Not your fault

Not your fault
Hey G

iceman67 said:
How about you? Were you able reconcile? Did you wind up hitting your children? I promised myself i'd never do it to my boys and I did not hit them regardless of what they did. I'll be honest, I they got yelled at by me, which I am sure was scary since I had so much anger built up from the abuses, but never hit.
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I never hit my kids and neither did my wife. Some screaming I'm sure went on but I never hit any of them. I'm glad you didn't either. I'm glad you were also able to reconcile with her because of her bipolar disorder. I figure hitting a child is in a fit of anger or a loss for words or like my mother just being evil.

The very next night after I confronted my mother this past September about her not being my biological mother she called me in that she wanted to talk to me the next evening. So I went in and she started screaming at me that all I wanted was her money. She threatened to go to an assisted living facility which she wanted for many years but my father didn't want to go. Anyway, he died in July from elder abuse. My mother was screaming at him every day and wishing he was dead or would die. So he slept during the day and got up in the middle of the night to eat and went back to bed before she got up. That life was not sustainable for a man 104 years old. Anyway, it only took 3-4 months for him to die She didn't take care of him at all and nobody knew about it. Anyway, last June 11 was their 80th wedding anniversary, he was dead by July.

Anyway, back to my mother, in September we had a fight when she told me that all I want is her money and I told her to go to "her fucken assisted living facility". She called the police the next day and told them that I threw her out of the house. Within two weeks her niece and the caseworker from the adult abuse system from the county got my mother to take me off her "in trust for" bank accounts and made her niece a co-signer on her bank accounts and they removed her jewelry from the bank vault. She now pays $42,000/year for her assisted living home which is dirt cheap but she will run out of money in about 6 years. She was 99 this past August.

I guess what ticked her off is when I confronted her and I asked her how much did she pay for me. I knew I was smuggled out of Norway when I was a baby and they bought me as opposed to having to go through a legal city adoption agency. My parents might not have known that they just bought a "human trafficked" baby. My birth certificate was forged and my parents were put on as my biological parents. No adoption needed. The transaction took a day.

I haven't seen or spoken to her since. I have no intention of seeing or speaking to her. She fucked me royally. And of course, I never forgot the beatings I got from her. I remember having to sit on the floor crying and pleading to her not to hit me. She would just yell at me and I would have to take my shoes off and then take my pants and underpants off. I would stand up and she would pull my shirt up and hold my arm up in the air while she beat me all over with my father's belt. I also remember while I was jumping around while she beat me her leg would "accidentally" catch my leg and open me up and she would give me the belt in my junk. I would just go straight down to the floor where she left me curled up in a heap. I couldn't even cry. I felt like my insides were ripped out of me.

When she left she took no pictures of me, my wife, my kids, and my grandkids.
 
lapchinj said:
Hey G


I never hit my kids and neither did my wife. Some screaming I'm sure went on but I never hit any of them. I'm glad you didn't either. I'm glad you were also able to reconcile with her because of her bipolar disorder. I figure hitting a child is in a fit of anger or a loss for words or like my mother just being evil.

The very next night after I confronted my mother this past September about her not being my biological mother she called me in that she wanted to talk to me the next evening. So I went in and she started screaming at me that all I wanted was her money. She threatened to go to an assisted living facility which she wanted for many years but my father didn't want to go. Anyway, he died in July from elder abuse. My mother was screaming at him every day and wishing he was dead or would die. So he slept during the day and got up in the middle of the night to eat and went back to bed before she got up. That life was not sustainable for a man 104 years old. Anyway, it only took 3-4 months for him to die She didn't take care of him at all and nobody knew about it. Anyway, last June 11 was their 80th wedding anniversary, he was dead by July.

Anyway, back to my mother, in September we had a fight when she told me that all I want is her money and I told her to go to "her fucken assisted living facility". She called the police the next day and told them that I threw her out of the house. Within two weeks her niece and the caseworker from the adult abuse system from the county got my mother to take me off her "in trust for" bank accounts and made her niece a co-signer on her bank accounts and they removed her jewelry from the bank vault. She now pays $42,000/year for her assisted living home which is dirt cheap but she will run out of money in about 6 years. She was 99 this past August.

