So far goog, I'M going to get d=fpm dkddd
As you can see I couldn't see straight and then fell asleep by the keyboard. Today was the first day I'm taking with this anti drinking drug called Naltrexone 50 mg a day.
I know that there are guys here that really had it bad with their mothers but mine was unique, if I might say. When there was a social gather at her house I would have to get dressed up in a suit and tie and I became "Superson". I was introduced to everyone as "this is my son who goes to the very prestigious school 'blah blah blah' in the city". The nest day I reverted to the kid that was going no place and a lousy student. Now that I'm a little older it now became "look at yourself. If you put a little more effort into my schoolwork I wouldn't be where I am now.". Nothing new on that front but she does that i front of my grandchildren.
My new meds came to handle my drinking do fuck the drinking scene.
Most people would call this shit I'm having with my mother as just a pain in the ass but at some point she would press the would hit of my buttons. When she hits that button it becomes a trigger as opposed to just a plain pain in the ass.
I still get very triggered if I see a happy father with a happy kid. I would love that to have to happen to me, But what happened with me is that couidn't do anything that with my kid or now sith my grandchildren.
One thing my NEW YAWK brother, you are going to have to translate what goog means. Then the coded=fpm dkddd stuff.
Yep, all those what if's, & why's about our youth sure puts us in a living hell at times. Especially if your tormentor is living with you, an every day trigger for sure.
Glad your shrink gave you that anti drinking drug, but the real hard part is up to you. Don't stop at the booze store is a great start. If you don't have it, you can't abuse it. Get rid of those blades that you use to harm yourself.
COURAGE, my brother, Jeff eventually things will get better once you are out of that vicious cycle that you have been in.
No doubt about it Jeff, it triggers our emotions & sets us up for clinical depression, whenever we see other kids having a great & loving time with their parents & it sure hurts us very deeply. Young Pete lets those stored up emotions come to the surface and the both of us are in living hell.
I'm not as bad as i used to be whenever i had seen all that love & bonding between parents & their children.
I reassure him that he was a good & loveable boy & everything will be OK eventually.
I/we try and shift our negative emotions into positive emotions, like telling young Pete lets celebrate those kids, and their happiness. Reassuring our inner child that we can talk about our hurts later before we go to bed.
I am confident that young Jeff & his bigger self can do the same in his/your own way.
Quit putting yourself down. You did the best that you could possibly do raising your kids & grandkids. You loved & cared for them in your own way. Celebrate that.
Start working on your self-esteem, there are other things in your life worth celebrating. I know quite a few and so do you.
Keep coming here, keep letting out your emotions.
We will hear your cries, we will help in your fears & we will share in your tears.
My compassion, my understanding, my love & hope for you, my brother, Jeff.
"I will take that lost boys hand, and i will lead him from the depths of darkness, into the sunshine, forever into eternity."
As he is me.
I believe there will always be a trigger in our life. There is no escaping the damage that was done, we can mend it but never eradicate it as though it never happened. We have to learn how to respond to triggers. Today for some reason the old picture of my abuser appeared on facebook. I have seen it before but when it appeared on the page today, I just looked at it and said you bast**d. No hurt no pain and I read what was underneath the picture, a comment by someone else from that time wrote "Fr X was not as rude and arrogant as Msgr xxxx nor as evil as XXX"(my abuser). For the first time the picture nor the words set me off. I just said you bast**d. I am not controlled by his image but I do wonder what the boy now a man meant by those words. Was he another victim of this man, a few years older than I. Makes me wonder.
It's true there will always be something that will trigger us. I was triggered just this morning in a weird way which filled me with happy feelings for my father but brought back all the times of him not being there for me when I needed it.
My father turned 100 years old today and I thought that was so great that i was happy and gave him a hug and a kiss. I don't remember ever doing that before. He and my mother were having breakfast together so they both continued eating. So I asked him how does it feel to be 100 years old. The only answer he gave was "OK" and went back to eating breakfast. That really sent me for a loop and all my feelings of the times he was never there for me came down on me like a landslide. I tried to start a conversation with him but again it was like talking to a doorknob. I told them to have a good day and I walked out of their apartment in my house.
I was so surprised at him saying just a few words and making it like nothing changed for us. I had to come downstairs to my dungeon and just sat in my chair and now sharing my feelings. It felt like the times when I was a kid and I would tell him that after school I'll be staying in the city practicing judo and all he would say "OK" - I was 12. I probably had a date with a john that night or spend the night with papasan or my boyfriend. We never played ball I would be busy turning tricks or having a photo shoot.
