Finally Reaching Out Instead of Carrying This Alone
I joined this group because I don’t want to carry all of this alone anymore. I’m hoping to connect with others who understand what it’s like to live with scattered pieces of the past while trying to stay strong for the people you love. I’m looking for clarity, maybe some peace, and a place where I can speak honestly and take this one step at a time.
Many of you have spoken with a level of raw honesty I deeply respect. What I’m about to write may feel vague in comparison, but I’m still learning how to talk about this. I have the urge to minimize my trauma in comparison to others, but I know the impact it has had on me is real.
I’m beginning to explore memories I kept buried most of my life. My childhood is mostly vague, but a few moments are vivid. I have vivid memories of sexual role playing starting at age 8 until about 11 or so. This was with a cousin who is my age. I also have a vivid memory of being in a small shower with him and his father, uncle (one of my father’s brothers), around 8 years old and I remember coming out of the bathroom in t-shirt and underwear, embarrassed by an erection I had that I tried to hide and it just wouldn’t go away. I remember a grin on my aunt’s face when she noticed it, and then the memory just ends. I remember later innocently showering with my father in a walk-in shower and I reached up and touched him between his buttocks. He pulled away and asked what I was doing. I remember telling him, Uncle lets me do it. I was not allowed to have sleep overs at that cousin’s house for many years.
In eighth grade, my cousin who I had role played with at 8 years old, told classmates I was gay. Although I’m not; I’ve only been relatively sure of that fact for about 3 months, since reading the book “Secret Shame” by Douglas Carpenter and beginning personal counseling. I’m now 60.
I remember being in high school being aroused by girls and basically running away because I didn’t want to “take anything” from them. There was one girl in high school who started out as very good friend. When I expressed my feelings for her in tenth grade, it ended our friendship and resulted in her abusive boyfriend and his friends, bullying me and calling me a fag for years. In college, I dated some and had girls pursuing me, but if things became too serious, I would pull back and peel them off me, declaring I didn’t want to take anything from them, as I drove off with an erection. The next day I would use my escape as evidence that I must be gay. I was tormented.
Around age twenty, I learned from my uncle’s daughter that she had also been abused by her father. Her memories were not vague at all. I didn’t tell her I had memories of abuse; it just didn’t compare to her level of distraught trauma.
In my mid-twenties, I learned my grandfather, my father’s father—had sexually abused several of his own daughters and had attacked my mother but she managed to escape. What brought the stories to light was finding out that my sister was molested by my grandfather several years before. It crushed me for her, and it crushed me that I had lost my grandfather, or the person I thought he was. I remember sobbing and wailing alone for this man that I loved, but who had hurt my family.
My sadness turned to anger, and I drove to my parents’ home that. I saw my father cry for the first time, filled with remorse and shame. He had threatened his father after both incidents with my mother and my sister, which were 10 years apart, and there were years of separation from the family after each. I believe he tried to protect his family the best way he knew how, but he didn’t have the knowledge to understand that men like my grandfather don’t change. My grandfather was a sick pedophile and sexual predator.
I told my parent’s that with or without them I was going to let every one of my father’s 12 siblings know what had taken place to my sister and my mother. Something had to be done to protect other cousins and children. I still remained silent about my abuse.
Even before learning about my grandfather I routinely declared that I would never be married and I never wanted to have children because I didn’t feel like I could protect them from this world.
At 32 I met someone on a blind date, we dated for almost four years, and we’ve been married 25 years, and have six grandchildren that I adore. She had two daughters when we met. My wife was also abused as a teenager by her brother-in-law.
My wife and I have had our struggles. We started relationship counseling before we married and throughout the years. I spent the first 10 years of our marriage trying to be understanding and supportive of her hurt and helping her work through her trauma. I know now I was also avoiding my own trauma and trying to feel worthy by focusing on hers.
Three months ago, I began counseling myself. It’s the first time I’ve tried to face these demons directly. Seeking therapy was motivated by the fact that I have something to disclose to my wife. A year ago, I made the decision to hire a male escort to “find out if I was gay.” Following the experience, I knew I didn’t enjoy male sexual touch, but I was still confused. I also left with HPV and genital warts. I have not had sex with my wife in over a year, since the encounter. “Fortunately” I have had severe migraines for more than 10 years – and it has provided cover. But I have committed to disclosing the incident to my wife after the first of the year.
My biggest fear is I will lose my family and feel a whole new level of shame and guilt. It seems that I just finally began to reconcile the shame, guilt, and confusion I’ve lived with my whole life, and instead of it being a time filled with possibilities, I now have a condition, caused by my poor decision but created by the circumstances of my childhood trauma, that could cost me my marriage. There is no cure for HPV and it is highly contagious.
