I hate my mother. This story, as it turns out, is not that rare. My mother’s upbringing completely destroyed my acceptance of intimacy.
I’m in my early 40s now. I’m raising my son alone. There were two marriages and both fell apart. The reason is me, my coldness. My mother raised me in a strange combination of strictness, control and bashfulness. From a young age she taught me that everything, literally everything, was shameful. When I was a teenager studying my body in front of the mirror and she caught me, she would punish me, hit my hands, my cheeks, other parts of my body, called me a wench, threatened me that I would go down on my hands. She had this obsession that I was going to be a slut.
No makeup allowed, with guys, if I talked and flirted, punishment, did not let me out of the house, escorted me to school or college by the hand. Favorite phrase she used to say all the time: “guys only want something from you.” Probably, if you could stitch me up there, would stitch me shut.
I met my first husband on her tip (the son of a fellow student of hers). I liked him, but I didn’t understand anything yet. We were walking, talking, when the question of a sleepover arose, I almost fainted with indignation (how could he offer me such a thing, I’m saving myself for my husband). The guy interpreted it in his own way and started courting with renewed vigor and proposed.
We got married. Needless to say, intimate life didn’t work out. Everything started out fine, and then like a stoppage and hysteria, a wild sudden disgust, fear to the point of shaking. My husband was unpleasantly surprised, but for another three years we tried unsuccessfully to establish our intimate life. Then he gave up and we divorced. He and I and I alone went to all sorts of people, did all sorts of things, but all in vain. Then I shunned men for a long time, my mother was there and kept itching for me to have a baby, to be patient and have a baby for myself, and then you won’t need men.
I don’t want to tell you everything she did, said, and insinuated. I went to another city and dated men, but they left me for the same reason. Then I married a second time for love and got pregnant right away, under plausible pretext, taking care of my son, I justified my behavior in bed until my husband himself sounded the alarm. I had to tell him everything.
Of course, there were accusations on his part that I had hidden, but we also went to doctors sexopathologists, endocrinologists, psychologists, and even psychiatrists, training, physical therapy and other things. In the end, I let my husband go on his own, as it was very important for him to see a response from me. Eventually, I ended up with a well-known professor of psychiatry, and after long sessions he gave me the result, to put it simply – secondary coldness. That is, my mother had formed such a strong rejection reflex that only a “miracle” could remove it.
After that I began to grow a fierce hatred for my mother, and to my father, who never once talked to me, did not tell me anything about the relationship between people. I am pretty, I am wooed, I sometimes fall in love, but I do not want to go into that water, I do not want accusations, hints, breakups, again worries. There is a lead block in my head to intimacy with a man. Rejoice mom, now I’m sure I will not go to the arms!
