Revelation or Raving? (triggers!)
roadrunner
Registrant
I am not sure why I am posting this, perhaps just to communicate feelings on some things. I have been here since early May, and I have to say for the first few weeks I felt like I was doing rather well. It was exhilarating to come here and discover that I wasnt alone. All those things that happened to me in the past now I see there were thousands of us, maybe more. The way I denied everything for years, the troubles I have coping now, its all a story repeated over and over again. With lots of variations of course, but the point is that in what others were saying I could recognize my own situation. It wasnt my fault. Everything my abuser told me all lies. And so on. What a great community we have here. So being a rational adult used to putting things together and solving problems, I thought okay, great. I know where I stand, lets talk about it, and gradually it will all just go away. Sound familiar?
I can now see that I have not even begun. Though I am trying to come to terms with things, I can see I am still hiding and grabbing at excuses. The dialogue I am pursuing with Jasper over in the gay forum began with me reading what he said about problems with communicating with his brother; it felt very powerful for some reason, and soon I discovered that it was obliging me to come to terms with telling my own father what happened to me. What has been especially powerful has been discovering, out of the blue, an incredibly supportive friend in Jasper, and at the same time coming to the realization of how little I actually see. Another revelation has been the thread on flashbacks. Guys there are trading ideas as if one can really cope with flashbacks. I was stunned, because this is as far from my experience as night is from day. A flashback for me means back to the terrified 11-year-old, with my abuser right there, no way to escape, and collapsing in tears waiting for it to start all over again. I feel utterly defenseless and overwhelmed, and all the tactics that others talk about just arent available options for me.
I am also beginning to see a larger picture that is even more frightening. First of all, the utter cruelty of it all. I just cant believe it. There is no way I can express my thoughts on that. Our Scout troop was the activity of all the boys in our neighborhood; the fathers got together to organize fun and cool adventures for us and the local church gave us a great old log cabin with a vast fireplace as our headquarters. But for him we were all just a feast. My Dad and the others were there to help and protect; he was there to rape and destroy. And the danger. He was a sick bastard and I was entirely in his power. He could have done anything with me.
And second: I didnt tell. I wanted to, I really did, but I had been trained to believe I was worthless and unlovable and that my family would reject me if I spoke up. Even then I knew somehow that this couldn't be true. I wanted my parents to notice the marks and ask what's really going on; it astonished me that they didn't see what was happening. I know that scenario plays out all the time and that is why we are all here now, but the bottom line is still: I didnt tell. Just like the boy before me, whose silence condemned me, my silence condemned who knows how many other defenseless children after me. I am sick with grief at that, even though I know it wasnt and could never have been my fault.
And finally, I somehow doubt that I will ever get past this. Okay perhaps I will learn to move on and maybe incorporate my abuse into my life in a way that allows me to function better than I do now. But what he did to me has shaped everything else I have ever done and everything I have become. In a way I feel like I am still his "creature".
Im not sure if I will be able to post this, or even if I should. I dont feel like I am ranting. I am not beating up on myself, at least I dont think so. I dont feel in need of pity and certainly I dont feel brave. I just feel overwhelmed. The last time I felt like this was when I left the Middle East after covering the Lebanese civil war as a journalist for two years. It was only then, back in the quiet confines of university life, that I was hit by the terrible horror of what I had witnessed. I suppose I will post this just because I need to. Is this a "breakthrough" (if there is such a thing)? If so then hey, I will claim it. Or is it just another screwed up dead end. If so I will find my way back and start again. My fear is that this is all just so much mad nonsense and that good friends here will find it very distressing, but my hunch is that it is the truth I wish I had recognized years ago.
Larry
I can now see that I have not even begun. Though I am trying to come to terms with things, I can see I am still hiding and grabbing at excuses. The dialogue I am pursuing with Jasper over in the gay forum began with me reading what he said about problems with communicating with his brother; it felt very powerful for some reason, and soon I discovered that it was obliging me to come to terms with telling my own father what happened to me. What has been especially powerful has been discovering, out of the blue, an incredibly supportive friend in Jasper, and at the same time coming to the realization of how little I actually see. Another revelation has been the thread on flashbacks. Guys there are trading ideas as if one can really cope with flashbacks. I was stunned, because this is as far from my experience as night is from day. A flashback for me means back to the terrified 11-year-old, with my abuser right there, no way to escape, and collapsing in tears waiting for it to start all over again. I feel utterly defenseless and overwhelmed, and all the tactics that others talk about just arent available options for me.
I am also beginning to see a larger picture that is even more frightening. First of all, the utter cruelty of it all. I just cant believe it. There is no way I can express my thoughts on that. Our Scout troop was the activity of all the boys in our neighborhood; the fathers got together to organize fun and cool adventures for us and the local church gave us a great old log cabin with a vast fireplace as our headquarters. But for him we were all just a feast. My Dad and the others were there to help and protect; he was there to rape and destroy. And the danger. He was a sick bastard and I was entirely in his power. He could have done anything with me.
And second: I didnt tell. I wanted to, I really did, but I had been trained to believe I was worthless and unlovable and that my family would reject me if I spoke up. Even then I knew somehow that this couldn't be true. I wanted my parents to notice the marks and ask what's really going on; it astonished me that they didn't see what was happening. I know that scenario plays out all the time and that is why we are all here now, but the bottom line is still: I didnt tell. Just like the boy before me, whose silence condemned me, my silence condemned who knows how many other defenseless children after me. I am sick with grief at that, even though I know it wasnt and could never have been my fault.
And finally, I somehow doubt that I will ever get past this. Okay perhaps I will learn to move on and maybe incorporate my abuse into my life in a way that allows me to function better than I do now. But what he did to me has shaped everything else I have ever done and everything I have become. In a way I feel like I am still his "creature".
Im not sure if I will be able to post this, or even if I should. I dont feel like I am ranting. I am not beating up on myself, at least I dont think so. I dont feel in need of pity and certainly I dont feel brave. I just feel overwhelmed. The last time I felt like this was when I left the Middle East after covering the Lebanese civil war as a journalist for two years. It was only then, back in the quiet confines of university life, that I was hit by the terrible horror of what I had witnessed. I suppose I will post this just because I need to. Is this a "breakthrough" (if there is such a thing)? If so then hey, I will claim it. Or is it just another screwed up dead end. If so I will find my way back and start again. My fear is that this is all just so much mad nonsense and that good friends here will find it very distressing, but my hunch is that it is the truth I wish I had recognized years ago.
Larry
