Sometimes how we cope with trauma is worse than the trauma itself

Dear Friends. I have been wrestling with something so much of late that I couldn’t not put pen to paper and share it. None of my other outlets have space for this kind of thing, so I share it here with no promise or commitment to keep going.

The other day I went to an all women’s play party. I had been looking forward to attending for quite some time, but up until the last minute wasn’t sure I would do it. I had already booked and payed to go to 5 others from the same organisers and for whatever reason, never “managed”.

I think I was just scared.

Of course getting to play intimately with 100 women at once is fantasy come true for many, and one which should be boast worthy. At least so it felt. I tell myself that I wasn’t fully aware that it would be a play party. And that I was really there to look for potential clients.

Why did I go this time having failed the other times? Mainly because I was already dressed up from another event, a pre-holiday drinks party, and so was already out, and also not that far.

It was super welcoming, and they were very inclusive, going out of their way to welcome me as a trans woman. I’m not sure that I want to be singled out as a trans woman or for people to voice my trauma for me, but I appreciated the effort nonetheless.

I used to have this fear about cis lesbians, for their reputation as being trans-exclusionary or mean. I have not found that at all. The other lesbian group I see every once in a while has been unstinting in their support and welcome.

I can’t describe how delicious it is to be a woman, and to be accepted as a woman, particularly in this ugly period we are passing through. My days are punctuated by a calm sense of joy that I am just a woman now, and that I also am no longer suffering from gender dysphoria. It is true, it can be cured, or healed so much that you don’t think of yourself that way anymore.

To be transgender requires gender dysphoria to be present. Strictly speaking, I am intersex now, as I possess the characteristics of both–outwardly female, genetically male, but quite possibly in possession my whole life of endocrine and brain differences that never allowed me to find fulfilment as a man.

One small thing which puzzles me is the hilarious joy I get from wearing a strap-on, which was never the case of having a cock. The only thing I miss there is the feeling of feeling her wrapped around me, and having that connection as we merged. But I was fucked by an attentive woman who I am rather fond of the other day, and it was so different than being with a man (as if I would know).

Mainly, she studied my face, intently, as she slipped slowly and evermore deeply into me. Her own face registering surprise which rippled through her eyebrows as the head of her rubber appendage slipped past my introitus and I let out a small whimper.

Before I left, I mentioned that I had recently discovered that I was inappropriately sexualised as a baby by my own mother. The trauma of that has lain buried for my whole life. Seeing it surface has not angered me, and the trauma of the event has not upset me so much. But what has near daily pushed me into overwhelm is all the ways I have coped with its aftermath.

It has explained to me. My first domme said to me, it’s never the complicated answer. It’s the obvious one. She was right. But I had no idea…it was my body that remembered. And this is why we do somatic therapy.

What sits behind the tears? This profound sense of loss, mainly of love I kept myself from feeling, from relationships never pursued. I am terrified of sex. Suspicious of men, scared of women, and yet so drawn to them.

And my way of healing has been to wade into the swamp of my demons, but sometimes I don’t even know.

At the sex party I was quickly in a state of overwhelm. So, I left early. That was noted and I got a message from the founder saying how much she supported me and if there was anything they could do. The feeling I got there was the same I get sometimes on tantric retreats.

I have such beautiful sexual and sensual and spiritual connections with women on those, but sometimes when I see them with others, usually other women, and see how naturally and beautifully they touch one another, and know that I don’t have that in me, that I am stuck in this world of innocent touch for ever with my nose pressed to the glass of sexual freedom.

On my last retreat after several hours of gentle and sensual touch I looked around me and saw raw, primal sexual energy and nobody was grabbing me so I got up and left the room and retired. I ended up crying for several hours. Tears of despair.

I realise that the button that makes us cry is a like complex chord on a piano. The reasons can be varied, but some combination of notes, feelings, produce the same cocktail of sound, of emotion. Why say this? Because when a dominatrix beats me to the edge of myself and my body is so rattled that my mind can’t hold the pieces together anymore, the emotions rush out all pell mell in a way that she can see it before I do.

But it is the same emotional cocktail. The signature of a good beating goes to the same place.

I have not been able to make coherent sense of both what happened to me and how I dealt with it, only that I know now that my whole approach to sex and sexuality is predicated on my feeling that it is unsafe.

It may be boring, but below is a clinical explanation of my feelings which I plan to learn to be able to say. It is still a struggle. I will keep going.

Thanks for reading.

A COHERENT NARRATIVE OF EARLY SEXUALISED BOUNDARY VIOLATION, ATTACHMENT DISRUPTION, AND ADULT PATTERNS OF INTIMACY

I. Early Childhood Context: Attachment, Absence, and Power

The subject’s early childhood was characterised by maternal centrality and paternal absence. Her father was absent from approximately age two and formally divorced from her mother when she was four. During this period, her mother was the dominant — and largely unbuffered — attachment figure.

