make all the moves and put in the effort.

But what if that never happens for me? It might not…


I was thinking about suicide and suicidal ideation earlier today. I was thinking about how much I actually think about suicide. And I was wondering what was honestly stopping me.

I mean, if I want to die so much all the time and I think about it so much, why don’t I just do it? For a second I thought about how much my family would miss me. But then I realized that was total bullshit. My death would genuinely not affect their lives much.

So then I really sat down and thought about what my life was actually worth. Not a whole lot, it turns out. Some people would be sad for a very short time. And then, everyone would just move on with their lives. I don’t have children. My death really wouldn’t affect anyone for life. And even if it did, they’ll be dead in 100 years too. So who cares?

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t thinking this in some emo “nothing matters and nobody cares about me” kind of way. That’s what happens when everyone dies. It’s ultimately kind of meaningless. My death would be so insignificant, it would barely have an affect on those closest to me.

So then I started wondering why I was even still alive. What is keeping me here? And then I started thinking about the thousands and thousands of things that I experience on a daily basis that I enjoy.

And I realized that I was keeping me here.

Because I totally do not want to die. At all. I just want all my problems to go away. And I know that dying is the only way that will happen.

Being alive means having problems. And I have A LOT of problems. I like to think that’s because I’m more alive than other people. Or maybe I’m more alive because I have more problems.

Maybe I have bad luck. Maybe I am doing this partly to myself because I avoided facing my past and letting all of this go.

But I do get to start choosing how much I allow my past to affect my future. This is not how I want my life to be at 30. This is not how I imagined my life. And I don’t want to realize it at 40. I don’t want to waste another 10 years stuck in the same old patterns and afraid of the same old things. Being the same old me.

I like me, most days. But I want to be better. I want to stop being so scared all the time. I want to stop worrying so much about the end result.

I want to stop obsessing over what everyone else feels and thinks and wants and I want to start obsessing over what I think and feel and want. I want to stop blaming myself for everything. I want to stop being afraid of being rejected, especially physically.

Because all these limitations I have been imposing on myself, they are actually limitations that were at one time imposed on me. By first my parents and then one abusive man after another.

I’m tired of letting all of them win. Because allowing them to continue to dictate my life and how I feel about myself is letting them win. It’s still allowing them to abuse and control me.At this point in my life, I am the only one that can abuse me. I am the only one that can let my past continue to harm me. And I am the only one that can say “No. That’s enough. No more.”

I can’t say I’ll never think about suicide again. But the thought of it seems to have lost whatever appeal it had. At least, for now.


I didn’t deserve to be abused. It isn’t my fault my parents were abusive. It isn’t my fault they never said or acted like they loved me. It is their fault. And they are horrible for doing that to me.

I have to stop letting it fuck me up forever. I have to stop dating abusive men. I have to stop being afraid of relationships. I have to stop hating myself.

There was nothing I could have done to make them love me. There was no secret code phrase, there was no action I could have done. There was not a single thing on the planet that could have helped me.

They did what they did because of themselves. Not because of me. It had nothing to do with me. It was never about me. This is the hardest lesson to learn for some reason.

It was always about their inability to deal with their own issues. They were shitty parents with their own problems and no concept of how their behavior would affect me, or any of their children. Because I wasn’t singled out by them.

It wasn’t personal. And the issues that they have doesn’t let them off the hook. Knowing someone’s reason isn’t the same as excusing their behavior. And knowing that none of it was about me isn’t the same as being able to forgive them. I’m not ready for that.

I also am realizing that I don’t need the validation of my siblings. They aren’t the missing puzzle piece in all this. I can fix all this without their input, though it would have been nice to have. And helpful.

I don’t want to make them talk about it when they don’t want to. But they don’t owe it to me. No matter how nice it would be to have someone to talk with that shared my exact same experiences.

And it also sucks that I didn’t get to have a childhood. That I had to be a mother to my little sister. But at least I was able to protect her. And I’m proud of her. I did a good job. She’s turned out so well.

I had no choice on giving up my childhood. I don’t want to lose my adulthood to my parents too. I’m tired of living in the past. I have to move on from this. I have to get over it to tackle the next big thing.

But the next big thing is, not surprisingly, related.

My abusive ex’s. They weren’t mistreating me. They were mistreating their girlfriend, the way they had mistreated every girlfriend. I had nothing to do with it. They weren’t even focused on me. I just happened to be there.

And I stayed with those men because it didn’t occur to me to leave. I didn’t think things were even wrong. I had no basis for judgement. I couldn’t recognize normal or healthy. I thought I deserved to feel shitty about myself. My only experience with love has been abuse.

