Deep Dark Secret...

I was just sitting on the couch watching a re-run of Buffy and then I had to write because I was talking to my head again. May as well write it down- what I am thinking about; that's the whole purpose of this. So I shouldn't Not write because it's horrible or shocking or confronting. Okay. So get to it; even though I don't want to. It's safer in my brain. When it's on paper I can't take it back and pretend I didn't have such thoughts. Not that it's so bad really; well, it is- but only for me. Actually it'd probably seem bad to my Hubby if he ever read this; if he knew about what I think about when we have sex sometimes.

If he Was reading this he would probably think some deep dark secret of mine was about to emerge; like how I fantasise about someone other than him fucking me or something- but that's not it. Sometimes I think he treats me like a slut and that's all that goes on in my head. We only ever fuck; we don't 'make love'- and that is why I think he considers sex to be an impersonal act. And as I do enjoy it (mostly) I think that is why he thinks that I could fuck other people apart from him. I think he thinks that I'm a slut; especially when I let him fuck me hard or when he sticks his fingers roughly into me. The truth is I don't always like it, though the sensation itself is usually good. I guess I feel bad for enjoying myself. So sometimes I'll recoil from his touch; because sometimes he doesn't seem to be touching me but just my body- and my mind is a hundred miles away. I sound like I'm complaining but I'm not really- just trying to express my feelings. Sometimes it has the opposite effect and I probably play on it a bit; sort of enjoy playing the slut being fucked hard- but then I think that's the wrong way to be be feeling and I just can't get it out of my head that that is all I am there for; for him to enjoy- and fuck me and my feelings.

I've never spoken to him about it; I think he would take it too personally. And the point is that I don't want to think that about him. Obviously when I do come when he is being rough with me he thinks that I am enjoying it; he does it that way because it gets me off. But in my mind I think he does it that way to please himself; and I am just a piece of meat being stuffed.

You are probably wondering where all of this is coming from- I guess it was last night. At first I was enjoying him going down on me and then I just started to feel sort of used; though it had nothing to do with anything he was doing. Sometimes I'll let him fuck me quickly because I know then that it'll be over and we can go to sleep; and he can cuddle me and say he loves me and scratch my back. god it sounds like I don't enjoy having sex with him but I do. I just wish my head would let me enjoy it all of the time instead of only three quarters of the time. But as I said earlier in this book if I don't work out my mind then I'll never get better; so I have to write it down- even if it sounds sick or is painful to admit. In a way I hope my Hubby picks this up from time to time; but of course I dread it also. Even if we are committed to each other it's very confronting to know that he would know so much about my feelings and fears; it would be so easy for him to attack my vulnerabilities in a fight- he could just bring them out and laugh about them to my face. And that would really crush me. He probably wouldn't be so mean on purpose; but lots of things are said in the heat of the moment; and they are often hard to take back or forget. I hope if he Is reading this that he won't take anything too personally; it's just my way of trying to sort myself out by speaking of my most inner dreads and anxieties. Thinking that they are demented or funny or inconsequential won't help me. But If you are reading this then you already know me a little better; and that's a good thing.

So onto other matters. Just writing that down has cleared it somewhat from my mind; it's not right There anything; still lurking in my mind but not at the front. I suppose-and this is the worst of it- that I feel this way because of that Old Arsehole. I know it sounds perverse, and it is; and this is so hard to even admit; and I Can't. I know what my mind is saying and it is right. That He is the cause of all your sexual problems and you can't say it can you; because once you say it you can't take it back.

I know you were only thirteen Buffoon and you can't be held responsible for it; but you Do feel responsible don't you- because even though it was wrong it felt okay didn't it?

Shit that's hard to say; because it was damaging and bad; but as a thirteen year old it probably made you feel a bit special didn't it? I have no idea if this is the 'voice' or me; but it's easier to write like this. It didn't really feel good; it was shameful and sad and no one believed me. But I think as an animal and a sexual being ( even if I was very young) it was a perverted pleasure. I feel sick saying this; disgusted even; but I have to say it.

What if I did really like it and encouraged it even?

I can't really remember being encouraging but I never spoke up about it. I never even told my Dad until last year for chrissakes. So what's your point?

You feel like you asked for it becasue you were an ugly child who no -ne liked?

As an adult now I don't think that way but as a kid I probably did.

So is that why you don't speak up when something is bothering you?

Probably. I trained myself that way for years and it's hard to break long habits. I'm doing it now; I can't even write my feelings as my own- giving that 'voice' the freedom of speech and keeping myself quiet. I shouldn't even acknowledge it because it's so damaging. By not speaking up about so many things they have just festered in my mind; builing up to this climax where I feel they are on the verge of eruption. Not that I probably will erupt; I'll just keep getting worse . The other night in the shower is my case in point. As bad as that was I can imagine it worse; when I can't regain control of this voice and I go mad; stark-raving even- a blubbering mess in a heap on the floor in the foetal position. I can't go there.

So I have to keep writing or telling or doing something to stop that from eventuating. I've been keeping down on the grog; only two glasses tonight and one last night. Same cask since Friday and it is still more than half full. Have to keep listening to the voice and reasoning with it. Once it is silent maybe it'll go away. Tired now; gonna go and cuddle my Love. I spent so long after him; I hope he knows how much I've always loved him- even when the feelings weren't mutual. I guess I'll have to go show him. Talk to you all later