I'm a Sex Abuse Detective (May Trigger)

Hi Guys:

I'm a sex abuse detective. At least, that is how I feel these days. I very much want to recall what happened. Every day it seems I get a new detail to ponder.

Like yesterday, I was all happy (in a strange kind of way). I remembered that when my brother was abusing me, I sometimes heard this funny noise. Like a whooshing sound. Or a thumping sound. Like something going, "whoosh, whoosh, whoosh." Over and over again.

Then today, I remembered what it was. Back when I was a kid, we didn't have CD's. We had records. Mostly 45's. And portable record players. My brother Paulie and I even had a few kiddie records of our own. Stupid songs that I can't remember.

Anyhow, when my brother was abusing us, he would take us in a room, put on one of those records. I guess to cover our screaming in case anyone came home unexpectedly. So we would have to hear these kiddie records playing while he hurt us. Then when the record got to the end, the needle would just stay there at the empty space on the record, making a thump, thump, thump kind of sound, almost like a whooshing sound.

I still don't know what exactly happened. Somehow I learned to block most of it. But I think our older brother used to do things to us with our toys, like our favorite toys. For me, that probably would have been crayons, because I liked to draw a lot, and was actually quite good. For Paulie, it was probably model cars and things like that. Anyhow, I remember that when I went to draw again, certain colors would be missing. And I would just skip those colors and not ask any questions.

Little by little, I guess things are coming back to me. But it is very frustrating. Has anyone else had this experience? Of only remembering a little bit at a time?

Take care,

Jasper

 

Hi:

It's me again. Really, this whole thing is getting to be pretty twisted. On my walk this morning, I remembered what my favorite song was back then. "Spoonful of Sugar" from the movie "Mary Poppins." Does anyone remember that song? Well, I had that record and used to love it.

But now, even thinking of the lyrics turns my stomach. Can you imagine your own brother doing God-knows-what to you while you are forced to hear Julie Andrews singing:

"That a...
Spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down
The medicine go down-wown
The medicine go down
Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down
In a most delightful way"

I am serious! That's the song that would have been playing. This is getting sicker and sicker all the time.

Thanks for listening,

Jasper

 

Well, guess what? I am putting away my magnifying glass. I am hanging up my trenchcoat. I am not going to be a sex abuse detective any longer.

After reading the excellent chapter on forgetting in Mike Lew's book ("Victims No Longer"), I see that the obsession to recall every little detail before I can heal--will only prevent my healing.

There's a reason I forgot. Yes, there is a reason I forgot. And whether my brother stuck me with a crayon, his penis, a spatula or anything else--who cares? How he raped me doesn't matter. HE RAPED ME! And I know he raped Paulie too. Paulie doesn't want to admit it, doesn't want to deal with it? Okay...I'll respect that. But I am going ahead here and now with my healing!!!

Spending my days trying to uncover all my memories is only hurting me. I don't need to know what happened to move forward.

Does this make sense? I know it's what several guys in this forum have been trying to tell me for a while. But it's a very liberating feeling.

Sorry, fellow gumshoes...I'm turning in my badge.

Yippee!!!!

Jasper

 

[reality2k4]

Jasper, I never got abused at home, but my abuse was violent.

It led to my older brother mentally abusing me like it seems forever.

I got to a point were I smashed all of the toys that I really loved, because he used to taunt me over that too.

He used to humiliate me in front of his "friends", and I tried hard to get them on my side, but he was good at making the mud stick.

It is not so hard to see why we block all of these things that happen thru childhood, when we are really despairing.

It is easier to look back on why I was so vulnerable to someone who should maybe understand my plight, and have empathy for me as his little brother.

I call it "The Silent Scream",

ste

 

Thank you, ste!

I am sorry that you had that awful experience. But I am amazed as always by your fresh approach to so many things. As I said before, I often come away from reading your posts with a feeling that I've been touched by some extra spark of wisdom.

Just curious. Where does that "knowingness" come from?

Thanks again.

Jasper

 

[reality2k4]

Jasper, I suppose when you have an older brother who should be so close, and he mentally abuses you, then somehow you give up, and go hide in your shell.

My knowingness comes from experiencing this hurt rrom somebody so close hurting me beyond abuse, and just not being able to handle the hurt and stuff that I went through.

My other siblings knew I was hurting but he just made it hurt more, like it was no big deal.

I suppose it is like the "you should be over it syndrome".

I can never really know why he tormented me in front of friends, when he knows I was hurting.

Maybe he never saw the hurt he was doing, he could never be there, how could he ever be there?

My older brother gets creeped out by me talking with my other brother and sister, because we are just so cool.

I dont want him to be out of the frame, but some part of me loves him, even through all the hurt he did to me as a brother.

It is a bit like this. I got abused, he knows it, he slept in the same bedroom as me, and he heard me crying, and sniffling, so he makes fun of me, and says he cannot go to sleep, because i am crying so much.

I suppose I dont cry so much after that, and just cry or sniffle in my sleep, couched up into a ball and softly crying.