I guess what ticked her off is when I confronted her and I asked her how much did she pay for me. I knew I was smuggled out of Norway when I was a baby and they bought me as opposed to having to go through a legal city adoption agency. My parents might not have known that they just bought a "human trafficked" baby. My birth certificate was forged and my parents were put on as my biological parents. No adoption needed. The transaction took a day.

I haven't seen or spoken to her since. I have no intention of seeing or speaking to her. She fucked me royally. And of course, I never forgot the beatings I got from her. I remember having to sit on the floor crying and pleading to her not to hit me. She would just yell at me and I would have to take my shoes off and then take my pants and underpants off. I would stand up and she would pull my shirt up and hold my arm up in the air while she beat me all over with my father's belt. I also remember while I was jumping around while she beat me her leg would "accidentally" catch my leg and open me up and she would give me the belt in my junk. I would just go straight down to the floor where she left me curled up in a heap. I couldn't even cry. I felt like my insides were ripped out of me.

When she left she took no pictures of me, my wife, my kids, and my grandkids.
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I am so very sorry you had to live through that. It is a heart wrenching story. I wish I had a magic wand to make the pain go away but I don’t. Tha ani you kindly for sharing, I’m sure it was not easy.

FWIW, I will say I forgave my mom but I have never forgotten and I am sure I never will.
Did you ever find out. Why she acted out that way? What she did was terrible and I am sure embarrassing, especially being nude while it happened.

My beating were often but always with clothes on. If I had a dollar for every time it happened, I’d be very wealthy.

G
 
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Hey G

I think that the worst part of being beaten by my mother was having to take off my own pants.

I really think that when I asked her how much she paid for me it became the end of the discussion. I must have hit a nerve. But since I found out that I was her biological offspring she turned a switch from on to off. I don't think that she knew that I was a trafficked child but she didn't think anything when she was listed as the biological parents. I think that she felt that it was a legal adoption of a baby. The one thing that she didn't like was that I was blond. Nobody in the family was blond.

That was my mother and you will see that a lot of guys here on MS had other kinds of punishments by their mothers or fathers. That shit that happened to me stopped when I was 10 only because I was not 5 years old anymore and it was tough to hold onto me. After that, she would only pull out the belt and when the strap of the belt didn't work anymore then she used the buckle end of the belt to hit me. But by 10 I had a new parent that loved me. Not in a normal way but he still took care of me. I only had to do what he asked of me. I had sex with him which I found loving. I felt that being anally loved was truly love to me. When I was taken to his "friends" and I was anally penetrated I thought that was true love. I found early in life that anal and oral was love. The men that did that to me were always grateful and even gave me money. Did anal hurt? yeah, but not as much as my mother taking the belt to me. And int the end the men were so thankful and kissing me. My mother never kissed me but the johns did. they told me that I was a beautiful boy and that I looked so cool. My mother never did. I felt loved when they fucked me. It hurt but not as much as my mother's belt. And when they were finished they praised me and kissed me and wanted to be with me again they even gave me money. Before I even came they had my favorite food. either Cheeseburger, fries, and a vanilla coke or pizza with extra cheese. I never got that from my mother. So I continued in the life. I spent 15 years in the life.

The only bad part of my young life was the movies and my abduction. My abduction was the worst thing to happen to me. My eyes were taped shut and I was beaten and raped repeatedly for two days straight. I thought I was going to die. When I was put into a car and driven away, my eyes were still taped shut, I thought that I was going to die. I pleaded for my life but got no response. We drove and drove and I cried and pleaded for my life. Just as we slowed up the guy in the backseat with me in the car put a bunch of loose change in my left-hand pants pocket and pushed me out the door of the moving car.

But that was the end of that. I was alive and I continued to be a prostitute or rather a call boy.
 
Hey Toad

Sex was my childhood, teen and young adult environment. If a john didn't fuck me I thought something was wrong with me and he didn't like me. I was afraid to tell papasan. Having sex with papasan was a treat, you can say. Even when I came out of the USAF I went back into the game. I still loved papasan and I had my boyfriend Bobby Who I loved.

