Well, that was a weekend…good and bad stuff (I mention intimacy but no details)

I’m glad to say that the disconnect seems to be over. I’m not in what I would call “full communication” mode yet but I can feel whispers and emotions and other things, which is good.

It’s been challenging to remain balanced with the news of the Penn. State sexual abuse case being front page news everywhere I turn. There have been times when I felt so sick to my core and other times when I felt so much anger and revulsion for the adults that let this happen, and still other times when I felt great admiration for the victims who came forward. At this point, I have to not read anymore about it, although I will keep up on how the case develops in the future.

Switching gears, my tumble into mental instability started Thursday night because my husband and I needed to stay up late to go somewhere for fun. Because of this I couldn’t take my sleep/anti-psychotic medication the way I was supposed to, and boy did I pay for that the next day! Ouch! I will not be doing that again. I got maybe 2 hours of sleep and I spent all day Friday as a basket case. If I don’t sleep, it’s way more than being delirious from being tired. I literally wake up crazy. Just straight out the gate bonkers. I kept myself in bed and tried not to speak to my husband if I didn’t have to.

Saturday was better because I slept finally and things were decent during the day. My husband and I were in sync and doing that thing where we’re thinking the same thing to the point where it gets creepy in a good way. Ah, but where would be the fun in things being good? Can’t have that can we? We mutually decided to be intimate and I say mutually because I wasn’t opposed to the idea, it was cool with me. Before things really got started, I felt that something was off. I was thinking that maybe I wasn’t as into it as I had thought and that if I just relaxed and got into it I would shake it off. My mind was kind of splintering off into various thoughts at the time but I couldn’t quite catch all of it. I know I felt some anxiety because I was worried that something was wrong and it was going to ruin everything and I wouldn’t be able to do it. I had broken off, vague images and feelings that I couldn’t decipher, even though I knew it was about my uncle. Again, I brushed it off thinking that I was doing it to myself and I just needed to relax. We were just fooling around and my arms were in a position of being down by my side and my husband had his arms kind of over them where I would have had to pull my arms out from under. It was actually one of those moments where we kind of got tangled up and normally I would have laughed and simply pulled my arms out of the position. For some reason I didn’t. My mind got weird about my arms being pinned which was weird because they weren’t really pinned. I actually could’ve moved quite easily because his weight wasn’t on my arms at all. The position was just close enough to something though, because the part of my mind that got weird, also got off on my arms being in that position. All I had to do was move, but I didn’t because part of mind wanted me to stay that way. I remember being completely confused by this distant satisfaction. Things just went downhill after that. No details needed. I’ll just say that afterwards, I pretended to cuddle for as long as I could and then for the second time in a week, and the second time in our marriage, I pulled away to say that I needed to put my clothes on. I couldn’t stand being undressed for one milli- second longer. Later, I started reading a mystery novel while my husband slept. My sleep meds would have been kicking in soon but instead I got up and went into the bathroom to read so I wouldn’t wake him up with the light. I stayed in that bathroom reading for hours and hours. Even when I felt my medication trying to make me sleep, I pushed through it and kept reading. When I came out it was either 1:30 or 2:30 in the morning, I can’t remember. I barely slept and when I woke up I was a basket case again on Sunday. I stayed in bed all day yesterday and didn’t speak too much. My husband asked me if it had anything to do with us, and I knew he meant the sex thing so I said yes and left it at that. He tried to be supportive and nice the whole day and I tried to show interest in what he was saying and little things that he would come to talk about. It was hard to act but he’s so good that he deserved the effort. It’s not his fault that I didn’t pull my arms out or that even before that, my mind started going off in all directions.

A big part of my feelings afterward were about my breasts again. I actually had to go in the bathroom and wash my chest because I felt dirty and gross. I kept my arms crossed over my chest for the next 24 hours after that and felt wretched.

Something I did try to do though was to not run away from my feelings. I’ve been cut off so long with the disconnect that I didn’t want to chance anything happening again. I tried to say internally that everything’s ok and that I’m ok with hearing anything that anyone needs to say. I’m keeping the door open the best that I can. I sent my therapist a collage I made about the dreams I was having and I’m sure we’ll talk about the weekend too.


About CimmarianInk

Abuse Survivor Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder PTSD and Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) also known as Multiple Personalities
This entry was posted in Child Molestation, DID, dissociation, dissociative identity disorder, Incest, Intimacy, Multiple Personalities, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Trauma and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Well, that was a weekend…good and bad stuff (I mention intimacy but no details)

  1. castorgirl says:

    Communication during intimacy is a tough issue for survivors… I hope for you and your husbands sake, that you can find a way forward.

    I’m glad the disconnect has eased, but not for the lack of sleep and it’s effect on you…

    Take care,

    • CimmerianInk says:

      Thanks. I know a big hesitation for me is the feeling that I’m bringing something tainted and dirty into the bedroom so to speak, but my therapist is adamant that I not “suffer” and so continues to tell me to communicate with my husband.

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