Difficulty Opening up - Things happened last night. Tired.

Edin

Registrant
26, Institutional and Family abuse. Been to multiple therapists, trying to get better.
 

Fitz

Registrant
Welcome aboard! I'm sorry for the pain in your past, but glad you found MS. I hope this place will help you like it has helped me.
 
Welcome Edin. I encourage you to ramble around this website and check the many forums here. My guess is you'll find kindred spirits and conversations that you will wish to join. This is a wonderful place to unpack our histories of trauma and to find support for healing. Glad you found us. You're not alone with any of the things you encountered along the way.
 
Welcome Edin. You have come to a group of guys who care and will support you. Most of all, we will believe you. God bless my friend.
 

Edin

Registrant
My roommates wanted me to see about a group with discord or zoom to talk about this subject. Is there any guidelines I can read over? I don't want to trigger anyone and this topic is difficult to talk about even under the most stable of circumstances.

Thank you all for the welcome.
 

Edin

Registrant
(STRONG language ahead.)

I've read through other survivors and their stories in the time I've been up, it hasn't been the easiest journey. Seeing how so many of them are opening up. I'll do the best I can.

I was born in Venezuela, grew up in a very abusive family dynamic where gender role and sex were altered depending on the house I was staying in.

My Father and his family were ruled by the Men, while my Mother and her family were 'lead' by the Women.

My Father was an abusive and narcissist. A man who believed he could do no wrong.

My Mother was a young woman who worked in the same company as him.

I only know the circumstances of my birth from my Mother who has changed the story constantly. So much so it is difficult to know what is true and what is not. She tells me she was never interested in sex, and that he had forced himself on her during their marriage. She later told me it was consensual.

I asked a man who was friends with her, who lived in our country and was married to a woman of our birthplace. He told me had seen this many times before. He wasn't a medical professional, he was a war veteran that retired in Venezuela and had lived there for many years. He said it wasn't the first time he had heard of these things and he noticed it often happening.

My uncle told me that when I was very young, he found me in a dress with my cousins who were female. In my Grandmothers house, she was the Matriarch and the women ruled in her household while the men followed. My cousins made me try on their clothes and wear make up when I didn't want to.

My uncle tells me my father saw what they were doing and instead of helping me, he beat me so much that my Uncle had to pry him off of me.

I don't remember any of this, but I have a severe disgust towards anything feminine on my part. Makeup, dresses, pink, anything traditionally feminine repels me if I am a participant.

I know how afraid I was every day of hearing his footsteps. So much so I equate them to this day as danger.

When I misbehaved or acted outside of my role he would call me names. Maricon, Demonio, Pendejo. - Faggot, Demon, Retard

I asked my uncle once if I could stay with my mothers family in the capital, he said yes. I went to bed, only to wake up the next with my father busting my door down and wrapping his hands around my neck. Afterwards he slammed me against the bed and he left. Saying I had ruined everything.

Shortly afterwards we fled to America from the regime of Hugo Chavez. He became much worse.

With each beating, he would buy me toys. My psychologists used a word I don't recall about a concept of making me feel as if nothing is wrong. Sometimes the beatings would be so bad he would leave bruises and would make me take showers to lessen it.

He showed me pornography growing up, showed me how to please a woman by touching me.

At 12 I was sexually molested at a behavioral health facility. The staff stripped me naked in front of the commons where other patients saw me. I remember then blacking out after they gave me a shot and I woke up fully clothed in a bedroom.

My roommate was a nicotine addict who liked to smell my hair and thought I was a girl before I spoke.

An older girl who was around 16 or 17 took a liking to me and wouldn't let me go anywhere during free time. Keeping me on the couch in the commons. A guard was sitting across from us at a table. He watched as she did things to me with a crowded room.

One day I told her I didn't want to be around her. She beat me in front of staff and eventually someone pulled her off of me. I woke up sore and feeling as if I had been hit by a car in my room.

The person who defended me was another patient, an autistic boy who was a giant. I ran into him nearly ten years later at another facility and he was the one who had pulled her off of me.

After that I hid in a cell that was similar to solitary confinement. The staff never noticed I was gone. I only went out to get food. The cell lights went out at night. You could hear other patients crying, some screaming.

After leaving the facility. I grew my hair out. Wore black clothes, stereotypical emo/goth kid. The only difference being I was much more aggressive. I got into fights nearly every other week. Stole from my parents, stole for my parents. Hid needles in my clothes, stabbed a boy in the back who had been bullying me. Got beaten up, forced to fight an autistic kid once.