I ask him to not shut the door of the bedroom, which he always did anyhow, but he could never see the demons in my mind that made me wet the bed.

I wet the bed because I could not face opening the door in case he was there, the abuser.

I somehow think that he will never know how these things affected me, and he had scant regard and control over the terrors which affected me.

I suppose I am only one of many here who try to identify their past,experiences, and I know that none of it is easy to relate to.

The only compensation is, that I have to somehow tell myself that it "is not my fault ",

ste

 

[Dan88]

Great post, Jasper. I think a lot of us go through this process of trying to get to the bottom of everything. I know I did.

I sort of said to myself that if I was going to go through the pain of digging up all this shit, I was damn sure going to get it all out at once. But it doesn't seem to work that way.

I sort of reached the point you're at where I remember enough. Not saying there aren't more details that won't eventually bubble up, or that I won't have to go looking for more info. for peace of mind, but I know enough to get on with healing. I just have to remember that I don't have to actively mine my memory for every detail as long as I don't try to repress the memories either.

FWIW, I remember that Mary Poppins song well. One of the disgusting things that happened to me as a child was that the perp would take me and my brother to children's movies and he'd molest us there or before or after or all three. So I have many ugly memories associated with children's songs and movies. I know what you mean about it being stomach turning to hear certain songs.

Take care,
Dan

 

Thanks, Dan. I very much appreciate your kind words.

But I'm sad to hear that your perp ruined certain songs and movies for you too.

All the best,

Jasper

 

[medicb4]

Originally posted by Dan88:
I sort of said to myself that if I was going to go through the pain of digging up all this shit, I was damn sure going to get it all out at once. But it doesn't seem to work that way.

I sort of reached the point you're at where I remember enough. Not saying there aren't more details that won't eventually bubble up, or that I won't have to go looking for more info. for peace of mind, but I know enough to get on with healing. I just have to remember that I don't have to actively mine my memory for every detail as long as I don't try to repress the memories either.

Yet another A HA experience. I'm so happy I found this site.

I have all these years thought that I was fully worked out everything that happened between my mom and I. I was (not unjustifiably) happy with my own work on recovery - but now I know I have some more digging to do. This was of course triggered by the journey of my wife, but I have informed my Father, my brothers and will be working on my memories prn.

I guess it won't ever end, but the trick is not letting it bog you down or overwhelm. Murphy's law on the other hand guarantees taht new memories will pop up at the most inoipportune times. As the saying goes "One day at a time" Hmmmm or was that "Im good enough. Im smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me!"

 

[crisispoint]

Jasper,

You catch me on a fresh memory of my childhood abuse. Yes, I remembered it a little bit at a time. I still do.

And, apart from the actual horror of what happened between me and moron 1, as I like to call him (I like to call him other things, but I try to control myself), it's the stupid little details that seem so unimportant that I remember. Like the ridiculous vinyl orange-and-yellow couch he had in his office (my childhood abuser, one of 'em anyway, was my middle-school counselor). 1 was 11 years old and this was waaay back in 1977. I have to laugh at this because the one thing that stays in my mind is....how hideous that couch is by today's style standards!

I HAVE to laugh at things like this, otherwise I'd go completely batshit.

My therapist described these little memories coming back as the psychic equivilent of having broken glass in a cut. Your skin heals and yet the glass still works its way out. Hurting like Hell every time, cutting the surface every time, bleeding every time, BUT getting another little piece of myself BACK every time.

He didn't get all of me, dammit, and I'm proud of that.

I wish there was an easier way of dealing with repressed memories, Jasper, but there isn't. The thing that gets me through is what I said earlier - I get a little piece of myself that the bastard stole from me back. For better or for worse, it's MINE, and HE doesn't have the right to it anymore. He doesn't have the rights to my life anymore either.

The pain is worth that to me.

I'm sorry if I seem to be rambling, but I hope you can take something of use from it.

Peace and love,

Scot

 

My therapist described these little memories coming back as the psychic equivilent of having broken glass in a cut. Your skin heals and yet the glass still works its way out. Hurting like Hell every time, cutting the surface every time, bleeding every time, BUT getting another little piece of myself BACK every time.

Thanks, Scot. Yes, what you said helps a lot. It's just odd because all my life I had these family snapshots in my head. Happy scenes of life at home. Trips to amusement parks. Holdiays. Familly parties. Even Sunday services. And there were happy times, to be sure. My parents did their best to see to that.

But those snapshots in my head are like a movie put on pause. When you start to run the film again, and see what's coming next, childhood seems like such a scary place to be.

And the loving home in which I grew up seems like a Halloween haunted house when I think of my brother lurking behind every corner.

Thanks, Scot! I very much appreciate your perspective on these matters.

Take care,

Jasper

 

[Leosha]

Jasper,

I can relate to what you mean. Because of the DID, my memories come up in strange ways at times (after thinking that I had never 'forgotten' anything). I am greatful that there are some people who can help to validate them or not. But it is like putting together pieces of a large, confusing puzzle.

Leosha