I went into the USAF at 130lbs and came out at 150lbs. I lost most of that weight after I got out and was back down to 135-140lbs. I didn't shave yet and had no body hair aside for some pubes. So I was still very sellable. I could pass for 15-16. But at 24 the sex, drugs, parties, and johns I crashed. I took off. I just got up one day and left and told no one that I was leaving or where I was going. That was how my game ended. I never said bye to anyone. I started a new life where nobody knew me or my past. I went cold turkey on drugs. I got married when I was 26. How I got married to a woman is another story but it worked. she didn't know it but she saved my life. I never had any real friends only acquaintances. I was afraid someone would find out my past. I didn't even tell my wife that I was in the USAF. Until 2011 when I fell apart and I was drinking heavily I mentioned to my wife that I was abused as a kid and I needed to go into therapy. In October 2011 I finally told my wife I was in the USAF. Over the next couple of years, I told her more and more about my past. But I'm still a closeted gay. With 6 great kids. I NEVER hit any of my kids. My wife brought them up. I couldn't do homework with them or play ball or roll around on the grass or snow with them. I was badly damaged in that respect but they grew up despite my lack of involvement. It was motherly love that brought them up. Go figure that one out.
 
Hey Toad

I should have checked in with you but I figured you needed your space.
I hope you’re doing OK. I get nervous when someone I know doesn’t write for a while. I also find myself checking out for a while from getting back onto MS.

As far as success goes I think That stopped in 2011 when my past came back to fuck me up. I was hoping that I would take it to my grave. I almost succeeded in 2012. I really think that it was my wife that made the marriage work out. It’s a long story.

I’m happy to hear from you. I hope you had enough time to get grounded again. I’m looking forward to talking again.

Sending a ton of Love, Peace and Time to enjoy it
 
Hey Toad

Yeah, I miss ya but I figured that there was a reason not to post. I run into those feelings myself and I tend to hermit myself. But you have to take care of #1 first. Whenever you feel like it you can always come back. I don't think that you have to apologize at all. Things are very trying these days to say the least. It's very nice to care and shop for elderly but you also have to be careful. You could probably try to shop amazon :cool: . Take your time I'm always here for you and I'll wait till your ready to come back

Be safe. I'm sending a ton of peace and magic to get you through.
 
My heart goes out to you guys. Stuff you guys have been through is unimaginable to me. It saddens me that there are people like that out there, we are even seeing news items now a out child molesters and sex traffickers in the church being busted. I saw a clip, I guess on YouTube, that YouTube knows about the dark web, and how the dark web is accessible through YouTube, and nothing is being done about it. Sad
 
Hey GB

Yeah, I'm still sorting my stuff out. I have to go through 15 years of shit

Nice to hear from you. Stay safe, and I'm also sending a ton of love and peace and time to enjoy it
 
hey HL

It wasn't easy to come out and write about my shit. I had buried my youth after I took off from home and moved out of Long Island and moved north of NYC. I was hoping I would take my story with me to the grave but that was not to happen. My wife knew nothing about my past, she didn't even know that I spent time in the USAF. My youth didn't exist. I finally broke down on January 4, 2011, walking through my old neighborhood in the west village in NYC. I started drinking and not going to work, etc. I finally had to tell my wife that I was abused but nothing more. I needed therapy. So I started with my T on January 4, 2012. I thought that I would lose my mind because his office was only a block away from the Washington Square Park where I used to hang out starting when I was 11. My T told me that I need to get on meds because he cannot connect with me. I didn't want to go to a shrink. but after a session in March of 2012 I was looking for a bus to jump in front of but it never came. In my next T session, I asked for the name of a shrink.

It takes time to come out and takes even more time to get through the memories as they start flooding back in. We have to try and talk about our past otherwise those memories will just rot your insides.

I hope everyone is safe with regards to the virus. Stay safe, and sending a ton of love and peace.
 
You are right, Lapchinj. It is good and needful to let it out, to talk about the issues of the past that are weighing down on us. I hope you find a therapist that can easily connect with you so that you can have victory over the demons of your past
 
Toad said:
Hi Jeff.

Sorry I can't seem to get my act together.
I just don't have the emotional energy required for posting right now.

I have a ton of stuff going on right now besides trying to care/shop for a few older and sick ones with the plague going around.
It doesn't affect my age group quite as bad so I am trying to help out.
I am going to post a different thread about what's going on. But may not be able to post much for a while.
Stay safe.

Toad
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Hey Toad, it is great to see you around again!
Take care!
 
Hey Alright,

I got a pair of great therapists. So it's not the T's the problem it's me. CPTSD and too many thoughts of that just lead to thoughts of suicide is hard to get through. I doubt that I will but I'm afraid of that one straw that breaks the camel's back. 15 years of shit mostly prostitution is just too much to get through. This place keeps my feet on the ground.

