empathy and shame
and original sin
TW: mention of sexual abuse and childhood sexual abuse; minimal descriptive details
As I sit to write this, I remind myself that I don’t have to write it all in one go. From a young age, my life has necessitated space in my brain at all times for perpetual holding and processing of sexual trauma. I am no stranger to the reality that even once I think things are good and settled in my nervous system, there will inevitably be unexpected triggers that unearth unexpected experiences in both my body and my emotional landscape.
I believe that this reality is what landed me as stuck on the farm as I was. From very early in our relationship, I found myself held in M’s orbit due - in part - to my (overextension of) empathy for M, one childhood sexual abuse survivor to another.
When we first started spending time together, M and I had sex a lot - not uncommon for a new relationship. This was A LOT, though. During my first extended stay on the farm, it felt constant. I remember calling Court and remarking at how much energy for sex M had; I remember telling them about how they would wake me up in the middle of the night by pulling my hand between their legs. I don’t know what it was about that, but it really stuck with me, even then. Maybe it was just the repetition of it - I would be asleep on my side facing their back, I would wake to the feeling of them grabbing my hand or arm, I would reach to put my arm around them to cuddle, and they would push it off their upper body, then pull it from behind up between their legs, and start to grind on my hand. Maybe it wasn’t the repetition, maybe it was just a gut feeling.
At that time, M and I talked about what it would be like when that fire started to cool and we became physically intimate less frequently, and we acknowledged the normalcy of this expectation. When I moved to the farm in January 2023, we stopped having sex almost entirely and almost immediately, not for my lack of expressing interest. Within a few months, we hardly even touched. I remember my friend Ray reflecting back to me truths I had shared about my partnership, “they won’t even let you sit next to them.” In fact, I would labor all day under their demanding hand and shower myself off at the end of the day, only to be told I still smelled. They would make me wash myself again - in front of them at the sink in their tiny house - and even then their eyes would roll if I asked to sit next to them on their bed. Most of the time, I would sit on a bench at the foot of their bed. It was so demoralizing.
In February 2023, a month after moving to the farm and four months after meeting M, we decided to go on an overnight snowboarding trip. I was so glad to get to get off the farm with M even just for two days. Going away was something that they didn’t get to do frequently, thought about often, and felt difficult to do. We drove to the Smokeys and parked my truck in a lot along the Blue Ridge Parkway for the night, and curled up to sleep in the camper shell on the truckbed.
In the morning, we woke up to a beautiful view and I was feeling more connected to them than I had in a while. I asked if they were in the mood to connect physically, and they said they weren’t. They told me they felt pressured by me. They told me more about their sexual trauma, and in particular about a pattern of people violating them in their sleep - they would be adjusting their hips to get comfortable, and whomever was next to them in bed would think M was grinding into them, get aroused, and violate M.
My stomach dropped. I looked at them and asked,
I know that we have had sex in the middle of the night before… have I ever done this to you?
“yes.”
A single word I have held. A word loaded with an identity that seemed so dissonant and unfathomable to me - rapist.
I wish I could look back and feel proud of how our exchange went from there. I wish I could even remember it. I would truly like to meet a survivor of CSA who could face this moment without having a full-blown meltdown (of some kind, certainly not all the same). I know that I sobbed and apologized in a way that was inappropriate given the circumstances. I know that I couldn’t meet M from a grounded place. I know that I was not able to center their feelings when I was integrating what they had said.
“yes.”
I know they were entirely calm throughout this conversation. At the time I thought that meant they were more emotionally mature. I know now that what I felt when they sat calmly, unmoved, and smiled as if they were entertained… that twist in my gut - it meant something else.
The original sin in our relationship. Just like the original sin, it would be held in my body as immense shame. Just like the original sin, it would be wielded against me in order to get me to act on a will that was not my own. Only it wasn’t god’s will either - it was M’s - and just like that, they knew they had me under their hand.
So much so, in fact, that in the fall of 2023 and the fall of our relationship, when I finally started talking to friends and family honestly about what I was experiencing, M insisted they would all agree with them, if only I told them the REAL truth.
I had gone on an errand alone, and called my parents while I drove. I told them the ways that M berated and controlled me.
“well, did you tell them what YOU did to ME?”
I did, in fact, but M didn’t believe that. I did, in fact, as a shell of myself, disclose to my parents (and my brother, and my therapist, and my mentor, and my closest friends) in a meek and shaking voice what happened when M and I went on that snowboarding trip. I told them about all of the sex at the beginning of our relationship, that it suddenly stopped, and that M told me I had violated them in their sleep, like so many others’ had done to them before.
Desperation forced my honesty in ways that truly felt like a living hell. I was practically begging the people who love me most to see me as the evil, putrid, worthless predator that M made me out to be. IT IS MY FAULT! HOW COULD I DO THAT TO THEM? I would sob into the phone.
Eventually, I calmed down enough for us to head to the ski mountain. We bought our lift tickets and I tried to remember how to snowboard. M was warm, playful even, as I went down the bunny slopes a few times, before they went to do more challenging runs on their own. We reconvened for a few more short slopes together, and as we waited for the lift, M received a call from their friend who was watching the farm while we were away. The cows and all but one of the horses had gotten through the electric fencing, and M’s friend had to leave for work. We frantically began calling people who might be able to go over and help, and headed back to the truck immediately to start the 3+ hour drive home.
Pointless, I thought, there is no way this issue is not resolved already by the time we get back to the farm… and I was right. We couldn’t do anything from over 100mi away except ask for help, so why were we rushing back?
For the majority of the drive - until the animals were safely contained - I sat in the passenger seat of my truck while M barked orders and anxieties at me. Given the morning we had shared and the situation we found ourselves in now, I bit my tongue and took it in stride. After all, they were understandably stressed, and it must be true what they were always saying about how lucky I should feel to get to be a part of their life on the farm. I guessed that this was just part of it, though even then I couldn’t think of anyone else with animals that broke out of their fencing as often as M’s.
I sat quietly and obediently, feeling all at once scared of my own power to cause harm, and completely powerless.
Thank you for sharing. Love you friend.
i love you.