My body belongs to me.

I don't know what to do about some things. I wrote a post on another blog of mine, and it seems to have riled one of my regular readers. That's not something I wanted to do. Our experiences are very different. I won't say that mine is better, it's just different.
Because of my experience of sexual abuse, I am pretty guarded about my body. Some women are not. That is their right and privilege. But when someone says to me, "I still feel my heart and body belong to (in this case, her dead lover)", I just want to scream.
I don't think I came out of my daze from the abuse until I realized that my body was by goddess mine. Mine! To share or not with someone else. And so when I hear that someone's heart and body belong to another, it sounds like fingernails on a blackboard to me.
OK, I'm sitting here having a panic attack thinking about that time. But that's my experience, it's not anyone elses. No one can invalidate it for me, and I won't invalidate this other woman's experience for her. It's not my place.
Sex is a wonderful part of life, whether alone or with somebody. But it can also be used to abuse. And I need to protect myself from that. So perhaps that is part of the reason I have at least 100 extra pounds on me. It keeps me from attracting jackals. And I have found a lovely man who treats me well. But I had to get back my self-respect before I could find someone who would respect me.
And I had to talk about this, but not on my other blog where it could hurt someone, but here. Maybe just private thoughts for now.