When Words Wound...........

Words often hurt more than the physical abuse that occurred in my life. It felt more damaging in many ways than the sexual abuse. With the love of my husband, I have started to overcome my feelings of being inadequate as a sexual being. I do still catch myself apologizing when I do not orgasm quickly or at all. Because somehow, I feel to blame for the sexual hang-ups I have. When in truth, a few of them are not uncommon at all among women. But it has taken some research to find this out. For instance, it is not weird that I orgasm more frequently to stimulation to my clitoris then from straight intercourse. But for years, I thought that something was wrong with me. I spent many times apologizing to my husband. In this time he holds me and tells me that it is nothing to be sorry about. He is patient with my shortcomings, real or imagined. When I am not successful in dealing with these issues, he loves me.

As for what damaged me more while growing up, I definitely believe it is the hateful words that were spoken to me. In most cases these words were spoken because someone loved me, at least that was the reason. My grandmother loved me enough to remind me, that I had a beautiful face and if I would lose weight I would be attracting guys like crazy. I know she said this because she thought it would help me. It never did though, but I did appreciate all the other contradictory things she did that showed me her love. Where else could I be reminded that I was loved except when she would make a point to buy foods that I like and guilt me into eating and then wish me a safe trip home with the latest diet fad on the market. Don’t get me wrong; I do truly love my grandmother, just the contradictory nature of her words and actions hurt.

And could someone tell me how calling your kid fat is supposed to make him or her want to become thin? I really think I missed that in the Early Childhood class I took in College. I certainly do not remember a section of that course that suggested we belittle our children in the hopes that we can mold them into better people. I think about that especially at Father’s Day, when I have to purchase a card for mine. In the past few years I have neglected to send him a card but sent my stepmother one. Always hoping he would realize what it meant. Though, this year I did send him a blank card and just wrote a short message inside. I have not heard from him since. Nor did he write me back when I mailed him a letter in response of forgiveness that he was seeking. Not for when he would abuse me physically or emotionally but for anything harsh he said after my mother died. So I responded with forgiveness and apologies on certain conditions. I have not decided whether or not I care that he has no answer for that correspondence either.

I am working through my past slowly now, in therapy. Certainly, it is a slow movement through time for me. I am not completely ready to deal with all the memories yet, which is good, at least for my ability to cope. Coping skills have not exactly been something on my strong side as the one I am most familiar with freaks out the neighbors. Someone who could look at someone without batting an eye when they are punching a wall will try to have someone who cuts herself locked up. I just don’t get that at all. My self-injury hurts me but has no impact on others and yet strangers want to have control over that portion of myself. When cutting allows me to deal with the pain I feel inside without coming any more undone than I am at the time. Although I am learning to deal with the pain without cutting, it has not left my life completely. Perhaps, one day it will be easier.

To those reading this, just remember what you say to others does affect them regardless if you were only joking or not. My rule of thumb is, if what I am about to tease someone with is not something that I personally would like to hear then I do not say it. Often office banter or teasing can hurt as well. Yes, I know someone is bound to suggest that I become more “thick-skinned” and to stop letting what others say affect me but they don’t know what I have been through. They have not even asked what makes me tick or walked a few steps in my shoes. I don’t expect everyone else to treat others the way I do. But please, make an effort to understand how your words might affect others before you speak.

~Blessed Be
-----------------------------------------------
You have such a pretty face:
a look at the words that hurt us.

Sometimes, you have to put up with so much in life. All the little things that make people want to put You down. And sometimes.... I just really want to slap someone.

That is how I feel about people who look at me and just see a "fat" person. Who do not bother to try and Get to know me. Or who do get to know me but then do not want to be friends because they find out I am bisexual or Pagan or anything else that they feel is weird. And this just really makes me mad. I do not hide what I am. I am a large woman... a BBW (big beautiful woman), and a bisexual. And I am not weird nor should I be feared. But do not think I will stand idly by and let you degrade me or anyone else. For now all I wanted to say was that I am not hiding anymore... I am standing up and out for all to see.

I am a LARGE woman. With nice pretty blue-green eyes and soft short, red, curly hair. I wear glasses. I am learning to accept the person on the outside as well as on the inside. I still remember what was said to me when I was younger. Kids and my own brother called me “Shamu”, I always heard. "You have such a pretty face, if you would just lose some weight then you would be such a beauty." What does that mean anyway...? That I was fat ugly hag and would never be beautiful unless I was skinny? DO parents really think that will work when they tell kids that, because maybe I missed something along the way?

I just think that somewhere down the road... parents and people in general need to be more accepting. People are not about what they are outside... what makes us unique and special is what is inside us all. I wonder sometimes why people say things to others... why the need to Tell someone that they irritate you or that they are too tall or too short. And why do parents feel they must belittle their own children.

To my father.... He wanted a child who would be perfect, skinny and prettier and would never embarrass him. And instead, he got me. Someone who could be smarter, who could be pretty if she lost weight. Who might have been better if she hadn't been stupid enough to get herself raped in college? It’s amazing that even to this date, when I think about being raped.... I remember how horrified he was that I allowed it to happen. I had been stupid enough to trust someone only after a little while.

I have slowly gotten past most of what he said to me.... About me.... And have healed in many ways. And I remember to myself that he does not really know me. And I know that the things that happened to me as a Child have made me who I am today... and will continue to be in the future. I am tall and large. Sometimes having the figure of the Venus of Willendorf, a true Goddess in retrospect. And I have married a wonderful man who accepts everything about me and continues to allow me the space to grow more each and every day of our shared life.

And one day we will have children, and no matter how they look... I will love and respect them. Never trying to force my beliefs onto them as it had been done to me. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of things that is what happens to all of us.


~Blessed Be

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
************WARNING***********************
THIS MAY BE EXTREMELY TRIGGERING TO SOME SURVIVORS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
***********************************************************
if i had been stronger...
its what i tell myself when the dreams come.
If i had been louder...
then more people would have believed me.
If i had been uglier...
then he would not have found me attractive.

If i had not been so bad...
perhaps, i would have made it through my
childhood with my innocence.

Sometimes i think about all the things that happened when i was young, about all the things that maybe i could have done different and sometimes none of it means a damn thing. What happened to me happens to others every day and there is no one there to protect the other children either. as i think about the first time i was raped... i was only 6 and i wanted to die afterwards... even at such a young age all i ever wanted was to be loved, to matter to someone... instead i found a family member that cared to much.... I’m 32 now and yet when i close my eyes i can still feel him laying down beside me... touching me... caressing me, telling me that he loves me. And as he picks me up and puts his mouth on my body in places that i knew were bad... for a second all i could remember were his words telling me that he loved me so. That i was his special angel. That he would always be there to protect me. and then there was excruciating pain as he inserted his fingers inside me... there was blood afterwards... yucky stickiness from him as he shoved his... between my legs... afterwards he promised that soon i would be his all the way... that first we would have to make do, until i was larger... but all i ever wanted to be was smaller. But even that would not have stopped him. I’m not sure i will ever forget what he did...

© Copyright 2003 fionnagh of the Oaks (UN: moduinne at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Fionnagh of the Oaks has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.