I hate to piss and moan in another entry about living with the guilt of having enjoyed being molested, but I've had something that's been bothering me a lot lately. It's been floating around in my thoughts and just won't go away. May as well vent it here with the hopes that it does since I'm tired of thinking about it. In the last entry I made on this subject, I stated that I don't know what having a fulfilling sex is like as an adult. As I've stated before, I have experienced consensual sex and even received oral sex from a partner after my molestation, but I've never truly enjoyed it in the sense of feeling aroused and gratified. But after making that post, something later came mind: I actually did one time as an adult, with my dad...

The very last time my dad molested me when I was 20, I woke up to him performing oral sex on me. I enjoyed it that time, in part, at least. I remember being into it enough to where I was grinding into his face. I'm no psychologist, but I surmised that perhaps it had been over a year since I had experienced any sexual stimulation and when I did again, it overruled any reserves I normally had. Whatever the reason, I enjoyed it with the first orgasm he gave me. Then he started going for a second time. After which, I stopped enjoying it and didn't react anymore than I could control. When my second orgasm hit me, I just wished for it to be over. Which it was. After that, my dad just got up and left without saying a word and that was the last time he molested me.

But again, I enjoyed at least half of that time. What gets me so hung up on it was that I was an adult at that point and that's the only time I can remember enjoying sexual stimulation in my adult years. The two boyfriends I had after couldn't please me, but my dad did. Makes me wonder that I just may be one of those who can only get off sexually when I'm fantasizing about my dad molesting me. Or might've been at one point anyway. I'm not gonna go too much into this, but I've tried experimenting with that enough to where I can safely say it doesn't work for me now. Regardless, I'm still living with the shame that the one time I was pleased sexually as an adult was by my dad - the only person in my life who has ever been able to do so. And I don't have the logical excuse that I was a minor before, so what does that leave me with?

My trauma has been weighing on me a bit more lately. I think I’m handling it better than I did before, but it still takes its toll. I’m a little worried about how today, Thanksgiving, is going to go for me. It being the second since my dad passed away. Last year, there was quite a bit of talk about him, lamenting how he couldn’t be here to join us (not that he ever would be). But most of the immediate fam knows he abused me for years. Only my mom knows the full extent, the rest just know it as abuse. During my family reunion over the summer, everyone did good with not talking about him around me much, so I’m hoping it’ll be the same for Thanksgiving this year. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to use this day to unwind. Visit with family, eat food and maybe even have a some drinks. I will have boyfriendish spending Thanksgiving with us too, so I’m feeling happy about that. We’ll be putting up the guise that we’re together romantically, but no matter. I’m just happy to have him here. Hopefully today can just be a good day for me.

I've been putting off making this damn entry for a while now. I want to write more here, but I don't want to do so before writing this and put it off even longer. I may as well just get it out of the way and be done with it. I don't know if I'll ever be able to overcome the guilt I feel of having enjoyed being molested by my dad for the first several years it happened, but if I can, maybe the first step is just dealing with it by openly acknowledging it. I'm going to get graphic here, so please heed the trigger warning.

So, the first couple of times, I didn’t enjoy it. Even if it felt good, it was also terrifying for me because my body was reacting in ways that I couldn't possibly understand at 8 years old. That and I just knew it was wrong. But by maybe the third or fourth time, I slowly began resigning myself to it and enjoying it. I began closing my eyes and becoming wrapped up in my little world while my dad performed oral sex on me. Sometimes, I would actually stand in position for him, legs spread and just lean back with my eyes closed while my dad would either be sitting or kneeling down in front of me.

He would ask me how it felt, I would enthusiastically tell him how good I was feeling. He obviously knew the answer, but just wanted to hear me say it. As young as 8 years old, talking like a sexually active adult. I may not have been an adult, but I was made sexually active. The way my dad did it for the first several years, there was always a gentle focus on my pleasure. When I was older, he started getting rougher with it, but when I was a child and preteen, he knew how to make me feel sexually fulfilled long before I should have known what that was. I don't know what having a happy sex life is like as an adult, but I'm sure it's just like how I had felt back then.

It made me feel happy. I hate that it did, but it did. I would smile when my dad would sweet talk to me while molesting me sometimes or when it would evoke strong reactions out of me. Of course, when being given an orgasm too. After he would do it, I would usually be in a good mood afterward. "Glowing", as it's called. When he would make me climax consecutive times in a row, I would just be filled with elation. I wouldn't even be able to remain still and become restless by how good my body felt. I would be overwhelmed and not in a good way, looking back on it. Restless to the point of being unable to stand it! My body just wasn't ready for that kind of pleasure.

It did feel good though. Even during the first few times it happened and during my teen years after I stopped enjoying it, it always felt good. It felt so good... I wouldn't use that language when I wasn't enjoying it, but when I would be, I would outright say it. How incredible it felt was all I could think about in the moment; all that mattered. I never wanted it to stop. I knew if my mom or anyone found out, it would. I had become so addicted to the feeling, I kept it a secret and took measures with my dad to avoid getting caught. That's part of the reason why it went on for so long.