When I finally thought to leave those men, I did leave them. It is sad how bad things had to get before it occurred to me. But at least it eventually occurred to me. I wouldn’t want to be with any of those men now. I’m thankful I’m not.


Despite all my complaining. I still know I am not ready to meet someone on my own. This guy today was hot and interested and I wouldn’t even look in his direction. Because I am not ready to test myself. I’m not ready to choose someone. I am not ready to see if I am better.

For all my big talk, I am still not ready to trust myself. It’s like a Catch-22. I can’t trust myself to make good choices because I haven’t in the past. But I can’t prove that I’ve changed because I’m afraid I’ll keep making the same dumb mistakes.

If I don’t check, I won’t know where I stand or if I am better. I’m letting myself get paralyzed by the fear of making another mistake. I have to keep reminding myself that not making a choice is still a choice. But it’s also living my life by default. Things may be happening, but I am not really living or participating in my own life.

And I wanted to bring up the idea of waiting too long. I feel like I always have such good self control, that I don’t properly care for my needs. I wind up neglecting myself for so long that I latch on to someone that is nearby and isn’t actually worthy.

I’m so ashamed of needing someone, of needing sex. That I let it go and let it go and then it all comes pouring out inappropriately. And that poor person can’t always handle it.

I’m trying to take care of things myself. But I can’t give myself physical intimacy. It just builds up inside me and every little touch just twists the screw tighter. Until I become this tightly wound bundle of energy with no outlet and then I find some horrible guy and have horrible sex.

And I don’t even know why I waste my time because it only barely relieves the tension. Because I am not craving sex, I am craving intimacy. And I’ve only recently learned the difference between the two.

I didn’t and I still don’t know how to get physical intimacy. But I know I have to stop settling for sex. I need to start figuring out which one I need, being able to tell the difference, and making sure I am always getting the correct one.

That also may be part of the reason why touch is such an issue. I only let people touch me for sexual reasons and it turns every kind of touch into a sexual thing. Especially with men. Though I also think the sexual abuses made touch sexual. And I think my parents not touching me growing up turned touch into a ‘thing’ with me.

If I am only ever getting hit or molested, then touch is bad. But I also crave touch, because all humans do. I think I can only get it via sex. Which makes platonic touching even more awkward. Then I want people to touch me even less than I already do because it causes inappropriate thoughts about the wrong people.

So, touching has become a source of abuse, awkwardness, bad feelings and confusion. No wonder I don’t like people touching me.

But I also feel like I am getting to the intimacy breaking point. I need physical affection so badly it hurts in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know what to do about it.


I’ve been thinking a lot about this. I remember when I first started having sex. It was awkward and painful and not very good because I just wanted to not be a virgin anymore.

I had just wanted to get the sex part over with. But I thought that when I was older sex would be amazing, and well, sexy. But it honestly hasn’t gotten any less awkward. It hasn’t gotten much better.

It is only good or okay now. It’s never been amazing. It’s never been sexy. Maybe that’s because I’ve never had sex with someone I was really sexually attracted to. I’ve never waited long enough to have sex with someone.

I’ve always kind of wanted to get the sex part over with. I’ve never had emotional intimacy with someone, which does make it nearly impossible to have sexual intimacy. And, I believe, that has to mean I’ve never genuinely been in love.

How could I have been? I certainly liked these men. I even loved some of them. But neither of us was in love. We didn’t know each other well enough. We didn’t open up enough. That’s my fault too. But I also didn’t feel safe enough to open up. Not ever.

And I was right. I wasn’t safe. These men were bad. They were abusive. But if they weren’t safe then I shouldn’t have stayed. If I couldn’t trust them with emotional intimacy then I couldn’t trust them. And I shouldn’t have dated them. And I certainly shouldn’t have had sex with them.

I need someone that is going to be safe.

And sex has only gotten harder as I’ve gotten older. Now there seems to be more barriers, not less. There is all the baggage of past relationships to contend with. People have children, baby mamas, divorces, child support, infidelity, bitterness, impotence, performance anxiety.

Now I have to worry about STDs and people that are truly good manipulators, sociopaths, game players. Game players that are much more sophisticated now than they were in high school. Men in their 30s that want to behave like they are 18. Even though they are fathers and husbands now with serious obligations.

And the older I get, the harder it is going to be to find someone that doesn’t have crippling emotional baggage. And to find someone that can handle mine. That actually might be the hardest thing of all.

Finding someone that will want to take on my issues with me. Finding someone that will help me to heal. Because there are some issues that will never get better without the help of a patient, safe, mature, loving partner.