Contemporary attachment theory emphasises that when a primary caregiver is emotionally dysregulated, intrusive, or preoccupied with their own unmet needs, the child’s developing nervous system adapts around threat management rather than exploration.¹

From infancy onward, the subject experienced her mother as:

• highly touch-oriented
• overtly sexual in presentation and affect
• emotionally intrusive
• insufficiently attuned to boundaries appropriate for a child

There is no claim of explicit, remembered sexual acts in the conventional narrative sense. Rather, the subject reports pre-verbal somatic impressions of inappropriate bodily handling, particularly of genitals during caregiving (e.g., diaper changes), combined with a later-recognised pattern of emotional enmeshment and boundary confusion.

Importantly, these impressions did not initially present as narrative memories but as felt coherence — a sense that something “explained everything” once accessed.

Neuroscience and trauma research consistently show that experiences occurring before the development of autobiographical memory (approximately ages 2–3) are stored somatically and procedurally, not linguistically.²

II. Early Boundary Assertion: Withdrawal of Touch at Age Three

At approximately age three, the subject abruptly withdrew from maternal touch. She reports refusing physical contact and repeatedly screaming “don’t touch me.”

This behaviour is developmentally atypical.

Toddlers generally seek physical closeness with caregivers when touch is experienced as safe and attuned. Strong, persistent, verbalised rejection of touch at this age is widely understood in clinical psychology as a protective response to boundary violation or sensory overwhelm, not mere temperament.³

The subject understands this withdrawal as the first act of bodily self-sovereignty — a defensive adaptation that preserved her emerging sense of self.

Crucially, her mother responded not by respecting or exploring this boundary, but by mocking it, repeating and mimicking “don’t touch me” throughout the subject’s adolescence and into adulthood.

From a clinical standpoint, this constitutes a secondary boundary violation: the humiliation and invalidation of a child’s attempt to assert bodily autonomy.⁴

III. Medicalisation and Psychiatric Control in Childhood

During early childhood, the subject’s mother took her to six different psychiatrists in pursuit of a diagnosis that justified medication. The subject was ultimately medicated for what was framed as childhood ADHD.

She experienced this not as care, but as coercive control — an institutional reinforcement of the idea that her resistance, dysregulation, and boundary assertion were pathological.

In contemporary ethics and trauma-informed psychiatry, this pattern is recognised as a form of iatrogenic harm, particularly when:

• diagnostic shopping occurs
• parental distress is prioritised over the child’s experience
• medication is used to manage behaviour rather than context
• attachment dynamics are excluded from formulation

This experience later emerged somatically, not narratively, during somatic therapy — and served as a “keystone” memory that unlocked wider integration.

Research consistently shows that attachment trauma can mimic or exacerbate ADHD-like symptoms, particularly hypervigilance, emotional dysregulation, and attention fragmentation.⁵

IV. Interruption of the System: Relocation to Father at Age Eight

At age eight, the subject went to live with her father, who removed her from psychiatric medication, believing the diagnosis to be incorrect.

While the father was emotionally distant and strict, this environment provided:

• predictability
• structure
• minimal emotional intrusion
• respect for physical space

For a child previously overwhelmed by proximity and intrusion, this constituted regulation through distance rather than attunement.

Trauma literature recognises that for children from enmeshed or intrusive caregiving environments, structure without intimacy can feel profoundly calming.⁶

The subject reports significant stabilisation during this period.

V. Long-Term Consequences: Sexuality, Touch, and Innocence

1. Relationship to Sexual Energy

In adulthood, the subject developed a pronounced fear of sexual energy, particularly when it is:

• hungry
• goal-directed
• uncontained
• projected onto her

Male sexual desire often registers as dangerous or invasive. Female sexual desire, while not threatening in the same way, is experienced as engulfing — emotionally consuming and identity-threatening.

This dual response aligns with early experiences of being claimed rather than protected.

2. Preservation of Innocence

Despite extensive erotic imagination, sexual experience, and professional engagement with sexuality (including sex work and erotic writing), the subject experiences her innocence as persistent and central.

Trauma research distinguishes innocence as naivety from innocence as preserved selfhood. In cases of early sexualisation, innocence often becomes an actively defended core rather than a lost stage.⁷

The subject no longer seeks to place this innocence within a partner relationship, having learned that doing so leads to exploitative or unbalanced dynamics.

VI. Rediscovery of Touch Through Dominance-with-Consent

The subject reports that the first adult to touch her safely was her first dominatrix.

Key factors:

• explicit consent
• clear roles
• absence of hidden hunger
• predictable structure

This experience revealed not avoidance of touch, but profound deprivation.

