This is going to be a tough one to write, but I will. I am doing it for myself. I am doing it because I am excited about my future and the amazing possibilities in owning my sensual side and wanting more out of my life. However, to want more, we must understand ourselves and our past. I don’t care if my kids read it. I want them to learn about me and if they choose to do so, so be it.

I’m currently reading the book “Pussy: A Reclaimation” written by Regena Thomashauer. I’m only on Chapter 4 but it is life changing. Woman are so devalued even in today’s day and age. We often crucify ourselves by allowing it to happen. Of course, we’ve been taught this. It’s generational.

Reconciling my past

In my last therapy session, I talked a lot about how I attract addicts and I want an answer to that. I have to note that there is nothing wrong with addicts, I have a plethora of friends who are and I wouldn’t ever leave them. It’s their life, their choice. I cannot change it, nor will I try unless they ask for help. I’ll be there.

I have been teetering on wanting more and acknowledging my own addictive tendencies that stalls my growth. When the devil has you by the throat, it’s so much harder to move forward. Acknowledgement is the key to growth. Acknowledgement is hard to do when you don’t know where to start.

So I’ll start here with a note. This is just one small town. It happens everywhere. This is just my personal experience. It has nothing to do with a place. It has to do with the community mindset. It’s time that it has changed.

My younger years

I was five when my brother started doing drugs. I can remember bits and pieces of living with an addict in my life. First, I was scared. I was so scared when he came home at night and compromised my safety. Secondly, I was fierce. I was a little girl where I would always stand up to anything happening in the home since I knew that he’d never come at me. I remember nights he’d try to attack my father where I’d get in between them. I was terrified, but I was strong. I was tiny, skinny, but man I had guts even at a young age. He never ever did anything to me physically or sexually. It was absolutely emotional and he was so protective of me.

When I was four, something did happen. Something I have to talk to my therapist first. He was a guy in a wheelchair. Seriously, I don’t know if it happened or whether it’s a dream. I’m sure it happened, but it was a violation that even at the age of four I got out of.

Sure, I could blame my parents, but at the end of the day, he scared me. My Mother protected me while having no idea how to differentiate from one child to another. He died at thirty six years old. My Mother to this day will never admit how he died. It was drugs, plain and simple. At twenty six, I was at peace. Game over.

I was terrified of drugs from then on. Alcohol, not so much.

My Teen Years

I lived most of my life in London Ontario. I was not popular but I always tried to fit in. My first boyfriend was at thirteen. We had so much fun together but it was a relationship at thirteen. Hormones running rampant but I was steadfast of not having sex. Then he did it. He broke up with me for my best friend. This is the first time I realized the feeling of losing control. What did I do to win him back. I gave him sex and it didn’t change anything. That said, he’s a nice guy. I’m still friends with him today. We were kids…..with raging hormones.

My first year of high school was filled with rebellion. I gained a ton of weight. My Mother put me on a strict diet and I was too scared to argue. I lost the weight.

I went to the town where I was born for the Summer. I saw this other side of how other people lived. It was all about parties, getting into bars under age, and hanging out with people way older than myself. Boys wanted me. I felt wanted. I loved it. I felt like I was free. I wanted to move to this small town so bad.

I returned back to London where I met this wonderful boy from another school in London. We kissed, hugged, and hung out with friends. If he so much grazed my boob while making out, he was devastated with himself. I liked that. I didn’t push it, I actually told him that it was OK, but I did not want pursue that side. He made me want to respect myself as I disrespected myself so much for giving myself away previously. I was a young girl of fifteen. I had no idea that this young boy was actually a man with morals and values, even though his raging hormones took over from time to time. But he stopped….and that was so flattering.

My sweet little boyfriend helped my family pack the truck to move to a small town in Quebec. I think this is where my whole perception of men, sex, and love got skewed.

Life’s a party

When I arrived to this small town, life was a party. My sweet boyfriend still called me nightly until it was obvious that it was not going to work. I was 1,200 kms away, partying like a rock star and sleeping with boys. I hold nothing against those the same age as myself. We were 15, 16, 17 and discovering ourselves. It’s normal and teenage years is all about friendships, hormones, and thinking we’re in love. Here’s where the problem lies.

In this town, there were men. Men within the ages of 22-27. Men who hung around with us kids. Men who would pursue us. Men who were committed to women their age. I know of a few friends who I have on my Facebook who had “not so clandestine” encounters with some of these men. To this day, I have extreme respect for them. They were targets, nothing more. I am one of them and here is one of my stories.

I arrived in this small town and got a job at a local restaurant. I was working with this guy who was the head cook. He started phoning me. My Mom was like “Is that Dr. *******’s son?” I did not know that fact, but he was. He was twenty-four, I was fifteen. Anyway, I felt wanted and needed from him. I was enamoured, until I walked into work one day and the waitresses were all congratulating him in French. I didn’t understand, but he said, “I got engaged.” I was floored, hurt, and felt rejected. Here I was a fifteen years old and feeling rejected by a man who I thought was a man of distinction. At the end of the day, thing happen and all was revealed about him and I. I was the slut, he was the man who was raptured by a young pussy. It was NOT his fault. It was my fault. A little girl.

