How sexual trauma influenced my sex life

This wasn’t what I was going to post today, but the Lord placed this on my heart this morning so, I’m gonna follow Him with this. I’ve thought about this before and this was hard to dig into, but necessary. If you’re a regular reader then you know I’m a sexual assault survivor by now, but if you’re a new reader, I’ve written a blog on that experience called “Messed over but Kept.(https://aerielwynnell.com/2019/08/30/messed-over-but-not-missed/) ” **Trigger warning, read at your own discretion.** Even during my sexually active years, I’ve had this disturbing thought that my sexual appetite could be a result of recreating my first “high”, if you will. Although that feeling that was meant for my husband it was stolen by my abuser, it didn’t stop the dopamine from rushing through my body like floodwaters. So, now begs the question, am I chasing the first high? Or am I just programmed? Conditioned to want, like or expect X,Y and Z. So, here’s a few things I’ve noticed about how my life. My thoughts on sex, triggers, my preferences within that realm versus what I’ve learned now. ***This is MY experience, this isn’t meant to be a form of diagnosis, or blanket statement for everyone or every sexual abuse survivor.***

Trigger: Physical touch

At 6 years old, you don’t have knowledge of much. For me, I knew of Jesus, my family, Barney and my abuser. Him being a child himself, yet older, groomed me by creating silly games that would end with his body pressing mine down. Conditioning me to his body being close without any harm done. Little did I know how that’d affect my sensibilities. The fact that a hug from a attractive guy was almost like foreplay is ridiculous. We all know those “hugs” *side eye* The real tight, close intimate hugs, esp. in college, would give license for my mind to wonder. Dancing with a guy would pull an subtle excitement from the thought of intimacy although nothing was pursued after those moments.

After reflecting on the grooming of my abuser I began to realize the ties. I didn’t want to blame everything on my abuse, yet I couldn’t help but follow the trail of crumbs to the beginning. The small, subtle touches were signals of his mood and what was eventually coming. Although I knew it was wrong, fighting through his intimidation never stopped electrical currents from happening. I began to believe that maybe I liked this, so I was just as wrong as he was and at 30, I realized it carried on throughout my life without a second guess.

My kinks were born from customary abuse.

At 15, I lost my virginity to a guy who was my first love, a high school sweetheart, who was also a virgin. At that time it seemed as if this was the way things were supposed to go, at least it did in those cheesy teen movies. We thought we were grown; sex, touch and immature intimacy became available almost round the clock. I soon discovered that sex wasn’t enough, I wanted it to become violent. I’d asked to be choked here, held down there, bitten, scratched and while this may be typical for most people nowadays, I didn’t realize how I mixed the violence of my childhood into the sex life I started. That was where I’d learned that behavior and I turned my then boyfriend and every other guy after, into my abuser. After fine tuning guys to the actions of my former abuser, I eventually became my own abuser.

I couldn’t see God in sex or in me.

I was raised a church girl. I knew premarital sex was against God’s design and will for me but I wanted to follow my own will. I began to treat sex as a craving to satisfy and a text could bring me what I wanted just like postmates. I removed God’s will from the design of sex itself and only referred to my creator in the guilt and shame from refusing to change. I got to the point where I didn’t recognize myself. I had taken on the lingo, preferences and even clothes of the men I had been with at the expense of my identity. I wasn’t sure if God could look down and see who He created, because He couldn’t. He saw who I’ve become, a collage of immediate gratification and bodies. I’d became cold, distant, void of sensitivity and of Christ himself. I knew it, and not being able to feel His spirit in sea of worshipers at church confirmed my place and I hated it.

The thought of becoming abstinent became wearying and low-key horrifying, but being pulled closer to the heart of God it became a reality. After I became abstinent honestly, things became much clearer as God began to detach soul ties and rip away sexual souvenirs called flashbacks and memories. After being back into the safety of Christ, I studied the marriage customs of the day, specifically with Jacob and Leah. In that, I learned the process of the marriage and the week-long marriage celebration ending in consummation. Sex was the seal of marriage and from the day I asked God to divorce me from everyone I had sex with. I learned sooo much during this journey, but I don’t want to make this post too long. Here’s the cliff-notes: In short, Once I closed my legs, my heart opened lol!

I pray this post blessed you, if it has, please feel free to comment, like and share! Stay blessed!

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