*Triggers Possible* 2nd abuse… new flashback
raffa_will_fight
Registrant
I worked all day, not even one thought about anything sexual. Since I am an active part of MS I almost had the feeling of being obsessed: about others stories (to find similarities, looking for triggers that would help me remember), about my own abuse (can’t tell you how ashamed I felt when my body reacted), about being finally able to talk to others about my past in details that I can’t share with friends or my family. I could not deal with them knowing…
After work was done I had dinner, like always, eating pasta (same sauce, same amount weighted precisely, rewatching the same episodes of American Dad for the hundred time). When I finished I turned of the screen of my iPad, saw myself in the black glass and a flashback hit me. I could feel my face becoming white. And now I am smoking one sigarette after the other trying to calm myself down. Sorry for rambling, but I needed to tell someone… I am afraid that if I don’t write it down right away tomorrow I don’t remember. And I need to share… I don’t know with whom to talk about it…
What I always found strange is that I have clear and vivid memories about my my first abuse. Sensations, rooms, cloths, smells. When I close my eyes it feels as if I am there.
The second abuse though seems like a preview that stops at one point. The same point for years.
A neighbor kid (I’ll call him H) around 15/16 and a friend of him (G) take me to H’s house. We go up the stairs to the ceiling. They ask if I want to play doctor, I think. I remember laying on the ground, shirt pulled up, pants and underwear pulled down and off, legs placed in a “frog” position. They are on my side on their knees, one on each side.
I don’t remember G’s face. He is though from the same town and I see his hair style clearly: dark hair combed to one side. But his face, every time an image starts to form it vanishes.
I remember the smirks, the looks they give each other while smiling. I recall a feeling of unease, like when you see a red flag that you just can’t explain.
H starts to touch me, my neck (squeezing), my chest (squeezing and pulling my nipples), my belly, rubbing and pushing. And then my genitals. Touching, softly, the fingers stroking the tip of my foreskin, along the penis, the balls, under them, I feel a finger brushing my anus, then going back to my penis. Obviously I was erect (like my penis was ready for the games my uncle played).
G pulls my foreskin back, quick, hard. I hear myself saying “ahi!”, not shouting, almost whispering like if I was trying to not draw attention from others in the house (I hate this memory, makes me feel as if I wanted to protect them from being discovered doing something wrong). I try to close my legs but H just says no and I open them again. H moves behind my head, G stays on my side (I think he was on my left). He lets go of my penis, the skin still pulled back. “His balls” I hear H say, and then his hands, from behind, push my knees open. G takes one testicle in his hand and starts to squeeze.
DARK - the memories keeps stopping at this point. Some details over the last month came to the surface, but the end was always the same. Till today. My eyes are still producing tears, but I don’t cry. Weird…
The flashback just added another part of that day. Too little, just to fucking add more confusion and questions and images to have me stay awake more nights while I am just exhausted!
G squeezes one of my balls. I let out a shy scream, try to close my legs but H’s hands still push on my knees. I try to lift my head to see what they are doing, but H’s crotch is over my face. When I look up I see them looking at each other, nodding and smirking. My knees are briefly free, H stands, opens his belt, his jeans, pulls them down to his ankles and gets back in the same position: on his knees, legs spread, right over my face. Hands back on my knees pushing them open. I see his balls, I feel the pubs tickling my nose, I see his crack. And the smell. The hands on my knees couldn’t be his because he pushes his penis on my face, like rubbing it on it. I feel the stickiness. Then he moves his crotch, up and down, back and forth. I apologize for the details… but I remember the smell of that dirty dick, his sweaty balls, his dirty crack. It seemed like he tried to rub my nose on his hole. Then I feel a hard pull on my penis, skin pushed back hard, and a too big hand pulling on my too small balls and squeezing, hard.
DARK
I look at myself in the screen black screen, eyes pushing out tears without crying. And then I threw up.
Still trying to process what the fuck just happened. I even tried to gaslight myself, “you just made that up”. Pathetic right? How would this be a memory when just an hour ago, for 45 years, there wasn’t even a trace of it? How could someone even try to believe when even I tell myself that I am just imagining things…
Sorry if this is so long. I needed to get this out. I am so fucking confused. And angry. At myself. I wanted to remember, I was trying to find answers in your stories. Guess I got some and now I am trying to understand how to deal with them. I took some drops of Xanax to stop the panic attack that was building up. So at least I can’t feel my body too much. My head though is working like crazy. I feel my face, blank, still. Feels weird looking at the letters on the screen creating words and describing my thoughts. Like if I am reading just a story.
