Untitled

My name is Cristina Johnson

I wasn't going to write this...it's very embarrassing and I have not yet decided whether or not I'll publish or post it. This is one of those catch-22's where you are so desperate to make a difference, so determined to inform and educate people, but it's at the sacrifice of your dignity, your privacy, and that of your friends and family. How much to say...how much to share? All of it? Just a little?

Today is the first time I have ever experienced the strongest urge I've ever had, to mutilate my genitalia. I hate it so much today. I want it gone, shredded, disappeared. I don't want it. It's ugly. It's sinful it's disgusting and dear God if I could take a razor to them, I would...right now. Render them useless.

I've read about this and I've even talked with and coached people who've endured this kind of "thing" and I never judged them, but I always thought, "Thank God I have never had that problem."

And now, here I am, standing in the same muddy pond with them, feeling those same excruciating feelings of wishing to God there were no such thing as a vagina, anus or penis.

Today I feel so bad, so rotten and dirty...filthy...

I have an issue with masturbation. I don't do it. My ex liked it when I did and often asked me to. He also often wanted me to use sex toys for his pleasure (sure as hell wasn't for mine). Still, when we split up, I took them with me (the toys).

I won't go into gory details but last night was the first time (that I remember) doing that...you know... on my own (that is, by myself, without trying to spare my partner [which I have often done] or please my partner). I actually didn't even remember doing it until I woke up this morning and found a broken "toy" in the garbage can. This happened to me once before: I woke up, shaken and startled that I had a "toy" in my bed. I had no idea how it got there, nor did I remember using it.

Once things started coming back to me from last night, I was utterly ashamed (the previous time, I didn't recall anything but this time it slowly started to come back to me). Even now, if I think about it, my body jolts and I am astonished. I abused myself....and now I want to abuse myself more, because I abused myself.

How fucked up is that?

Of course, the logical response to this is: "Masturbation is perfectly natural" or "Everyone has needs and everyone does it or has done it."

Yeah, but that's not me....I'm not "everyone" and to me, it's ...selfish....it's cold and disconnected...it's meaningless. Absolutely meaningless and Oh God So DIRTY! What kind of whore masturbates? Right? Must mean she wants it, right?

This is digging into my marrow....this is tearing me up. I feel like there's a sign around my neck that says "Stone me to death, I am a whore and I've done something really bad."

Another aspect is the DID....

Today I convinced myself that I would just throw them away (the toys), but then some voice inside my head just kind of laughed this wicked, frightening laugh. "Go ahead...I'll find another way..."

My DID friends will know what this means and what this feels like.

So I am stuck...stuck in this rut, hoping to get back on even ground.

Please don't be angry, disgusted, grossed out, repulsed or otherwise feel untoward, towards me. I cannot help this. I hate it. I hate it so much and I don't know what to do.

God I wish Bill was here.