{via}
Note: This is a snippet of a guest post I wrote over at Trust Tending, a blog written by my friend Kristen Noelle. She is a talented artist with a heart of pure gold. For the entire month of July, she’s been speaking candidly about sex & so graciously asked me to write a story of my own. It’s been published for almost a week, but the weight of this post is so important that I wanted to share it here as well.
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I was fifteen when I entered into a tumultuous relationship with a boy I thought I would marry. In that same year of life I gave my body to him.
In the cramped backseat of a van, as moonlight flooded through the windshield & onto our shoulders, I first experienced the fear in sex; that raw, frightening sense of vulnerability; that vicious kind of surrender, mixed with both Yes & No.
On my back, laying on top of school workbooks & baseball gloves, I winced as I braced myself with each penetration, his mouth recklessly finding mine. So many emotions were pulsating through my body: love, anxiety, excitement, dread, satisfaction, sadness… and not one ounce of pleasure.
I was confused. Was this sex? Was this what the fuss was all about? It all seemed so… careless; so meaningless. I felt my mind leave my body & it hovered over me for the next 10 minutes as I struggled with losing my innocence.
When it was over, I put on my clothes slowly. My body felt like it was vibrating; I could barely tie my shoe laces. I was trembling.
The thoughts in my mind raced as he drove me home. I sat quietly in the passenger seat, ruminating over what had just happened. My feelings were mixed: I felt violated; I felt pain, actual physical & emotional pain; I felt joy for successfully mimicking the passion & moves of a “real” woman; I felt confused; I felt lost; I felt terrifyingly exposed.
These emotions carried on into every single sexual activity he & I found ourselves in. It waxed (very seldom waned) until the day he forced me free from his grip, nearly three years later, when our relationship ended without much warning. He left me picking up the pieces of my broken heart. Many of those pieces were never found; I believe he still has them in his possession.
I have nothing of his.
Months passed.
On the telephone one evening, a friend of mine was playfully coaxing me to get into the nitty-gritty of my sexual relationships. So I told him of my ex-lover. I told him of the tears, the anxiety, the feelings of despair every time he penetrated my body. I told him of the few times I tried (& failed) to slice open my flesh after having sex with him, making thick welts on my arms that lasted for the rest of the evening — my battle scars.
I said these things lightheartedly, almost laughing, as if it were a normal part of any relationship. I’ll never forget the horror in my friend’s voice:
“My god, Ev`Yan. That’s not normal,” he said, concerned. “That was rape.”
It took my friend’s brutal honesty for me to see the sexual unhealthiness in my previous relationship. Before that, it had never entered my mind.
From that moment on, my idea of sex shifted into a place of darkness.
Wow. You really are a powerful storyteller, Ev. Kudos to you for your unabashed candor. Has it always seemed like your interpretation of “your story” fell on deaf ears with your lovers? At least, before you met your wonderful husband, that is?
Is there something inherently different about the way men and women interpret the same experience that exacerbates this? Or is it more simply a lack of conscious awareness (not an act of malice) that fuels the disconnect? How were you finally able to communicate your feelings successfully?
Hi Crystal,
I don’t think my story fell on deaf ears with Jonathan; if anything, it fell on deaf ears with me. I have not been able to fully see the situation for what it was & heal from it… until now. This all happened years ago (about 8) so it’s taken me a while to accept & release.
I think every experience, big or small, is interpreted differently. I don’t think this is simply a male & female issue. People are so unique, & they interpret their realities & stories in different ways. My side of this story will most definitely be inherently different from my ex lover, but that doesn’t make my feelings any less valid.
I do feel that there was a lack of conscious awareness surrounding this story, on my end at least. I hadn’t begun to fathom that what I experienced was unhealthy until years afterward, when someone brought it to my attention. So yes, there was definitely a major disconnect; so big, in fact, that when I came to the reality of what happened, I had a very hard time accepting it.
As for your last question, I was finally able to tell this story because I was tired of having this trauma heave itself up into my present & wonderful situation. It’s been said that the best way to rise above something is to acknowledge it… & I knew that’s what I had to do.
Thanks for your poignant questions, Crystal. I hope my answers made sense. :]
thank you. with each post you liberate a piece of my mind that i’ve kept under lock for too long.
Anything I say will fall short. But thank you. For telling your story, for having the courage to face your fears after so long, for continuing to move forward, for turning trauma into teaching. Love.
I’ve told you this before but thank you for being so brave & honest with yourself– with us. it’s so unfortunate that this happens far too often & goes overlooked. I’m sending you love, always.
I admire your honesty with readers. It is very inspiring!
I’m a bit saddened to read your account of your first time because I always hope that people have had anything other than a traumatic experience, maybe awkward or humorous but I never assume it to be a fearful memory. I’m happy that you’re open enough to share it, it’s much easier to write about the roses and unicorns. I loved that you were eventually able to address the feelings that were present for you. Many of us never get to that point. I totally think life gets a bit better for us when we fully acknowledge and accept with the feelings we’ve felt during past experiences/encounters and allow ourselves to begin that healing process.