Tuesday, 7/aug/2010, shrewsbury, 4.30pm
Throughout my adult life I've gone back to Sherry looking for approval. He told me once that he has me on a pedestal, somewhere no one could reach.
He clearly never felt strongly enough to take things seriously or he wasn't ready, himself, for something serious. I repeatedly felt let down by him because he wanted things from me that I would've gladly given if we'd been in a relationship. I wasn't prepared to do it as a casual thing. The problem there was that I left, resolved never to go back to him. Every time. That's from being 19 to, well, now. That's 10 years. For ten years this man has had the ability to give me a massive boost when I need it. Through the only language of love and acceptance that I seem to understand: sex.
That's pretty hard to acknowledge. Sex is the only situation, in a relationship or when another person is involved, that makes me feel like myself. Writing does it for me alone. No one can interfere with that.
The only acceptance and appreciation I can accept without much objection is in sex. Anything else I do - cooking, organising, dressing, talking, anything - I can't take a compliment. I don't believe anything anyone says. I always feel like I could've done better.
I feel disgusted at the sight of my own body. Not because I'm fat but because I've always felt like that.
I didn't have breasts, even when the abuse was well under way and amit bhaiya was groping at them. I remember him pinching at the little peaks on my chest. And feeling disappointed in myself. That he didn't have anything to pinch. I was trying to please him. Warped as it sounds, on some level it made me feel special that he wanted me. I still hated every minute of it. I didn't want it. I still blocked most of it out. Closed my eyes many times and kept them open when I couldn't ignore what was going on. Sometimes closing my eyes focussed my mind on exactly what was happening. Now, in sex, I can't keep my eyes open because I hate my body and when someone wants it, it makes me feel depressed. Because I feel they are being nice to me and that I'm putting them through a painful process. So I close my eyes. And I go back to the abuse. Then I open my eyes and I want to vomit.
Just thinking about it all makes me want to vomit.
Quite often, I feel like I want someone to pummel me with their fists. Kick me really hard. punch me in the back, stomach, slap me hard. because I feel I deserve the pain. that maybe I'll come to me senses if I'm beaten up. There was always a startling clarity that came in the aftermath of one of my mother's beatings. a kind of resolve to do things right. I feel like I will suddenly realise and remember that I'm stupid and should do what people want me to do without using my own brain and having an opinion. That's what I deserve. Nothing more. I've been created to obey and nod my head to everything. I don't deserve choices because all I'll do is fuck them up.
Sometimes I feel like I don't have any thoughts of my own. I need to stop writing because I feel incapable of moving my pen.
Tuesday, 21/aug/2012, Cleethorpes
Msgs to tanisha
Graphic realisation coming up.
The only thing the bastard didn't do with me is go down on me.
It is the singlemost sexual act that keeps me anchored during sex.
No I know why.
I should be thankful to him for leaving me something.
And the only man who has always told me that that was the best thing about sex with me in Sherry. It is the one thing he said made it different for him with me than with anyone else. I know I can't trust him because he slept around a lot and probably said all sorts of things to all sorts of women. But it is the only compliment I have felt good about.
He was the best sex of my life and I don't feel so bad about it now. He gave me pleasure without making me feel horrible afterwards.
I wish I could transfer that to Darren but I can't. It's the memory of Sherry that brings me back when I know Darren is expecting me to respond in sex. It is the memory I scramble for when I get flashbacks of the abuse.
And I don't feel guilty. The fact that when I come back I am with Darren makes me feel comfortable.
I feel relieved that I didn't wait around for Sherry because he would never have made me as happy as Darren does.
I've just accepted that sex has never had any emotional importance to me. I've known it all along but I feel like I can accept it now. That I don't need to worry about 'why' that is so. I love Darren. I feel sexual desire for him. Those are two separate things. I think trying to combine the two would make things difficult again.