I have to laugh at myself sometimes. I was doing so well throughout the summer and half of fall, all because I had boyfriendish distracting me that whole time. Now that we're both distant again and only visiting each other occasionally, I've been being plagued by memories of my trauma and having to vent once again. At least it keeps me active here and writing more like I wanted to, but damn it, it's sure made me realize what an invaluable source of peace of mind boyfriendish is to me. I've been inadvertently relying on him to avoid dealing with my issues and I shouldn't be. We're not in any committed relationship, despite acting as such around company, and I don't see us ever being in one. Which means this current relationship we have isn't going to last forever and so it shouldn't because it wouldn't be fair for him. He deserves a partner he can have a healthy (and real) romantic relationship with and I don't believe I can give him that since I don't have any romantic feelings for him. I'll cherish what we have while it lasts, however much longer it can, but I need to get back to working on actually overcoming my issues, so when the time comes, I won't need boyfriendish or anyone to bring me peace of mind.

One thing I've noticed about myself is that when I get angry with myself over having enjoyed it, the fact that I would close my eyes is what pisses me off the most. It was indicative of how much I had enjoyed it at the moment. But I don't ever pay attention to that detail when looking back on the times after I stopped enjoying it, even though I would still close my eyes almost every time, though for entirely different reasons. Closing my eyes while my dad would molest me was something I always did. From when I was 8 to 13, when I was enjoying it, I would shut my eyes just to relax and become more wrapped up in how good it felt. But once I had stopped enjoying it, I would still close my eyes because I was wincing at it. Grimacing. Sure it still felt good, but it wasn’t enjoyable for me anymore because I had come to understand how wrong it all was. Before, I had shut my eyes as a way of becoming more invested in what was happening, but then I started closing my eyes to try detaching myself from it as best as I could as a means of coping with it. Sometimes I would cry during it too, but feared how my dad would react if he noticed I was crying and would clamp my eyes shut to try holding back my tears from flowing. Just something I recalled. But it’s interesting how that little detail sticks with me; how shutting my eyes during explains so much for both periods.

I still get flashbacks when I’m at my mom’s house - the same house where I grew up in and where my dad molested me most of the time. They just happen. I’m usually able to keep it together, but now always. Sometimes, I’ll need to excuse myself under myself under the guise of going to the bathroom or whatever, when I’m really just taking a moment to cringe.

Yesterday, I was visiting my mom and had another flashback and was trying not to react, but I guess I was visibly distressed because my mom asked me if I was okay. I tried telling her that I was fine, but she put it together that I was being effected by my trauma again. We ended up talking about it again, even though I didn’t want to. Maybe it was good that I did since it’s been a quite a while since we’ve talked about it and she’s the only person I know personally who I can talk with about it. But she went and texted me this morning asking me how I slept (seems to think I get nightmares, which I don’t) and reminding me that she’s there if I need anything. I get the feeling this might be a regular thing for a while, like it was before.

I’m not holding against her for being a concerned mother, I just wish she wouldn’t worry about me. I can’t say I didn’t sort of bring this on myself for not holding it together being triggered. Perhaps she was confident with how much I’ve been coping with my trauma and her seeing me distressed destroyed that confidence and she feels she needs to check on me again. I don’t want her to worry about me again, but that’s not really an option. I am her daughter, after all, and endured something that went under her nose for years, which I know she still blames herself for… Maybe her and I should talk about it more again. We both do seem to be living with guilt over what happened. Might be a good way to vent those feelings.

Something I've realized about myself: I have daddy issues. One definition of it is women who have complex, confusing, or dysfunctional relationships with men. Another definition of it is a woman who desires a strong attachment with a man. Considering my complex and confusing relationship with boyfriendish, as well as the strong sense of attachment I always feel with him despite not being romantically or sexually interested, it all makes sense. Though I wouldn't call our relationship dysfunctional at all and a lot of other signs of "daddy issues" I've read up on (clingy, jealous, etc.) don't apply to me. But the other big aforementioned things do apply to me, enough to where it's safe to say that the term still fits.

I don't really like the term "daddy issues" and lowkey feel embarrassed to admit that I have them, but it makes perfect sense. Before, I had speculated the odd dynamics of my relationship with boyfriendish COULD be related to my trauma. Now I feel silly for thinking it MAY be when it so obviously is. This goes without saying, but I didn't have a good, normal, healthy or affectionate relationship with my dad. Of course when I have a man in my life who's willing to settle for being physically affectionate with me and never pushing his luck, I'm going to have a strong sense of attachment with him. Not that I see him as a father figure, of course, but he's clearly filling the void of an affectionate male figure for me I never had in life.

I don't even know how "daddy issues" even came to mind. I was just reflecting on myself, like I tend to do, and the possibility of me having daddy issues just came to mind. I feel a little ridiculous for just now realizing all of this, but as logical as I try to be, I am still human. All part of the road to recover and still learning things about myself, you could say.

I've been speaking to a fellow molestation survivor who I've spoken to regularly before about our experiences on another website. We haven't spoken in a while, but I ended up chatting with her again recently. I mentioned how I've been struggling with feeling shame for having enjoyed being molested by my dad again and she told me something that really resonated with me: "You're living with shame that isn't your own." She went on to explain that it's my dad who should be feeling the shame I've been feeling for what he did to me, which I understand and have been told similar things plenty of times. But for some reason, those words are sticking to me. I'm making it my mantra whenever the feelings of guilt resurface and it seems to be working. Why that statement seems to work for me and not things other survivors have said, in addition to professional advice, I don't know. Sometimes I have difficulty understanding my own damn self. Whatever the reason, it's helping me with not feeling ashamed over my molestation. I don't know if I'll ever come to terms with that, but I feel like I'm already living with myself better now.