#met so many women with the most attractive pointy noses i have ever seen

[napping-sapphic]

idk what girl out there needs to hear this rn but your big/pointy/crooked/etc nose is SO cute and also i’m SO gay for you like insanely gay for you

[anonymouskar]

More concretely addressing trauma and moving on from reenacting negative family relationships (one more step)

I’m getting very very tired. You know, all great romances stem from emotional need. All stem out of some lack, some unresolved insecurity. That is how I ended up where I am now. Her, my dear, beautiful romantic interest.

As I’ve gotten more and more absorbed into trying to make the relationship between me and her work, I’ve grown more and more distant from my mother. At this point, she’s become almost freakishly foreign to me. The thought that I was once her baby is impossible to comprehend. She looks foreign and she has almost no part in my life anymore. I tell her nothing. But this new woman in my life, my teacher, brought back everything that ever hurt in my relationship to my own mom. At first, it started as recognizing a pattern in my relationships and then thinking it was my fault for not being brave enough or good enough, and now lately a lot of painful memories have come back to me. I’ve realized more and more that my relationship with my parents, and especially my mother have been in many ways very very negative and even traumatizing to me. 

When I was a child, it was more in the form of not validating my gender with words and attitudes. I imagine some boys go through that, but not too many. But what was worse, and still makes my guts twist, were all the times when I was given a special kind of look. A glance she gave me when my t-shirt suddenly slipped and displayed my torso, or when I bent forward and she could SEE how maldeveloped I was. It was a look of disgust. I’m not saying she found ME disgusting, but it was very clear to me that my body was assessed sexually, and the way I developed was disgusting. I tried to hide it, but eventually, they saw. I’ll never forget that look. I have since received that very same look from two people. One young male doctor who looked at my crotch after a surgery, and her... the woman I met and fell in love with. She gives me that look, and I know why. It’s because she “knows” what happened to me. She can still see it on my body. And thinking of it makes me want to vomit. I visualize me either chocking her or running away. Another situation I remember very often, was when I was constipated, around age 11, and my parents snuck into my room and stuck a pill up my ass while I was sleeping. Well, I woke up, and I screamed and felt completely intruded. That was their way of “solving the problem”. But still, to this day, that happening haunts me. Never invade a child's private area. Never send them the signal that they can’t contribute in solving their own problem. Never approach an 11-year-olds private area without consent. It should have never happened.

When I acted out, developed selective mutism and different expressions of anxiety, rage and perversions, I was sent to a psychiatrist. What I felt about that was mainly shame. So ashamed that I hid it from my classmates every week, (said I was going to an aunts birthday party, again and again). I understood that it meant that I was “sick”, while really, my acting out was a pretty natural way of coping with the stress of not being seen, heard, accepted and understood for who I truly was. I don’t think children can have mental problems. I think they can have situations and relations that are not nurturing and validating them.

My brother (and perhaps it’s a curse for him as well) who had a normal sexual development has now turned into my mothers' surrogate husband. To be in the same room as them is like being the third wheel in a teenage romance. The way she constantly expresses how attractive she thinks he is, flirtatious, lots of physical contact, wanting to impress him. Their relationship is certainly flavoured with incest-like emotions. My father has become very passive, shy and isolated in the last 10 years. He used to be outgoing and brave. It’s pretty obvious that my mother has no respect for him and is no longer attracted to him. My brother surpassed him in his teens. While I was abnormal and completely disregarded. When we three are in a room, you can be sure they don’t even notice I’m there, and if they do I will be the subject of ridicule and jokes.

My romantic feelings, my desires for this woman that I met, it was an attempt at mending my relationship with my mother. Can I not be disgusting to her? Can I be loved as an attractive man? Can I be who I truly need to be, with her?. That was all. She reminded me of everything I liked about my mother, and everything I wish she was. She was sensual, emotional, dominating, intellectually inclined, raw humour, a thick body, pointy nose, sometimes rude. But she also came across as open and nurturing. So that was it. I tried my best to be that man, while I was also ultimately vulnerable to her. And for a while, it really worked. Sometimes I could see through her that I was an attractive man, that I was worthy. Sometimes I was adored. But it turned more and negative. I kept being afraid of expressing myself, in fear of rejection. What is interesting is that every time I could sense that she was attracted to me, I completely froze. I didn’t believe it while it was happening. It was SOOO hard for me to believe that it was real, that I froze and waited for her to give me more “proof”. There was an extreme oscillation between a son-mother and man-woman relationship. I desired equally to be in them both.

She betrayed me on multiple occasions. Most of all when she asked me “what about sex?”, as if I obviously wasn’t functioning like any other man, and as if she didn’t take my interest in her the least bit seriously. It was a completely perversely curious question from her side. She “just had to know”. Every time I think of that I get mad at her and wish to never meet her again.

I still like her for so many things. There are qualities in her that I love, deep things in her that I love, and will always love. I want her to be the best that she can be, I want her to be as real and intelligent and beautiful as she can, but she hurt me too bad. She was egotistical, insensitive and rude. She didn’t respect me enough. And it maybe wasn’t my fault. This happened not because I wasn’t worthy of more, but because I’ve been hurt, and some part of me is attempting to fix the hurt. Some part of me is perverted and reenacts everything painful that happened to me, because it’s attempting to set it right.

Well, my next step is to realize that I can choose to not get into those situations. I can recognize them and walk away. I can surround myself with people who believe in me as an attractive, sexually confident, respectworthy man. And when I do, I will be able to heal. It will take time, I will cry a lot more, I will remember what happened to me, I will need someone who listens without judgement.

As I have realized this, something interesting happened. I had the first erotic dream about another woman (even my age!) in a loooong time. I also flirted with and WAS flirted with by some women, and I felt like I could start over.