Clinical literature on power exchange notes that for trauma survivors, negotiated dominance can provide containment that permits bodily presence where unstructured intimacy cannot.⁸

VII. Marriage, Sexual Disgust, and Withdrawal

During her marriage, the subject’s wife disclosed disgust toward her sexuality. In response, the subject stated she would never have sex with her again — and did not.

This mirrors the childhood pattern:

• sexuality framed as contaminating
• bodily self withdrawn to preserve integrity

Although love and emotional connection remained, physical touch was also largely withdrawn, causing distress for her partner, who was touch-oriented.

This withdrawal functioned as self-protection, not punishment.

VIII. Infantilism and Age Regression as Adaptive Coping

The subject identifies a longstanding interest in age regression / infantilism, emerging early in life and focused on:

• pre-verbal regression
• being held
• bottle-feeding
• crying
• surrendering agency

Scholarly literature on paraphilic infantilism (ABDL) consistently distinguishes it from pedophilia and notes associations with:

• early attachment disruption
• emotional neglect or boundary confusion
• desire to be the child rather than desire children
• regression for safety and affect regulation⁹

The subject understands this pattern as an adaptive attempt to access care at the developmental point where injury occurred, not as a primary erotic drive.

Importantly, this behaviour no longer dominates her life and is used rarely, consciously, and with full adult consent.

IX. Sex-Positive Spaces and Overwhelm

Despite strong erotic curiosity, the subject experiences overwhelm and withdrawal in sex-positive group environments (e.g., women-only play parties, tantric retreats).

These spaces often contain:

• ambient arousal
• diffuse sexual energy
• porous boundaries

For a nervous system shaped by early intrusion, this produces sensory and relational saturation, even without direct involvement.

Watching others engage sexually can be awe-inspiring yet dysregulating — a pattern consistent with trauma-sensitive eroticism.¹⁰

X. ADHD Reconsidered Through Attachment Lens

The subject no longer conceptualises her childhood ADHD diagnosis as primary.

Instead, she understands:

• early dysregulation as likely attachment-driven
• medication as a tool of control rather than care
• rebellion and withdrawal as adaptive self-protection

Modern research supports the view that developmental trauma can both mimic and amplify ADHD presentations, particularly in early childhood.¹¹

XI. Integration: A Single Coherent System

Across decades, the same logic recurs:

• bodily intrusion → withdrawal
• uncontained desire → fear
• structure + consent → safety
• distance without demand → regulation
• innocence guarded → survival

This is not fragmentation.
It is continuity.

The subject’s sexuality, attachment patterns, rebellion, intellectualisation, dominance, regression, and aversion to demand all arise from a single developmental necessity: preserving selfhood in the face of early violation.

XII. Conclusion

This narrative does not require:

• demonisation
• certainty about unverifiable acts
• abandonment of nuance

It requires only recognition that:

Early boundary violation — sexualised, emotional, and institutional — shaped a nervous system organised around self-protection.

The subject’s adult life reflects not pathology, but adaptive intelligence under constraint.

REFERENCES (Chicago Style)

Footnotes

1. Bowlby, John. Attachment and Loss, Vol. 1: Attachment. New York: Basic Books, 1969. ↩
2. van der Kolk, Bessel. The Body Keeps the Score. New York: Viking, 2014. ↩
3. Lieberman, Alicia F., and Patricia Van Horn. Psychotherapy with Infants and Young Children. New York: Guilford Press, 2008. ↩
4. Herman, Judith. Trauma and Recovery. New York: Basic Books, 1992. ↩
5. Teicher, Martin H., et al. “Childhood maltreatment and brain structure.” American Journal of Psychiatry 173, no. 1 (2016): 52–63. ↩
6. Lyons-Ruth, Karlen, and Jacobvitz, Deborah. “Attachment disorganization.” In Handbook of Attachment, edited by Cassidy and Shaver. New York: Guilford, 2016. ↩
7. Davies, J. M., and Frawley, M. G. Treating the Adult Survivor of Childhood Sexual Abuse. New York: Basic Books, 1994. ↩
8. Newmahr, Staci. “Becoming a Sadomasochist.” Journal of Contemporary Ethnography 40, no. 4 (2011): 393–421. ↩
9. Pate, J. E., and Gabbard, G. O. “Adult baby syndrome.” International Journal of Psychoanalysis 84 (2003): 709–720. ↩
10. Tiidenberg, Katrin, and Susanna Paasonen. “Safe, sane, and consensual?” Sexualities 21, no. 4 (2018): 531–547. ↩
11. Ford, Julian D., and Courtois, Christine A. Treating Complex Traumatic Stress Disorders in Children and Adolescents. New York: Guilford, 2013. ↩