Sexual Intercourse Definition:

1. Heterosexual intercourse involving penetration of the vagina by the penis: COITUS

• Intercourse (such as anal or oral intercourse) that does not involve penetration of the vagina by the penis.

         — Merriam-Webster Dictionary Online

The above definition is what a dictionary explains sexual intercourse between two people to be. We live in a complex world where sex can be anything involving our bodies. Sex is considered a highly emotive and sensitive topic that many people struggle to talk about openly, but it should be easier to talk about. The more a subject is taboo, the more secretive it becomes. That is when misconceptions and misunderstandings arise, complicating things even further. So, let us talk about it! Let us open that “can of worms” and get our feelings out in the open. I am no longer ashamed to “talk” about it through my writing but that was not always the case.

Sex most often happens behind closed doors in private because we have laws to protect society from the act itself. It is against the law to have sex in public and why would you even want to? Most consider sex to be beautiful between two people who love and respect each other. Couples want privacy so they can enjoy each other. It is also a physical need for a release. Most often, sexual intercourse is an act that follows deep feelings for another human being, but there can also be many other reasons for sex. I am not here to talk about those. I merely want to point out that sex can mean different things to different people.

In this article, I want to explore how someone who has been deeply traumatized by sexual abuse can change their attitude towards sex with time and then go on to live in a normal and loving relationship. It can happen, and I am living proof. This is my experience of my struggles of learning to leave my past behind and become intimate with a loving partner.

I am a survivor of sexual child abuse and in my early life experience, sex was not beautiful. It was my worst nightmare. For me, sex was physical torture behind closed doors that only left me in pain for days afterward. Adults all around me were haunting me with weird sounds and crazy acts, causing me nightmares and visions I was too traumatized to comprehend. I was in constant pain because I was a child and not able to accommodate an adult intimately like a grown-up could. My body was too small. For me, sexual intercourse or any other type of oral sex was pure hell. I wanted to die just to escape it.

Survivors of sexual abuse will completely understand what I mean when I say that sex was not beautiful to me. This mindset followed me throughout my entire childhood. Most survivors will agree with me, but you will also agree that somewhere down the line, our perceptions change with age. As we grew up and matured, our understanding of sex as torture was questioned. Why was everyone talking about sex? What was it about sex that made people act like it was everything they ever dreamed about? Our mindsets were conflicted and confused. It turned my mind into curiosity. How can something so terrifying be what everyone talks about? I couldn’t get a handle on that, and I couldn’t exactly talk to anyone about it. I didn’t grow up in a loving family where I could talk to my parents about anything. I grew up in an abusive home where talking was rarely something we did.

I suffered both somatic and psychological wounds from child abuse, and I had vivid nightmares. As the abuse decreased when I got older, my nightmares and wounds stopped. I just remember having a perpetual darkness that I chose to put aside and not think about. I went through childhood and puberty just like everyone else. I slowly turned into a woman, and it felt like a curse. In fact, I think I was in denial of the fact that I was going to turn into a woman. It scared me to attract unwanted attention. I wore plain, baggy clothes, and I wanted time to stop so that I could remain flat-chested and invisible. I refused to pierce my ears and have earrings like everyone else. I didn’t want the boys to look at me and notice my curves and breasts. I hated being stared at. I even cut off my hair so that I would look like a boy.

My friends started talking about sex in middle school, but I didn’t want to know. I walked away because I couldn’t understand how sex could be so exciting for my friends to want to talk about it constantly. I wanted to scream at them to stop. I hated it. So, what if my friends Maddie and Ginny had breasts but Abigail did not? Some girls started wearing bras, even if they had flat chests. My friends and the other girls were all preening and gawking at the boys, expecting to be noticed. Who cares if the boys were watching them? I wanted breasts as much as I wanted to eat dirt and yet my traitorous body kept changing and growing.

During high school, everyone talked about who was hooking up with whom at the last party. I was not interested in gossip and not talking about sex made me “the weird kid”. I did not go to all of the parties because I did not want to watch my friends make fools out of themselves by rubbing up against the boys. Some girls were allowing the boys to take them behind closed doors. it made me feel uncomfortable and sick to my stomach. I wanted none of it, and yet I was immersed in sex talk everywhere. I saw my friends making out with boys in the halls or skipping classes to hang out “under the bleachers.” Why was sex such a big deal? I just did not get it because, unlike my peers, I had been exposed to sexual activities far too young, and it was still happening to me.

Sex was still evil in my head, but I started questioning this viewpoint. Maybe it was my teenage hormones, but I felt myself starting to notice some boys. My friends were always watching them, taking in their appearances, and to whom they were talking. I noticed their bodies filling out, and some were ripped under their shirts. Their voices got squeaky and then became deeper. My stupid brain was starting to think about boys, and I found myself looking across the hall noticing them. I was struggling with the knowledge that my friends were willingly engaging in sex. They were bragging about it, and they seemed happy. Characters in movies were always happy after having “spent the night together.” Was it just me who did not get the “sex” memo? I hated being touched by anyone. Why couldn’t I just be like everyone else?

