The Ultimate Selfish Act

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The Ultimate Selfish Act
B

Bobby

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Hello, guys, it's Bobby again. I know, I know, will he never shut up? I'm not sure. These things just keep popping up in my brain and I want to know how you feel about them. When you've lived bottled up with this stuff as long as I have and you didn't even know what the stuff was, just that it was stuff, you want nothing more than to say it out loud and hear someone say something back to you about it. It doesn't matter if they agree with you or not or even if they think what you said was stupid or not, although that can sting. You just need to get it out and take a look at it, and you can't do that by yourself. You have been confused about it long enough and you need to wrap your brain around it from a different perspective. That's what this is all about. I don't know how long it's going to be, but I figure that, if it's too long, you'll fall asleep in the middle of it and wake up and have to do something else and never get back to it, so I haven't done a lot of harm.

So far I have written safe stuff here. I have written completely honest stuff. I have written very, very painful stuff. I have said things here that I have never said out loud before. I have a genuine compassion and caring for everyone whose posts I read and it's not unusual for me to cry while reading one. I cry for you and I cry for me and I cry for the universal almost unbearable pain that we all share. I say all this because it's important that I state my honesty before I say what I'm going to say, because I'm going to talk about the dishonest things. God knows I'm either going to be really sorry for this or really glad I did it. We'll see.

One of the things I need to do here is to learn to trust...all of you. I know that is totally silly because you can't trust all of anybody, and even though I sound naive and open, I don't trust a single soul in the whole wide world completely. Why should any of us? My abuse came from my dear old dad. If you can't trust Daddy, who can you trust? So I'm warry...of everyone. But, you see, I'm so very tired of being on guard. That takes so much energy that I could be putting to good use somewhere else. I'm so tired all the time just from trying to keep myself safe from people...especially men people. Every man is potential danger to me. That's every man in the whole world. I never met a man I didn't fear.
So, what I really want to do is walk out in the middle of a room, take off all my clothes (not pretty) and symbolically slit myself open from head to toe and just let everything flow out on the floor. For those of you who must watch those things, what I just said has nothing to do with suicide. "Symbolically" was the important word there. I want everyone to see every part of me. I don't want anything left. Take pictures, write it down, do anything you want. I simply can have and want to have no more secrets...not any. I am a good person. I AM A GOOD PERSON. I AM NOT DIRT. I AM NOT DAMAGED GOODS. I AM NOT ASHAMED. But you see, I am ashamed,really. And I do think I'm dirt and I don't think I'm a good person...well part of me thinks that and the other part of me would argue the point. So, if I could just let you see every last part of me, then I wouldn't have to worry that you might see every last part of me. That scares me just to think about it. Maybe I don't want to do that at all. So I selfishly am going to tell you about every last part of me. Even though this is anonymous, that's very brave of me, or very selfish. But then, you're not really a captive audience except for those of you who must read this to make sure I don't say the wrong things. To you I apologize. I am going to talk about the things that most embarrass me and the things I most want to hide. Then it will be done. Maybe after that you won't even have to see rambling stuff from me anymore. I won't have anything more to say...yeah, right like that will happen. The ultimate conceit...to think that anyone cares.

Let's start with sexuality. I'm really embarrassed about my sexuality. I'm old enough that I was brought up to believe that gay was really awful. Gay people were weird. Gay sex was never talked about, so I didn't have any concept about how bad that was, except that God never intended for men to do that together. Gay men were just weird in a sort of non-descript, fuzzy, weird sort of way. There was never a specific gay person around. They were just a "they" sort of group. And then I was one.
Well, sort of. I was in a closet for 33 years. I don't know how to explain it, but when you're in a closet you are and you are not gay. You know you're gay and, when a cute ass walks by, you definitely make a note of it, but, because you are in a closet and do not intend to do anything but make notes about cute asses, you are not gay. Gay people throw their notes away and pursue cute asses. So even though you're gay, you're not. Understand? This is an important point to a little boy from a very small mountain town who was brought up thinking about a fuzzy "they" sort of people. And then I came out of the closet, but not really. You see, I didn't have any gay sex for all of those 33 years. Yep,just noted cute asses...and looked at "Hustler" magazines. You can look at "Hustlers" when you're in the closet. They show the men as well as the women and you can pretend to look at the women when you could care less and really be looking at the men while you say what a babe the woman is.

