My Baggage

My Baggage
Ok so I don’t really know how to start this… I’m not really good at writing about my feelings and stuff but here it goes.  I’m a happily married 30 year old woman from New York. My stories definitely still affect me today and I am so lucky to have a loving and compassionate husband that is so patient with me as I am still trying to heal from these emotional wounds. 

My first incident happened when I was 9. My parents and I used to go to my grandparents house every week. My parents would usually sit in the kitchen with grandma and chat while grandpa would make me hang out with him in the living room. He was actually my step-grandfather. He had one of those electronic voice boxes because he had had throat cancer. (There’s a radio ad about smoking that has one of those voices. It drives me crazy; I have to leave the room when it’s on.) Grandpa would always have me sit on his lap in his favorite chair. At first I don’t think I really understood what was going on. He would fondle my early developed chest and sometimes other parts. For a long time I blocked it out, just kind of went to a different place in my head when it was happening. About nine months into it, my parents started noticing something was up. Every time they said we were going to grandma and grandpa’s house I didn’t want to go. And when we got there I would try to stay near my parents as much as I could. Finally, one day, my parents confronted me about it. They asked me what was wrong and why I never wanted to go there anymore. I just started crying. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t want to start any trouble. They kept telling me it was ok and I could talk about it so I finally did. I was so scared of getting in trouble and what was going to happen next? My parents completely believed me and comforted me, telling me it wasn’t my fault and I did the right thing by telling them. So my mom made the phone call to tell grandma… it didn’t go so well. She didn’t believe my mom. Grandma said that kids nowadays are learning about sex ed and have creative imaginations. My mom implied to her that she should leave him. Her reaction was “Where would I go” and she hung up. So that was it, we weren’t seeing them anymore. My parents decided not to press charges because they didn’t want me to have to go to court and retell what had happened. We heard that grandpa died some years later. We didn’t care. In 2004, my grandmother was sick in the hospital and she had asked to see me. My mom said it was my decision if I wanted to go or not. I didn’t really know what she wanted but knowing that she wasn’t doing well, I decided to go. She told me that she had believed me and she was sorry for not doing anything about it. It was very emotional but I forgave her. A few days later she died.

All throughout middle school, high school and even into my early 20s I’ve struggled with depression and self esteem issues. I’ve always been overweight and hated the way I look. After losing my virginity to a cheating loser that I thought I loved for two years, I started to become a little promiscuous. I feIt empty inside. I would meet guys at bars or through other friends and just go home with them. I didn’t even care about the sex itself, most of the time I was bored. But in that moment I felt like that guy cared about me. In my head, sex = love. It took me years to realize I was completely wrong. I always talked openly with my friends about sex. I was the girl that liked to go to adult stores and buy toys and movies and guys seemed to love it. And that brings me to the second incident.

One night I went out bar hopping with my store manager, Jen. We were all around the same age at the clothing store I worked at. We went to her hometown so I didn’t really know the area or the people. We were having a good time dancing, mingling and drinking. Jen decided to introduce me to one of her guy friends; they called him “Pimp.” Apparently she thought we’d get along because we were both interested in porn. I was too drunk to really be interested in meeting him. I said hi and awkwardly talked about Jenna Jameson for a minute but that was it, then I was back at Jen’s side mingling. It was about closing time so Jen invited a few people back to her apartment. I planned on staying there since I lived 45 minutes away and of course I was way too drunk to drive. We all hung out at the apartment for a bit, drinking some more. I was exhausted and just wanted to crash on the couch so I was happy when people started to leave. The living room had a large wrap around couch that you could fit one person on each end so apparently “Pimp” was crashing here too. Jen and her roommate went upstairs to their bedrooms and we were alone. I lied down and he got closer to me. He started caressing my leg. I pushed his hand away and said, “Dude, I’m really tired. I just want to go to sleep.” He was like “Come on, we both like sex so let’s just do it.” I was not interested. He kept saying “come on” while touching me. I was seriously on the verge of passing out. He proceeded to take my pants and underwear off. I kept saying no and trying to push him away but I had no strength. I could barely keep my eyes open. He put a condom on and had sex with me. When he was done he just went to the other side of the couch and went to sleep. The next morning Jen’s roommate noticed the used condom in the trash and made some joking comment about us sleeping together. I didn’t say anything. After an awkward breakfast with everyone I went home and never spoke about it. When I thought about it, it was just another notch in my bedpost. I was already being promiscuous so this was my fault. Years later I realized that it was a form of rape and it wasn’t my fault. A little while after that I was just completely not interested in sex.

I feel that the promiscuity and depression was a result of the molestation. I still have nightmares sometimes. Like I said before, all this still affects my life today. I love my husband with all my heart but sometimes sex is the last thing on earth that I want. I know all he wants is to express his love and I know it’s hard for him when I turn him down. Sometimes the slightest touch makes me so uncomfortable that I feel like I need to get away. It’s hard for him to understand how I feel but he is trying and I am very lucky to have him in my life. I never went to therapy for any of this but I’m hoping that one day I will be comfortable enough to go.

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