I’m going to spill my guts in this post. I guess it is a way for me to make a splash back into writing on my blog after my long absence due to attending to my college course work.
I’ve been working hard on the issues involved with dissociative identity disorder for 28-years, and the time has come to admit to you that there are things that remain, and sadly may never be resolved. So, I am going to speak from my heart today for two reasons:
One. I have written a great deal about my recovery and how much better my life is than before treatment.
Two, I want to reach out in caring to others who feel as alone as I do.
I’m Baring My Soul to You
Although I dream of having a close companion, maybe even a mate, I am stopped from even looking around for someone by terror.
What terrifies me?
It’s not being close to someone. I crave interacting with a mate. It would be thoroughly thrilled hanging out for days, weeks, or years with someone who loves to be with me and can speak on the subjects I am interested in. Being a nerd, I could sit for hours and speak with someone I loved about science (I’m a nerd).
However, there is more to a relationship than closeness of that type. Inevitably things will take a sexual turn, and therein lies the problem.
I Am Lonely
I don’t like to be touched. I don’t even like someone sitting close to me. It’s a deep-seated terror I have been unable to conquer so far in my life, even with almost three decades of therapy.
As a result, I am alone, and very lonely.
My terror of sexual intimacy is the cause of so much loneliness that it cannot be properly addressed in words.
The loneliness is so deep that I am weeping while writing this sentence.
I Know Why
Although I know what has happened to me, how my childhood experiences have shaped how I feel about sexual intimacy, I am unable to find a way to stop being so damn afraid.
I could blame my unwillingness to be close to someone on an alter or two, but that would be a cop out. It is me as a whole, all of me, my alters and myself, who are terrified of sex.
The strange thing is that I was married once.
I married him while dissociated into S.J., my sexual/suicidal self, who of course, is me. I am the person who married him, not someone else.
I think I married my ex because I wanted to experience what it was like to have someone love instead of use me. I can remember having fantasies about having a mate who would desperately love me. I can remember daydreaming about how I would be in orgasmic bliss during sex with my perfect mate.
What I didn’t count on was the realities of being married. I was sold on the Hollywood notion that arguments would never happen, and if there were any problems at all they would be easily resolved and everyone would live happily ever after.
I found I was caught in a marriage I didn’t want to be in. My ex did not have any of the interests I did in science, and was not a nerd. He loved television wrestling, farming and talking about semi-trucks.
Not only that, he wanted the normal sexual intimacy any person would expect in a marriage. He was not weird or demanding, but it became quickly apparent to me that I just could not enjoy intimacy with him. Instead I faked my way through sex for over eight years.
Eventually, I divorced him and he never knew the true reason why.
I Am Ashamed
Why didn’t I leave the relationship as soon as I recognized I was feeling trapped by the very thought of having sex? Because I thought it was important to stay. I had married this man without fully explaining the problems being in a marriage with a person living with DID entailed. Although I had not forced him to marry me, I felt guilty and responsible for leading him down the garden path.
He was and is still totally unaware that I woke up on our wedding night thinking, “Oh my god, what have I done?”.
I’m ashamed of my behavior with him, but it would devastate him to know the truth.
Now I Live in Terror
Now I live in horror that the same thing will happen again so I avoid like hell any chance that someone might want to get close to me. That includes both men and women, as I feel a need for female intimate companionship as well.
I’ll write about the causes of my plight in a later post. This one is meant to bare my soul and reach out to others who feel this way.
I Haven’t Given Up Hope
If you are living in fear of intimacy, you are not suffering alone. Being terrified of intimate sexual relationships seems to be a curse that accompanies the blessing of DID.
It may help you to understand that even old pros at recovery like myself are incapable of overcoming some of the fear driven behaviors accumulated from childhood.
I have not given up hope that I will meet someone with whom I can be open and honest about my fears and will have the patience to work with me on breaking these chains. I don’t want to be lonely all my life. I don’t want to die never knowing the pleasure that must come from sex. I mean, it must be enjoyable or people wouldn’t look forward to it and engage in it all the time, right?
I’m 57 going on 58. I am not going to get younger. I want desperately to be loved and to give love to a mate. If any of my readers have any ideas that may help, I welcome them.
I don’t want to die alone.
“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.” Jodi Picoult