Another, Profile in Courage

[Separation]

This discussion thread was locked as off-topic by NH Ethylene (a host of the General Discussion forum).

I ran into a Quora question that really hit close to home, and one of the responses. Its hard to describe because I Know there is nothing for me to add other than the link. If you click the link it will take you to the actual question. The answer I am quoting is from, Flo Jones, TV/Film, feminist, mental health activist & kitty cat Mummy You may have to scroll down through another person's answer to get to her answer. I'd recommend to click the link and read it from there. I have it blockquoted here for those that dont want to click the link.

The question was Why are people who are diagnosed with borderline personality disorder usually so amazing in bed?

I have been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. I wouldn’t say I was amazing in bed but at least 30 other people have. I would like to tell my story of my sexual history.

I was raped when I was 13. I was a virgin and this man took it from me, which left me empty and numb for many years. I didn’t speak for weeks and things only got worse after I went to the doctor (I have an answer related to this, so I won’t go into it). After many years of anxiety, depression, self harming and suicidal thoughts I began to get better.. or so I thought.

I learnt that I could numb the pain quite easily with drugs, weed and alcohol. I would smoke until I couldn’t think for myself and drink until I blacked out, meaning the nightmares couldn’t come. I thought I was better as I was sinking into this hole. Then I became 18 and I could go out clubbing and to bars with my friends and had men approaching me. I thought I was better and I thought I could ‘reclaim my sexuality’. I was 18 and I had never had consensual sex and that made me feel a complete freak, so I did what I thought would help and I had sex with anyone and everyone I could. In the space of a year I must have had sex with 30 people or so. Didn’t it feel so good? Fucking because I wanted to, because I initiated it, because it made me feel good, because it made me feel powerful. I was taking back what that man stole from me when I was so young. I mirrored my partner’s attitude well and nearly everyone I slept with would call me back, want to see me, tell me they were falling for me or something or other (I’m not trying to be a show off, they really did). I would be filled with mania so they thought I was this hurricane of fun, confidence and alluring sexuality. It was all a show. I only felt confident and like I had worth when I had sexual attention. I would let them do anything to me and I got good at the game.

I met a man. He was 39 and I was 20 and we began a weird, twisted relationship. He was a ‘daddy dominant’, and although this type of kink wasn’t something I’d have thought I was into, I found myself enjoying the play of age regression. Back to a time I could be happy and innocent, not corrupted. He made me feel loved when he wrapped me up in blankets and rocked me like a baby. He made me feel safe, yet he would also beat me. It started off as during sex and I was both eager to please him and eager to actually feel something for once, rather than the insidious numbness I could never budge.

One day we met up and he said some other men were joining us. I was pretty upset (of course), so I tried to leave but he beat me badly then switched and started with the babying me, making me a juice in my sippy cup and wrapping me up, telling me not to worry, he would always be here to take care of me.

So I lay there and let it happen. And at the end they gave me money. I had been whored out. I didn’t even know.

I showered and left immediately and spent all the money there and then on clothes, makeup, rum and weed. I sat by myself on the beach smoking and thinking about what had just happened. I hadn’t felt a thing, not really. I had already detached myself from sex so much that this event didn’t even bother me it seemed. So, there started my career as a sex worker.

This went on for a year or so. I was at university and the money helped me live away from home (myself and my mother’s relationship was another factor in my poor mental health). Looking back I do, of course, regret this, because it sunk me further into a hole of depression and self loathing. I had a ‘sugar daddy’ and we went on a couple of dates a week. £250 per date. The money, and of course, drugs and alcohol helped a lot and at the time I guess I saw no problem - I wouldn’t let myself see it. But then university finished. I met someone I wanted to be with, I fell in love with him the day I met him.

So I finally got help. After nearly a year of therapy I was finally unravelling the knot, string by string of my complicated feelings towards sex and why my rape eventually triggered such a reaction. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, which made sense of my addiction to frivolously spending money, self harm and sex.

So in conclusion, I probably wasn’t amazing in bed, but I knew exactly what to do and how to please because I lived for pleasing. I read my sexual partners so well I could do whatever they wanted without them having to ask, and I let them do anything to me so they thought it was amazing. I thought it was all I was good at, and I was thriving off the need, the addiction, to feel loved.

I thought I was reclaiming and helping myself but I was hurting myself. I still live with it today, and sometimes find myself getting upset and panicking if my partner and I haven’t been intimate in a little while. I feel like part of myself just disappears, I no longer see my worth. The best sex of my life has been with my current partner because I felt true love for him, and knew he loved me back. He is my rock and knows my sex working past and BPD. He doesn’t know about what triggered it.

To this day I have met many people with BPD both in real life at group therapy or psychiatric wards and online. Nearly everyone, of who I met, had a story like mine. Of sexual assault, of rape, of hyper-sexuality, of looking for the feeling of being loved in someone else’s bed sheets.

I’m sorry that I went on a tangent, but I needed to get it out I think. I feel better already.

EDIT

I would like to add to all my readers in America and anywhere in the world where their news reaches. This is such a traumatic time for us. Stories of rape and sexual assault making front page news. Moreover, stories which are being dismissed as lies and political smears. Every day we face reading triggering and horrifying ordeals.

Please listen to the women in your life. Please believe survivors and victims, both men and women, of course. Please listen.

And to all the survivors... I see you. I am proud of how far you have come. You are strong and will only get stronger

[Chemisse]

1. Locking

This might fit better in the Mental Health Support Group.