So, there I am out of the closet. I have told everyone I care about. I have really partially destroyed some of them, especially my wife and kids, and I am doing nothing about being gay. I wish I had never said anything. What was the point? Now everyone knows your a distant fuzzy person and your life hasn't changed at all, except that you've lost a few friends and your family is devastated. Good work, Bobby!

I HAVE HAD A GAY EXPERIENCE!

Yep, I have. This internet guy who was 76...he didn't say that and he looked younger...75?...said he would meet me for lunch to "talk" about my problems with being gay. I really thought we were going to have lunch and talk about my problems with being gay. Well, on the way to the restaurant, he put his hand on my leg and worked it up and up and up and I was gone, completely. Someone was in the candy shop and I was the candy. I had no control at all. Oh, I went willingly, and we didn't do a whole lot, but I was devastated...completely by the fact that I had done this. I feel that even at 55 I had been abused yet once again. I had no control and he knew that. He also knew that, when I started out, I had no intention of doing anything sexual. It may be rationalization, but I sure felt taken advantage of and was suicidal for several days, finally ending up at a gay church because I knew they would have to take me in.

And now I have no idea which I am. I would love to be straight for all of those who want me to be, but on the other hand I spent 33 years in the closet noting cute asses and part of me wants to meet one up close and personal just once before I die. I'm ashamed of that....not because I think it's a bad thing, but because it would be a violation of my marriage vows.

One Down.

I AM ADDICTED TO PORN. I think. Well, maybe not. Well maybe. The only thing in the world that I really obsess about is so bad that even when I'm slitting myself from head to toe and letting you see, I will not let you see that. It is a weird form of gay porn, and all I want to see. I am positive that it was what was done to me when I was sexually abused and that that is why I obsess about it. There is no reason to otherwise because it is not sexy one bit at all. I'm not even sure I try to fight the addiction. It is something I need...but isn't that what all addicts say?

Two down.

My life only started four years ago when my memories of child abuse began. I have thrown out the rest of it...sort of. I consider any history before that to be a false history...the history of a man who didn't exist...someone who was made up by a little boy who had no intention of participating in life in any way. It was like a puppet on a string who didn't know he wasn't a real live boy.

three

I'm afraid of all of you. I don't trust you. I appreciate you. You have said and done some wonderful things for me since I've been here, but I'm still warry. God help me, I want nothing more than to just drop all of my barriers and let you in, but I can't. I can share every last part of my story with you...I can tell you about all of my pain...I can tell you the horrible things that were done to me by my father...but I'm still afraid some way. I'm afraid of who you are. I'm afraid that one or two of you might be so injured that I won't know what to do or how to handle it if I get involved with you. I know that 99% of you are just who you say you are and are harmless, but I'm just damaged enough to be afraid that you are damaged in a different way, a little dangerous way...and I'm so sorry about that. I don't like myself for it. I am in anguish every time a thought like that goes through my head. It's not that I really think that anyone is dangerous. It's just that the fact that that is a possibility is always there.
I am so sorry about that and mostly for me.

Four

I am afraid to let you know that I love you. It is the most wonderful emotion a person can have. I am very immature...a little boy really...and a man at the same time. I know exactly how I should relate to people here, but my little boy doesn't. My little boy wants so much to love and to be loved....ah hell...so does the man. That is all so confusing...and when you put that together with worrying about your sexuality, you get so confused you just don't know what to feel. When I read the stories, I really do love the little boys whose stories are being told, and I want to hug them and hold them and make it all right. I want to be that strong man for them that I dreamed would come and save me all my life. I know they're men now, but that's not who I see. I don't see a man telling a story. I see a little boy being sexually abused. That's the emotion I feel. But I can't say that I feel that way because it would be misinterpreted and I know that many of you have exactly the same trust issues that I have and would be afraid that I was one of those guys you needed to watch out for. I can't tell you how many times I have wanted to say "I love you" to someone who is hurting so badly that I almost can't stand it, but don't say it because it will be misinterpreted. I really do love the guy and his little boy and feel the pain he is going through. "I'm here for you" just doesn't cut it for me, but that's what I say. No, tomorrow my emotions will not be so intense. I'll have concern and caring. But at the moment that that little boy is hurting and crying and suffering, what's not to love? And I want to say it. But I won't. My need to say how I feel is much less important than the needs of the guy who is suffering and I can't risk saying something that will make him uneasy when what I am trying to do is make him feel better and safer in this wonderful safe place.

