My last post didn’t cover everything I wanted to say about this topic, and it was a bit all over the place. The thoughts were all very fresh and I was still working through them, and I was also kind of dissociating at the time. Which brings me to the points I wanted to make in this follow-up.
I was sexually abused, so I was wondering will I only want to find someone who I'm going to stay with for sex?
This is a guest post from alphafemme, part of the blog carnival to help raise awareness and support for Scarleteen.
My mother reads Dear Abby religiously. She’s done it for as long as I can remember, always picking out the “Lifestyle” section of our local daily paper and turning to page B2.
This morning, I picked up my mother's copy of “Brigitte”, a German woman's magazine geared at women between 30 an 50. I often borrow the magazine from her, because it tends to have pretty interesting articles. More recently, I've declared myself an out-and-out fan after Brigitte became the first magazine to stop using professional models for their photo spreads.
Four years ago, Joseph Rocha was a committed and ambitious 18-year-old Navy recruit sure of two things: his love for his country and the corresponding desire to serve it in the Armed Forces, as well as his sexual orientation as a gay man. Unfortunately, the latter was very much in conflict with the former.
I'm a 18 year-old male. I was raped twice in my life (6 and 10 years old) and I took it pretty well. My life was quite normal until now, and had no problems with girls. I never had a girlfriend, never been the type who commit, but I'd had a lot of sex with a lot of girls. Two weeks ago I had contact with the man who attacked me when I was 10. Since then I've having nightmares and have been remembering all what happened. I've been drinking and went back to drugs. I wouldn't want to, but it's the only way I can get some rest. Last weekend happened something that really scared me. I was drunk and high and without noticing I found myself rubbing a guy's leg. I pretty much wanted to make out with him and other stuff. I can't become gay, it's not fear I hate myself so much, I hate the pervert who abused me, I hate everything right now. Yesterday I cut my wrists but it wasn't deep enough. I don't want to die but I find hard living right now. This evening I cut my face. What happened the weekend means I'm gay? Am I becoming gay? What can I do to prevent it? How can I stop remembering? It's just too embarrassing to talk to anybody. If I was a girl I could do it, but come on, I'm a man. Men don't let these things happen. I'm just trash.