Trigger Warring: sexual abuse, pcos, miscarriage, trauma
I did something different today. I held my body and told it I loved it. I stood in front of the mirror, naked and held all the parts society tells me aren’t loveable. I held my ponch that I hide with my fancy elastic underwear. I held my tired breasts that were resting on my belly. I held the jiggly part under my arms. I held the cellulite on my round bottom. I told every part that I loved it. I told every part that it is beautiful. That I was proud of it. AND I FUCKING MEANT IT.
Yesterday I posted about having an open dialogue with children about sex. It said this: If we teach children about sex, consensual and non consensual, they have the knowledge to decipher when something is uncomfortable and wrong and the courage to know that what happened isn’t shameful or their fault. Withholding information about sex from kids does not help.” @Keiajahhh.
The first time I had sex taken from me I was 3. That happened a few times a year from that age until I was 11. That’s a long time to be taken from. I was raped at 16. And then again at 20. And again at 23. Those are just the accounts that were violent. There were many times that I had sex because it was easier, not because I wanted too (consent under duress is not consent).
I have carried guilt and shame in this body almost my whole life. 41 -3 = 38 years.
Recently I have come to the conclusion that I deprive myself of pleasure. I won’t let myself enjoy anything to do with sex because I can’t trust myself to know its safe. I CAN’T TRUST MYSELF TO KNOW ITS SAFE. My logical brain tries to convince my body, but my body says no. Sometimes I down right torture myself, or have had others do it in the past.
I also have a condition called Polly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS for short). We won’t talk about whether the abuse as a child brought this on (I suspect it did). I will tell you its painful. That I have cramping in my uterus more often than I’d like to admit. My periods are irregular. I suffer migraines and headaches regularly. I have had many miscarriages because my body doesn’t function properly. These are just the physical symptoms. There is a list of mental/emotional symptoms that’s just as long (depression, anxiety, self-depreciation, lethargy….)
I have disliked my body for a very long time. Maybe that's why I like being a physical evidential medium so much. I'm not in my body very often.... spirit is and I am just a bystander.
In recent discussions with my husband, friends and professionals, I have been told that: “……you need to love yourself……Bring yourself back to gratitude……. But you are beautiful Truly….. This body gave you three children….. you are alive because it (your body) wants to be healthy…. Your body holds the magic that you are…. You are loved unconditionally…. ”
I heard them. But didn’t assimilate the information.
This morning I read: ‘Today in science we learned that you can never gain cold, you can only have an absence of heat; and it made me think that maybe hatred doesn’t exist, and that there’s only an absence of love’ @lowkeat.
Maybe my body is just surviving in an absence of love. So today I loved it.
I did something different today. I held my body and told it I loved it. I stood in front of the mirror, naked and held all the parts society tells me aren’t loveable. I held my ponch that I hide with my fancy elastic underwear. I held my tired breasts that were resting on my belly. I held the jiggly part under my arms. I held the cellulite on my round bottom. I told every part that I loved it. I told every part that it is beautiful. That I was proud of it. AND I FUCKING MEANT IT.
Yesterday I posted about having an open dialogue with children about sex. It said this: If we teach children about sex, consensual and non consensual, they have the knowledge to decipher when something is uncomfortable and wrong and the courage to know that what happened isn’t shameful or their fault. Withholding information about sex from kids does not help.” @Keiajahhh.
The first time I had sex taken from me I was 3. That happened a few times a year from that age until I was 11. That’s a long time to be taken from. I was raped at 16. And then again at 20. And again at 23. Those are just the accounts that were violent. There were many times that I had sex because it was easier, not because I wanted too (consent under duress is not consent).
I have carried guilt and shame in this body almost my whole life. 41 -3 = 38 years.
Recently I have come to the conclusion that I deprive myself of pleasure. I won’t let myself enjoy anything to do with sex because I can’t trust myself to know its safe. I CAN’T TRUST MYSELF TO KNOW ITS SAFE. My logical brain tries to convince my body, but my body says no. Sometimes I down right torture myself, or have had others do it in the past.
I also have a condition called Polly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS for short). We won’t talk about whether the abuse as a child brought this on (I suspect it did). I will tell you its painful. That I have cramping in my uterus more often than I’d like to admit. My periods are irregular. I suffer migraines and headaches regularly. I have had many miscarriages because my body doesn’t function properly. These are just the physical symptoms. There is a list of mental/emotional symptoms that’s just as long (depression, anxiety, self-depreciation, lethargy….)
I have disliked my body for a very long time. Maybe that's why I like being a physical evidential medium so much. I'm not in my body very often.... spirit is and I am just a bystander.
In recent discussions with my husband, friends and professionals, I have been told that: “……you need to love yourself……Bring yourself back to gratitude……. But you are beautiful Truly….. This body gave you three children….. you are alive because it (your body) wants to be healthy…. Your body holds the magic that you are…. You are loved unconditionally…. ”
I heard them. But didn’t assimilate the information.
This morning I read: ‘Today in science we learned that you can never gain cold, you can only have an absence of heat; and it made me think that maybe hatred doesn’t exist, and that there’s only an absence of love’ @lowkeat.
Maybe my body is just surviving in an absence of love. So today I loved it.
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