The past few weeks, I’ve come to realize that I have needs and desires I wasn’t previously aware of. Some of them, I’m able to swallow… Others are potentially damaging. I’m pretty stunned by most of them, and have been trying to find the Why behind them, while also attempting to accept them as they come.
I’ve been talking with various friends, trying to find other perspectives on things. I’m sort of keeping a tentative eye open for the person who might fulfill these needs for me… But besides not being sure if a lot of it is a good idea, I think trying to get it all from one person would be impossible. But I can imagine if it did happen, I could regret it…mostly the physical abuse part. To delve into that topic…
I believe I am worthless. It began before I reached puberty, and I know that my dad was a big facilitator in those early feelings of no self-esteem. It’s normal for fathers to pull away physically when their daughters start growing up, but he became disdainful, critical about everything…mostly my body. Instead of my mom introducing me to things like make-up, he was always the one in my ear, he was the one who made me start shaving and made me feel ashamed of my body; he criticized my hair, made me wear dresses and never pants, forced me to go on long bike rides with him when I was on my period and wanted nothing more than to just stay home… I felt like I was never good enough and never able to make my own decisions or feel validated. I’ve hated my body since those early days when I was twelve or so. I know everyone blames the media and movie stars for making girls feel inadequate, but it was never that, for me. I just KNEW I wasn’t good enough, and never could be. I was out of my teens before I finally found one thing about my body that I could admit I liked, and that was my eyes…they could never change, never gain weight, never be anything other than the pretty kaleidoscope of colors that they already were.
My feelings of worthlessness have only grown stronger and deeper as time goes by, first from that place I didn’t know about (which I’m now beginning to think was initiated by my dad), and then by looking at other girls around me (again, never media) and seeing that I didn’t measure up, and finally in relationships. What’s sad is that my relationships have almost never ended in rejection… What I’ve found to happen when I get close to someone, is that I begin to doubt their sincerity. I have these ready-made excuses for why anyone would ever care about me. Most commonly, it’s “They just don’t know me well enough yet”. There’s never a doubt in my mind that once some threshold is crossed, they’ll realize the truth of my uselessness, and discard me. If our closeness fails to produce this result, I get panicky, and activate my first defense mechanism, which is pushing people away. I have many methods for this one, but they all have the same end result. If I cannot push someone away either by discontinuing the attractive sides of my personality, avoidance, downright rudeness, or trying to force them to tell me what they hate about me, I will end the relationship myself. Most of the time, that’s what it comes down to. For some inexplicable reason, it’s generally very difficult for me to get someone to abandon me. So in the end, I have a very sad and disturbing track record of abandoning people myself, instead. I’m sure to everyone involved, it seems like I’m a cold-hearted bitch, but hopefully as you see here, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s a desperate act of defense, born of fear and mistrust.
All of the above has been in regards to people who pursue me with care, delight, and respect. We’ve finally reached the topic of abuse, and this is where it really gets tragic. I’ve had people who treat me badly, or talk down to me, and I like it. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. It feels deserved. It feels RIGHT. Someone telling me they love me sounds like a lie…I’m always waiting for the bomb to drop, to figure out what it is they’re trying to get out of me, or what kind of trap they’re teasing me into. Emotional abuse feels natural. It’s static and trustworthy. It has to be real because that’s what I’m good for, it’s what I’m made for, isn’t it? It fits into my universe. It makes sense and it is familiar, thus comforting.
I think this is part of why I keep fantasizing about domination. The thing is…I don’t have a problem with that. Is that bad? Is that wrong? Does that turn you off or on? I crave it, and honestly I don’t care WHY I crave it…I just want it. I do want to understand it, have no doubt about that… But after I understand it, I just want to drown in it. It appeals to me on such a deep, feral level. I want to feel under. I want to feel lesser. I want to be told what to do. Ordered. Forced. I want to be talked down to and called names. All of that would turn me on like fuck. However… I need there to be a different undertone, as well. I want, just as savagely, to be rewarded for accepting that treatment. I need to be told to hold still so he can keep fucking me just the way he wants…because I make HIM feel good. I want him to be angry with me because he WANTS me. I want him to take what he wants, because he can, and tell me how hard it makes him, tell me he can’t hold back his cum and smack me in fury for making him lose control and cum like that. I NEED to be told I’m a good girl. I NEED to hear “Just like that, bitch”.
I need to be condescended to by a man who desires me.