Getting back to these friends who fell into the same trap, they were the slut too. We were fifteen years old and categorized for the raging hormones, the need for love, and totally oblivious to life. We were little girls where no man of that age should even approach. These men should have been role models, not monsters pursuing young girls under age.

At the end of the day, whether it was consensual or not, it was rape. Those mother fuckers stole my ability to understand a good man’s love and used my neediness against me. I was a child. Any good man in their twenties would have been like my sweet fifteen year old boyfriend in London. They would be repulsed with their lust for a child and they wouldn’t pursue it. They would have sought therapy, rather than sex and pleasure with a child.

The thing is that in order for me to embrace my sexuality at forty-eight, I have to acknowledge the pain of the past. The way men attached themselves to me sexually, but never truly wanted to court me, love me and respect me as a human being at that age, repulses me the more I learn about global human respect and love. They were dogs. I am not ashamed, as I was a child. I feel I have nothing to forgive myself for. I was a child. I am very pissed off with the community.

People knew about it. People called me names. They were dogs too.

Where was the man or woman who said “She’s fifteen, she’s a child!” No one. They saw everyone, from ten and up, having the same mental growth as the other. Not correct. I was the slut. They were the poor weak man.

Where was the man or woman who said “She’s not a slut. You’re a rapist”? NO one. I was the slut. Case closed. I was called rabbit, whore, slut, and so many other things. I was a child. Learning about life.

It’s funny. Most of these men that I knew had the last name, the financial notoriety, or the local dominance in this small town. The women that dated them at that time now are married to them and have kids with them. Weak women. Women, who do not understand the power of their worth. They settled. I moved on, I’ve been open, honest, a great housewife and Mother, and I’m writing about this today.

I was determined after that. I was determined to find love. I did. In my ex. However, it wasn’t real either. When I write my book, I will include diary entries at that time. I wasn’t loved. I believe it was two souls, two kids, trying to figure out this fucked up World we lived in. A World that patronized men. A World that didn’t speak up and say “This is not right.” A World that was a product of our environment.

I listened well

Over the years, I have listened well. I have listened even more closely since the demise of my previous life.

One day we were talking about this businessman in that small town. He’s needed to homeowners. He also beats his wife, who now has cancer.

My response to this was “Has anyone beat the shit out of him? Has anyone ever called the cops on him?”

The response, “It’s none of my business.”

None of your business? Here is a woman who is beaten regularly, but is also suffering from cancer? How is that NOT your business? Is she a joke to the community? A community effort is required to end male dominance on women? That woman has lived her life being beaten and bearing children. That woman should have never lived that life. For myself, if you know about it, then many do. Many men do…..but it’s not their business rather than taking action.

Another incident is that of the church. How I have lived so many years in Ontario, but I have heard about the secrets of the church? Well people talk. It was pedophila. When you hear that your brother didn’t want to go to Sunday school and suddenly went missing one Sunday morning, you wonder if it happened to him. After all, he had adult issues that killed him. If I heard a name 1,200 KM’s away, then I’m sure there were men and women who knew it too. The women and men who are expected to protect the community, the children, not a pervert. “None of my business”. I’ve heard that said so many times.

I also had a friend. She told me about the plethora of men who cheat in that small town. They gave answers that I could not understand or comprehend. I wouldn’t be friends with them after what happened to me. They are dogs. They treat women, THEIR WOMEN WHO BORE THEIR CHILDREN, as shit. How is that possibly acceptable? Just leave if you’re not happy. There is no excuse when you know you’re destroying a life, a family. After much thought, that was the day I decided I didn’t want that friendship. It was “none of her business” either rather than saving a woman from a dog and finding an actual man who would respect her.

At the end of day, no good man would sleep with a child underage. No good man would force themselves onto a child underage. Good men don’t cheat. That’s the difference between a man and a boy. In my experience, these men felt that they had power over a woman, and the community supported it. So many communities support it and it’s shameful. What are we teaching our children?

Times they are a changing

With so many women coming forward, we see that many women are listening. They may be listening, but are they ready to take action for their benefit? Are they open to change? Are they open to moving forward? Seek therapy? Address their past? Lord knows, I’m not the only one. It’s everywhere.

The reality is that if they did, and I shall reference the book “Pussy”, they could live a much more sensual, successful and loving life. Who doesn’t want that with a good man who will treat them and their pussy as a coveted gift? I want to believe that it’s possible. It’s moving forward from the past, the generational assumptions on how a woman should be treated, and living the life that they choose to live.

I have learned to have the best sex I’ve ever had in my life. It’s not about the guy, it’s about myself and training myself to accept it as a gift. What I need as a woman. It’s about surrendering to your sexuality and being within yourself while the act is happening. I finally have realized that my sexual experiences has nothing to do with love, because I have not found that yet. When I loved, I gave myself totally, mind body and soul, to one person. There’s a huge difference between sex and love. At forty-eight, I have walls and so do the few men I’ve met. I have only had one experience where I explicitly said, “Well you were totally in it for you. Reminds me of my marriage.” I will never ever give myself to that again. The red flags are there well before the act starts.

The loving part comes with understanding ourselves and what we want in our lives. I just want that good man who I met at fifteen. The dude that grazed my boob and was worried about disrespecting me, and even though I wanted more, was so enamoured that he cared that much.

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