It’s pretty easy for readers to get in contact with me. I have my Facebook and Twitter info right over there on the top right corner of the blog. Plus OnSugar has a pretty great private messaging system. Or you can just send me an email. I’ve posted my email here on the site several times (email@example.com). Update – please use the contact form here on my new site.
I don’t get a lot of messages, but I do get a handful each week. And sometimes, in those messages, there’s a request for me to write about a specific topic. When possible, I take those requests seriously, and try to work those topics into my rotation.
Recently, I got a message from a new reader. She said that she was enjoying the blog and was able to relate, especially, to the story I told about my first time. It wasn’t something I wrote about in the body of the post, rather it came up in the comment thread. Anyway, it wasn’t a happy story. It was pretty horrible and it took me years to get over it.
She asked me to write a bit more about that. So, I will. And I’ll do my best to make some kind of coherent sense of it.
I didn’t really come to terms with what happened until years afterward. I didn’t block it out. But I didn’t give it a name (rape – which is what is was) either. It was just this stupid, awful thing that happened and I was ashamed that I’d put myself in that situation. I didn’t talk to anyone about it and I tried my best not to think about it.
But I knew it had happened and it absolutely affected my ability to let any of the guys I met for several years after get close to me, either physically and emotionally.
There was nothing that happened to change this. I didn’t go to therapy. I didn’t have an epiphany. But time passed and I met some really decent men and became close friends with some guys and realized, eventually, that I had nothing to be ashamed of. That I was young and drunk and stupid and that something bad had happened. But that it wasn’t my fault. And that if I kept pushing every man I met away from me I’d essentially be punishing myself. Forever.
I’m sure there’s some therapist (or many) somewhere who would read this and be absolutely aghast at how cavalier I am about the whole thing. But that’s really how I remember it all. I was kinda broken, and then I wasn’t.
I know that I have major trust issues with men, now. But those are actually all pretty new. A new flavor of trust issues. They came about in the last couple of years, after some particularly bad choices/relationships. And these new trust issues are probably scarier than the old ones because I’m older now and so the self-doubt runs deeper and nastier.
I’m sorry if this isn’t the post you wanted. It is the truth. My truth.
Tags: email, facebook, first time, Rape, self-doubt, trust, Twitter