So, there it is. There is more, but you have been saved by the fact that I work on an "as needed" basis and have just been called and am needed. There's something nice about that. I know this was a selfish posting, but this is an honest place and I have to get it all out. We were taught by our abusers that we were shameful people, and we are not. We have nothing to be ashamed of. I will not let him keep me trapped by my shame. Bobby is not my real name. You know that. That is the final truth I must eventually tell to be free. Some of you can do that. I envy you so much your freedom from shame and your self esteem to be proud of who you are. I'm getting there. I'll get there. You'll know I'm there when I can sign my real name. Thank-you and, damnit...I really do love you all. Bobby
 
Bobby, not your real name,

Gee, you seem pretty normal to me. At least for a guy I met on this web site. So, youre a little screwed up? We are not going to beat up on you. In fact, most of us will tell you to stop beating up on yourself. Your confusion is the same as much of ours. Let it out. That is what we are here for.

Aden, my real name but not what I am often called.
 
I just love your honesty. Thanks for sharing your heart. I've struggled immensely with the idea of 'am I gay or not?' No one would think so just looking at me. I hide everything well. 17 years of marriage and multiple failures sexually. All with men. adultery is adultery, whether it is with the same sex or opposite sex. My opinion, anyways. Here's some thoughts from the mind of amn who's a christian guy trying to reconcile his faith, his feelings, his experiences, and his future. I'll also share a little about myself along the way.

People have desires, affections, thoughts, etc. Just as we have a stomach (something physical) that can cause a physical sensation (hunger), it also causes a thought (not physical) to pass through our brains (physical). People who have addictions feel physical sensations, have affections/attractions/fantasies related to the drug, and so forth. I believe that the relationship of emotions, affections, desires, thoughts, and the physical body are intimately intertwined. hard to separate one from the other on a typical day.

The human (as I understand it) is wired throughout for physical, emotional, mental, and (I believe) spiritual experiences. These experiences are real. Some argue the spiritual element isn't so. That's their choice. I choose to believe there is a spiritual dynamic with which humans interact.

I'm a believe that we are all searching for truth (explanation about our existance) and come up with our own conclusions. I can't say my conclusion is any better or worse than anyone else's, it is just what is real for me. No one can objectively claim to understand human experiences and truth. We are all subjective in nature.

After searching and digging for many years, I have come to the conclusion time and again that I would rather find some "objective other", something outside of me to define what is real or not real about me instead of relying on my feelings, thoughts, affections, etc to define my identity. Why? My feelings, my thoughts, my affections, and my understanding about myself can swing strongly from day to day and can also change over time. If I base my identity on feelings, affections, and physical stimulations, then my identity isn't solid and powerful: it can morph along with my urges, desires, and various seasons that come along in life.

The only thing that has worked for me is spirituality, finding an 'objective other' that defines who I am. I like to listen to what He says is true about me, not what someone on the newscast thinks is true based on the latest biased study.

Then it becomes an issue for me to try to understand how myself and all humans fit into the paradigm/world view that I have adopted. It is up to me to persist and pursue knowledge, trying to understand and to figure out how alcoholics, drug addicts, power freaks, the money lovers, sexual perverts, gay, straight, abusers, homeless, or whoever, fits into the world view I have choosen.