In my very first post I made on this site, when I first opened about my trauma, I said in regards to whether I enjoyed it, that my answer was "yes and no." That I enjoyed the physical feelings, but also knew it was wrong and felt guilty. As you see, I kinda watered down the enjoyment aspect, but there was still shame even back then. Sometimes, after I would climax, I wouldn't be "glowing" afterward, but snap right out of it and quickly remember what just happened was messed up. As I've said before, despite not truly comprehending all that was happening, I still knew it was very wrong. I don't know how, but I did.

I would try convincing myself that I didn't care because it felt good. Sometimes I would think about the crap my dad would occasionally say to me about him molesting me, making it out to be normal: that he loved me and that was his way of showing how much he did. But I never b...

[ Continued ]

It still gets to me sometimes, of course it does. The shame and guilt I feel over being molested despite knowing by all rights, I shouldn’t be at fault for anything. But no matter how much reassurance I get or how logically I try to think on it, I just can’t help but feel ashamed living with the fact that I enjoyed being molested by my father.

One thing that really gets to me is how I don’t like sex now that I’m an adult. Like I said in my previous entry, even if I may enjoy it to a point, but I can live without it just fine. I did before, in a sense. When my dad would molest me. Sickening as it is, but I don’t like saying it anymore than one might like to read it. I know I couldn’t have helped that my sexuality had been awakened unnaturally and sooner than it should have been, but I just hate that it happened.

I believe my sexuality wasn’t just awakened prematurely, but it was used up completely as well, for lack of a better way of saying it. My father molested me so many times, almost each time through oral sex, which they say is the most stimulating form of sexual activity. Each time, I experienced an orgasm, which is times beyond counting. It probably isn’t any coincidence that I now don’t care for the feelings of sexual pleasure any longer.

I wish I could say it was because I’ve been traumatized into not enjoying sex any longer after having been molested. That could be part of the reason and maybe I would believe it was the full reasons if I hadn’t enjoyed being molested at all. But I enjoyed it for more years than when I stopped enjoying it. I’ve said this before, but my dad would play it off like he was doing something special for me, when all he was really doing was taking things from me.

I know I should only be mad at him for what he did to me, but every time I look back on my younger self getting off on him molesting me, I just cringe at myself so much, the shame just overrules any logical thinking. I’ve heard it all, very sound explanations and reasonings on why I was 100% at fault, all of which I agree with. I may be able to look back and say “It wasn’t my fault,” momentarily, but the guilty feelings always come back.

I may never overcome it. But maybe that’s just how it has to be. If one never truly just gets over their childhood trauma, maybe living with the guilt just comes with mine.

This is a subject that depresses me a little. Which is all the reason I need to address it, right? All the time I have spent with boyfriendish has been great. So great, it distracted me from talking about my trauma very much and had me forsake therapy altogether. Now that we're spending less time together with the winter weather in full swing, I miss having him around even if we still keep in regular contact over the phone and social media. I love him, I can still say that much. But as much as I hate to say it, I'm still not in love with him and don't think I can ever be. Not with him or anyone.

I really wish I could say that I've fallen in love with him and we're back to being in a fully committed romantic relationship. I believe he might be hoping for this himself. But I simply can't. I love his company, I love talking with him, I love him being affectionate with me. I even miss him enough that it makes me sad. But my heart doesn't sore when he's around, I don't think about him every second of every day and all those other romantic cliches. I don't get aroused by him or want to have sex with him. There's simply no romance and that upsets me.

For one, things would be a lot simpler if we were romantically involved. We still uphold the illusion that we are dating again with family and friends simply for the sake of simplicity since our dynamics would be too complicated to explain. That and he's been the perfect man for me as far as I'm concerned. He's good-looking, he's kind, good-natured and he's willing to settle for simply touching my body without overstepping boundaries even for a moment. But I don't have romantic feelings for him. I feel that if I can't fall in love with him then I can't with anyone. As much as I like the idea of it, I don't know if it's feasible for me now.

As I have said before, I could simply be asexual. Sure, I can have close platonic bonds with others, but the usual feelings and sensations associated with romance are things I just don't feel and am not sure that I ever have, even. Sure, I've dated before when I was younger and believed I was in love... But I'm thinking I may have just been mistaking similar feelings to what I have now for boyfriendish as being in love. I know for sure that I never really cared for sex. I would willingly partake and enjoy it to a point, but it wasn't something I ever really yearned for. There may be physical attractions, but when I really think on it, there's never been any sexual attractions.

All of this could (probably does) lead back to my trauma - being molested by my dad for 20 years. I could also have very well turned out this way even if I had a completely normal, not traumatic upbringing. Probably no way to tell for sure, but I can't help but think I was made this way thanks to my dad. It aggravates me, even though it probably shouldn't because nothing can be done about it if so. I guess my biggest frustration is just wanting to be a normal person in a normal romantic, sexual relationship but being unable to because the way my mind is wired simply isn't. Again, perhaps because of my father and the year he spent shaping me to be this way.

I'm sure some might say that I just need to find the right person and boyfriendish just isn't it. While this isn't something I dwell on too much, I do hope I get proven wrong someday, I guess that's all I can say. In the meantime, I'll just try to keep appreciating what I have with boyfriendish. Even if it can't last, which I'll elaborate on in another entry.