Better get a break. Sorry again.
After work was done I had dinner, like always, eating pasta (same sauce, same amount weighted precisely, rewatching the same episodes of American Dad for the hundred time). When I finished I turned of the screen of my iPad, saw myself in the black glass and a flashback hit me. I could feel my face becoming white. And now I am smoking one sigarette after the other trying to calm myself down. Sorry for rambling, but I needed to tell someone… I am afraid that if I don’t write it down right away tomorrow I don’t remember. And I need to share… I don’t know with whom to talk about it…
What I always found strange is that I have clear and vivid memories about my my first abuse. Sensations, rooms, cloths, smells. When I close my eyes it feels as if I am there.
The second abuse though seems like a preview that stops at one point. The same point for years.
A neighbor kid (I’ll call him H) around 15/16 and a friend of him (G) take me to H’s house. We go up the stairs to the ceiling. They ask if I want to play doctor, I think. I remember laying on the ground, shirt pulled up, pants and underwear pulled down and off, legs placed in a “frog” position. They are on my side on their knees, one on each side.
I don’t remember G’s face. He is though from the same town and I see his hair style clearly: dark hair combed to one side. But his face, every time an image starts to form it vanishes.
I remember the smirks, the looks they give each other while smiling. I recall a feeling of unease, like when you see a red flag that you just can’t explain.
H starts to touch me, my neck (squeezing), my chest (squeezing and pulling my nipples), my belly, rubbing and pushing. And then my genitals. Touching, softly, the fingers stroking the tip of my foreskin, along the penis, the balls, under them, I feel a finger brushing my anus, then going back to my penis. Obviously I was erect (like my penis was ready for the games my uncle played).
G pulls my foreskin back, quick, hard. I hear myself saying “ahi!”, not shouting, almost whispering like if I was trying to not draw attention from others in the house (I hate this memory, makes me feel as if I wanted to protect them from being discovered doing something wrong). I try to close my legs but H just says no and I open them again. H moves behind my head, G stays on my side (I think he was on my left). He lets go of my penis, the skin still pulled back. “His balls” I hear H say, and then his hands, from behind, push my knees open. G takes one testicle in his hand and starts to squeeze.
DARK - the memories keeps stopping at this point. Some details over the last month came to the surface, but the end was always the same. Till today. My eyes are still producing tears, but I don’t cry. Weird…
The flashback just added another part of that day. Too little, just to fucking add more confusion and questions and images to have me stay awake more nights while I am just exhausted!
G squeezes one of my balls. I let out a shy scream, try to close my legs but H’s hands still push on my knees. I try to lift my head to see what they are doing, but H’s crotch is over my face. When I look up I see them looking at each other, nodding and smirking. My knees are briefly free, H stands, opens his belt, his jeans, pulls them down to his ankles and gets back in the same position: on his knees, legs spread, right over my face. Hands back on my knees pushing them open. I see his balls, I feel the pubs tickling my nose, I see his crack. And the smell. The hands on my knees couldn’t be his because he pushes his penis on my face, like rubbing it on it. I feel the stickiness. Then he moves his crotch, up and down, back and forth. I apologize for the details… but I remember the smell of that dirty dick, his sweaty balls, his dirty crack. It seemed like he tried to rub my nose on his hole. Then I feel a hard pull on my penis, skin pushed back hard, and a too big hand pulling on my too small balls and squeezing, hard.
DARK
I look at myself in the screen black screen, eyes pushing out tears without crying. And then I threw up.
Still trying to process what the fuck just happened. I even tried to gaslight myself, “you just made that up”. Pathetic right? How would this be a memory when just an hour ago, for 45 years, there wasn’t even a trace of it? How could someone even try to believe when even I tell myself that I am just imagining things…
Sorry if this is so long. I needed to get this out. I am so fucking confused. And angry. At myself. I wanted to remember, I was trying to find answers in your stories. Guess I got some and now I am trying to understand how to deal with them. I took some drops of Xanax to stop the panic attack that was building up. So at least I can’t feel my body too much. My head though is working like crazy. I feel my face, blank, still. Feels weird looking at the letters on the screen creating words and describing my thoughts. Like if I am reading just a story.
Better get a break. Sorry again.
because I think he is arrogant, understanding now that some people I cannot “figure out”. Like he said once I am a people pleaser 2.0, meaning that I study people around me and shift my personality and behavior to what I think they need me to be, in order to be liked. In more honest words; manipulating myself to manipulate the world around me. When I can’t read people, or the other persons “social mask” is good as mine, I go into panic. 