First hello
Hello gentlemen,
I've been procrastinating about posting for several months now. I continue to question and doubt the significance of my experience and I am afraid it will be discounted by others. So, posting is my way of affirming and validating the significance of the sexually abusive/incestuous nature of the relationship I had with my mother as a boy and adolescent. I believe my mother thought she was being a good mother. I now see how clueless (or sick) she really was. I saw my mother in some degree of undress from boyhood until I was 20 years old. I regularly saw her breasts and pubic hair. I regularly saw her naked at the mirror in her bathroom getting ready for work in the morning. I saw her regularly use the toilet. I heard her douche. When I was 20 I was seeing a psychiatrist who Told me to go home and tell her to put clothes on. I did. I didn't know this was an option. Her reaction was essentially "oh, ok", and it stopped.
Perhaps More disturbing to me is the fact that my mother wiped me after I had a bowel movement...I have memory of this from when I was 8 or 9... I dont remember how long this went on, but I do not remember it going beyond age 9. I know that I had a little song that I made up to let her know I was ready for her. She would come into the bathroom (doors were rarely closed), bend me over the tub, look up me, and wipe me while she gave a running commentary on her progress. As I write this I feel such incredible shame, I want to hide. In fact, this is what I do. I hide. I avoid...people, places and things. Being in the world remains very difficult for me. I feel this chronic sense of vulnerability and fear of exposure...like people can see inside of me. Gee, go figure! Ive struggled with depression and anxiety my entire adult life and had a drug problem as a young man. I am in my 50s now, and while as a young man I was a serial monogamist (could not live without a woman) and sexually compulsive...I'm now sexually repressed and guilt ridden if I masturbate and sex with my wife remains a challenge. It's as though the violation of the incest taboo permeates every thought, feeling and behavior. I've worked through a lot of issues and feel this is the middle of the onion. My mother is dead now, but our enmeshed relationship continues to live on...projected onto the world in one way, shape of form everyday. I've begun to break free, but damn is it difficult. Thanks for reading. TDC
I've been procrastinating about posting for several months now. I continue to question and doubt the significance of my experience and I am afraid it will be discounted by others. So, posting is my way of affirming and validating the significance of the sexually abusive/incestuous nature of the relationship I had with my mother as a boy and adolescent. I believe my mother thought she was being a good mother. I now see how clueless (or sick) she really was. I saw my mother in some degree of undress from boyhood until I was 20 years old. I regularly saw her breasts and pubic hair. I regularly saw her naked at the mirror in her bathroom getting ready for work in the morning. I saw her regularly use the toilet. I heard her douche. When I was 20 I was seeing a psychiatrist who Told me to go home and tell her to put clothes on. I did. I didn't know this was an option. Her reaction was essentially "oh, ok", and it stopped.
Perhaps More disturbing to me is the fact that my mother wiped me after I had a bowel movement...I have memory of this from when I was 8 or 9... I dont remember how long this went on, but I do not remember it going beyond age 9. I know that I had a little song that I made up to let her know I was ready for her. She would come into the bathroom (doors were rarely closed), bend me over the tub, look up me, and wipe me while she gave a running commentary on her progress. As I write this I feel such incredible shame, I want to hide. In fact, this is what I do. I hide. I avoid...people, places and things. Being in the world remains very difficult for me. I feel this chronic sense of vulnerability and fear of exposure...like people can see inside of me. Gee, go figure! Ive struggled with depression and anxiety my entire adult life and had a drug problem as a young man. I am in my 50s now, and while as a young man I was a serial monogamist (could not live without a woman) and sexually compulsive...I'm now sexually repressed and guilt ridden if I masturbate and sex with my wife remains a challenge. It's as though the violation of the incest taboo permeates every thought, feeling and behavior. I've worked through a lot of issues and feel this is the middle of the onion. My mother is dead now, but our enmeshed relationship continues to live on...projected onto the world in one way, shape of form everyday. I've begun to break free, but damn is it difficult. Thanks for reading. TDC