Gave blowjobs to a wannabe 'gang' member if you can even call him that. By the time I was 16 I couldn't tell you how many times I had done something similar.

When I was 21, I had my best friend who was like a brother to me come over for the night. Our house had burned down a few months back and we had lost everything. He tells me I invited him over, I remember him having a difficult time with his mother and said he could come over. At the time my family was out of the country on a trip. I didn't want to go with them. I spent several months by myself either cutting or gaming.

It started out consensual. He had come drunk and with smoked weed in his system that I think was laced. I took a hit of it. We started out with him. I was dominant and a top at the time exclusively, no concept of submission. When we got to the shower and I tried to get out, he grabbed me and said he wanted a turn. I told him No and I didn't want to, he said it would be okay. I froze and just nodded. I had never had sex before, only oral.

He said it sounded that I liked it when we finished in the shower.

After that, it was just on autopilot. By the time he finished. He was on top of me, and the look on his face. He was in shock. I asked him what was wrong and he said nothing, that he needed to leave. He left and avoided me for some time, weeks months, I don't remember.

My family came back and we moved back into the old house after it had been rebuilt. He lived next door as we had grown up together.

His Mother and my Mother were friends. Every week she would come over with him, and we hugged, pretending everything was okay.

It wasn't.

We hadn't spoken in years.

A few months before Christmas, I told my Mother what had happened to me. At the time, I didn't know she was a rape victim as well. I'll never forget her words to me.

This was the woman who had raised two children by herself, had made my life bearable, paid for my schooling, gotten me into therapy and accepted me for being what I was. Who had taken physical, sexual and emotional abuse from the man who hurt both of us.

"Get over it"

My little sister had accepted what happened to me, she loved me and she who had hated people like me, people whom our culture had demonized as weak and unnatural. She accepted me. As did my little brother who was just finishing first grade.

I never told either of them what had happened to me. The things I had to do to survive.

I was a man. I was supposed to continue our bloodline, I was supposed to be next in line for the family business, marry a woman and be 'normal'

I failed. From the moment I was born I failed.

I found out in October of 2020 my best-friend. My rapist. Had stopped doing drugs, stopped dating or partying. I ran into him and I thought things were going to get ugly. They did, and I found closure.

He hugged me, and I could feel him breaking. He was sorry for what had happened. In the years I spent sleeping around with other men, he had gotten his life around. He had a stable job and he was moving on.

Its a fucked up world when you find more comfort in the arms of your rapist than in the arms of your family.

So I run away to another state, hoping to be with the boy I loved more than anyone in the world. Only to find out he's been dating a girl all these years.

A girl whom I pulled a knife on, a girl who opened her home to me. A girl who isn't perfect. But she's damn well better than I ever was.

So what does a fucking slut do whenever he realizes he messed up by telling his boyfriend that if he was dating other people not to tell him?

He gets laid by a bunch of fuckers. The ones who have wives, he tells them to fuck off. The ones who want to use him? He lets them in and even brings lube.

Then because this fucking idiot thinks its time to move on, he decides to ask one of them if he likes him. That ends with the guy saying it would never work out.

After that he tries to kill himself. First by Isopropyl. Then by overdose, then by failing to stab himself in the throat, then as psychotic breaks would fucking have it.

By cops.

After losing my home country, being beaten, broken down, catching COVID-19, losing my sense of cultural and personal identity, running away, being arrested, having seizures, being a 'girlfriend' for some asshole, being diagnosed with PTSD, going through sexual abuse and rape by strangers, family and friend, a boyfriend turning out to be a woman, sleeping with random men on grindr to feel any shred of self-worth or something fucking close to love.

Adding to this fucking soap opera that is my life, a boyfriend coming back from the fucking dead and ghosting when flash goes offline on the only site I know we both used. I find out he's out there alive, never responding to any fucking messages.

The fucker I left for this guy who turns out is getting married. The fucker I cheated on and grew up with.

Is fucking alive...and he doesn't care about me.

Now I'm here. Because I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do. Can't kill myself, but don't want to live.

I would blame God, I would blame everyone else. I really fucking want to.

But at the end of the day.

Nobody is going to look out for me, like I will.

I'm alone, and as much as I don't want to be.

I have to be. Because no one is going to care about me as much as I will.
 
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Edin

this was such a courageous post. You are a very brave young man to have survived all that you describe and still be remotely functional enough to compose your story.

