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I used to think there must be a psychological explanation for having BIID; repressed memories indeed. I’ve gone hunting, and found some things; but not nearly enough to constitute an explanation. Now, I accept that it “just is”. My friends sometimes ask “why?”. The honest answer is simply “It’s just the way I am”.

Having now the maturity and peace of mind to deal with BIID I sometimes speculate at where this comes from.

As with most, it started at age circa 3-4 years. I remember seeing an amputee for the first time and was quite fascinated. A tall man getting off the bus, well dressed and quite purposeful in his walking. I only saw him twice.

Is this what started it or was this what brought it to life, my first image of what my mind wanted?

I didn’t know what I wanted, but did immediately when I saw it?

Asssume for a moment that this sighting is what started it all. Why would this one particular immage get locked in, when other equally peculiar ones would not?

For example:

Why does this not happen when we perhaps have our first sighting of a person of a different race, being very different from what we are used to, make the same type of impression some?

“I’ve been wondering if I had been sexually abused as a kid.”

Yeah… I kinda wonder that with me too. Cause… I have a really big personal bubble and if someone hugs me and I don’t know them that well, I don’t like it at all. Which is bad at my school. x) (although I’ve gotten over most of that recently. Drumline will do that to a person.)

And also, I don’t remember most of my childhood. Who KNOWS what happened to me? Probably nothing important, but it’s still something weird.

Tora, it is interesting that you have memory blanks. I have the impression it is often because we are protecting ourselves from memories that are too painful to process. It has been true for me and many of my friends. At some point it can be useful to extract and process those memories. I have done this. On the other hand I have agreed with some friends that it would be best for them to leave well alone and keep things buried.

I was never sexually abused. I slept in the same bed as my mother until I was about twelve. I remember a lot of nice cuddles, but it was not sexual.

I think part of it is my parents’ divorce, since I don’t remember any of that past “Your mom and I have decided that we are going to get a divorce.” although my mom says I trashed the basement a few times. I sometimes slept in the same bed as my mom when I was little, but only when I had bad dreams (I think most kids do that) but my dad had his own room, separate from mom’s.
I guess part of it was my mom sometimes realizes that I don’t really like being touched by anyone I’m not related to, so she kept asking me if something happened and I was like, no… But I kinda thought it was weird that she kept asking me, so I realized that I must be abnormal, so for a time I thought I must be autistic… But I had to get over my fear of physical contact once I got into high school, because I am in the drumline, and there is no such thing as personal space in the drumline… Especially in the pit. :)

Hmm… I had a bit of an epiphany last night. I’m going to have to retract something I said earlier in this column.

A few days ago Sean had asked me a question about my sexual orientation. It’s complicated. I had been pondering this. Then yesterday evening my partner was talking about a friend of hers. I started crying. She asked me what I was crying about. I told her that I was thinking about my very first sexual encounter.

I was nineteen (I think). It was with one of my schoolteachers. I was very unhappy, very drunk, and very vulnerable. I didn’t like it. I snuck out of his bed early in the morning, feeling ashamed, guilty, and hating my genitalia even more than I had before. I didn’t have another sexual encounter for several years.

My partner said “You were molested”. I said “No. I was nineteen. That’s not molestation.” She said “But at nineteen you had the sexual maturity of a ten year old.” I paused and said “Oh… Yeah…” My social and emotional maturity wasn’t much beyond that either. (If I haven’t already bored the crap out of everybody with my current phase of incessant verbal diarrhea, some of you will understand that).

I said “Yes, I was sexually molested.” This is the first time I have ever admitted it, even to myself. My partner had been telling me for years that I showed the traits of someone who had been molested.

My schoolteacher was fired from the school a few years later for having sex with underage kids at school. He was probably quite excited at the thought of having legal sex with me in my overgrown ten year old body. He committed suicide eventually.

The connection with BIID is that the need for my genitalia to be devoid of sensation, as accomplished by paraplegia, stems from the hatred that I had for my genitalia.

Interesting thought Tora. I also don’t like being touched by anyone who isn’t immediate family. I get really annoyed when people touch my hair or try to hug me without permission. I am not sure that it is part of a repressed memory as I think I have been this way all my life. My mom actually had to switch babysitters when I was nothing more than an infant because I would scream if the babysitters husband or sons would come in the room.