buried deep

[Brayton]

I have been in and out of therapy since I was 16. I am now 49. Until recently, it was all about crisis intervention, when the depression got so bad that I could not undertake basic things like sleeping, getting to work, taking care of myself.

About 2 years ago I sensed that I should see a therapist as prevention rather than for crisis management. I was anticipating a crisis because my mother was having heart surgery and I and my 2 siblings had pledged to divide up her recovery time and each spend 2 or more weeks alone with her.

To make the longest part of this story shorter, I was given some medication, saw a terrible therapist, and then got in with a good one, the best one I've ever seen. She had experience working with children who had been abused and after seeing me for a while suggested that the source of my depression was abuse.

She referred me to program which, fortunately for me, is widely recognized for its work in human sexuality issues.

I can't remember much yet. My present therapist tells me I may never remember a lot of specifics. I am having a lot of conflicted thoughts right now. I get little glimpses of things from the past but they are vague. I am always on the outside, sort of floating above the scene, observing it.

Like this morning, I don't know why, but an image came to me of the legs of a young child kicking and then being held down by adult hands grasping his ankles. I could feel the panic, fear and the physical pain of the hands on my ankles but little more. The image was very focused on the legs ankles and hands. No faces. No context.

I just have this feeling that I want to run away. Change my name. Get a new identity. Invent a new past. Start all over.

 

[The Dean]

Hello Brayton,

Begining to remember things we do not want to remember is a very distressing experience. I am happy that you are in therapy and can talk all this over with a professional.

I find that what has worked best for me, is to neither encourage or fight a thing such as the experience you had with seeing a childs legs being held down. The fact that you felt the pressure on your leg is surely something to mention in therapy. If you are ready for some more information, it seems that our psyche makes it happen.

Talk to us about this kind of thing and see what the experiences of others are. But be sure to talk to your therapist about all of this as well.

I am saddened to hear that you had this experience of the boys legs. I can understnad that it is unnerving. I hope that you can always know that you are safe when things like that happen. Most of us have felt that we are not safe, even though we know we are. I hope you don't have that experience. But, if you do, don't let is surprise you. Many of us have had the same expereience.

Bob

 

[Brayton]

Thank you for your support. It means a lot.

Safety is a big issue. Most of the time I do not feel safe though the reasons for not feeling safe are not readily apparent or explainable. Logically, theres no explanation for it. Its just a feeling. I spend most of my time by myself. At work, I mostly work by myself. At home, I do things by myself, dont go out much. I do make an effort to balance that sometimes but being out among people interacting with them is very draining. Sometimes, it gets chaotic. Slipping in and out of awareness, something like that. Its hard explaining this to my therapist because words fail to explain it though maybe I should print this out and give it to her. I always feel exhausted afterwards, after being with people and being in therapy. Exercise is soothing, the endorphins I guess. But then compulsive eating is soothing too at least for the moment. Compulsive masturbation is soothing too I guess My fantasies are about being dominated and, I suppose, abused, and am feeling guilty and shameful at the same time as I am getting turned on.

I dont trust myself, my memories. Does my imagination try to fill in blanks? Id like to think that sometimes.

Things get mixed up too. At the same time the SA was occurring, I was being physically and emotionally abused by my mother and emotionally neglected by my father though that seems maybe linked somehow with the SA. I have a disturbing memory of something that took place in the basement shower when I was about 3 to 6 years old. Its hard to put an age with theses things. I relate them to the locations, where we were living at the time.