How do you process horror? ***TRIGGERS***

[i-m-Bri]

While I was writing down everything about the rape I recalled details I long forgotten. There is an aspect of my rape that I don’t deal with. I didn't know how. I brushed it to the side. I asked my therapist how does someone deal with horror. Before he could answer I told him: You just move on. What else can you do?

But I feel needy as fucking hell. I don’t even know what to call it, I guess just abuse covers it.

***TRIGGERS***

I was a 15 year old boy, drugged with something that inhibited my mobility. He was a full grown, muscular man. I was stuck on his toilet terrified of releasing the damage his rape did to my virgin asshole. Naked, helpless and scared, all I had was a budding defiant attitude.

He stood in the open door and pissed into a glass.
He wanted me to drink it.
I said NO.
He pressed it against my mouth.
He lifted my lip with the edge of the glass
I felt the warmth on my chin.
He pressed the hard glass against my clenched teeth.
I was afraid he would break my teeth.
It stank.
He pulled back.
I was relieved, just a sick joke.
Just as I relaxed he doused it on me.
He splashed it on my face.
My right side.
It went up my nose.
Some in my eye.
In my hair and dripped down on my shoulder, my chest.
It was cold by the time it dribbled onto my lap.
None got in my mouth, I saw to that.
He wanted me to drink it and I’d be damned.

I need to validate what I went through. I can’t hold it off to the side, nameless, wordless anymore. It was fucking horrible. I couldn’t go home and yell “see how fucking strong I am, I went through this without whimpering or hysterical screaming, still think I’m a fucking pussy?” No I kept it to myself. No need to comfort Brian, he’s fine.

It was more then I could deal with, but I did anyway.

This morning I wrote:
Dignity is inherent
It can’t be erased with even the most vial of deeds.
Stand tall
We, the lesser children claim victory with every breath

 

[Dust]

Hi Bri. I think it is dignified and courageous of you to bring into the light areas of the rape that have been hidden all these years, even from yourself, because of their horrific nature. I see you standing tall and claiming victory by doing so, just like you did at 15 years old with defiance and bravery in the face of fear. I also see you breaking through the coping mechanisms of "silence" and "appearing unaffected". "If we don't speak about it and don't react then it isn't happening and didn't happen, right?" Well, it did happen! And speak about it we must! Good for you Bri!

 

[Ceremony]

Thank you for allowing me to listen, and validate you.

((((((Bri))))))

 

[LoneWolfX]

-

 

[dark empathy]

I wouldn't say with horror it's a matter of moving on it's a matter of recognizing what was happening at the time just as you said.

I actually had a similar experience to this myself when my own sperm was smeared on my face as a fourteen year old boy.
My councillor asked me what I did, I replied I waited until it was finished, waited until they moved on to something else then left the room, went to the toilet and wiped my face and the collar of my shirt where it had dripped down since I didn't want to look a mess.

The overwhelming feeling I had at the time was that I was like someone wearing a futuristic battlesuit, like Riply in the power loader at the end of Aliens, or Samas Aran in the metroid games, or maybe Turrican or The Guyver.

I was the pilot inside the armour. What happened to the armour didn't matter, it was robotic, steel, it was strong and invincible and feel anything and I could slip out of it any time I wanted, indeed the feeling that my body wasn't actually mine, was just something I was temporarily piloting around was quite a frequent one during the abuse, but especially at that time.

it shocked me when I realized that my armour wasn't armour after all and that it had actually been me! nobody and nothing else, just me!

At the same time though, I came to realize that if it had! just been me, if there was no armour, then I didn't need the armour after all, it hadn't distroyed me and I was still here.

sounds like your making a similar realization yourself there BDD and congrats to you, the real you that went through that and refused to be humiliated or broken that definitely says something about you and the strength you had, even as a fifteen year old boy.

Luke.

 

[i-m-Bri]

In my first lesson, my posing coach reacted to my default slump posture “You are a bodybuilder, don’t hide your body”. It really struck me. I’ve hidden my strengths. I refused a very sick and powerful man. I was helpless and terrified, yet I stood my ground. And I did it before in another situation with a sicko. That speaks to who I am at my core.
Today I saw a circle closing. I understood that I am embracing my identity as a strong man. AND I am determined to build a body that reflects who I’ve always been. That is who I really am!
The facts haven’t changed. But mine is no longer a story of a victim. It is one of determination and grit.

Casmir213,
I never forgot the general fact, it’s the details I am recalling now. That whole night was filled with so much I didn’t have the words to even think about it. I was with an incredibly sick man who got off terrorizing and demeaning me. It was a theme being repeated. My terror has value, not me, my fear means more to them then my welfare.
He wanted to break me. All he did was birth a punk. Fuck him. I know the moment anger became my shield. Through that groggy drug haze I found defiance. I was lost in rage for 6 or 7 years afterwards.

