detective work

I'm what you could call a "emotional hypochondriac" in that I keep thinking there must be something wrong with me.

My latest obsession with myself is thinking that maybe I was sexually abused as a child after all.

I have never entertained the notion, but over the years people have told me that they think I may have been victimized. I have always laughed at the assertion, but not in a condescending way.

I laugh at it because I know survivors of sexual abuse, incest, and all sorts of bad things. Some of them are pretty together despite the after-effects; others are a total wreck and cannot deal with anything stressful.

Lately, however, my mind has drifted into different territories. I know for a fact that I was never systematically or habitually raped, abused, fondled, molested or touched... but what if it was a one-time thing?

What if someone in my family crossed a delicate line without even knowing it? What if it was a well-meaning aunt or a female friend of the family helping my mother out with some of the kid chores?

I have this memory of one of my aunts wanting to give me a bath at age 8, and I recall resisting and screaming "NO!" but I have always thought this was because I was getting older and was craving privacy slowly but surely.

Still, it is weird to think that she wanted to give me a bath when I was 8 years old. You chalk it up to embarassing things your parents or older relatives do, such as Dad walking around the house in his underwear or Mom showing off your baby pics to strangers.

I don't know what I'm getting at, but let me assure you that I am not blaming or pointing a finger at anyone. I am just trying to get to the bottom of my neuroses concerning women.

Why do I flock to older women for support? Why do I have so many platonic female friends? Why do I have a compulsion to stay in touch with all of my exes? What is the real cause of my desire for a "muse" anyway?

Anyone out there have any suggestions?