I’m happy, so why do I fantasise about sex abuse? | Mariella Frostrup

The Dilemma I am a woman in my early 20s, about to graduate from university and consider myself very independent with a healthy, normal, happy life. About two years ago I started watching porn. I didn’t even know what to look for, then I began to develop my own tastes and searched for specific things. What worries me is that my searches are for simulations of abuse – something that doesn’t reflect at all what I feel about the subject. I hate patriarchy and rape culture. Another issue that worries me is that now, when having sex with my boyfriend, I invent abuse stories and play them in my head in order to reach orgasm. I don’t like to role play any of those fantasies, I like to feel loved when having sex. I feel like none of this is healthy nor nurturing for my self development. Is it really that worthy of preoccupation?

Mariella replies It’s food for thought. Many women (and men) have similar fantasies and, as you have found, it doesn’t mean they want them made real. Nor does it mean there’s anything wrong with you or detract from all the other more wholesome qualities you ascribe to your life and personality. Fantasies, like dreams, are generally an outlet for emotions and psychological undercurrents we can’t or don’t want to include in our everyday experience. How lucky we are to have brains that can conjure the places we don’t want to go.

Rape is an act that asserts power in the basest, most violating way possible. It is not about an uncontrollable desire for another human being. It’s no coincidence that as a fantasy it’s more common among those in control of their day-to-day lives, rather than those who face such acts of sexual violence as an everyday danger. It’s not abnormal to be stimulated by the abstract idea of helplessness and subjugation. It certainly doesn’t mean when you walk down a street at night you are hoping a man will emerge from the undergrowth and take your right to choose what you do with your body by force.

It’s not abnormal to be stimulated by the abstract idea of being helpless and subjugated

One of the most intimate expressions of sexuality is role playing with someone we trust and desire. It’s not a game that’s open to strangers – except in our imaginations. This is tricky terrain and it’s only with those we feel closest to that we can even admit to such instincts. Whether fantasising about perpetrating sex crimes or imagining being the victim, it doesn’t mean we’re asking for it to happen.

It’s the same literal thinking that connects a promiscuous woman with an open invitation to sexual violence, a scenario we still see played out in courts when a victim (generally female) has her sexual lifestyle paraded as an example of why rape was an inevitability. Should we only be allowed to imagine what is politically correct or gender sensitive? It’s a gross hypocrisy when the loud champions of free speech come down hard on what they consider to be the unsayable.

When I published Desire, an anthology of erotica, last year, an author I greatly admire wrote a long censorious piece about the inclusion of stories that she felt were unacceptably violent or had strong misogynistic undertones. Yet it was an issue I addressed in the introduction to the book, and I clearly sectioned off these stories as Darkest Desires.

As adults we have a right to choose. There are yearnings deeper in our psyche than rational thought and it’s a restrictive view of feminism and womanhood to think we should be incapable of imaging acts and ideas that take us beyond philosophically acceptable terrain. Pretending our instincts are entirely tameable and explicable reduces the scope of human experience. Controlling the desires we can’t rationalise, or that open us or others to harm, is part of our responsibility as evolved animals. Evolution isn’t capable of wiping out the instincts we have been imbued with, but we have powerful tools to diffuse and direct them.

I’m not a fan of pornography because, in extremis, which is where the journey often winds up, it makes literal what should remain fantasy. Like all stimulants, it can create a hunger for greater highs. My feeling is that it’s your diet that needs regulating more than your imagination. Certainly your craving to be controlled and overpowered is worth exploring with an expert and might reveal aspects of your psychology that would be illuminating and perhaps helpful. It’s the domain that therapists exist to help translate and if you are troubled or feel dominated by sensory desires you aren’t comfortable with, do seek professional help.

Meanwhile, in a world where Fifty Shades of Grey sold in the millions to readers who wanted to imagine a domineering sexual dynamic they certainly weren’t campaigning for in real life, I think you can relax. We are complicated creations and exploring our fantasies is as vital as fuelling our bodies – as long as we aren’t causing harm to ourselves or others.