That one word "OK" sent me into a spin. Of all the times my mother would be beating me with a belt and he would sit in the den reading a book or watching TV. Everything was "OK" to him. He never knew that I was abducted for two days and raped by a bunch of men then dumped off by a phone booth with a pocket full of change so I could call papasan. I think that they were trying to make a point to papasan.
The summer I spent with papasan turning a trick or two a day for the whole summer while they went on some cruise to Europe someplace. When I was taken to parties, sold to the highest bidder and when the guy was finished with me I would just be passed around like a slab of meat. The drugs that I was into since I was 9 up to shooting heroin starting at the age of 14-15.
The way I feel right now because of that one fucken word "OK" I could write for hours of the shit I went through and they knew nothing, absolutely nothing or/and possibly didn't even care. All I was was a fucken ornament on their shelf to show off to the guests at their social gatherings then send to my room not allowed to come out. I would jump down from my second floor window into the flowerbed and go to my boyfriend's house to spend the night and have his sister take pictures of me and my friend fooling around.
I'm going to stop now because I'm really in the middle of a super trigger. That one fucken word "OK" really, really, really fucked me up.
I can't even go to work today, I'm going to take a couple of Valium, cut a little to take the pain away and go lay down.
For 60+ years you were living with a non existant parent, your dad.
For 60+ or so years you were living with a "mother" that abused you to no end and they both are sharing your house with you.
Daily triggers, a constant reminder of a childhood lost.
Having said all that & now to your "coping" mechanisms.
Again & again & again, my brother, Jeff is your use of the word dungeon & you know how i feel about that.
Dungeon=a place without hope, a place of torture & eventually death. You sure in hell don't belong in there.
Except when you are cutting yourself, self torture.
Again, & again & again, my brother, Jeff. The prefered(military) designation is the word bunker.
Bunker=a place of hope, a place of safety & a place of survival. There is where you belong.
Concentrate on those whom do love & respect you, wife, kids & grandkids.
Also your fraternal brothers here who do care for you, respect you & even some love you too.
Wishing you a happy & healing night, weekend & onto your religious festivities.
"I will take that lost boys hand, and i will lead him from the depths of darkness, into the sunshine, forever into eternity."
As he is me.
I'm so sorry to hear you're in a sort of "damned if you do and damned if you don't" situation. What must have seemed like a perfect solution has turned into something perfectly awful.
I resented for so long the fact that as part of caring for my father in an extended care home, many times I had to wipe his butt. It seemed like he didn't really care one way or the other if I was there. Just like my childhood. It's really a bitch to deal with, and this attitude can be a horrible trigger to all the past indifference.
As you and many others have said, there will always be something to trigger us, and parts of your post have indeed triggered me. But in a good way. My younger son went to New York University for a year, so Washington Square has some very good memories. Many years ago when he was just learning to talk he had a way of saying "Okay" that emphasized the KAY part. I suppose since it was one of his first words it has a lot of built in memory triggers. But words can rev up so many different emotions. It's completely understandable, and I'm really sorry the same word conjures up for you the same old indifference. Hard to deal with.
Someone on the MS forum has as part of their signature, a quote from Bugs Bunny - "I don't like pain, it hurts me." I agree, I don't much like paid either. But Valium has been a Godsend for me many times to smooth out the really rough spots. My wish is you will go easy on yourself with the cutting, and if not the Valium somehow find a better way to deal with all you face.
Take care. And a hope for peace; and a calm like you've never known before.
Some things that you would think that are triggering are in some ways very calming. And some things that are normal words like "OK" are very triggering.
For instance I turned a few tricks in Washington square park but mainly around the Christopher street and Sheridan parks or mini parks.
My T is only one block north of WSP and I would sit there in the summer for hours watching "normal" life and the rainbows that are made from the spray in the WSP fountain. I find it very comforting and the great time I had when I was in the apartment in the village with three other kids especially my boyfriend. How we would panhandle just for the heck of it or steal cigarets from a local newsstand or store, also because we had nothing better to do. We would play marbles or skelly.
Then comes along this mentally sound 100 year old man and all he can say to me after a hug and a kiss was "OK". My T had once asked me why I had brought them to live in an apartment I built for them. "Did I really think that they would have changed?" Yes I was hoping especially since I was never really part of them since I was 12. But I guess that's why he's the therapist and me the crazy one. But I am at least happy that I helped my father and mother live a few extra years. Forget about my mother she is just the same bitch she was when I was 12, the only difference is that she will not hit me anymore. My father was never bad to me he was just never there in my life.
