The Miracle of the Crying Baby (May Trigger)
Hi Guys:
Normally I post in the Gay Survivors forum. But this is really important to me. It's a breakthrough that I want to share with all. And see if you think this makes sense?
For years, my earliest memory of life on this planet was beng a baby, about 9 months old. I was in the dining room of the family home, on a changing table. Somewhere music was playing, I guess from a radio. And there was a little boy in the room with me. That's the image that stayed with me all these years.
Then a few years ago, I had my doubts about whether I was really the baby. Why? Because I remember being on that changing table and I also remember almost being outside myself looking on. So for the last few years, I thought maybe I was mistaken. Maybe it was my younger brother on that table and I just imagined it was me. But now, with everything I know about abuse, and that feeling of almost being outside your body, I realize it was me. I WAS that little baby on the changing table! And that little boy in the room with me was my abusive older brother.
Somehow I know that's when he started hurting me. I don't know if the sexual abuse started then or not. I don't think that started until I was 3. But I know that he must have been doing things to make me cry.
You see, what supposedly happened to me as a baby was a big deal around our house. We were a Catholic family. And in times of crisis, we naturally prayed to the saints and the Virgin Mother for Divine Intervention. And all my parents knew was that something was very wrong with me. I was crying so much that I kept turning blue! They couldn't figure out why I was crying. They took me to the doctor. He wasn't exactly sure either. It could have been my heart. Or it could have been I needed an operation to repair a hernia.
Well, my parents loved me. But money was always tight. An operation could be costly and dangerous. So what could they do? What they did may not make sense to some of you. But they packed everyone in the car and drove up to Montreal, to a Catholic shrine there where miracles were reported to occur.
This is so painful to share this. Because even though I no longer identify myself as a Catholic, I still believe in such miracles. And it breaks my heart to say this. But my parents were convinced a miracle happened. Everyone was convinced. The little baby (me!) stopped crying. He stopped turning blue!
Oh, guys...I had a flashback last night and me and my partner Andy suddenly saw the truth. The reason I stopped crying is because everyone was watching me, everyone was paying close attention to see if a miracle happened. And in a sense, it did. In the time that everyone was watching me, my older brother couldn't hurt me. He couldn't do things like pinch me or cover my nose and mouth or God knows what else! And I don't know, I honestly don't know what he did. But I know it was him.
I also know why. Later he was very sick mentally. But in the beginning, he was jealous of me because I had taken his place as the new baby in the family. He was no longer the center of attention. And so when I was born, and then later my younger brother was born, he got back at us in the cruelest ways possible.
Yes, I still believe in miracles. It was a miracle that brought me to this site. It was a miracle that showed me the truth last night. So yes, there are miracles. But it didn't take a miracle to stop me from crying.
Let me know what you think. And thanks for listening.
Jasper
Normally I post in the Gay Survivors forum. But this is really important to me. It's a breakthrough that I want to share with all. And see if you think this makes sense?
For years, my earliest memory of life on this planet was beng a baby, about 9 months old. I was in the dining room of the family home, on a changing table. Somewhere music was playing, I guess from a radio. And there was a little boy in the room with me. That's the image that stayed with me all these years.
Then a few years ago, I had my doubts about whether I was really the baby. Why? Because I remember being on that changing table and I also remember almost being outside myself looking on. So for the last few years, I thought maybe I was mistaken. Maybe it was my younger brother on that table and I just imagined it was me. But now, with everything I know about abuse, and that feeling of almost being outside your body, I realize it was me. I WAS that little baby on the changing table! And that little boy in the room with me was my abusive older brother.
Somehow I know that's when he started hurting me. I don't know if the sexual abuse started then or not. I don't think that started until I was 3. But I know that he must have been doing things to make me cry.
You see, what supposedly happened to me as a baby was a big deal around our house. We were a Catholic family. And in times of crisis, we naturally prayed to the saints and the Virgin Mother for Divine Intervention. And all my parents knew was that something was very wrong with me. I was crying so much that I kept turning blue! They couldn't figure out why I was crying. They took me to the doctor. He wasn't exactly sure either. It could have been my heart. Or it could have been I needed an operation to repair a hernia.
Well, my parents loved me. But money was always tight. An operation could be costly and dangerous. So what could they do? What they did may not make sense to some of you. But they packed everyone in the car and drove up to Montreal, to a Catholic shrine there where miracles were reported to occur.
This is so painful to share this. Because even though I no longer identify myself as a Catholic, I still believe in such miracles. And it breaks my heart to say this. But my parents were convinced a miracle happened. Everyone was convinced. The little baby (me!) stopped crying. He stopped turning blue!
Oh, guys...I had a flashback last night and me and my partner Andy suddenly saw the truth. The reason I stopped crying is because everyone was watching me, everyone was paying close attention to see if a miracle happened. And in a sense, it did. In the time that everyone was watching me, my older brother couldn't hurt me. He couldn't do things like pinch me or cover my nose and mouth or God knows what else! And I don't know, I honestly don't know what he did. But I know it was him.
I also know why. Later he was very sick mentally. But in the beginning, he was jealous of me because I had taken his place as the new baby in the family. He was no longer the center of attention. And so when I was born, and then later my younger brother was born, he got back at us in the cruelest ways possible.
Yes, I still believe in miracles. It was a miracle that brought me to this site. It was a miracle that showed me the truth last night. So yes, there are miracles. But it didn't take a miracle to stop me from crying.
Let me know what you think. And thanks for listening.
Jasper
