Cleaning my room, because I'm like that!
delta.tetra
Registrant
I had a horrid childhood which I ignored for years, I was good at forgetting what I felt. After I left home I managed a sort of life for twenty hard years, faking and afraid, often breaking down and running away. I ignored who I was and got on with the next unattainable challenge.
Then it all caught up with me, I had a big breakdown, I nearly killed myself. I went to doctors and psychiatrists, who tried to help me. I took medicine and tried to talk about what was bothering me. I knew a lot about my childhood, but I was missing most of it. Depressed and sad and stressed out, I couldn't take another second of 20th century bullshit, I couldn't pretend to do it any more. Didn't care what anyone thinks, I was finished with it all. Taking more drugs than ever, downward spiral of pain, loosening contact with the world, shouting and swearing.
Eventually I got cross with the near-uselessness of the medical help I was recieving. Angry, I searched Internet for contact. I found someone I thought might know what I wanted to hear. She wanted me to say what i wanted to talk about. I told her things I had never said to anyone before. She told me 'Delta you have been sexually abused by your father and need professional 'elp, good luck.'
Bombshell, delayed fuse.
Once I understood what i had told her and what it really was that i had had done to me, everything changed. The fact that I had been sexually abused by my trans-sexual father explained so much more about me, than the other wierd and brutal abuses of my childhood alone. Aged 40 I started to learn about my own childhood, i I could at last accept the truth and see things for what they really are.
Of course I shared my new knowledge with my medical helpers. There wasn't at that time any therapy for sexually abused men, in this part of this country. I spent 3 years crying. I got diagnosed with depression and ptsd and personality problems. I stopped all contact with nearly all the other people on the planet. I became frustrated again with the limitations of the help I was recieving from the medical services. Nobody understood me.
I went online again and googled my pain and found the MaleSurvivor website. I read the stories of men who suffered unspeakable torment and dared to speak about it all. I learned that healing is a direction of travel as well as a destination. I read that there are therapies that work. I realised I was on a healing path, and that I must look to myself to provide what I need.
Since then I came a long way, as did the local medical services. On monday I start in group therapy for sexually abused males. A new weekly group, starting from next monday. I'm so excited!
I was just cleaning my bedroom, getting dust out of places I had not cleaned for many years, and I was wondering, as usual, WHO on earth AM I CLEANING FOR?! I was cleaning my bedroom where no other human has been for five years, and the room isn't going to be inspected by anyone else any time soon. The only person who gets any benefit from me having a clean bedroom is ME!
I could hardly cope with that idea. I don't believe I'm worth it! I don't feel I'm worth it! I'm so used to dirt and ignoring my feelings! I got torn apart in my head. No-one is coming here, why am I enjoying getting this carpet clean?!
Suddenly it struck me, simply: I don't like lving in a dirty house, I'm not that sort of person! I'm just not like that! I am a person who enjoys clean and tidy living quarters! It's who I am, I'm not cleaning for anything, or for anyone else, it's just who I am. That's all! Isn't that marvellous?!
Then it all caught up with me, I had a big breakdown, I nearly killed myself. I went to doctors and psychiatrists, who tried to help me. I took medicine and tried to talk about what was bothering me. I knew a lot about my childhood, but I was missing most of it. Depressed and sad and stressed out, I couldn't take another second of 20th century bullshit, I couldn't pretend to do it any more. Didn't care what anyone thinks, I was finished with it all. Taking more drugs than ever, downward spiral of pain, loosening contact with the world, shouting and swearing.
Eventually I got cross with the near-uselessness of the medical help I was recieving. Angry, I searched Internet for contact. I found someone I thought might know what I wanted to hear. She wanted me to say what i wanted to talk about. I told her things I had never said to anyone before. She told me 'Delta you have been sexually abused by your father and need professional 'elp, good luck.'
Bombshell, delayed fuse.
Once I understood what i had told her and what it really was that i had had done to me, everything changed. The fact that I had been sexually abused by my trans-sexual father explained so much more about me, than the other wierd and brutal abuses of my childhood alone. Aged 40 I started to learn about my own childhood, i I could at last accept the truth and see things for what they really are.
Of course I shared my new knowledge with my medical helpers. There wasn't at that time any therapy for sexually abused men, in this part of this country. I spent 3 years crying. I got diagnosed with depression and ptsd and personality problems. I stopped all contact with nearly all the other people on the planet. I became frustrated again with the limitations of the help I was recieving from the medical services. Nobody understood me.
I went online again and googled my pain and found the MaleSurvivor website. I read the stories of men who suffered unspeakable torment and dared to speak about it all. I learned that healing is a direction of travel as well as a destination. I read that there are therapies that work. I realised I was on a healing path, and that I must look to myself to provide what I need.
Since then I came a long way, as did the local medical services. On monday I start in group therapy for sexually abused males. A new weekly group, starting from next monday. I'm so excited!
I was just cleaning my bedroom, getting dust out of places I had not cleaned for many years, and I was wondering, as usual, WHO on earth AM I CLEANING FOR?! I was cleaning my bedroom where no other human has been for five years, and the room isn't going to be inspected by anyone else any time soon. The only person who gets any benefit from me having a clean bedroom is ME!
I could hardly cope with that idea. I don't believe I'm worth it! I don't feel I'm worth it! I'm so used to dirt and ignoring my feelings! I got torn apart in my head. No-one is coming here, why am I enjoying getting this carpet clean?!
Suddenly it struck me, simply: I don't like lving in a dirty house, I'm not that sort of person! I'm just not like that! I am a person who enjoys clean and tidy living quarters! It's who I am, I'm not cleaning for anything, or for anyone else, it's just who I am. That's all! Isn't that marvellous?!
