Toilet would always pressure me when I said, "no or stop." It made me feel stupid when he would discount my words. It was the same feeling I had when I would say "No" to the teenage boys - they'd push back and I'd acquiesce.
Me - Don't do that. stop
Him - I'm just rubbing your back. Doesn't it feel good? Just relax (gag word). You are over-reacting.
I'd end up on the defensive, convinced I was over-reacting. And thus began my lifetime of doubting my instincts, reactions and emotions.
Last night I was asleep. Halfway through my pregnancy now, I sleep on my side, often with my back to my Husband. He will come up and curl up behind me. If he asks (and half the time he does) I'll either say okay, if it is a good day; not now, if it is a bad day; or often just turn around to face him and we can cuddle, pray and talk that way. However, sometimes he wants to snuggle in the middle of the night. Lately he won't stay on his side of the bed, despite my big pregnancy pillow in the middle.
Last night at about 2 am, I wake up and he is snuggled up behind me, pressing in against me. As he falls further into sleep, he becomes dead weight, trapping me beneath him and causing me to fall forward. I lost patience and I snap, "get off of me." I get up and go to the bathroom, come back to bed, and try to go back to sleep.
BAM - I am in the midst of a flashback, complete with body memories, reliving and re-experiencing it all.
In my House of Horrors, there is a split-level floor plan, with a split stair way in the center. My room is downstairs. The half-bathroom down there doesn't work. Upstairs is the kitchen and living room at one end. Down the long, narrow hall is the remaining bedrooms and bathroom.
As a child, Sister and I hug and kiss our parents goodnight. My father always had a mustache and beard, as did Toilet. Dad's doesn't bother me. Toilet's annoys me - his is long and scraggly and he doesn't keep it trimmed. Toilet has no teeth. He won't wear his dentures and his gums smack all the time (reason why gum/teeth/lip smacking trigger me). His kisses are always wet and gross. He holds me too tight too. If he is sitting down, he looks down my shirt/nightgown. If he is standing up, he wants to hug me too tight.
When I go down the hall to the bathroom, I come out and he is there, waiting. He says he is waiting in line. But I know he's outside the door, peeking in the cracks and listening. I know when I walk out, he will be there in the doorway. He will have on his maroon robe with gold trim, nothing underneath. It will be open. He'll rub the sleep out of his eyes, pretending to be too asleep to notice. Pretending he just wandered out of the bedroom to come to use the bathroom. He'll make a half-assed effort to pull the robe closed. Then he'll stand in my way - not backing up, forcing me to squeeze by him and brush up against him. I alter my showers, my bathroom schedule - but his weird truck-driving schedule make it impossible to find any safe time. And his bedroom is right next to the bathroom so he always knows when I'm in there. Begging doesn't convince them to fix the half bath downstairs near my room. (reason why I can't stand being cornered in any room, having to brush or squeeze by a person, and especially being cornered in the bathroom)
Toilet loves to catch me with my arms full. Coming up the stairs especially. Full of laundry, books, school things. I can't protect myself. On the stairs I have a fear of falling. There was no railing (now my manic insistence that Husband fix our basement railing makes sense). In the kitchen, my hands are full of food or dishes. I turn around and he is there - staring at me with that awful, no teeth, slobbering grin. He knows my depth-perception issues cause problems on stairs especially. So he confronts me there, brushing past me, making me off balance so I grab for anything and he is the only thing there. He wants to have conversations, "how was your day" while standing on the stairway or in the doorway - when I'm off-kilter. When I can't think straight. The stairway is where that awful conversation took place. The one where he told me it was my fault and I liked it/wanted it. Where I, in my off-balanced state, said nothing, thus affirming his accusations in his mind (and mine). I can't think and I can't get away.
I remember the day I came out of the bathroom. I was going to borrow my Sister's clothes. I didn't know he was home. He came home unexpectedly. I run, towel around me, across hall, into Sister's room and slam door. He is trying to get in. We are screaming. Slamming the door. Weight against it. He's pushing back and screaming. We are trying to lock the door. We stay there, hysterical. Mom comes home and lectures us about overreacting. He just wanted us to know he was home and ask us something. He "didn't know I was getting dressed." Whatever! (reason why I can't stand Husband following me from room to room, standing in doorway, talking to me)
My husband likes a hug and a kiss when the second one of us comes home at night. He jokes about how all the girls he's ever danced with tell him he holds them too tight. Yet he still does it. He knows I don't like being held down or held tight. Yet he does it. I get annoyed and do the sideways hug. He gets annoyed, "Can't I have a hug from my wife?" I feel the sense of shame and guilt. Yet, my hands are full and I can't get away. When I'm blocked in the doorway, with hands still full, I don't want a hug. I freeze. Now I understand why.
I spent my life paying the troll under the bridge - paying a toll to get by. It's time for that troll to die. Now to figure out my plan of execution.
(sorry for the 1st person -- 3rd person point of view switches. That's how my flashbacks happen and it's easier to write them that way)