Forgotten Boy
In the aftermath of abuse, what did we lose? Who were you before? Who were you during? Is there a part of yourself the trauma tried to override?
I am writing this with the knowledge that resisting would have been the worst possible thing for most of us to to. I am sensitive to the fact that I am lucky my outcomes weren’t worse.
I am posting on Facebook my experience preparing for my first bodybuilding competition. I’ve been trying to keep them light, but true. A huge element of my training is food. There was no way I could broach the subject without being honest. That meant mentioning being assaulted as it contributed to my anxiety. During the assault I clenched my mouth shut to prevent anything going in my mouth.
Afterwards I realized this is not the boy I thought of myself as. From the assault on the playground, to the man molesting me at 14, to the muscled up NYC sadomasochist threatening to break my teeth, I stood my ground. I kept my mouth wired shut.
These facts have never changed. That tough kid isn’t who I remember. I escaped humiliated, guilty, filthy...broken. Shame brainwashed me into believing I was pathetic and worse. I see me differently now. I resisted every time
When I practice posing without a mirror I feel a fraud. Without seeing what I look like, I don’t believe. I’m changing my tactic. That fierce kid will be stepping on stage with all of his strength and resolve. I will be whole.
I am writing this with the knowledge that resisting would have been the worst possible thing for most of us to to. I am sensitive to the fact that I am lucky my outcomes weren’t worse.
I am posting on Facebook my experience preparing for my first bodybuilding competition. I’ve been trying to keep them light, but true. A huge element of my training is food. There was no way I could broach the subject without being honest. That meant mentioning being assaulted as it contributed to my anxiety. During the assault I clenched my mouth shut to prevent anything going in my mouth.
Afterwards I realized this is not the boy I thought of myself as. From the assault on the playground, to the man molesting me at 14, to the muscled up NYC sadomasochist threatening to break my teeth, I stood my ground. I kept my mouth wired shut.
These facts have never changed. That tough kid isn’t who I remember. I escaped humiliated, guilty, filthy...broken. Shame brainwashed me into believing I was pathetic and worse. I see me differently now. I resisted every time
When I practice posing without a mirror I feel a fraud. Without seeing what I look like, I don’t believe. I’m changing my tactic. That fierce kid will be stepping on stage with all of his strength and resolve. I will be whole.