I read your story above. In your own words. And I can objectively say: NONE of what happened to you was your fault. You didnt deserve abuse or neglect. Your family and other abusers were wrong to treat you with such disregard and malice. You come across as an everyday boy that was repetedly broken over and over by the ones who should have loved you.

I can’t thank you enough for sharing your story here and letting us see you. I am impressed by how much you have survived and I want you to know you are safe to begin healing and to express whatever you need to that you have kept locked down.

I hope you are able to experience real love on the journey ahead - love that does not cost you anything, including sexual favors. You’re worth it. You’re incredible.
 
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Thank you for trusting us Edin. Your courage is tremendous. I echo what Mick74 said. It wasn't your fault. Keep posting man.
 
Hi Edin

Welcome to MS. thanks for posting.

I'm alone, and as much as I don't want to be.

I have to be. Because no one is going to care about me as much as I will.
By reaching out here Edin you are not alone in this anymore. Thanks for sharing your story, that shows your strength and willingness to heal. As has been said above your courage is tremendous and none of this was your fault. I am glad you have reach out here for help, Lot of good people here to share with that understand where you have been as we have been through similar in our pasts.
 

Edin

Registrant
I didn't want to come here originally. I was too busy working to ever really think about my issues. After losing my job, had too much time to think.

Thank you Esterio.
 

Edin

Registrant
Edin

this was such a courageous post. You are a very brave young man to have survived all that you describe and still be remotely functional enough to compose your story.

I read your story above. In your own words. And I can objectively say: NONE of what happened to you was your fault. You didnt deserve abuse or neglect. Your family and other abusers were wrong to treat you with such disregard and malice. You come across as an everyday boy that was repetedly broken over and over by the ones who should have loved you.

I can’t thank you enough for sharing your story here and letting us see you. I am impressed by how much you have survived and I want you to know you are safe to begin healing and to express whatever you need to that you have kept locked down.

I hope you are able to experience real love on the journey ahead - love that does not cost you anything, including sexual favors. You’re worth it. You’re incredible.

Thank you Mick, sorry just been busy looking for work and trying to keep myself above water with everything that's going on.

I just don't see the benefit of keeping things bottled in. I was able to do so for a long time because I was too busy to be depressed.

Now after catching covid and losing my job, it seems that I have too much time to think about what's happened.
 
After losing my job, had too much time to think.
Was when I was unable to work anymore that my past caught up to me. That changed my world forever. Too much time to think for sure I worked all the time so I never had time to think. Drank to pass out almost every night I was on shore. I worked long hours for most of my working life now I have an idea why I did, it wasn't all about money.

Glad you came and reached out here, You are not alone in this and here is a good place to share with others how you are doing. There is a pretty caring group of guys here
 
Thank you Mick, sorry just been busy looking for work and trying to keep myself above water with everything that's going on.

I just don't see the benefit of keeping things bottled in. I was able to do so for a long time because I was too busy to be depressed.

Now after catching covid and losing my job, it seems that I have too much time to think about what's happened.
Edin, I’m glad that you have been forced to slow down and let this out. Your original post is so full of anger and self hate that it had to be cathartic to pour some of it out here.
please keep pouring. Please keep sharing. You don’t have to be alone. As @Jim1104 often says, “we have your back.” Post any time, we will listen.
 

pedropedro

Registrant
First of all thank you and congratulations. You've done something EXTREMELY brave. I'm SO sorry for everything you've endured. I cried reading this... It took me a half an hour to get through it. I want you to know something very important: YOU ARE NOT TO BLAME FOR ANYTHING. People abused you. They made you think you allowed them to, and that's a HUGE part of abuse. Just know we all support you as brothers. Focus on those who love you and appreciate you for who you are. Not just in spite of who you are, but BECAUSE OF IT. I already truly admire your integrity, honesty, and courage. Like really. You are so brave. You've been diagnosed with PTSD and because you were in a facility, I understand therapists must be very hard to trust. We're here for you and when you feel comfortable I would advise you see a male therapist. It has helped me a lot. It works wonders. But take your time. Don't rush anything. We support you. Please feel free to talk to any of us as you feel comfortable. There are many of us here who speak Spanish fluently as well, if you'd be more comfortable. I'm not going to claim I understand your experience because I don't even understand my own. But I feel for you. I understand that you are hurting and I understand what it's like to want to die, what it's like to think you SHOULD die. Please do not give up. We all want you to live and get better, and someday hope you will love yourself as well. Please please focus on recovery and have compassion for yourself. Please don't give up. I know we are all cheering for you. You can do this.
 
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