outer-jessie's Diaryland Diary

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little flashback. little.

Once upon a time, I was walking down the street, like you do. I passed several telephone poles with brightly-colored posters advertising a "study" of couples who were dealing with the presence of sexual abuse in one member's past. I passed the posters with a "nah" and continued on my way.

But I kept thinking...

Well, if I did call them up I'd have to explain that mine is not the typical case. If they chose to use me in this study, it would have to be in spite of the fact that the abuse, if that's what it was, was not always unwelcome; was not by an older person; was not by someone of the opposite sex. I have only my true story to offer.

In my past there lives a little girl named Alicia. She is five or six. Truth be told, I know nothing of what compelled her to persuade her young female friends into her bed, to touch them and have them touch her; to think of it now with my 20/20 hindsight makes me cringe. If what happened to me made me uncomfortable and ashamed, I shudder to think what must have happened to her to bring it all about. Yet she was never forceful, she was never angry, she was never unkind. She was as much the brat as any five-year-old child, just as willful and stubborn, but that doesn't factor into my memories of us with our underwear around our ankles under her covers. As a little kid, I didn't see anything wrong with her, per se -- just with what she made me do.

The study was interested in the effects the abuse had on the couples' present lives; how they dealt with it, if it came between them. My experience left me reasonably untouched...reasonably. I don't cry myself to sleep, I don't scream when I'm touched, I don't harbor any fear or shame about what happened to me then. Why should I? But the fantasies spawned by my very young sexuality have been long-lived. They feature young children, aged five or six. I wouldn't say that it's a flavor of pedophilia, although you may come to that conclusion yourself. In fact, that may be well justified; I could see how my own feelings intensified could resemble the feelings of child molesters somewhere down the line. But I don't lust after little children. The most prominent child character in my stories is me, although the "me" of today stands apart from her. If any other child takes part, it is a young Alicia.

Well, I thought, it's not your classic case (and how disturbing it is that there is a classic case), and I don't know if it'll do anyone any good, but it might be of some use to somebody. I turned around and walked up to a pole postered in sky blue. But the study was for those abused by family members, so it didn't matter anyway.

Hey, it's not so bad. But if you'd like to read something more uplifting...or, at least...less of a downer -- you can read my entry in Giallo's diary. Woo! I was going to put the rest of this entry there too, but it didn't seem appropriate. ciao-dah.

12:07 p.m. - Thursday, Jul. 25, 2002

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