I want to thank Bandit for linking to this thread on the BDSM board. I wouldn't have found it otherwise; I don't get to this neck of the forum woods often.
None of you know me, really, so I hope it's okay for me to vent all this here. If it sounds kind of detached, it's because my daughters are in the room and I don't want to start crying while I type all this.
I was molested at ages 3, 4, and 8. The incident when I was three was by my father, who was drunk and stopped when he realized what he was doing, and it was never repeated. I'd forgotten about it until nightmares and counseling brought it to the surface a few years ago. When I was four, it was two neighbor boys a few years older than I was. When I was 8, it was a friend of the family. When I was 16, I was sexually assaulted by a boy in my grade at school. When I was 17, my best friend's boyfriend tried to rape me.
In addition to all that, I was babysat by my father's mother, who constantly told me that I was fat, ugly, and lazy; that I was filthy and didn't take care of myself; and that no man would ever love me. I was raised by a mother for whom sex was the worst thing imaginable; when I told her about the incident when I was four, she blamed it on me; likewise the incidents when I was 16 and 17. I never told her about the other two incidents. When I lost my virginity two weeks before my 20th birthday, my mother called me a slut.
At school, I was the kid who the kids who got picked on, picked on. I was the one everyone needed cootie shots against. I was the recipient of choice names that I didn't even really understand, other than knowing that they were bad things. This started in kindergarten and continued through high school. In high school, some of the popular kids tried to befriend me, but by then I'd learned not to trust anyone and I didn't accept their friendship.
When I was 19, I met a guy my age who seemed like a nice guy. He'd been through hell too; he's physically disfigured because of a birth accident, and had been treated badly. I wanted to help him. I wanted to love him. I did neither, but I married him two and a half years later anyway, even though every instinct I had told me to run away. I was 22 and figured he'd be my only chance to ever get married; after all, I'd been told no man would ever love me.
The marriage was 14 years of hell. Most of it was emotional abuse, telling me I was a slut if I initiated sex, constant accusations of cheating to the point where I was afraid to have friends, male or female, constant threats along the line of "I'll kill myself if you ever leave me." He hit me once, on the arm; he was arrested then, but by then we had two children, one a preschooler and the other an infant, and I took him back. A few years before that, when our older daughter was a newborn, he raped me because he convinced himself I was cheating on him. I never reported that.
It finally occurred to me two years ago, after years of wishing I could leave but not daring to, that my daughters were growing up thinking that what they witnessed between their father and me was a normal marriage. I didn't want them to grow up into the same situation I was in. I worked up my courage, garnered some unexpected support from family (mine and his), and left a year and a half ago.
Last fall, I lost a relationship with a man who I believe truly loved me. We had an instant connection, but he had a hot temper and I couldn't handle it when he got angry. I cringe and want to hide when anyone gets angry with me; in my mind, anger means they're either going to hurt me or desert me. I think it's for the best that the relationship did end, though, because his anger and jealousy were causing big warning flags for me. He and I are still friends, and the friendship is much more comfortable than the relationship was. (He also lives 3 hours from me, so a relationship wasn't really happening anyway.) I'm now seeing a man who treats me so well that sometimes I can't believe it's real, but he's a trucker and I rarely see him. We just downgraded from an exclusive relationship to "let's see other people when we can't get together". He told me that he wants me to be able to "satisfy my needs" when he isn't around. He doesn't understand why it upsets me to hear it phrased that way; he doesn't know that it makes me feel like the slut I was so often told I was.
Someday I hope to have a real relationship with a truly caring man, but I have my doubts. Then again, it's only been a year and a half since I left my marriage, and I'm not completely ancient, so I guess there's always hope.
None of you know me, really, so I hope it's okay for me to vent all this here. If it sounds kind of detached, it's because my daughters are in the room and I don't want to start crying while I type all this.
I was molested at ages 3, 4, and 8. The incident when I was three was by my father, who was drunk and stopped when he realized what he was doing, and it was never repeated. I'd forgotten about it until nightmares and counseling brought it to the surface a few years ago. When I was four, it was two neighbor boys a few years older than I was. When I was 8, it was a friend of the family. When I was 16, I was sexually assaulted by a boy in my grade at school. When I was 17, my best friend's boyfriend tried to rape me.
In addition to all that, I was babysat by my father's mother, who constantly told me that I was fat, ugly, and lazy; that I was filthy and didn't take care of myself; and that no man would ever love me. I was raised by a mother for whom sex was the worst thing imaginable; when I told her about the incident when I was four, she blamed it on me; likewise the incidents when I was 16 and 17. I never told her about the other two incidents. When I lost my virginity two weeks before my 20th birthday, my mother called me a slut.
At school, I was the kid who the kids who got picked on, picked on. I was the one everyone needed cootie shots against. I was the recipient of choice names that I didn't even really understand, other than knowing that they were bad things. This started in kindergarten and continued through high school. In high school, some of the popular kids tried to befriend me, but by then I'd learned not to trust anyone and I didn't accept their friendship.
When I was 19, I met a guy my age who seemed like a nice guy. He'd been through hell too; he's physically disfigured because of a birth accident, and had been treated badly. I wanted to help him. I wanted to love him. I did neither, but I married him two and a half years later anyway, even though every instinct I had told me to run away. I was 22 and figured he'd be my only chance to ever get married; after all, I'd been told no man would ever love me.
The marriage was 14 years of hell. Most of it was emotional abuse, telling me I was a slut if I initiated sex, constant accusations of cheating to the point where I was afraid to have friends, male or female, constant threats along the line of "I'll kill myself if you ever leave me." He hit me once, on the arm; he was arrested then, but by then we had two children, one a preschooler and the other an infant, and I took him back. A few years before that, when our older daughter was a newborn, he raped me because he convinced himself I was cheating on him. I never reported that.
It finally occurred to me two years ago, after years of wishing I could leave but not daring to, that my daughters were growing up thinking that what they witnessed between their father and me was a normal marriage. I didn't want them to grow up into the same situation I was in. I worked up my courage, garnered some unexpected support from family (mine and his), and left a year and a half ago.
Last fall, I lost a relationship with a man who I believe truly loved me. We had an instant connection, but he had a hot temper and I couldn't handle it when he got angry. I cringe and want to hide when anyone gets angry with me; in my mind, anger means they're either going to hurt me or desert me. I think it's for the best that the relationship did end, though, because his anger and jealousy were causing big warning flags for me. He and I are still friends, and the friendship is much more comfortable than the relationship was. (He also lives 3 hours from me, so a relationship wasn't really happening anyway.) I'm now seeing a man who treats me so well that sometimes I can't believe it's real, but he's a trucker and I rarely see him. We just downgraded from an exclusive relationship to "let's see other people when we can't get together". He told me that he wants me to be able to "satisfy my needs" when he isn't around. He doesn't understand why it upsets me to hear it phrased that way; he doesn't know that it makes me feel like the slut I was so often told I was.
Someday I hope to have a real relationship with a truly caring man, but I have my doubts. Then again, it's only been a year and a half since I left my marriage, and I'm not completely ancient, so I guess there's always hope.
& myself so it is possible.
I also have to say that I now feel complete - not just sexually but in my service. In my marriage before, I was completely taken for granted. Now I know that what I do is appreciated and yes Sir does say please and thank you! 
