There are two kinds of hormonal birth control pills:
Estrogen and progesterone combination pills
Progesterone only pills
Estrogen and progesterone combination pills make the body think it’s pregnant by introducing high levels of estrogen and preventing ovulation. The higher levels of estrogen…
One thing: it used to be agreed that antibiotics interfered with the combined pill but it’s since been found that only rifampicin or rifabutin interfere with it, which are pretty uncommon anyway cos they’re given for TB and meningitis. :)
Why I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself
TW: abuse, rape
Today I finished cross stitching a poem to go up on my wall. The thing that drew me to it was the line “I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.” Stitching the poem has been a kind of therapy, because for a long time that’s exactly how I have been fucked.
For years I did not make love, or sleep together, or even have sex. I was fucked. Being abused meant that I did not understand the concept of sex for mutual gratification. I was there to be used, to meet his needs, wasn’t I?
So when I have chosen men to sleep with, be they relationships (which rarely made it past the three month mark) or a one night stand, there was no real connection. I’m not saying that a connection is necessary for sex, but for me I avoided it for unhealthy reasons. There were men who I could’ve loved “in another life,” a life where I was unraped, unbeaten, unabused. But this is the only life I can live, and in this life those things happened, and they left me damaged in so many ways.
There have been men I cared for deeply, but I couldn’t bring myself to sleep with them. I respected them, but more than that, they actually respected me, they understood me. I didn’t know how to have sex except to play the role of ‘the hole,’ and these men would not treat me like that, so we did not have sex at all. There are two men in particular I can think of that I have done this to and it caused huge rifts in relationships I valued because I could not put into words why I rejected them. They thought it was because I didn’t want them, that there was something wrong with them. It still kills me that I did that to someone.
But this cannot go on any longer. I still suffer from a measure of physical sexual dysfunction but I make this promise to myself:
I will no longer fuck. I will have sex, I will make love, I will sleep with. I will choose men who do not disregard my condition, I will choose men who see me as a person and not just a goal, I will choose men who know how to touch me tenderly and not just fuck like porn stars, I will choose men that realise that I am in bed with them too. Mostly, I will choose men who respect me, and I will no longer believe that I am undeserving of it.
I will, I will, I will.
The rest of the poem that I cling to almost as a mantra?
"Make love to me, like I am better than the worst thing I ever did,
I am new to this”
Maybe one day I will stop seeing being raped as the worst thing I ever did and accept that it was the worst thing he ever did.
I had a pretty intense therapy session today and I’m still reeling, still emotional. I just needed a space to make my thoughts about it coherent. So apologies for the massive personal-ness, just keep scrolling.
From the age of 15 til I was 17 I had an abusive boyfriend. Mostly emotional, along with some sexual and physical. The latter I don’t really remember much of, I just know it happened because I kept a pretty thorough diary at the time, but this doesn’t mean it hasn’t affected me a ridiculous amount. I’ve been suffering from some sexual dysfunction for longer than I’ve been admitting it for, to doctors, my friends and myself. Alongside all the physiological treatments, my therapist has been talking about my ex, who I’ll just call J, because he thinks a lot of my problems stem from that - and hey, when you lose your virginity to an abusive arsehole, that sounds like a pretty sound theory. So far, my previous therapists have only skimmed over it, as one small part in a larger history of mental illness, and I think only in the wake of my sexual problems have I really started to acknowledge the harm he did to me. I mean, I have acknowledged it but in a more abstract way, like someone telling you X caused Y and you just accept it without thinking why.
I took my diaries in to therapy today, which my doctor asked me to do in our last session. I was reading some passages aloud to him and crying. Stuff like lists of ‘Things I’ve Done Wrong’ - being thoughtless, asking too many questions (because it makes me selfish), being boring, being uninteresting, being too quiet, too much whinging, too much crying. It’s finished with ‘I am a failure’ underlined.
But that’s not the point where I got angry. No, I got angry at the next passage I read. The point of the bit I was reading was where J had bitten me so hard during sex he broke the skin and when I stopped us having sex he threw me out of his house. But my therapist noticed the part I started with most, and actually had to point out the implications of what I read:
"Then when he tried to grab me, it kept hurting. I can’t help it - a low pain threshold and sensitive skin doesn’t mix well."