Read carefully it might contain some *** TRIGGERS ***
My wife and youngest son (25) took a day off and went to 6 Flags Great Adventures yesterday (Monday) for a day of roller coasters. I will almost never go to a public place where there are a lot of kids and I would usually bow out of going anyplace at all. But since my son wasn't going anyplace with his friends we figured that all three of us would go so I was stuck. If anyone wants to go on one of these coasters then you should fast and eat nothing from the night before it will make the adventure more fun.
Anyway, I was terribly triggered by all the kids. I would look at kids and I would see the happiness all over their faces. It did bother me that my childhood wasn't as happy as what I saw. it just seemed that what bothered me was the fact that when I was in the movies and was with those little kids like these kids but they were not happy and many of them were too spaced out even to cry. Usually the kids were not that doped up so you would get the screaming, crying and fighting for things not to happen. So I see all these happy children and all I'm saying to myself is I made kids like these cry, scream, punch and bleed, it was always a fight but I always won. I had to win I was bigger and stronger (I was 14) and they 6-12 years old, but I had the advantage that if I didn't get what the movie people wanted it meant that I would pay for it. I saw all these kids at the park and all I saw was these are the same kinds of kids I was with.
Twice while I was at the park I almost lost it and went out screaming I can't take this anymore. I have no idea how I got myself to stay put. Then we went on the safari tour and we sat in trucks, probably old military troupe carriers renovated for the tour. Each truck had 30 people 6 rows of 5. So my son went on first in row 4 then my wife and then me. Then came two 12 year old girls (I assumed) I had been asking my wife when we walked through the park how old were various children were. In front of me sat two (about) 10 year old boys. I was in a very bad situation.
My thinking was all over the place I couldn't concentrate. The seats weren't that wide where we didn't touch each other. I was frozen and almost lost it.
Finally at 7pm I told my wife that it's getting late and I have a T appointment the next day (today, Tuesday) and we should go home. We came home and I went down stairs and started cutting up my arm I was trying to use pain to make the pain go away - yes there was a lot of blood and pain.
Today (Tuesday) I got up early and I was still upset from the day before and before I headed into the city I recut the cuts (it hurts more when you cut the same place over and over). When I got to the village I went to McDonalds and had something to eat. I usually go upstairs since there aren't many people and if there are they are mostly homeless. When I was finished I realized that I had to cut but I hadn't taken my razor blades so I used one of those plastic serrated knives that they give you to cut your pancakes. It was very hard to cut anything but it was painful enough to do it's work. That was a tremendous amount of pain but it was working, it took my mind off the kids.
I went to the WSP to sit down and do some cutting but I accidentally threw the plastic knife away and had no razor blade but I had to get to my T session anyway.
My T moved a block away to a big fancy building with these big heavy brass and glass doors and a doorman to open the door for you. My T asked how I felt about the new surroundings and I told him they were sort of triggering, He asks why and I tell him this is the first time I was in such a fancy building since i was a kid going to date.
So now I'm home and I have my razor blades and I've taken so far 60mg of Valium so I should be fine in a while. I really can't figure why I gave up drinking.
These were 2 days of hell and it's still not over. All I want to be able to do is give my grandchildren piggyback rids or let them beat me up on the front lawn. I want to have a water gun fight. I want to be able to touch them and feel happy with them. All I want to be is normal.
Gee Blue, I've read the same thing somewhere. I would believe it also if I had nothing to do with the public.
not only do I feel horrible for what I did to kids I have a problem in a park where there are so many kids just having fun. the fun Bobby and I had in the village was one of us would order something while the other would take a pack of cigarets. Or seeing who could get hit on first. We always had $30-40 in our pockets and that's a lot of money for 13-14 year old, we did it because we would get a kick out of it.
After the past couple of weeks it takes it too much to believe what I've written or what I hoped will be the outcome. I have too many problems being in public places or even on the street.