My family is all that I love, and my fear is they will feel betrayed and abandoned. There’s a part of me that is still screaming that I deserve to
Many of you have spoken with a level of raw honesty I deeply respect. What I’m about to write may feel vague in comparison, but I’m still learning how to talk about this. I have the urge to minimize my trauma in comparison to others, but I know the impact it has had on me is real.
I’m beginning to explore memories I kept buried most of my life. My childhood is mostly vague, but a few moments are vivid. I have vivid memories of sexual role playing starting at age 8 until about 11 or so. This was with a cousin who is my age. I also have a vivid memory of being in a small shower with him and his father, uncle (one of my father’s brothers), around 8 years old and I remember coming out of the bathroom in t-shirt and underwear, embarrassed by an erection I had that I tried to hide and it just wouldn’t go away. I remember a grin on my aunt’s face when she noticed it, and then the memory just ends. I remember later innocently showering with my father in a walk-in shower and I reached up and touched him between his buttocks. He pulled away and asked what I was doing. I remember telling him, Uncle lets me do it. I was not allowed to have sleep overs at that cousin’s house for many years.
In eighth grade, my cousin who I had role played with at 8 years old, told classmates I was gay. Although I’m not; I’ve only been relatively sure of that fact for about 3 months, since reading the book “Secret Shame” by Douglas Carpenter and beginning personal counseling. I’m now 60.
I remember being in high school being aroused by girls and basically running away because I didn’t want to “take anything” from them. There was one girl in high school who started out as very good friend. When I expressed my feelings for her in tenth grade, it ended our friendship and resulted in her abusive boyfriend and his friends, bullying me and calling me a fag for years. In college, I dated some and had girls pursuing me, but if things became too serious, I would pull back and peel them off me, declaring I didn’t want to take anything from them, as I drove off with an erection. The next day I would use my escape as evidence that I must be gay. I was tormented.
Around age twenty, I learned from my uncle’s daughter that she had also been abused by her father. Her memories were not vague at all. I didn’t tell her I had memories of abuse; it just didn’t compare to her level of distraught trauma.
In my mid-twenties, I learned my grandfather, my father’s father—had sexually abused several of his own daughters and had attacked my mother but she managed to escape. What brought the stories to light was finding out that my sister was molested by my grandfather several years before. It crushed me for her, and it crushed me that I had lost my grandfather, or the person I thought he was. I remember sobbing and wailing alone for this man that I loved, but who had hurt my family.
My sadness turned to anger, and I drove to my parents’ home that. I saw my father cry for the first time, filled with remorse and shame. He had threatened his father after both incidents with my mother and my sister, which were 10 years apart, and there were years of separation from the family after each. I believe he tried to protect his family the best way he knew how, but he didn’t have the knowledge to understand that men like my grandfather don’t change. My grandfather was a sick pedophile and sexual predator.
I told my parent’s that with or without them I was going to let every one of my father’s 12 siblings know what had taken place to my sister and my mother. Something had to be done to protect other cousins and children. I still remained silent about my abuse.
Even before learning about my grandfather I routinely declared that I would never be married and I never wanted to have children because I didn’t feel like I could protect them from this world.
At 32 I met someone on a blind date, we dated for almost four years, and we’ve been married 25 years, and have six grandchildren that I adore. She had two daughters when we met. My wife was also abused as a teenager by her brother-in-law.
My wife and I have had our struggles. We started relationship counseling before we married and throughout the years. I spent the first 10 years of our marriage trying to be understanding and supportive of her hurt and helping her work through her trauma. I know now I was also avoiding my own trauma and trying to feel worthy by focusing on hers.
Three months ago, I began counseling myself. It’s the first time I’ve tried to face these demons directly. Seeking therapy was motivated by the fact that I have something to disclose to my wife. A year ago, I made the decision to hire a male escort to “find out if I was gay.” Following the experience, I knew I didn’t enjoy male sexual touch, but I was still confused. I also left with HPV and genital warts. I have not had sex with my wife in over a year, since the encounter. “Fortunately” I have had severe migraines for more than 10 years – and it has provided cover. But I have committed to disclosing the incident to my wife after the first of the year.
My biggest fear is I will lose my family and feel a whole new level of shame and guilt. It seems that I just finally began to reconcile the shame, guilt, and confusion I’ve lived with my whole life, and instead of it being a time filled with possibilities, I now have a condition, caused by my poor decision but created by the circumstances of my childhood trauma, that could cost me my marriage. There is no cure for HPV and it is highly contagious.
My family is all that I love, and my fear is they will feel betrayed and abandoned. There’s a part of me that is still screaming that I deserve to
