My last entry was a bit of a doozy and I apologize to those of you who actually took the time to read it. I'm not quite sure what even triggered it, but I'm glad that I got over it and moved on.
This weekend has been nothing short of absolutely amazing. There are very few people on this earth that can distract me when I'm immersed within my eating disorder voice, but my boyfriend seems to be one of those few people and I am eternally grateful for that. I am eternally grateful for him, period, because I am so lucky and so happy to have him in my life and I thank whatever God there may be everyday for him because he's almost too good to be true.
If you had told me at this time last year that I would've gotten over my ex and that I would've been in a new relationship by the following year, I'd have laughed in your face. It wasn't because I didn't want to believe that I could be happy again in another relationship. A part of me just didn't want to be because I didn't want to accustom myself to someone unfamiliar when I already had someone that was familiar to me and knew me for my quirks and idiosyncrasies and loved me anyway. What I failed to recognize, then, was that the relationship with my ex was long over. Not by any fault of either one of us, it just was. That's what happens with high school relationships. They end. They teach us a great deal about life and heartache (mine did, anyway), but they teach us those things as a means of surviving what is to come. And, though I can't exactly contribute my recovery and my triumph over my many trials to my break-up with my ex, I know it had a fair deal to do with it all because that in and of itself was one of my greatest losses and one of the most difficult things I have ever had to come to terms with. And I came to terms with it. And, I lived in spite of that loss. And, I found love again, even though I never thought I would.
It wasn't that I didn't think I'd love again. I knew I'd love again, but I didn't think I'd actually mean it. I am a very loving, affectionate person. It's in my nature to love and care for. But, love and in love are two entirely different sentiments, and though I thought i'd love someone, definitely, I wasn't so sure I'd ever be IN love with anyone again, mainly because the first time I was in love, it nearly killed me.
Well, I proved myself wrong for the second time in the last year because I am in love, and I am so happy it amazes me every single second of my day. I look at my boyfriend and I wonder, "Where the FUCK did you come from and why of all people, did you choose me?" But, I know that I deserve him. I've been through a lot of shit. Understatement of the year, honestly. I've been hurt, trodden on, taken advantage of, and all the inbetween. And, let's not forget that I've been sicker than sick throughout all of this. But, I got better. And, I started to assert myself and create an identity for myself. And, I'm a strong person. I have successfully molded myself into the person I wanted so desperately to be, and though I'm still working out some of the kinks, I have never been more proud. And, this alone makes me realize that I deserve every good thing, and I especially deserve for someone to treat me the way CJ does. Because so far as relationships go, I've been treated like motherfuckin' shit. And, it's nice to experience a contrast.
I meant to segue this into another topic as well, and I will do so, though I'm sure not many people want to read this. But, not many people read this anyway, so I don't particularly care. Anyway! Onward.
In my previous relationship, and during all of my other sexual encounters, sex has never exactly been something that I thought very positively about. I had a boyfriend for three years, yet I felt like a slut every time we had sex, even though he never necessarily felt that way towards me. It was just something I internalized. When I was younger, my mother and a great deal of older relatives I had articulated to me that sex was something for dirty girls and that young, intelligent girls such as myself were supposed to wait until marriage. Given the generation, society, and culture I live in, I know for a fact that that whole spiel is bullshit, though it became ingrained. Thus, when I finally had sex, it was something I was very, very ashamed of. Hence, my relapse shortly thereafter.
I had sex with the same person for nearly two years. Yet, I never felt good about it and I was never okay enough to talk about it openly. I also was very inhibited in regards to the act in and of itself, thus making the sex not always necessarily something I enjoyed. It wasn't that I dreaded it. I didn't. I just felt like I did it solely because I knew it was what my boyfriend at the time wanted and because I loved him. Those are the wrong reasons. I should have done it because I was ready. Instead, I did it because I wanted him to know how much I loved him and I wanted to share that with him. In the end, I used it to try to keep him. I realize now these were not healthy ways of viewing sex or using sex. Even after my ex, I never used sex correctly or experienced it in a healthy way. Most of my sexual experiences post my ex were either drunkely or highly influenced and I was very often ashamed of my body, so much so that it made my wonder why I was even bothering. I realize now, in retrospect, that I desperately, desperately seeked the validation the sex brought me. It wasn't the sex I wanted. It was the recognition that someone wanted me, enough so to bring me home and undress me and use me for something as precious as sex. I didn't understand at the time that I was nothing more than an object, that sex wasn't precious at all.
I could go on all day about this. About how I abused sex and about how I regret it. I do. I really do. I made a lot of poor choices with a lot of really shitty people and I wish I could take these things back. I respect the fact that I did these things because I was sick. I do not however, respect my reasoning. Whatever the case, I don't consider myself slutty. Mainly because I never enjoyed myself. I can honestly say I've never had a fulfilling sexual experience, or even a decent one. Well, until now, that is, haha.
I won't go into detail because it's unnecessary, but I think I've finally reached a point where sex is no longer something I'm ashamed of, nor is it something I'm ashamed of wanting. I'm a human being. I'm entitled to a sexual appetite. In fact, I was born with the primal instinct of wanting sex. Thus, I no longer feel bad for it. I finally feel comfortable enough within my body and within myself to release my inhibitions and just go with it and enjoy it. If used correctly, I feel like sex can be one of the most enriching things in a relationship. Maybe not for all people, but it has been for mine. Prior to this relationship, sex ruined things for me. It became the center around which things revolved and this upset me very much. Now, sex is just a bonus and something that is not the sole basis of my relationship with my boyfriend and not something we use each other for. We love each other and that's evident. I don't feel pressure into doing anything and I don't feel dirty after the fact. I feel fulfilled and happy and healthy and accomplished. (Accomplished mainly because this is something I can finally do without hesitance and negative associations, not because of the act itself, haha). I genuinely though sex would always be a very difficult thing for me. I now realize it doesn't have to be. And for that alone, I'm very, very happy.
Thus, to wrap up this entry -
I am happy. Very happy. Maybe it nauseates people. Maybe it's all I talk about. I don't care. I can't (and won't) conceal my love and affection. It's just unfair to me at this point, haha. Whatever the case, I am thriving and couldn't be more happy just to be alive.