Did you ever feel like this growing up? Did it make you feel like you were different and on the outside? How did you handle this?

Having sex or the thought of having sex, completely freaked me out, but I decided that I wanted to be “normal” like everyone else. I convinced myself that having sex with someone my own age would not hurt, and I would be cured of my “weirdness.” I went to several high school parties and found myself making out with a boy at one of them. It was a boy who had been watching me for a while in the corridors and the few times we talked he seemed nice. I had no interest in him, but he was cute. We ended up having sex in his car, and it was awful! I had a big painful and vivid flashback during our “tryst,” which made me gasp for air and made him perceive my enjoyment instead of the opposite. He wanted to see me again, but I avoided him until he got the message that I was not interested. By then, I was sure I was the only person on the planet who did not enjoy sex. 

As time went on and I was in college, I convinced myself to try sex again. This time was not much better, even though on a bed, the poor guy ended up in the ER as we had been too rough. I was convinced by this point that I was destined to be a freak. My extensive reading and studying for my approaching finals saved me from embarrassment. It took the pressure and my attention away from everyone until the end-of-the-year parties. At one of those parties, my friends told me that “ER guy” was looking for me, and I left early to avoid a repeat of another night I wanted to forget. On my way home, I remember thinking about why reality was so different from books and movies. I convinced myself that I wanted romance like those in the books I had read. Meaningless sex was not something I was interested in. I decided that never having sex again was fine by me at this point.

Many of my fellow survivors out there have, like me, had or are still having a difficult and complex relationship with sex. This relationship is completely normal, especially for someone who has survived sexual trauma. We all know our own bodies, and as we grow up, we know we have a choice and can say “NO” to sex. Nobody should pressure you for sex. If that is something that is happening, then you must say “no.” It is not okay to be forced into doing something that does not feel right.

In my experience, at first, a simple touch from anyone would set me off in a cold sweat, and I would be hyper-aware of everyone around me. At that time, I thought I would never be able to have a normal relationship with anyone, let alone an intimate one. As time went on, my aversion to being touched eased, but I was still against being close to anyone. One of my survivor friends spent years engaging in sex all of the time and with anyone who was willing throughout our high school and college years. Sex for her did not mean anything, and she was heavily into drinking and drugs.  Another of my friends would not be intimate with anyone until her mid-thirties. She just could not face intimacy, until she found a man who changed her mind. Both survivors were displaying typical behaviors for someone deeply traumatized by sex. The good news is that they both sought help through counseling and are now living much happier and healthier lives.

It was not until I found my soul mate that I got cured of my touch phobia. With attraction rushing through us like electricity, I discovered what true love between two people can be like. Intimacy with someone you have deep feelings for comes naturally if you are both on the same page. I am now a happily married woman with young children. I know lots of survivors like me who have families. Some have kids and some do not. Very few of my survivor friends choose to live alone. The ones I know who chose solitude in life have big pets like horses, other farm animals, or big dogs. All are animals who require care, exercise, and interaction. Whatever path you choose in your life is the right one for you. Stay true to yourself and never ever be tempted to allow your body to be used by someone who is not worthy of you. As a survivor, you have been through so much and you deserve happiness.

My name is Elizabeth, and I am a survivor.

Photo by Womanizer Toys on Unsplash

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Elizabeth Woods

Elizabeth Woods grew up in a world of brutal sex offenders, murderers, and inconceivably neglectful adults. She suffered sexual abuse throughout her childhood and witnessed unspeakable events. Elizabeth survived in an environment where most people would not. She is now able to help other survivors heal from trauma through her writing and blogs. Elizabeth is passionate about spreading awareness of what it is like to survive after trauma. There is always hope.

Elizabeth is the author of several books and has written her memoir, telling her childhood story: The Sex-Offender’s Daughter: A True Story of Survival Against All Odds, available on Amazon Kindle. https://www.amazon.com/Sex-Offenders-Daughter-Story-Survival-Against-ebook/dp/B0BBSV97VF/?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_w=0pSdX&content-id=amzn1.sym.cf86ec3a-68a6-43e9-8115-04171136930a&pf_rd_p=cf86ec3a-68a6-43e9-8115-04171136930a&pf_rd_r=134-9913214-5397651&pd_rd_wg=MPpMc&pd_rd_r=d375a758-2d9b-4c6e-9aee-52c1f5a4e6f7&ref_=aufs_ap_sc_dsk

Elizabeth is also the author of “Living with Complex PTSD” and the Cedar’s Port Fiction series: “Saving Joshua”, “Protecting Sarah”, “Guarding Noah” and “Bringing Back Faith” available here:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQRNST2B?binding=kindle_edition&qid=1711883073&sr=8-2&ref=dbs_dp_rwt_sb_pc_tkin