If you have a dilemma, send a brief email to mariella.frostrup@observer.co.uk. Follow her on Twitter @mariellaf1

I’m happy, so why do I fantasise about sex abuse? | Mariella Frostrup

Should I abandon my son to my alcoholic husband? | Mariella Frostrup

The dilemma I have been married to my alcoholic husband for 14 years. We have a 13-year-old son, and two older kids from my previous marriage. I had an affair with a black man from 2007 until 2009. I had kept it a secret from my husband until he found out from my diary in 2010. Since then he has started drinking three or four bottles of wine a night and blames his drinking on me. He has been hospitalised and in rehab many times for his alcoholism.

Our son is suffering because when my husband drinks he gets aggressive and my son has to stand between us to stop him hitting me. I have seriously thought about leaving without a trace. Maybe my son will be happier without a mother who is so pathetic.

Mariella replies The current problems in your relationship are definitely connected to your husband’s alcoholism, but overshadowing all of them is the physical threat you are under. I’m surprised it took you so many paragraphs before mentioning his violence towards you.

Maybe it’s something you are ashamed of. You won’t be the first victim of a tormentor to see their own suffering as something they have brought on themselves, or as a reflection of their worth. That’s utterly untrue and I’m hoping you can see, when written in black and white, how misplaced such feelings are. Or perhaps you excuse his physical abuse as a side effect of his drinking. While the latter might to some extent be true, it doesn’t excuse or condone his behaviour. Next time he attempts to raise a hand to you it’s important you remain calm and call the police. It’s not your son’s job to stand between his parents, and continuing to foist that role on him will be doing him damage that I know you wouldn’t want to inflict.

In small steps, and with great courage, you must remove your son and yourself from this man’s grip

I’m hoping you can count on the support of your two adult children, because you need as big and as vocal a support network as you can muster. It’s an opportunity for your friends and family to provide real tangible back-up by showing him that they are unafraid and prepared to be your witnesses. You are definitely not alone: the statistics for domestic abuse in this country are staggering. You need to get your experience on the official record and the sooner you do, the quicker your rights will be established in this terrible situation.

First, you need to understand that there is no excuse at all for the behaviour you are being subjected to. It needs to stop and your future plans can be better established when you are in a place of safety. We say “until death us do part” when we tie the knot, but there really needs to be a sub-clause that exonerates us for instant departure in the event of violence, dangerous addiction and abuse of any kind. Rowing and raging may be an unpleasant sideshow in many relationships, but sustained abusive behaviour and particularly any form of physical threat is an immediate red card. If he won’t clear out of your home, you will have to.

There are many organisations that can support you, particularly the beleaguered Refuge (24-hour National Domestic Violence Helpline, 0808 2000 247) which, despite losing much of its government funding, does an incredible job in rescuing the victims of domestic abuse from harm.

You didn’t sign up for this experience and every day you accept it you are causing damage to both your son and yourself. This man’s drinking may be hard to live with, but his abuse is a total deal breaker.

In the circumstances I’m tempted to ignore you describing your ex-lover as a “black man” as though it was his skin-colour, rather than your affair, that provoked your spouse. Instead, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt; like the spouses of many abusers you are probably just trying to find blame in yourself for your abuser’s crimes against you.

If your husband considers your choice of lover a further insult then he’s even more montrous than you have described. We’re not living in apartheid South Africa now, or in one of the many countries today where abuse at home is considered the divine right of husbands. Your lover’s racial make-up has absolutely nothing to do with the problems you are enduring today and it’s time you stopped looking for excuses.

In small steps, and with great courage, you must remove your son and yourself from this man’s terrible grip and, if you can, enlist friends and family to help you on your way. Most importantly contact Refuge who, with the sobering statistic of one in four women experiencing domestic violence in their lifetime, are pretty well qualified to give you practical help and advice.

