Book Excerpts
Sins of My Faith: Innocence Lost to Incest
Marina Giulliani (alias)
From the Author ~ What I Know About Incest
It's commonly understood that incest refers to sexual acts between close relatives, but I know from first hand experience that incest is a heinous act no dictionary definition could possibly prepare you for.
Fondled by a respected member of my family from the time I was much too young to know what havoc the guilt of sexual pleasure would bestow on my future, I lost my innocence to incest. At one time I would have agreed with those who claim that rape is a far more serious abuse than touching, but now that I've put all the pieces together it's apparent my subconscious made no such distinction.
My abuser was loving, fun and endlessly funny. I adored him and I delighted in the extra attention he gave me because where he touched me made me feel good all over. As I grew older and learned more about what was appropriate when it came to personal boundaries, whenever his indiscretions crossed my mind I suppressed them, trusting HE couldn't have meant to do what his actions implied. I could not possibly consider it to be abuse. There was too much pleasure.
This ugly guilty pleasure is something I sought out in every relationship that followed from the schoolyard to the business world. What transpired after many years of loveless unions meant, that for me sex and love could not exist in the same relationship.
Sins of My Faith: Innocence Lost to Incest
Marina Giulliani (alias)
From the Author ~ What I Know About Incest
It's commonly understood that incest refers to sexual acts between close relatives, but I know from first hand experience that incest is a heinous act no dictionary definition could possibly prepare you for.
Fondled by a respected member of my family from the time I was much too young to know what havoc the guilt of sexual pleasure would bestow on my future, I lost my innocence to incest. At one time I would have agreed with those who claim that rape is a far more serious abuse than touching, but now that I've put all the pieces together it's apparent my subconscious made no such distinction.
My abuser was loving, fun and endlessly funny. I adored him and I delighted in the extra attention he gave me because where he touched me made me feel good all over. As I grew older and learned more about what was appropriate when it came to personal boundaries, whenever his indiscretions crossed my mind I suppressed them, trusting HE couldn't have meant to do what his actions implied. I could not possibly consider it to be abuse. There was too much pleasure.
This ugly guilty pleasure is something I sought out in every relationship that followed from the schoolyard to the business world. What transpired after many years of loveless unions meant, that for me sex and love could not exist in the same relationship.
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From Chapter Three ~ Mixed Messages
Certain expectations were never very clear because no one was ever comfortable enough with the subject matter to clarify the rules. I wasn't supposed to be "that kind of girl", but who knew what "that kind of girl" was? I was especially confused when I found out what "that kind of girl" did, because I'd already done it, with a man my parents knew and trusted.
I recall a hot sunny day in our backyard wading pool when I was about seven. There I was with a few neighbourhood girls and we were gabbing away as little girls do. The chatter came around to our genitalia. Not realizing that no one else used my family's bastardized Italian term for theirs, I was about to give a demo as to exactly what it was I was talking about, when a voice boomed from the kitchen window. "Marina, get in here!" Mom threatened me with the wrath of my father for what I was about to do. Now I had never seen much in the way of wrath from my father and considering that it seemed OK to me that grandpa had already been there, what could possibly be wrong with showing the neighbourhood?
From then on mom kept a closer eye on me, so I had a vibe that something may be a bit wrong with the whole grandpa thing. Remember, it felt great and I really didn't want to give it up so I did my best to keep it under wraps, but I slipped up a few times because I couldn't help trying to figure out exactly where all the pleasure was coming from. After one grandpa episode, I was sitting with my head practically in the toilet staring into my own vagina when the door suddenly swung wide open and there was that voice again. "Checkin' yourself out are ya!"
Certain expectations were never very clear because no one was ever comfortable enough with the subject matter to clarify the rules. I wasn't supposed to be "that kind of girl", but who knew what "that kind of girl" was? I was especially confused when I found out what "that kind of girl" did, because I'd already done it, with a man my parents knew and trusted.
I recall a hot sunny day in our backyard wading pool when I was about seven. There I was with a few neighbourhood girls and we were gabbing away as little girls do. The chatter came around to our genitalia. Not realizing that no one else used my family's bastardized Italian term for theirs, I was about to give a demo as to exactly what it was I was talking about, when a voice boomed from the kitchen window. "Marina, get in here!" Mom threatened me with the wrath of my father for what I was about to do. Now I had never seen much in the way of wrath from my father and considering that it seemed OK to me that grandpa had already been there, what could possibly be wrong with showing the neighbourhood?
From then on mom kept a closer eye on me, so I had a vibe that something may be a bit wrong with the whole grandpa thing. Remember, it felt great and I really didn't want to give it up so I did my best to keep it under wraps, but I slipped up a few times because I couldn't help trying to figure out exactly where all the pleasure was coming from. After one grandpa episode, I was sitting with my head practically in the toilet staring into my own vagina when the door suddenly swung wide open and there was that voice again. "Checkin' yourself out are ya!"
To read more of Marina's inspirational story click here.
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From Chapter Four ~ My Catholic Youth
The summer between grades eleven and twelve was when I met James. Long blonde hair, beautiful and non-Catholic, James and I got high together and we had sex together, lots and lots of sex. The two of us knew next to nothing about love, but taught each other a whole lot about heartache. After the second time we slept together, even though we had used protection, I was scared and when I called him from the prayer retreat to tell him so, he made it really clear that he wouldn't consider marrying me under any circumstances.
James was a regular, oversexed guy and one night I could feel it in my gut that he betrayed me. He and I were connected somehow. We just never understood how. Within six months of giving it up to him, I paced the hallway from my bedroom to the phone one night, until I couldn't stand my anxiety any longer. I dialed his number and demanded an answer. "James, what are you doing to me?" "I can't believe you Marina, how do you always know?" "Just tell me." It was more than intuition and we both knew it. "I brought this girl home with me and when we got in bed, I couldn't get it up." "I guess youíve suffered enough." and slammed the receiver down on him.