Be well and stay safe. Everyone should stay safe with the virus. Sending magic and tons of peace to all.
 
I am sorry for you that it has been hard for you, hope it will be easier for you to be open with a T. What is CPTSD, Lapchinj? Is it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?
 
GonnaBalright said:
What is CPTSD
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Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, meaning the Trauma was ongoing, usually in childhood, causing the victim to be stuck in the Fight, Flight, Freeze, Fawn response - always on guard.
 
It's amazing how so many stories here are just like mine, I never thought it was possible.
 
Hey GB

Kal gave a perfect description of CPTSD. I got into the sex business when I was 8 years old. I don't have any memories of my life before that. It even continued when I went into the USAF in '69. When I came back to the village on leave I was still rented out. when I got out of the USAF in '72 I went back into the game. Finally, at 24 I knew that if I didn't get out of the game I was going to die. I left the game and everyone I knew and moved out of the village leaving my world behind. I told nobody where I was going.

I had buried my past, got married and had 6 great kids but nobody knew anything about my past. Not even that I was in the USAF. But on January 4, 2011, I was called for jury duty in downtown Manhattan. When I finished I was walking up 6th ave to the 42nd street but terminal when I accidentally walked through my old neighborhood in the village. I stood for 45 minutes unable to move on the corner of where Bleecker, Mineta, and 6th avenue came together. And now I'm in therapy, I'm here on MS and I finally told my wife what happened to me before we were married and why I was never able to hold children, not even mine.

Tons of peace and a safe journey through this difficult time.
 
Barkabus said:
It is my fault. I should have said no. I didn't. I allowed it. I permitted it. There was no force upon me. I just let it happen. I pretended to be asleep. I am at fault.
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Please hear this as gently as I can say it:
No, Barkabus, no you are not at fault.
You coped the best way you knew how in a situation that was so far out of your wheel box.
The doer is the one who did it.
I know the anguish of false blame, it feels right and true, but not real. Because it’s not ours.
 
I need to say this. I tried to stop them as a child and as an adult. It did not work! Ever! I always tried to protect the younger or weaker than me. It never worked and usually made things worse because now THEY KNOW you are emotionally vested in the child and your pain at their suffering will make it sell better. For the animals who are into this the suffering of innocence is what gets them off.
A friend of mine 30 years ago was the child of one of the bosses who enjoyed his work and involved his children in it. She talked to me about it. I learned a lot about it then. She was an extreme masochistic person for the part she played in it till she ran away from home because of it.
You are in a no win situation at that point. When those who have the power want someone hurting someone is going to be hurting! That's all there us to it. The people who worked in the concentration camps that survived dealt with these feelings for the same reasons. It is SURVIVORS GUILT and is a royal pain in the butt! I hope this helps someone to understand.
Blessed be peace unto you and good ripples brother.
 
Hey Barkabus

I'm really sorry that you think that way. It’s wrong to think that way because it was not at any point your fault. I read your intro and it's horrible. What I'm going to try and show you is that with my own shit I wrongly think the same way you are right now, but we both have to start out with the premise that we were not in the wrong. We didn't invite what happened to us. We were groomed. It doesn't matter if the grooming took a month or only a few minutes it wasn’t our fault. We have to say that over and over even if we don’t yet believe it. We have to start with the truth and the truth is it wasn’t our fault. We didn’t do anything wrong. It happened very fast from what you wrote in your intro and you fell into that mindset of "WTF is going on". Then we get scared and we’re afraid to say stop, you make like you're waking up. Once it's over we're afraid to say it even happened. Fear is a big burden for a young boy. But this is not our fault. All the fault falls on the guy who put his hand in our pants. It wasn't us and it wasn't the pants. The problem was the guy undoing your belt, etc.

I will give you an idea of what I'm up against and maybe you can see the problem we both have. First I have to say that my parents sucked big time. On top of that, they weren't even my parents. Then on top of that, I wasn't adopted or even fostered. I was bought as a newborn most probably brought here from Norway (according to my DNA). My US birth certificate was forged so I really don’t even know my own birthday. So my life was already off the rails with my so-called parents. I needed someone to love me not beat me. I first found that in my best friend's sister who was 16 and we were 8. She took naked pictures of me and her brother and we ended up in the boy magazines of the early '60s which was legal back then to sell on the corner newsstands in Manhattan. Yeah, pictures of naked boys in magazines. These weren't porn pictures but rather just naked kids in showing off all their glory. When my friend and I saw our pictures in the magazine we thought it was cool. I didn't see anything wrong with being naked. As soon as kids (boys and girls) could walk off came the diapers and pants. At that time boys went swimming naked in places like the YMCA or schools that had pools. Showers in school after PE was taken together. In Finland, boys still swim in school naked.

