My story, the beginning of it [Trigger warning]
Not sure where to start, probably from the beginning. It's still hard to write it down, and it took me a few days to write all this, here we go. Growing up I was raised by a single mother. My dad ran off as soon as he learned my mother was pregnant, she hated him (and probably all adult men) with passion. She often said things like "that a**hole f*cker who knocked me up and ran away". She treated me like trash all the time, it was all about her, I was useless unless she wanted something, then she could be super-sweet. Since I could remember she was a heavy drinker, overly touchy, hugging me, kissing me, and touching me when I didn't want to all the time. When nobody else was around, she would often use vulgar words like tits. Once she had enough drinks, the hugging and kissing would change to touching me between my legs, making me to touch her boobs and similar.
And she would often be naked around the house. I remember seeing her often topless till I was 15,16. This aroused me and she knew it. She always maintained a triangle of pubic hair, and she would make sure I see it from time to time. And she insisted on giving me a bath often all trough my childhood. She would wash and rub certain parts of my body very long and "accidentially" push her boob against my face and such.
I'm sure what she did to me qualifies as rape and abuse. As you can imagine, my childhood was extremely complicated, and what started as unwanted, violating, and confusing feeling eventually (over the course of a few years) turned into a relationship that I somehow enjoyed and valued in an irrational way as my mother did. What broke me, mentally, was that I seemed to enjoy it. At least that's what I told myself again and again. I got an erection so I must enjoy it, right? My soul was crushed and wanted to run away, but my body did function when she touched me, and I blamed myself because it can't be wrong, otherwise my body would not function in the way it functioned when touched. In a very weird way, I felt like a real man, my mom could have anyone but I was her man, like an adult. Which, ironically, was the opposite of what she wanted.
From when I was around 12 she started to take me with her to parties or go out regulary for dinner with me on the weekends. We always went to a little bistro, which was split in the middle, one half was a bar and the other half an italian "restaurant". The owners were an very old couple, he worked in the bar and she in the restaurant part. They were known for still serving people alcohol when they were already asleep at the bar. My mother would pretend I'm a full grown adult, talking to me like to an adult, knocking back Wine after Wine, and touching me under the table. At the end of the night my mother would be completely lit and drive home with me, and then demand I help her to bed and sleep in her bed where she would play with my penis, kiss me and touch me everywhere. I could always check how drunk she was on the way to the car, I would notice it by the extra careful way she walked, the silly smile and the staring into the distance to a point somewhere on the wall above my head when we left the restaurant or the house of one of her friends where she was drinking for hours with them while I played video games. She never got a DUI, because, Woman can't do any harm and would never do anything wrong (sarcasm). And the scratches and bumps in her car came all from other people being stupid in the parking lot of the store.
Unfortunately, it seems I remember many many days with episodes like this, where I wanted nothing else than just to die and get out, regardless of how much I try to forget.
And she would often be naked around the house. I remember seeing her often topless till I was 15,16. This aroused me and she knew it. She always maintained a triangle of pubic hair, and she would make sure I see it from time to time. And she insisted on giving me a bath often all trough my childhood. She would wash and rub certain parts of my body very long and "accidentially" push her boob against my face and such.
I'm sure what she did to me qualifies as rape and abuse. As you can imagine, my childhood was extremely complicated, and what started as unwanted, violating, and confusing feeling eventually (over the course of a few years) turned into a relationship that I somehow enjoyed and valued in an irrational way as my mother did. What broke me, mentally, was that I seemed to enjoy it. At least that's what I told myself again and again. I got an erection so I must enjoy it, right? My soul was crushed and wanted to run away, but my body did function when she touched me, and I blamed myself because it can't be wrong, otherwise my body would not function in the way it functioned when touched. In a very weird way, I felt like a real man, my mom could have anyone but I was her man, like an adult. Which, ironically, was the opposite of what she wanted.
From when I was around 12 she started to take me with her to parties or go out regulary for dinner with me on the weekends. We always went to a little bistro, which was split in the middle, one half was a bar and the other half an italian "restaurant". The owners were an very old couple, he worked in the bar and she in the restaurant part. They were known for still serving people alcohol when they were already asleep at the bar. My mother would pretend I'm a full grown adult, talking to me like to an adult, knocking back Wine after Wine, and touching me under the table. At the end of the night my mother would be completely lit and drive home with me, and then demand I help her to bed and sleep in her bed where she would play with my penis, kiss me and touch me everywhere. I could always check how drunk she was on the way to the car, I would notice it by the extra careful way she walked, the silly smile and the staring into the distance to a point somewhere on the wall above my head when we left the restaurant or the house of one of her friends where she was drinking for hours with them while I played video games. She never got a DUI, because, Woman can't do any harm and would never do anything wrong (sarcasm). And the scratches and bumps in her car came all from other people being stupid in the parking lot of the store.
Unfortunately, it seems I remember many many days with episodes like this, where I wanted nothing else than just to die and get out, regardless of how much I try to forget.