The Anais in Me

Wow, I feel so much better now. That journal entry is already changing my life. Secrets are bad, they eat you up. I feel so much freer. I feel cleansed. I talked to my husband about all of this, and I cried and things are so much better. My head feels like it is lighter, that there so much more space inside. I hope this stays with me. I just feel relieved. It is great. I feel like it is finally starting to heal. I guess it's not just addicts that need to admit to something to take the first step.

I am so happy that I've started doing this. That I'm trying to make it better and I feel like I am on my way. I just feel like I finally let go of some of the things that were making me feel so messed up. I can't wait to just live, to breathe. It's great. I hope this is really the start, and not just a breather. I can't help but think that it is. It feels so different. Hello world:)

So, every year for the past 4 years, around March, I start getting really weird about sex. It freaks me out. I'm terrified. Absolutely petrified. There's something that I went through when I was 20 that haunts me. I haven't really come to terms with it. It is my biggest secret. Only two people besides myself know about it. I think it's time I come clean with it. That I admit what happened and start dealing with it, truly dealing with it.

I was with Taidan (my horrible ex shall be referred to by this name). We were coming home on the subway. Our exit had a huge escalator. We were clowning around and he punched me (playfully, but hard enough) in the abdomen. I freaked out, raced home before him, locked him out. It was that punch that made me realize I was pregnant. I didn't have to take the test to know. I did, it said positive. I went to the doctor and he confirmed what I already knew. I knew I couldn't have the baby and so I scheduled an abortion. I knew I couldn't have a baby at that point in my life, it would be the product of rape and I did not in any way want to have ties to this man for the rest of my life. He thought it was best, although he went through stages trying to convince me that we should have the baby and be a family.

As the time got closer for my appointment, things with Taidan got worse. We got in fights. Fights that left his fingerprints bruised onto my skin. The worst was when we were fighting in the apartment (we lived in a walk-up) and we were in the hall. He picked me up and pulled his fist back and said to me "there's more then one way to get rid of a baby." I told him to go ahead, to just fucking do it. Instead he tried to throw me down the stairs. I hit the partially closed door. This fight went all over the house. He threw me from the living room into the hallway wall, about 6-8 feet away. I tried to get to the phone to call 911 and he tore it out of my hands, out of the wall, destroying the cord. I ran to my room and grabbed the portable and he threw it against the wall breaking it. The second he grabbed that one from me I ran to my roommate Rick's room and grabbed his phone and got through to 911 before Taidan got to me. He calmed down. After I hung up he said to me that I had made a mistake, he's calm and we can talk. And to remember that I only got what I gave him. That  he only hit me because I hit him first. (I had slapped his face because he had had sex with another girl in my bed). I was wrong to hit him, but holy christ. The cops escorted him out.

The next day, my best friend came with me to my appointment. It hurt. I was scared. I'd been raped and abused emotionally and physically for the past 6 months. They give you counselling before you go through with the appointment. They almost didn't give me the abortion. I was almost hysterical when I thought they were going to deny me. They didn't. Taidan moved out the next day.

There it is. My secret. I had an abortion.

One of the hardest things I've done in my life. I hate my birthday because of it. I had big plans, but ended up going home for the weekend, pregnant, scared, alone. I told my parents that Taidan had hit me. My dad looked at me and said "well, it's a real learning experience." I didn't tell them I was pregnant too. I hate my birthday every year now because it is such a reminder of that time of my life. It's no longer a celebration of my life, of life in general. It is a reminder or violence, pain and death.

I get so conflicted. Sometimes I'm overcome by this incredible baby lust, which I never had before being pregnant. At the same time I'm more terrified then I've ever been before of being pregnant.

Every march I take pregnancy tests, whether I've had sex or not. I get this irrational fear that I'll be pregnant. I can't seem to get beyond this. It's crippling. I wonder if this is why I have been having nightmares.

After this, I didn't let anyone touch me for more then a year. Even then I would freak out sometimes having sex. Actually, that's not completely true. I had sex with my husband once. He was dating a girl and I was alone. It happened. I always felt safe with him. So safe. I felt comforted. But nothing has been able to heal what I've been through, what I now feel. I get so scared.

I have such issues with food. I was watching Lifetimes show, The Secret Lives of Women. It showed an anorexic woman, a girl who was anorexic and a binger (ooooh! that's me!) and a compulsive eater. It made me think. I really am trying to get in shape the healthy way. But it's so hard. I'm kinda hungry now, but I really shouldn't eat this late at night. I want to binge. But I also want not to be hungry again. I get so tired of eating. I feel so horrible about myself when I eat. Anytime I eat food, I feel guilty. Like I'm going to be the fattest person alive. I'm so terrified of being fat. It's horrible. I hate my body. I feel so fat now that I ignore my body in every mirror I look in. I don't see it in the shower. I don't believe my husband when he tells me I'm sexy or beautiful, because I don't feel that way. I know that I'm not, and it's very sweet of him to tell me I'm beautiful, but I know it isn't true. I don't feel that way. But I'm trying. I'm trying to be healthy, to workout normally not excessively, to eat well. But it's so hard to get past all this. I've been doing better. I really have. I'm trying to not think about what I am, but think about what is possible with a little exercise and good food. I don't want to live like this. But I see people and I either am horribly jealous because they are thin, or terrified because I could end up like that. I just want to be small.

The other night, right before my husband had to leave with work, we were coming home late and he wanted to have sex. I didn't really, but he's my hubby and so sexy and I like to, even when I am not really in the mood. But Every way he was touching me made me feel dirty, and not in that really good way. I kept telling him to "be nice" but not really explaining what I meant because I didn't know how to put it into words. He was being so considerate of me, but it still made me feel dirty.

