addicted *TRIGGER*
okay, i am still dealing with stuff, and still expressing some disturbing stuff. please, make sure you are strong and safe before reading this...
I have come to believe that dealing with this is a cycle, a series of discoveries. The first thing that happens is that the fact of the abuse hits you. You finally break down, and admit you were abused. That throws you into a loop for a time, but you finally accept it. Then I began dealing with how it related to my life, both past and present. I guess I have finally grown up enough to step back, and deal with the emotions of the abuse.
When I faced the facts of the abuse, I thought I was dealing with the emotions of it as well. Let me tell you, being able to tell a good story, and describe the abuse, doesnt mean nothing. It is a small thing really. I managed to do that much without feeling much at all really. I mean on the surface I was distraught, and thought I was feeling it, but I still had a wall between me and it. I could come here, or go to my T, and tell everyone everything that happened, but I was still at arms length. I was playing the events, but I wasnt feeling them.
I thought I knew how I felt back then. I knew I was afraid, but I didnt know how much. When I came out of my trance, I knew fear, real fear. I knew what it felt like to be five again. I knew fear so deep that my heart felt like it would bust through my ribs, were I was near vomiting, where my mouth was so dry it hurt. I knew what it was like to be five, watching a man undress, knowing I was next, afraid of being caught, afraid of doing it, afraid of not doing it. I could feel the confusion racing inside, all the jumbled up stuff. I was afraid and excited all at once. It was intoxicating in a way. It felt like leaping from a cliff. You knew you were in serious trouble, yet there was a rush to it too. The thrill mixing together with fear was a powerful thing. No wonder I became hooked on it. It was more powerful than any drug could have induced.
In a strange way, I felt alive in those bushes that day in a way I keep trying to recapture. My body was so alert and on edge that everything seemed a little brighter, a little sharper. In those bushes I was high, as high as if on drugs. The combination of fear and discovery had my body in overdrive. I felt like superman in a weird kind of way. No wonder I kept trying to recapture that. As awful as it was on one level, it was fantastic on another. In that moment I felt alive like never before, and like I would never feel again. Ive come close a few times, but I have never recaptured those feelings, and I see now I wanted to; want to.
I acted out over and over, deepening my investment, as I searched for that rush. At first small things would give me a taste of it, but as the years past it took more and more. In the beginning perhaps showing some skin would give it too me, but by the end, it took being raped and hurt to tap into it. It took being with someone new, or trying a new thing to tap it. There always had to be an edge to it.
It wasnt just sex either. I raced bicycles as a semi-pro. I captured that rush in wild, on the edge rides down mountains, or in crushing an opponent, pushing myself just a little harder, and breaking him. Everything was about capturing that moment, that feeling.
I like to think of that day in the bushes as an evil day, but my body and deep down emotions dont agree. They see it as one of the greatest moments in life, and they continually drive me to try and capture it again. Just admitting that, I can see how screwed up it is, but I also know it is the truth. I say I hate abuse, and hate my abuser, but I have spent my entire life trying to crawl back into those bushes again, trying to feel alive like I did then and there. Mat was a pusher, and gave me a hit of an emotional drug, and like an addict, I have spent all I had to feel that high again. I can never capture it again, but I keep trying.
My name is Jeff. I am a survivor, and I am an abuse addict. My drug of choice is the rush of being abused. I will trade all and sell all to get it. Though I know it is bad for me, I cant stop myself. I am addicted to being abused.
I have come to believe that dealing with this is a cycle, a series of discoveries. The first thing that happens is that the fact of the abuse hits you. You finally break down, and admit you were abused. That throws you into a loop for a time, but you finally accept it. Then I began dealing with how it related to my life, both past and present. I guess I have finally grown up enough to step back, and deal with the emotions of the abuse.
When I faced the facts of the abuse, I thought I was dealing with the emotions of it as well. Let me tell you, being able to tell a good story, and describe the abuse, doesnt mean nothing. It is a small thing really. I managed to do that much without feeling much at all really. I mean on the surface I was distraught, and thought I was feeling it, but I still had a wall between me and it. I could come here, or go to my T, and tell everyone everything that happened, but I was still at arms length. I was playing the events, but I wasnt feeling them.
I thought I knew how I felt back then. I knew I was afraid, but I didnt know how much. When I came out of my trance, I knew fear, real fear. I knew what it felt like to be five again. I knew fear so deep that my heart felt like it would bust through my ribs, were I was near vomiting, where my mouth was so dry it hurt. I knew what it was like to be five, watching a man undress, knowing I was next, afraid of being caught, afraid of doing it, afraid of not doing it. I could feel the confusion racing inside, all the jumbled up stuff. I was afraid and excited all at once. It was intoxicating in a way. It felt like leaping from a cliff. You knew you were in serious trouble, yet there was a rush to it too. The thrill mixing together with fear was a powerful thing. No wonder I became hooked on it. It was more powerful than any drug could have induced.
In a strange way, I felt alive in those bushes that day in a way I keep trying to recapture. My body was so alert and on edge that everything seemed a little brighter, a little sharper. In those bushes I was high, as high as if on drugs. The combination of fear and discovery had my body in overdrive. I felt like superman in a weird kind of way. No wonder I kept trying to recapture that. As awful as it was on one level, it was fantastic on another. In that moment I felt alive like never before, and like I would never feel again. Ive come close a few times, but I have never recaptured those feelings, and I see now I wanted to; want to.
I acted out over and over, deepening my investment, as I searched for that rush. At first small things would give me a taste of it, but as the years past it took more and more. In the beginning perhaps showing some skin would give it too me, but by the end, it took being raped and hurt to tap into it. It took being with someone new, or trying a new thing to tap it. There always had to be an edge to it.
It wasnt just sex either. I raced bicycles as a semi-pro. I captured that rush in wild, on the edge rides down mountains, or in crushing an opponent, pushing myself just a little harder, and breaking him. Everything was about capturing that moment, that feeling.
I like to think of that day in the bushes as an evil day, but my body and deep down emotions dont agree. They see it as one of the greatest moments in life, and they continually drive me to try and capture it again. Just admitting that, I can see how screwed up it is, but I also know it is the truth. I say I hate abuse, and hate my abuser, but I have spent my entire life trying to crawl back into those bushes again, trying to feel alive like I did then and there. Mat was a pusher, and gave me a hit of an emotional drug, and like an addict, I have spent all I had to feel that high again. I can never capture it again, but I keep trying.
My name is Jeff. I am a survivor, and I am an abuse addict. My drug of choice is the rush of being abused. I will trade all and sell all to get it. Though I know it is bad for me, I cant stop myself. I am addicted to being abused.