If you have a dilemma, send a brief email to mariella.frostrup@observer.co.uk. Follow her on Twitter @mariellaf1

Should I abandon my son to my alcoholic husband? | Mariella Frostrup

Should I tell my estranged mum I’m pregnant? | Mariella Frostrup

The dilemma I’ve always had a difficult relationship with my mother. She has mental health problems, few friends and feuds with family members. She was physically abusive and mentally controlling when I was young. When I was 16 she pushed me out of a car because I was 10 minutes late to meet her. If things break she won’t get them fixed. Her washing machine broke 15 years ago and she has been hand washing ever since, resulting in RSI.

I went to university, got therapy and “moved on”, although I had self-esteem issues and an eating disorder as a teen. In my 20s I tried to have a relationship with her, but my tolerance for her obsessive behaviour has lowered. I met my husband four years ago and she took an angry dislike to him – since then our relationship has deteriorated. It’s been more than a year since we’ve been in contact.

Now I’m pregnant and others expect me to make amends. I feel little compulsion to do this. Maybe it’s better to live without her to protect my child and myself.

Mariella replies This is so tricky. I’d love to say that life is short, we need to forgive and forget and family is ultimately all we have. But I don’t think that’s true. Often family can be the spring from which our troubles spill forth.

Having a baby doesn’t turn you into a perfect parent, or even a better-functioning human being. In many respects it can exacerbate character flaws that already exist. All the experiences you carry from childhood will heavily influence how you parent. There may be no such thing as a perfect parent, just as there is no such thing as a perfect human being, but some take their dysfunction to heights from which it is impossible to return.

You’ve had a pretty rough childhood and it’s no wonder you’ve tried to escape. I’m in admiration for the strength of character you’ve shown in getting to university, tackling your emotional residue and embracing a life seemingly not too much mired down in past problems. Another test of your resilience would be your ability to maintain an emotional distance while continuing to have a semblance of a relationship with your mother.

Drop her a card and leave it to her to reply. If it comes with emotional tripwires step away

Turning your back and severing contact is sometimes the only path, but it can also be the easiest. It offers a form of escape, but no resolution; it just means you don’t need to cope with behavioural problems and emotional triggers that are your mother’s legacy. It also means you’ll never really know what was at the root of her unhappiness, or come to understand what made her the person she has become. The latter is a potential key to confronting your own foibles and fairly apportioning blame. Curiosity is one reason to try to forge a new, less emotionally fraught connection and, interestingly, your baby may do the work for you.

Grandchildren often develop an entirely independent connection with grandparents, enjoying a harmony with the adults we found impossible to live with. Without responsibility for the young life in their orbit, but enhanced by the pleasure of seeing themselves reflected, love can swing both directions in a fairly unconditional way. Vicariously it can be a healing balm for raw sores.

The most important question is how robust you feel about your own mental health at the moment. Pregnant with your first child is no time to take on additional emotional challenges and if that is all a rekindled relationship with your mother has to offer I’d be inclined to make yourself the priority. Familiarity does not come with a right to continue bad patterns of behaviour down the decades. It’s possible that this period of estrangement has given your mother time to contemplate her relationship with her daughter; it’s also possible that she hasn’t given it a second thought.

I’d be tempted to drop her a simple, kind card, letting her know you are all well, that you are having a baby and that you miss her. Then leave it to her to respond, and if it comes fraught with emotional tripwires step away and consider your duty done. If, on the other hand, your olive branch elicits a reply that feels it’s carried on a conciliatory wind, tentatively step further towards her. Ultimately it’s all down to you. Parenting gives you no rights over your children. At a certain point your relationship with them will be defined not by guilt but by the good times. If that bonding base never existed, ranting and raving about duty, responsibility or devotion is just specious noise.

As in a romance, the quality of blood relationships depends on all parties. They need to be invested in and nurtured in order to flourish. You can’t torture a child for 20 years and then expect them to support you unconditionally in old age. There’s no debt due, but there’s much pleasure to be gleaned watching your child enjoy an independent relationship with their grandparent. I’d give her a chance just to see if she deserves it.

If you have a dilemma, send a brief email to mariella.frostrup@observer.co.uk. Follow her on Twitter @mariellaf1

Should I tell my estranged mum I’m pregnant? | Mariella Frostrup