I just woke up. It’s 1pm, I need to eat, shower, etc. and begin the major task of finals homework. I have zero mental capacity to be doing this right now. How the hell am I supposed to do this alone?
Arnold: When I was about 5, my cousin and I . . . went into the basement and dropped our pants. We touched each other’s penises, and that was it. I guess I didn’t realize the total significance of the secrecy in which we carried out this act. For later . . . my parents questioned me . . . and I told them exactly what we had done. They were horrified and told me that that was definitely forbidden (Morrison et al., 1980, p. 24)
Despite Arnold’s parents’ “horror,” same-sex sexual play in childhood does not foreshadow adult sexual orientation (Reinisch, 1990). It may, in fact, be more common than heterosexual play. It typically involves handling the other child’s genitals, although it may include oral or anal contact. It may also include an outdoor variation of the game of “show” in which boys urinate together and see who can reach farthest or highest.
I’ve been made to feel guilty about my body and about normal sexual exploration as a child, since I was young. I was told that I was oversexed, I was dirty, that young ladies didn’t touch themselves there, that I was too young to be doing that, etc. Then, when my cousin (slightly younger) and experimented, like the above example, and we were caught by my Aunt, I was lectured by father. He actually did a great job of gently telling me that it wasn’t okay. It was my crazed, stoner Aunt who went off and was yelling insults at me. She said I was gay, that I needed help, that I was disgusting.
The logical part of me knows that what we did was mere childish experimentation and nothing more. The scared, guilty child in me wonders if my cousin thinks I coerced her. I am worried that she thinks I’m some molester. That now she’s in therapy or that she needs therapy or something, because of it. It’s so painful, I push it away and don’t think of it. It goes into my gut. For Christ’s sake, I was fucking molested! I know how it feels and to think that someone out there, let alone family, might think that about me or feel the same way I feel towards the man who did it to me; I could kill myself right now without hesitation.
I will never talk to her about it. Ever. This is something I will just have to resolve with myself or just live with, kind of. I guess writing this is a way of living with it, sort of.
I will never talk to my mother or my mother’s sister (different Aunt) about how they shamed me and made me feel like shit for being perfectly normal about my body. Yes, I touched myself when I was young and I did so in front of the TV, when I thought no one was around. Yes, I masturbated when I had no inkling what the hell masturbation was; I just knew it felt good. Instead of making me feel bad and scarring me psychologically for the rest of my life, how about talking to me about it and educating me? Luckily, I plan on talking to any children I have. I won’t scar them for life and make them feel self conscious every time they pleasure themselves as a teen or adult.
Way to go, bad parents.
Sex ed rocks and good sex ed should be mandatory to have children. Sexual psychology is a prerequisite.
I am on week 9, the last week of my Math class, and I have my final due on Sunday. I am still behind, on week 4 precisely, and have so much makeup work to do. If I don’t pass this class, I will have to take it again and pay for it myself, out of pocket, which would be around 1200 bucks. Needless to say, I don’t have it. I do this every class. I procrastinate and don’t do the work and then I get so far behind, I am stressed and swamped the last week. I am even more worried with this being a math class because I’m horrible at math and feel like it’s a foreign language. If it were writing a bunch of papers, I would be fine, but… ugh. I’m so tired. Stress just makes me want to disappear into a hole.
I’m a horrible student. I shouldn’t be in school. I feel like a failure. Negative self-talk? You betcha. Defeatist? I sure am. Biggest critic? Always have been and always will be. I am paralyzed from doing what I need to do and being responsible. I stare at my computer screen and daydream. I get depressed. I get drowsy and want a nap. I need help but I don’t think there is any. I need to tackle this on my own.
This is my life. I’m always waiting until the last minute. Scraping by. Hoping that I’ll pass instead of excelling at something I know I’d be great at. I’m not even at a “real” University yet with a full course load. If I even get there, I won’t make it past the first semester.