J physically hurt me, and I made it my fault that it hurt. I blamed myself for the pain he caused me, because I felt I should have been better, should have been able to take it. And that’s when I felt angrier than I have in a long fucking time at him. You can see just in the way the diary is written that I was cracking - my style is erratic, the words different sizes and spacing, like I was so frantic when I wrote it.
I admire the people who can forgive and forget, I really do. I feel like they’ve figured out some trick that I haven’t, like they’ve finally flicked a switch where they have shed the emotional scars and that until I do the same I’ll be stuck with them. Maybe that will come, and maybe 4 years after finally breaking up with him I should be at the point, but I’m not. I’m actually just fucking angry.
I’m angry because I still have trust issues with men, I still worry about crossing boundaries that I don’t know exist, I still have intimacy issues that make me scared of being too emotionally invested in a relationship, I still can’t make decisions about things in case I make the wrong one, I still keep myself awake at night worrying if I have been selfish, I still struggle not to see myself through his eyes - the horrible hair, the ugly face, the fat arse, I still don’t know how to get angry ‘the right way’ at people who have done something wrong to me and that’s partly because I think on some level I must have deserved it, or I’m so insignificant that it doesn’t matter if someone does something wrong to me, I still don’t always trust my own opinion, especially in the face of someone I’ve imbued with authority, I still don’t put my sexual needs anywhere near the forefront of my mind, I still worry about being boring and uninteresting and I still tear myself up about whether I’m good enough for someone, because there is still J’s voice in my head telling me just how no one could ever love me.
I’m angry at all this, but I’m also angry on behalf of 15 year old me, for whom anger at J would be such a ridiculously foreign concept but anger at herself was far too familiar. I’m so angry that he honed in on someone who was so vulnerable, already cracking under the pressure of mental health pressures and self harm, and stepped on her and broke her further. And the worst thing? He did it for fun.
The compilation of “I’d let Chris Brown beat me” tweets that I posted got over 700 notes, so while I really wasnt planning on writing a huge big thing about this, here are a few more thoughts/opionons/responses on the subject.
“It’s not that Chris Brown is categorically unforgivable. It’s…
If I choose to make porn (which I am choosing to do, incidentally), or if I choose to be an escort (which I did, once upon a time), I am not ‘selling myself’. I am not for sale. My body, my mind, my personality… these things are not for sale. What is for sale, is the…
I totally get why this one is so popular; it is a sexy narrative, and Anne Boleyn was a fierce bitch in a way that historians still have trouble assessing. However, I highly doubt that she is the reason Henry VIII broke with Rome. In fact, I am wary of assigning any one, all-encompassing reason…
But I just need to y’know, get stuff off my chest. And hey, my blog so I can post.
I saw a new psychiatrist this afternoon, basically the boss of the one I’ve been seeing and OMG so good! It felt like there was actually two of us in the room instead of a guy in the corner asking me questions and I answer them, which while is good for generally getting stuff off my chest is not conducive to any long term solutions.
He really listened to me and we analysed stuff together and he asked me pertinent questions, including one that no therapist has ever asked me before and I felt was really important. Although he’s actually Spanish so doesn’t catch everything I say first time - case in point, when I said I played with Barbies as a child as opposed to real people most the time he thought I said boobies! But he’s really friendly and totally put me at ease. Plus he actually wound down the session properly which has left me feeling pretty light, like a massage of the soul or some equally silly expression, whereas with the other guy sees the clock get to quarter to and stops the session, whether I’m in the middle of crying or talking about something really important to me. And the one before that was lovely but always left me feeling a bit frustrated because I felt like she wasn’t listening to me properly
tl;dr I have a fantastic new psychiatrist who doesn’t leave me feeling tightly wound and emotionally wrought. Third time lucky I guess. He’s also willing to give me a different diagnosis once he’s seen me a few times and assessed me properly because he understands I’m not 100% behind my label, which has been making me feel a bit like a triangle being shoved in to a square hole in terms of treatment.
During the talks she was saying about how she hated the cupboard scenes between Cordy and Xander because she didn’t want Cordelia to be a slut and be a bad role model. Which just felt a bit of a shame because I always considered Cordelia to be one of the characters that was more comfortable with her sexuality. Like she didn’t have that much sex on screen but it always felt like she very much took sex into her own hands and didn’t give a damn what other people thought (for instance coming on to Wes so strongly in front of everyone). It was just a bit annoying to hear Charisma undermine Cordy like that, although that didn’t stop me fan girl squealing when I came out from having my photo done!