The brain really is an amazing (crazy, silly, bizarre) thing. Close to a couple of months ago now, I posted a blog post entitled Is it BDSM or is it abuse?, in which I shared my personal story of sexual abuse. Potentially the most traumatising aspect of my period of abuse, was the fact I was anally raped on more than one occasion.
It makes sense that because of this, the thought of anal sex was enough to make me feel sick and to send me into a depressive cycle. Reliving the experience would bring me to tears, it would make me shake, it would set off a full blown anxiety attack. Anal sex. The thought of it disgusted me and whenever I saw mention of anal being pleasurable I would frown, scoff and shake my head. Pleasurable? No-fucking-way.
I met my wife and told her what had happened to me when I was 20, for the first time in my life I was actually able to talk about it in person, with someone who actually cared about me, and was more than willing to listen to what I had to say. It felt good to be able to get it out of my system, to be able to release some of the pressure I was feeling inside my head, pressure that had built up over years of keeping my mouth shut and keeping it all inside. Continue reading