I didn't want him to kiss me anywhere except my mouth, because it made me feel so dirty, so awful. Not that waht he was doing was no good, just the way it made me feel. It was horirble. I don't want to feel like that with my husband. I love him so much. He is so sexy and such an incredible lover. We just work together.

But (and there is always that but) I think it gets scary for me. When I dated my ex, I wasn't in love with him, I didn't think he was all that attractive, but in bed the chemistry was undeniable. That was really how he controlled the relationship, and me. And now, because of that, sex makes me scared, sometimes terrified, especially if I feel I'm not in control of it. I need to work this out because I can't live like this and I can't make my husband, my best friend live like that either.

I remember this one time, with my ex, when I turned it around on him, and took control. This was earlier in the relationship. I completely controlled him mentally in the bedroom. I'm not sure how I did it. He was very careful never to let it happen again. I think I scared him. I think it terrified him or scarred him. I think I threatened his manhood, his structure, his whole little world. And he never let it happen again. He made sure he controlled everything. And I think that is when he started cheating. I think he couldn't deal with it so much that he had to control sex by going out and being with other people. It let him seperate what I was from what he could handle. He lived in this fantasy world that allowed no room for surprises, no room for anything. I don't know why that was. I don't know what scared him so much. But it made him horrible.

So I actually talked to my husband about some of those things that have been on my mind, and it's been better. I told him that I started this journal. He asked if I wanted him to read it. I said if he wanted to he could. I don't know if I'm ready to share these thoughts yet though. They may not seem like much, but some of it can be hard for me. It's attached to all this emotion, all these other memories. It's like untangling string, one thing  leads to another. It's all tangled up and I can't talk about one thing without remembering other things.

Like how, I've never been good enough. Physically I mean. Not for anyone. Eating disorders run in my family, I got mine from my mother. After the gym, he would make me stand naked, turn around and critique me. It didn't matter how defined my 6 pack was because then my legs were flabby. Or my legs were good, but my butt needed work. I was nothing but muscle over bone, and it wasn't good enough.

Now I don't work out. I'm scared to. I'm scared that I'll go days without eating and burning about 4000 calories. I'm scared that if I start, I won't stop. That it won't ever be good enough. That I won't be happy. However I look. If I model again, or if I lose a certain amout of weight. It's just not good enough. I'm scared I'll stop eating again. That I'll be bones. With my skin rubbing off where my bones rub against chairs and things when I sit. But it scares me that I won't be strong enough to starve again.

But as it is, I am miserable with the way I look. I'm so unhappy being the size I am. I feel like I'm enormous. I just want to be happy. Happy with my body. I don't know if I can do that. And I always question my husband when he tells me I'm beautiful, or I'm sexy. I can't believe him. Not because of him. But because I can't believe something like that about myself.

I see thinner people, people who are more fit and I feel like crying. Or like never comng out of my house. I don't feel like I should be in public cuz I'm so disgusting. For once, I would like to feel beautiful. Not sort of, but all the way. Not beautiful with a catch.

I don't know where things really went wrong with him. I think it first started when he said "I love you" to me. It was so soon. I didn't say it back. He would get upset. I remember once, I was cooking, eggs I think, and he came up behind me, to kiss me and tell me he loved me. I didn't say it back and he got upset, telling me I never say it. I remember thinking that I couldn't say something I didn't feel. I didn't tell him about that.

Things seemed pretty normal. We had a pretty good time together, and we had incredible sex. It was mostly about the sex. He took what he wanted from me and I responded to that so deeply, it was frightening. He was a great lover. Tireless, aggressive, powerful. He was sexy. His body. I never thought his face was all that attractive. He said to me he thought I was the most beautiful woman he ever saw, the first time we met. He was being truthful, for once. He wanted to know whether I thought the same about him. I told him no. I told him I couldn't decide whether he was good looking or not. I told him I still couldn't. He never knew what to do with me. Sometimes I was so honest, so independent it scared him. He never knew what to do with me then.

I think it is because, underneath it all, he is insecure and hurt and alone. He seeks justification for himself, he seeks the acceptence of his peers. It is sad.

Lately I've been thinking, doing alot of introspective searching. It has to do with so much. I need to cleanse my past, exhume the memories of things that I may have forgiven, but still can't forget.

It was rebound. Something to occupy my time. I didn't care about him that much. Sure we had some fun together.  I think the troubles really began when I went on a family vacation to Mexico. He started bringing girls home to fuck in my bed. But I never had any idea. Mostly because I never thought it would happen to me. I was positive of that. Of my ability to keep my men with just me, faithful, enthralled. I saw myself as almost a siren, enrapturing, enticing and luring them.

I guess it was just the way I grew up. I was always told I would be a heartbreaker. That I had the potential to have any man I wanted, and that no man was necessary. I had to be careful, my father told me, because men looked at me, watched me, even before puberty. Besides, it was a power trip. I always loved making boys cheat on their girlfriends. I guess karma's a bitch, right?  I also didn't want the committment, the bother of having an actual boyfriend alot of the time. Which is why my highschool sweetheart was great. He was away at college. I was still in highschool. We saw eachother on weekends, and it was great. I was fine being alone most of the time. Now, myhusband goes out and I get so scared that something will happen. He has never given me a single reason not to trust him. Not in our 6 years of friendship and relationship. In fact he has only done everything to show me how much I can trust him.

In fact, I am gaining confidence about it, but there are other things. It's just confusing and scary sometimes and sometimes I have the feeling that I am not in control of the way that I feel, the way I react. I've always been a bit of a worrier, but this gets ridiculous sometimes. I just want to figure this out, get over and feel normal. I'm sure I will. It's just going to take time.