Yesterday I just happened to mention to a good friend what happened this past Wednesday during the day. My oldest son (34) had had multiple back surgeries over the years since he was 15. So now that he is bedridden he had to take an ambulance to see the doctor. He had no problem with getting friends to drive him into the city to finally talk over what is the plan. It's amazing that with all his back problems he still volunteers. He tried to be a volunteer fire fighter but it was obvious that that was too strenuous. So he volunteered to the local EMS. Since he can't handle people so he did the next best thing which was making sure that all ambulances were properly stocked at all times. He was responsible for the maintenance of the vehicles (15 and growing). He also volunteered to something on the idea of meals on wheels, making sure that poor people in the community had what to eat. He used to drive a school bus during the day for a job. But now he can't do any of that so the old saying what goes around comes around. He has what to eat, his rent is paid, they painted his apartment and put down new linoleum etc. etc.
etc. I couldn't ask for a better son or better son's friends. I could cry to see the "real friends" he has.
Anyway what I wanted to get at was when me and my wife finally got home my wife went into my parents apartment and started to tell my parents what the outcome of the visit was. My wife said that they will operate on May 14 and she was saying more but all I heard from my mother was tsk tsk that's so awful. And all I heard from my father was him eating his cereal, he said nothing. My mother asked (like she always does) how is he living, what does he do for money? is he on welfare? Being on welfare is the worst thing some one can do, it would reflect on her that one of her grandchildren is on welfare. and all we ever say is that he friends are taking care of him. You would think that after so many times that they ask how does he live? how does he get money to live on?
You fucken shits, I know that you have hundreds of thousands of dollars in your bank account from selling your condo in Florida. 200k of which was to pay me back for building onto my house a huge apartment, everything wheelchair accessible, That I never saw a penny of that. I pay for your utilities. Can't you two cunts give the kid $1,000 a month. can't you find it in your hearts to help a grandchild who has a wife and 4 kids. You fucken asses send your great grandchildren one fucken dollar and a card for their birthdays. You are the lowest kind of slime that I can think of.
On your 100th birthday I give you (my dad) a hug and a kiss and ask how does it feel to be a hundred and all I get in response is "OK" and he continued eating his breakfast asking to pass the cream cheese. I can't even remember the last time I gave you a hug and a kiss. you didn't even give me one in return. As a matter of fact I don't remember you ever giving me a kiss or a hug. You will never ever get another one from me. All you are is two piles of shit. If I left you both in Florida you would both be dead by now and I would be free to deal with my own shit. I regret bringing your two asses up here so we could take care of you. You have a family plot somewhere when you can forget burying me or any of my kids there. If I can all your gravestones will say FUCK #1 and FUCK #2.
A lot of times I think that if I remove myself from this mess so my kids could get some needed space from their fucken grand and great grandparents. At least the connection will be gone.
I'm sorry for the venting but it has all been a series of triggers this week one after another. I wish I could remove myself from this mixture of shit. What really set me off was the "tsk, tsk" and my father just eating his cereal.
It's the difference between family of origin and family of choice. We can't choose the people from our past but we can choose the people of our present and future. Keep venting because it does help and know that those of us who know you know what a good person you are -- even to those who do not deserve you.
I totally understand and feel your frustration. I find that some people just don't get it. I'm here for i'm glad your son has good people around him. My thoughts and prayers are with you at this difficult time.
What irks me is that I have to say good morning to them and wish them a good night. Otherwise all hell breaks loose. I really don't know why that bothers me so much.
Last night we celebrated my father's 100th birthday which was April 3. my kids and their spouses along with me and my wife went out to a fancy restaurant and for the first time I saw a smile on my father's face. My mother was kind also for a while. We didn't know till the last moment that she would come or not since she said she had "such a bad cold". What a bunch of horseshit. Look how lucky you and your husband have been over the years. Married 75 years, my father at 100 and you at 95.
Anyway it was only the second time I've ever been in a restaurant and will probably be the last time. I was pretty triggered. I was stunned at the bill that it was over $600. All I really wanted was a hamburger and fries but they didn't have that . But I must say that the service there was so great. to see people trying their best to make you happy and have a great time. I wish everybody could be that way. People saying "please", "thank you" and "sure that wouldn't be a problem". I'm not used to that kind of talk. McDonald's is my style I guess. One of the managers came over to my father and said she had taken some pictures and wanted to know if they could put the pictures on their facebook page. That was sweet. So at least I had one nice night with my parents. It's too bad that today is another day and I have to go in and tell my mother a good morning .
My father was never a bad person he was just never there for me, it's my mother that makes my life sort of walking on glass (broken and sharp).
Well wish me luck I'm going in now to say good morning to my mother and listen to her complaints and how this one wasn't good with this and another with that. I have to listen now to how my mother sees the world and I have to smile or blow up and walk out .
