Power and Homosexuality

So I really am going to do it, completely and totally psychoanalyze myself, everything I ever have been, everything I could or will be. I do this to a certain extent every day, but I want to try to collect it, in print, reality.
So this post is going to be about power, because I've been thinking (I do believe I think way too much when I'm not in school- school is the perfect way to kill any sort of thinking brain cells) about it and its role in my life.
Power... well for instance when I was at my counselor's office last year, one time I saw Sam's dad and one time I saw Shauna's dad. And I didn't tell them who I was for a very long time. It's similar whenever I see someone I know that doesn't know me. Why? Because there is a sense of power in knowing someone, in knowing one of their secrets that they may not even tell their dearest friends... that they're in counseling. To them that makes them screwed up. Because when I know that, I have a sort of power over them, the power of information, and they have none of that over me.
Why does it matter to me so much that I have power and control?
I don't know. I think a lot of things in my life are about it though. Perhaps because over my childhood I had no power or control. My mother hit me and I had no control to fight back. She called me stupid and a bi*ch and I didn't have the power to ignore her words- I believed them. And of course there was all the sexual abuse in which I had no power to fight back. So I guess it makes sense that I crave power.
And I do usually have power over people because I have amazing instincts. I can tell things about a person just by paying attention to their actions, to the way they say things. Most people could also do that, I think, if they trained themselves, if they cared enough. But I have excellent training. I've been watching people my whole life- mostly the people that abused me. It took the shock off of the abuse a bit, to expect it, to learn to know exactly when it was coming. I still don't know why though... why would my cousin do that to me? And logic and answers matter quite a bit to me, maybe more than they should. I can't just accept things.
And I think that my bulimia and my cutting started because I felt powerless, because I felt unable to change the world or even myself, or my circumstances. When people found out what my mom was doing to me and she moved out, that was a loss of power.
My mom is always insisting that I crave power over my family. Well that's one area where it's not true, I think. I just wanted to take care of my mom and I failed. She needed taking care of. But I have always felt too much power in the sense of codependency, in the ways my mother needed me, to cover up what she did, to help her survive.
Anyway... about homosexuality. I'm not homosexual... it took me a long while to be able to establish that. I don't think I ever thought I was, either, but doesn't everyone have their doubts at times? Shauna asked me, "do you think you'll be lesbian because of what they did to you?". Well... no. Female people sexually abused me too... namely my babysitters. Perhaps not as profoundly or as "badly" as my brother and cousin did, but still.
I think that being homosexual is morally wrong. I am not against gay people at all... I do believe it is perfectly natural. But the natural man is an enemy to God... and I believe we as people have a responsibility to try to figure out what's moral and what's not. There is not always a clear line... but my experiences with sex have taught me that what is natural is not always right, or moral.
I do believe in separation of church and state though in the issue of homosexuality, and that gay people deserve all governmental rights guarenteed to straight people, and that religious rights should be left up to religious affiliations to determine.
So I'm not gay. But I've wondered about it. Actually, I don't know what I am. I like guys, that is for sure. But... I don't like them as much as some of my friends seem to. I don't think about sex the way they do. I think about it logically, as an act of perverted passion, and try to dissect it and the motives people have to engage in it. My friends have dreams about it and think about it with a sort of lust.
In that way I may never fit in. I can only hope that someday I find a man that understands how completely and utterly terrified I am (wow this psychoanalysis thing must be working because this is the first time I've realized this) of having sex, because it is yet again giving up control, and it feels wrong to me, and it feels like allowing myself to be invaded by space aliens by evil means and for an evil end.
But I do want to get married someday, and I suppose have a healthy sexual relationship, so I guess I'll have to work on my sexual phobias.