The summer between grades eleven and twelve was when I met James. Long blonde hair, beautiful and non-Catholic, James and I got high together and we had sex together, lots and lots of sex. The two of us knew next to nothing about love, but taught each other a whole lot about heartache. After the second time we slept together, even though we had used protection, I was scared and when I called him from the prayer retreat to tell him so, he made it really clear that he wouldn't consider marrying me under any circumstances.
James was a regular, oversexed guy and one night I could feel it in my gut that he betrayed me. He and I were connected somehow. We just never understood how. Within six months of giving it up to him, I paced the hallway from my bedroom to the phone one night, until I couldn't stand my anxiety any longer. I dialed his number and demanded an answer. "James, what are you doing to me?" "I can't believe you Marina, how do you always know?" "Just tell me." It was more than intuition and we both knew it. "I brought this girl home with me and when we got in bed, I couldn't get it up." "I guess youíve suffered enough." and slammed the receiver down on him.
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From Chapter Eight ~ Shrinking My Head
"So, why are you here?" she asked. "I feel like I'm growing older but I'm not growing up. My body hurts in a different place every day, so I figure it's all in my head." We were off and running. My weekly appointments were quite successful considering the issue of my grandfather's wandering hands never arose. We didn't discuss my sex life because the one time it was mentioned she made me feel pretty sleazy, so I wasn't about to go there. We talked mainly about my career, my inability to feel confident anywhere but at work, how to apply that strength to my everyday life and regain my self esteem.
We talked about my spirituality or actually my lack of it. I had no absolutely no desire to be a Catholic anymore and wasn't prepared to consider other options. My intrigue with the unexplained continued, but to me "spirituality" meant "religion" and I wasn't going anywhere near there either. She gave me books to read. Some helped and some didn't. She identified me as a drug addict and I ignored her. So, I was pretty much in control there too.
"So, why are you here?" she asked. "I feel like I'm growing older but I'm not growing up. My body hurts in a different place every day, so I figure it's all in my head." We were off and running. My weekly appointments were quite successful considering the issue of my grandfather's wandering hands never arose. We didn't discuss my sex life because the one time it was mentioned she made me feel pretty sleazy, so I wasn't about to go there. We talked mainly about my career, my inability to feel confident anywhere but at work, how to apply that strength to my everyday life and regain my self esteem.
We talked about my spirituality or actually my lack of it. I had no absolutely no desire to be a Catholic anymore and wasn't prepared to consider other options. My intrigue with the unexplained continued, but to me "spirituality" meant "religion" and I wasn't going anywhere near there either. She gave me books to read. Some helped and some didn't. She identified me as a drug addict and I ignored her. So, I was pretty much in control there too.
For the rest of Marina's triumphant spiritual awakening click here.
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From Chapter Nine ~ Love of My Life
I married the love of my life. The reception was spectacular and Chris and I danced our first dance as a couple to Elvis' Fools Rush In. Funny, it was the least foolish thing I'd ever done!
It was truly an extraordinary day and my grandfather's comment was the most memorable of all. After too many drinks he took my hand in the most grandfatherly way, smiled adoringly and uttered words that made my skin crawl. "Remember you'll always be my lover." Did he realize what he was saying? Was it a Freudian slip? It had been years since anything happened. Could he possibly have meant that the way it came out? He then swung his arm in a grand gesture and burned my wedding dress with his goddamn cigarette. Nice touch gramps. I smoked quite a few joints on our wedding night.
I married the love of my life. The reception was spectacular and Chris and I danced our first dance as a couple to Elvis' Fools Rush In. Funny, it was the least foolish thing I'd ever done!
It was truly an extraordinary day and my grandfather's comment was the most memorable of all. After too many drinks he took my hand in the most grandfatherly way, smiled adoringly and uttered words that made my skin crawl. "Remember you'll always be my lover." Did he realize what he was saying? Was it a Freudian slip? It had been years since anything happened. Could he possibly have meant that the way it came out? He then swung his arm in a grand gesture and burned my wedding dress with his goddamn cigarette. Nice touch gramps. I smoked quite a few joints on our wedding night.
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From Chapter Twelve ~ Hands of Healers
Furthering my attempt at putting my life back together, I called on one of the most centred women I know. Being a lesbian, Kristy often came up with a point of view that was different from my own when it came to matters of the heart, so I was anxious to get her take on all of this. We had dinner and she helped me focus on myself and on rebuilding my life with Chris. In relating my story, I told her how long I had been lacking sex and without drama or emotion detailed my sessions with Blair Flynn, my disconnected chakras and my childhood sexual experience with my grandfather. Expressionless she replied, "Well that would be a good way to disconnect sex and love. You felt sexual pleasure with no intimacy."
Furthering my attempt at putting my life back together, I called on one of the most centred women I know. Being a lesbian, Kristy often came up with a point of view that was different from my own when it came to matters of the heart, so I was anxious to get her take on all of this. We had dinner and she helped me focus on myself and on rebuilding my life with Chris. In relating my story, I told her how long I had been lacking sex and without drama or emotion detailed my sessions with Blair Flynn, my disconnected chakras and my childhood sexual experience with my grandfather. Expressionless she replied, "Well that would be a good way to disconnect sex and love. You felt sexual pleasure with no intimacy."
To Purchase this truly inspirational memoir click here.
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©2009 Marina Giulliani. All Rights Reserved.
©2009 Marina Giulliani. All Rights Reserved.