When I was 10 I was taking judo lessons and one of the instructors took me "under his wing" the very first day. He worked with me and when the day was over it was time for everyone to take showers. There was a sauna also that the adults liked to sit in and BS. As a 10-year-old kid being asked to join your instructor in the sauna was a big thing. When I got too hot he said it was time for an ice-cold shower. That was the first time he washed me from head to toe. He kept telling me how beautiful I was, how smart I was, how well my muscle tone was. I didn't know what muscle tone meant so he used his finger to show me the lines on my stomach. He showed me I had no fat on me by pinching my skin in different places on my body. He told me he loved my long blond hair (It was down to my shoulders). I ate that all up. It was nice to hear that I was a good looking kid and I was very smart. It was the first time that I was given a shower without bleeding. He was kind, he bought me my favorite lunch - Cheeseburger, fries and a soda fountain vanilla coke. I fell head over heels for him. He eventually invited me over for sleepovers saying that he would take me into the city judo school which was much bigger than the one near my parent’s house.

My mother, on the other hand, told me I was bad, I never listened I would grow up to be a garbage man. There was no bubble bath with soap or toys. She made me stand and rubbed me raw with a washcloth. She hated my blond hair, she hated my Christian nose because it turned up a little. Then she would beat me for some reason I didn’t know. I only guessed that I was bad.

I think you can see where this is all going. My instructor had only one bed and we slept naked but I slept naked at home also so there were no alarms going off. Everything started off very normally, slowly and methodically. We took showers together in his apartment before we went to bed. He showed me how to clean my foreskin. It had to be pulled back and cleaned with alcohol and then dried properly Otherwise I could get a bad infection. He taught me other things that a father does with his son. I was amazed at what happened when I rubbed his penis enough. He said I will be able to do the same thing as I get bigger. I won’t go into how he introduced me to rape, all I will say is that it happened and he said that fathers did that with their sons. and when I was big enough I would be able to do it with him also.

Of course, I had to learn more about all this new stuff and I told my best friend and asked him if he knew what I knew and he said yes. So I guess everything I did with my instructor was OK. My friend was also doing the same thing. Not with his father but with another adult “friend”. Before my 11th birthday, my instructor told me he had to work late so he was going to drop me off by his very good friend and I should be good and listen to everything he tells me and my instructor will pick me up in the morning. I didn’t realize it yet but this was my very first date with a john. I listened to my instructor and did whatever his “friend” told me to do. The guy even gave me $5 because I was such a good boy. Wow! I never saw $5 before.

When I told my best friend that I was dropped off overnight by my instructor's best friend he told me that my instructor was making money. My friend told me that he was seeing adults also since he was 6 years old. He said it was OK that adults like to do that. After I was dropped off a few times I realized that what my friend told me was true. My instructor was most probably making money by sending me to his “friends”. I never saw any money but I would get $5 from the "friend".

This went on until I went into the USAF at 18-1/2. Other shit happened in the meantime but that’s not for now. Was this my fault? No! But I still suffer from a tremendous amount of guilt. Why was it OK? Because I was told it was OK. Was I stupid? No, he told me I was a very bright boy. Was it because I loved my instructor and he loved me? He was super kind to me. He bought me a 10-speed racing bike when I was 12. He said I was a big boy and that he loved me. All my mother did was beat the shit out of me. What am I guilty of? Is it that I liked the affection that my instructor showed me. Somebody loved me, my mother yelled at me, said I would be a garbage man, and of course beat me. To sleep with someone who would hug me and kiss me, do things with me, go to places like museums and zoos. I felt like someone, I was treated like a “big boy” and that’s what big boys do, don't they. After all, I was 11 years old already. All I had to do to be loved was pull down my pants. That became my life which I was only able to get out of when I was 24.

Barkabus, we have to say over and over and over that it wasn’t our fault. Please, at least start with that.
 
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