Ceremony,
Those simple words mean so much. A week afterwards I tried to tell a friend what happened. But it wasn’t a calm retelling. I was raging.

LoneWolfX,
I am sorry if I triggered you. I needed to be graphic just to express it.

Luke,
Wow, that is brilliant! Own it! That response speaks volumes about your creativity and your resilience. Even without armour, see how strong you are.

ALL OF US, WE’VE ALL FOUND WAYS TO SURVIVE. THAT NEEDS TO BE CELEBRATED EACH AND EVERY DAY!

 

[Duckie]

deleted

 

[i-m-Bri]

Iaccus,

It worked extremely well as a survival strategy. I just packed things away, off limits to even myself. I've tried to face this segment of that night many times, and I just stare blankly into space...defiantly numb, just in nonplus. At best I may have labeled the box "weird shit I don't know what to do with". But I put it back into storage.

I want to live fully in my whole self. To see, and incorporate those boxed off parts into my total identity.

 

[tbkkfile]

My mind has many compartments, one is for me to go to when my default behavior kicks when I'm under stress, the others are where I put everything when I was a kid.

Some of the compartments make me feel like I'm swimming in excrement when I visit them, but visit them I must as they lose some of their power when I open them. I only go there when I'm feeling positive about life.

I left a little bit of me in each of then until finally I felt like an empty husk, nearly all the lights were switched off.

Apologies for the ramble.

Peace and love
David

 

[C. E.]

MY HEART goes out to you, Bri. I read this and it suddenly hit me how difficult it is to read how a brother suffered, and yet our own stuff seems somehow not as bad - until we share our stories and get the same reaction from others that I am getting reading this. Reading this is heart-crushing. (((Bri))).

 

[Rosx]

I cried while I read your words, Bri. I've shared similarly extreme situations. The violence imparted by predators through humiliation is so extreme.....

I hate that you were hurt like that, but I feel connected to someone and stronger after hearing you share that with us. Thank you for empowering me to consider opening up more about the painful details of your abuse.

Stand in power, brother.

 

[JamesM]

D

 

[JamesM]

D

 

[tbkkfile]

Apologies Bri, I've just read back through my last post to you and it became about me. I guess in trying to explain about my own compartmentalization I got hung up on the moment.

 

[i-m-Bri]

***TRIGGERS***
Guys, since I posted I remembered he choked me. It hurt and I gagged. I don’t know when during that night. My therapist suggested I stop writing about it, not to worry, just let the memory be.
Odd, a week after the rape I was telling a man (my street mentor?) what happened. I wasn’t calm, I had held it in all week until I saw him. I was so angry, I am pretty sure I was incoherent. He was trying to calm me down and get me to stop shouting (he didn’t want the police coming into the alley). The more he tried to calm me down, the louder I got. I vividly recall yelling “But he fucking choked me, he fucking choked me” Memory is weird. I’m clearer on that, then the actual event.
I feel like it took 45 years to wake up the following day.
I am terrified. Just like so much of that night, I have knowledge of what I felt, but no sensation of feeling.
I am also calm and secure. A feeling of wholeness.
This feels like I finally made it to the next day and I can look at what happened, honestly.

You all said so much. That is really important to me. I am a bit wiped out and my compression is a bit low, so if I am confused about your point I apologize.

Tbkfile,
You didn’t ramble and your words about yourself really resonated with me! I think one of the great powers of this forum is when a post weaves in and out, where does it go? What have other men dealt with, feel? It’s a great balm against my isolationist.

Eirik,
Thank you for calling me brother. I isolate and minimize. I could never express how horrific that night was. It’s important that I express how extreme it was to me. How extreme it was period.

Rosx,
I tried to read your introduction, but I couldn’t focus on the words. I am so glad you escaped. And don’t ever be confused YOU got yourself out there. I was lucky on so many levels. I had a place to escape to. I was so young I didn’t even know what my situation was (I was taken to NYC) I didn’t know what whoring was. My hell was over in a matter of days.

JamesM,
In the past, the way I talked about the rape was fairly general: drugged, raped, weird pee thing. Opening up the boxes and seeing the details paints a truer picture...I guess that’s why I kept it so broad. Though I’ve always know it was extreme, it wasn’t I didn’t have a place to express it, I didn’t have the ability.
We had to forget until we could face it. Look at all the strength it took to keep that buried out of the way. I’m sorry you need to remember, but glad that you are. We are not weak, we survived, mother fuckers, we survived!