Seriously, I hate waking up like this. It's past 4 AM now. I woke up at around 3.50 AM after going to bed just past 11 PM. I know I should sleep some more, but my head is full of thoughts which make it impossible to sleep, and worst of all, I'm feeling so incredibly negative again. Negative about what you may ask? Not sure. Just a general feeling of negativity. Like I want to cry and cry until I'm exhausted at this whole unfairness which is called life. Or the world. Or something. I don't really know.
It might just be part of the recovery process. I know that I've got lots of issues in my past which I haven't processed yet. Growing up without an identity, no self-image, no self-esteem, no physical contact whatsoever, and still feeling like I am 12 or so instead of 24, even though my body is definitely hinting that I'm quite a bit older than the former. With then the mental rejection of that body, since it can't seem to completely figure it out. I often go through moments like this, especially when I'm dealing with a lot of issues, which I do as of late.
I have decided that the best way to deal with my traumas, especially those related to intimacy and sexuality, is to confront them directly, in a kind of shocktherapy. Assuming things work out, I've got at least one threesome and an orgy planned next week alone. I barely know the people I'll be doing this with. I just met them randomly on a sexdating site. Does this feel right to me? My rational side is telling me that it's not exactly the proper way, that I should do such things with people I know better and can trust, but at the same time the traumatized/emotional side of me is in such agony at times that it pretty much scares the hell out of me, especially since I can't seem to figure out what the exact causes are.
Okay, so I'll be having sex with random people. With the way I feel at the moment about sexuality and my own body it might just do the trick and make me realize what the hell I'm doing, what the hell is wrong with me and what is not wrong with me. When it comes to sexuality I really do feel lost, and I love my body and loathe it at the same time. I don't want any harm to come to it, thus I will defend myself against any threat in a ferocious manner, yet when it comes to my sexuality I just feel dead and indifferent. It might be the sexual abuse which makes me feel like this, like my body has lots its value after that experience. I do know that particular experience did crush my confidence that I could have sex at all, that I was just defective, a joke of a human being, doomed to try and fail to be intimate with others, and of course there was the big joke that sex and intimacy could be 'fun'. To me sexuality is something horrifying, something which is meant to bring pain and suffering to people. Girls and people like me. With guys as the predators in the night.
Did I mention yet that I hate thinking like that? I really do try to think positively, but at moments like this there's this overwhelming feeling of sadness, pain, anger and other emotions deep inside my mind and tummy, which makes it hard to keep up any hope at all. It's not as bad as a few months ago, when I was trying to accept people in general and social interaction in particular. Feeling like nobody in the entire world cares about you even in the slightest, that if you were to commit suicide people closest to you would forget about you in weeks, others in less time than that. That your whole existence really doesn't matter. I really hate, yet somehow love that voice telling me that suicide is the solution. I know it's wrong to listen to it, yet it's such a comforting voice. It's like the only voice I have ever heard telling me something which I can immediately find comfort in, an immediate 'solution'. No false promises or 'it'll be fine'. I seriously hate it whenever someone tells me it'll be fine.
For nearly 3 years now I have struggled to find help. Not people who tell me how horrible it must have been for me and wish me luck. I've repeated that routine thousands of times by now. I still don't know what they're wishing me luck for. Perhaps a painless suicide? Okay, that was a very wrong joke.
At last, the messed up negative feeling inside me is retreating now. It seems that I have won yet another empty battle. If only I knew when this war would end...
But seriously, I don't need a shrink, I need a doctor who knows what the hell he's doing. If I could just get that surgery to restore my body to something vaguely resembling and usable as a female body (scans of and surgery on whatever female reproductive organs did develop), I know that these mental issues and emotional cascades would largely disappear, and the real emotional recovery could begin.
One can surely hope. Sometimes...