I'm a christian man. I'm not a gay basher, either. I also do not consider myself a 'gay' Christian. I'm just a heterosexual christian man who has some problems. Everybody has feelings, problems, thoughts, etc. My problems are mine, just as a person who rages, is obese (or whatever) has their problems. I view sexuality along that continuum. Not so much sexuality in general, but sexuality that tries to express itself outside of the original design propogated by orthodox biblical teachings. The straight adulterer, in my understanding, is no different (better or worse) than a person who has sex with men. Someone's affections may line up towards men or women, but to me, I don't let my feelings or affections tell me who I am. That's why I choose the 'objective other' viewpoint of spirituality to help me understand my identity.

You commented on something to me that clues me in that you might see yourself as I do: a man who has something trapped in him that he just doesn't like but doesn't know what to do with it. when you said the advancement made upon you by that man was something that you ultimately just did not want, then that tells me you are not at 'peace' with the identity of 'being gay.' I dont' judge those or really concern myself with those who 'are gay.' It's their worldview and their choice. They maybe didn't "choose" to be that way, but they choose to believe what to do with the life they've been handed. I have the same choice: what am I going to do with what I have inside of me. the only thing that brings me peace is a relationship with god through Christ. Again, I don't have any qualms with those who believe different. I'm just speaking about what works for me. Hey, I've actually been a tad jealous that I just can't seem to be a happy gay man. I would gladly assume that identity if it fit me. It just doesn't. My experience is that there are a lot of us who had a traumatic SA event that set us in a direction we were not intended to go in. that's why we just don't have a peace about ourselves. My 4.6 cents anyway (inflation, you know). to each their own.

I was confused for my entire life until last year regarding my sexual attractions (primarily towards men) and how it related to Christianity. I hated the "christian" gay bashers. I just shudder, pray, and ignore them. They're not hate mongers (at least not most of them) in my opinion, just living out what they believe. Most Christians I've met are good decent people just like the person reading these words right now. They just have their problems, just as you and I do.

Having said all that, I don't really feel confused about my sexuality any longer. I just don't doubt deep inside of me I'm a heterosexual being by nature, I just struggle with attractions towards the same sex. It's like a person who knows they weren't "made" for the bottle, yet their whole life has been lived in around and under a bottle (or drug). I hate the affections and feelings that don't line up with my personal belief system. Well, hate them when I try to 'do right.' Love them when I'm ready to feel the rush, the addictive high....then comes the shame guilt self hatred...

I respect all people on here for sharing their beliefs. Just as others shared theirs, I wanted to chime in and state that maybe you are a heterosexual men who has same sex attraction. that's a whole different identity than 'being gay.' There's a lot of resources out there for those who don't have a peace about their unwanted sexual attractions to the same sex. Again, I'm only addressing those who don't have a peace about their sexual attractions to the same sex. Those at peace with it, more power to you.

What has brought me to this forum? I know I went through a dramatic shift from a happy boy to a sexual pervert in a matter of moments at the age of 5. I went into a doctors office. The doctor wanted to do a rectal temp. I protested. Then I cried and begged mom to tell him no. Wonder why I was so freaked over a rectal temp? He insisted, mom just said, do it. I stopped crying when he inserted. It was as if electricity shot through me. I have never stopped being a pervert (by way of behavior, not identity) until last year.

I have never stopped trying to relive that moment (reader understand) for my entire life. I have NEVER not known sexual perversion.

Last year, I had an emotional breakdown. I admitted to my wife (again) that I was unfaithful. The issue of being a sexual addict is very clear now for me. It's not an issue of being 'gay,' as love was never a part of it. Just purile sexual contact.

I've been married 17 years, have two daughters, and a wife who seems to stick with me through thick and more thick. the first 16 years of our marriage were very difficult. My wife found out about my sexual problems two days before the marriage. I offered to stop the wedding. She wanted to continue. She has been absolutely hateful to me the entire time until recently.

October 2003, I awoke one night and couldn't sleep. For whatever reason, I couldn't stop thinking about HIV. I had been tested several times over the years adn wasn't really worried about having it. At least, not worried about having it until that night. I wrestled with it for several hours.

I was diagnosed as HIV+ in Nov 2003. Since then, I've been terribly depressed, then angry, then hopeful, then depressed, then hate myself, then love myself, then become hopeful, then get depressed again, and currently am pissed at life beyond measure.....

