Reading...

I wrote in a previous journal that I felt reading was a trigger for me, I find I get very invested in a storyline, and I become a bit depressed about my own life. I keep thinking about this, and I realized that when I read I think about my ex, Adam. I will always love him, it would be a bold face lie to deny it, and my husband would never ask me straight-out because he's smart enough to know the answer. Part of me, will always love him. I think I realized what my issue is: I think about who I am now, who I was then, and how different the two versions of me are. The person I am now is sexually excited, I enjoy sex, I enjoy experimenting, I like to be posessed by my partner (not into BDSM, personally, just a little dominance).. When I was with Adam, I was so afraid to be touched. I feel guilty because he was how I am now. He wanted to have a sexually charged relationship, and when I read my books that are sexual in nature, I remember how afraid I was. I almost feel like I missed out on something. I missed out on a really good life experience, because I was so hung up on the fact I had been assaulted. He and I were together for two and a half years, and in that time, I went from untouchable, to requiring a lot of emotional foreplay... After we broke up, I hated myself, I hated my fear, and I began exploring sex with other close friends... Then with less close friends, friends of friends... and a stranger, who raped me. I think when I get into these books, my brain cycles back to who I was, how I could have been, and I think about what happened to me and how traumatized I was. It's important to me that I keep exploring these thoughts and avenues.. They suck, and they make me feel bad about myself, but I need to know why I get so emotionally charged when I get into a good book. I need to know why I become depressed. The more I know, the more I can combat it. I wish I could have been the woman he needed, I wish I could have been the woman I am now, when I was with him. I regret so much in my life. I regret sleeping with people that I knew would upset him. I regret not realizing that I was rubbing it in his face - or maybe I knew exactly what I was doing but I was in denial... I slept with people he specifically asked me not to, why? Because he chose to be with my best friend? I told him to figure out what he wanted, I told him to try it out if it meant he would recommit to me, or be happy... I thought I was being mature, but I was never truly okay with him choosing to be with her. It wasn't a test, or a game, he had feelings for her, and I couldn't watch him fall for someone else while commited to me. I wouldn't let him cheat. I loved him too much to watch him be tortured, so I tortured myself. I wish I were the woman with him that he needed me to be, I wish I were the woman with him that I am now. We likely wouldn't still be together, but he would have been happier, we would have been happier... I wish I were never assaulted, I wish it never effected me the way it did, I wish I weren't raped upon discovering my adult sexuality. I wish so much.