My year of celibacy: A love affair with myself (55)

MY YEAR OF CELIBACY:

A LOVE AFFAIR WITH MYSELF

It is my third time back in the same town and when you return for the third time it starts to feel as if it is mend to be.

The first time was when I was four to eight years old. I don’t remember much of that time in my life, but I remember the house where we lived and I have some memory of the school I attended. I remember the bridge I had to cross to get to school and how afraid I was because of the gap between the different slabs of concrete.

This is also the time in my life when I was sexually molested and that makes being back especially difficult. There are some things in our lives that we would prefer to just leave behind and forget about. Unfortunately this isn’t one of the things which are possible to just forget and move on as if nothing has happened. Even if you believe that you have healed there will always be something to bring everything to the forefront again.

Still I choose knowing and understanding, for a big part of my life I couldn’t remember anything and as a result there were things in me and about myself that I couldn’t understand; I couldn’t connect the dots.

It is raining season and today it is raining almost non-stop, that grey overcast drenching kind of rain that everybody say they love. But I don’t, I fear and almost hate the rain. Worse even is an electric storm that is very common in this area. Before I remembered that I was molested I just understood the fear, I feared rain, it didn’t make sense; it just was. But then I came to understand that an electric storm and rain was a trigger for me, reminding me of the molestation and at least I could understand it and deal with it in that context as I could do with many other illogical things I felt.

Today I sit at the window and look at the rain and I try to love it, but I still find it difficult. I can’t help remembering the lost little girl that I was, how very lonely and very much on my own. You see my family don’t believe me if I say that I was sexually molested as a child and I can’t help but think; if they don’t believe me as an adult, why would they have believed me as a child.

But the rain also gives me hope because it has become a concrete measure of my healing. When trying to deal with more abstract things like the fear of not having control; finding it difficult to trust or thinking that you don’t have any choices in relationships and when it comes to sex; that you will only be acceptable if you keep quiet, don’t expect anything and just give whatever is expected, it is difficult to measure your healing.

Therefore bring on the rain, I will face it, and the day will come that I love it like most people do.

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