I was reading something that Obi posted on another forum how hurt, humiliated and triggered by a so called "gag present". Before he had written about how hurt and humiliated he was. It made me think back to an event that happened to me when I was in 10th grade. All these past years I thought I was being beaten up but looking at what happened to Obi made me think that this was just to be a funny prank. the reason I write about it here on this thread is because thinking of what happened that day is still triggering and hurtful for me today.
I used to get bullied in high school, all four years. I was different than most kids there because i was a so called faggot. It happened in the lunchroom where you would take a tray and go along the stainless steel shelf to get plates of food put onto your tray, etc. After getting all my food I took my tray and went to find a place to sit and eat. While I was walking down one of the aisles three seniors blocked my path so I turned around to go back the other way and there stood another senior. A few words were exchanged and then the seniors started laughing and one of them said "now". They knocked the tray out of my hands and onto the floor. Since this was a high class private school the dress code was shirt, tie, school blazer, slacks and shoes. I was knocked to the floor and these guys started stripping me in the middle of lunchtime. They pulled my blazer off and tried to pull my shirt off but couldn't get it past my head and hands because of my tie and my cuffs were buttoned. My pants and underwear were pulled down but they couldn't get them off because of my shoes. And then they just took off laughing and I was laying on the lunchroom floor naked and screaming. I tried to untangle my arms from my shirt so I could pull up my pants but it wasn't working and I just curled up into a ball. Teachers came running and picked me up and took me to the office where they put me back together.
I read Obi's post about the "gag present" and how humiliating it was to him and I look back now and see that this was to be just a funny prank. Papasan was called and he came to pick me up. About a week later I tried to commit suicide.
I was wrong feeling that the whole school was laughing at me being naked in the lunchroom. I found out weeks later that most kids were shocked at what happened to me. Till today that incident still triggers me badly when I think into what happened. What happened to me that day still makes me cringe like I'm laying there and everyone is laughing at me. Even though I know that's not true it still sends me into a depressive spin. But I'm lucky (I think) because I see it all happening as if I was another kid watching what was happening.
I cannot imagine what must have been going through your mind when you were assaulted in the school lunchroom. That must have been a horrifying, horrible, humiliating thing to go through -- and that was exactly what those assholes meant it to be. Bullies are the same the world over; they enjoy torturing other for their own gratification without any concern for the hurt they cause others. They were, and probably still are, despicable people. How horrible that nobody came to your aid, but that is the effect bullies have on others: they do their best to intimidate and push others around too.
I too have been bullied and depressed. I remember wishing for death when I was only around eight years old or so; I too was always different. When I started school in Europe I was too American, and when we moved back to the States I was too European. I had very few friend -- none, my first year or so back in the US -- and I felt so alone, despondent and suicidal. I have had two suicide attempts during my lifetime and am pretty certain the next one, if it happens, will be successful. I am in that state of mind right now and am working hard not to get to that final stage.
Often times we mourn for what could have and should have been. We mourn for a "normal" childhood which was ripped from us by our abusers, even if at the time we thought our abusers were our friends. We mourn for a real family, one who supports us and loves us and protects us. Both you and I understand what that means and its implications for our lives today. We struggle to find meaning in something bereft of it and mourn the loss of something we never had but wish we did.
I am so sorry your mother is and was abusive, and I am sorry your father was absent from your life. We share much in that regard. But we must try to move forward. We owe it to ourselves and those who, despite everything, love us and care for us. Sometimes the bond of family of choice is so much stronger than that of family of origin.
I hope that next time never comes even into view. I see that you were in a catch-22 sort of merry-go-round. I would imagine that parents sometimes don't see the effect on a child when moving from one place to another. For them it probably was no big deal but you fell into that catch-22 scenario. Just be kind to yourself.
It was a very sad day this past Friday. A 14 year old kid hung himself in his parent's house from the bathroom curtain rod. I'm so very triggered by that, I'm still shaking. I don't know the family or the kid but to be so close to my home brings all the memories of my own 14 year old self. 14 should be the best time of a childs life. 14-15 for me was unreal for me. The things I did and the things that I was forced to do still haunt me today. It takes 10 kinds of medication to keep me grounded and then I hear of this poor child and all the agony he must have gone through before calling it quits. It just makes me shake and cry. I know that kids call it quits every day but when it happens so close to your own backyard it hurts me so very much