I shared with my sisters and mom on my 40th birthday month last september that I was HIV+. Needless to say, it was very difficult for me to do. My sisters cried. They are 3 and 4 years older than me. My mom was unemotional, treated it just like we were talking about the weather.

I've pondered deeply how going to a doctors office and having a rectal temp turned me into a sexual pervert of the highest order. I couldn't help but to conclude that I was cursed, condemned, hopeless, and fundamentally flawed. There was just something broken inside of me and I would always be this way. No hope.

One sister called me back crying the day after I told her about my HIV diagnosis. this was now 3 days before i was to turn 40 last september. She asked me if I remembered what happened when I was young.

I started trembling inside and began feeling lower abdominal pain. I want to cry when I get to this point. Very difficult for me. I responded I didn't remember. Still don't. She related that she and my other sister (they would have been 8/9 years of age) found me with my britches down in a closet at the local junior high one summer day. I was 5. She wondered why the man who she had just seen leaving the room had whipped me so hard I was bleeding. It took them a long time to calm me down and clean me up...

My other sister was with her but she didn't recall any of it. I didn't either. I was skeptical. It certainly would have made sense, as the age correlated to when my life changed. Mom recalls me going through a distinct personality change right about that time but didn't know what to make of it.

As the week went on, we tried to piece together the memories we could of that summer camp. then something clicked in all of us that we all remembered: my sisters wouldn't let me go into the boys room to pee. I was so embarassed to go into the girls room. They also wouldn't let me out of their sight. All that occurred the final 2 or 3 days of the last summer camp we ever went to. I do remember them being real upset and not letting me go into the boys bathroom, how they wouldn't let me out of their sight, and how they PROMISED they wouldn't tell mom I had gotten a terrible whipping (we had a rule: whipping outside of the house automatically resulted in a whipping inside of the house). They felt so bad about me being whipped so terribly that they didn't want me to get in trouble again.

I just don't know what to say right now. I am swinging between: did it happen? Is it real? It certainly makes sense! Of course it happened! Did it really? Then why can't I recall it? Why can't my oldest sister recall finding me? Is my middle sister just making this up? Why do I feel so much anger deep inside of me that I've felt my whole life? Why did my parents get divorced at the age of 5? Why did mom marry an alcoholic physically abusive stepdad when I was 6? Why can't I just have peace and joy? Why do I hate myself so much? What happened at the age of 5 that caused my whole life to change? Was I really raped? Why do I feel sick as I type this and feel rectal pain? Why do I want to cry so bad right now? Why did I turn into a sexual addict, sexual pervert, who drowned his life sorrows in a bottle until last year? Why did my life suddenly and abruptly change at the age of 5 and never return to normal? Why can't I remember? Was I really raped?

My life has yet taken another bizarre twist, a twist that could potentially make sense of why I've turned out the way I have.

Rob
 
Dear Bobby and Rob also,

Thank you both for your honesty.

Though it may not seem like it now, telling your life stories the way you have begun to do here is the beginning of the end of the misery and pain that so many of us have lived with.

The beginnng of the end of being alone with our secrets and our fears means starting life over again and having the chance finally to be who we are truly intended to be.

Thank you both, so much. You have touched and inspired me.

Regards,
 
I can add nothing to what Danny has said already. Your courage is huge and your trust is even bigger. It means so much to us. I hope it time each of you will be able to find the answers. In the meantime stick with us.
 
Dear Bobby,

Thank you ! Thank you for telling my story !

Thank you for saying all those things about you, that are true for me but that I cannot say for myself. And even if some of them are not true for me, thank you for your courage, because I can see that spilling my guts will not kill me - it may hurt so bad I might think I *am* dying, or *want* to die, but I'm not and I won't.

Gods - I am overwhelemd, but in the good way. I've been in therapy for 14 months now and I've made major progress, but to find MaleSurvivor and all you amazing, wonderful, wounded, courageous men/boys/men is just ... I don't have the words. Hope ? Relief ? Joy/Fear ?

Gratitude - that I *can* say I feel, without doubt.

Thank you.
 
I have moved this topic to the Sexual Identity forum as that seems to be where it belongs.
 
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