Triggers and How to Handle Them

Hey (((( jay bro )))))

I was getting really scared that nobody wanted to speak to me anymore. Thank you for your kindness. Right now i'm on my iPhone so i really can't write well without a normal keyboard. There are quite a few points you brought up that I would like to ask you about like your friend's brother that i'd like to ask about. I would like to point out that of the ten years (probably more) of abuse this one year,14-15, makes me feel like i deserved every bit of abuse i endured outside of the movies. I feel like I'm slowly sinking in quicksand.

I'll answer your post this evening. Thank you very much for writing, you are a very kind friend

Peace
Jeff
 
Hey Jeff
Sorry that you are feeling that way. You can PM any time or email or call. Hope you are using the self compassion that we learnd over the weekend. Take care and keep in touch.
 
Hey ((((( All )))))

I thought that I would be able to discuss what jaybro had mentioned in his post which is relevant to all of us. I'm sorry but I can't tonight.

What happened today at work. I'm an automotive electrician at a transit and tour bus company. A bus came in with a group of kids with varied disabilities. The driver had made a detour to come into the garage where I work with a problem in the driver's area. To change buses would be very difficult with the kids so it was determined that the the driver will make a small detour and bring the bus into the garage for a quick fix. I tried not looking into the bus but only at my work. One of the kids was having a bad time and the counselors were trying to calm him down. Then a few counselors tried to distract him by turning his attention on "the man that came to fix the bus... etc.". I turned to see what was going on and saw the kid looking intensely at me with eyes that were blank as the kids were when I was 14. His whole focus was on me. I picked up my tools, walked off the bus, went to the foreman and explained to the A/C tech what he has to do. I walked into the dressing room and sat down.

I cannot talk anymore, I'm sorry. I only want to know why am I being tortured this way? I am terribly sorry for what I was forced to do when I was 14. But the kids are not leaving me alone I'm sorry sorry sorry......

Speak later

Peace, Rainbows, Love, Healing & Hope
 

Nothing Man

Registrant
((((Jeff))))

You don't deserve the onslaught of guilt you are giving yourself. You were trafficked just like those kids, and you had no choice. You were forced into what you did with the very real threat of death involved. I am not a praying man but I am praying now that you find some relief from this unfair burden you carry.

Mike
 
Hey Mike

You know that before I went up onto the bus I figured that since it was by the driver's area I would be OK. But then again I could not refuse the job because i was the one with the skills to fix. Also it would look like "don't bother me" if I refused to go. I took the tools I needed to fix the problem and once I walked up on the bus, even though there was anxiety, I was certain I would be able to fix the problem then go on my merry way. So I was doing OK. When I looked at the kid I consciously figured that if I put a face to that "the man" it would help the counselors to help calm the child down. But what I didn't figure on was the kid's blank stare. His eyes showed an emptiness just like those kids on the bed, probably just like my eyes were when they were making the movies with those bodybuilders fucking around with me and the kids.

I feel so sorry for those kids on the bus, that what they are going through is their life. Those counselors were such great people trying so hard to make the kids lives so much better. I wish I could be so generous and help those kids.

But I going to try and stay off this forum for a while for a number of reasons. One being that talking my shit is just hurting me and doesn't help anyone in listening to such inhuman crap.

Peace, Rainbows, Love, Healing & Hope
 
Far from it Mike. You have been a tremendous help to me. To take that a little further everyone here on this forum and MS has been helpful to me. I appreciate all the kindness from you and all of MS.

I don't even know why you would think that you hurt me. If it was something I said about you then it it is I who should apologise to you.

Peace, Rainbows, Love, Healing & Hope
 
(((((Jeff)))))

Please keep reaching out. You are not hurting any one with what you are sharing
You deserve to be heard after keeping this inside for so long. If you don't want to talk about the past then just talk about how you feel not the story of the past. I care about you and so do many.
 
I don't know if this is a worthwhile problem Ito discuss here or not. In general I don't remember anything that happened to me before the age of 9. I remember some vague incidents like being chased after and being punished by my mother with a spanking but never a beating.

I take Ambien at night so I can get some sleep. The problem is that it only works for 4 hours. So my shrink told me to take a half a pill when I do wake up in the middle of the night. Problem is that I don't wake up like it's morning and jump out of bed to go to work but rather I fall into a dreamlike world where my past seeps through into my dream world.

I've been having dreams or rather nightmares/flashbacks for a couple of years now about being beaten or sexually abused and me pleading for it to stop but never at home by my mother. The movies that were made with me in them consisted mainly of beatings, bondage and sexually abused in numerous ways. I would plead to stop but mainly they beat me to keep my mouth shut. Even some photoshoots got really raunchy and physical and I would plead for the abuse to stop but like the movies I could be beaten until I kept my mouth shut. Every once in awhile a John would not be so kind and I would be brutally abuse and if I pleaded for it to stop I was beaten or they would get sexually more brutal while having sex with me.

Lately the past 2 weeks I started having dreams of my mother beating me and I was pleading for it to stop. I remember getting spanked but never beaten until these past 2 weeks. In the house we lived in before I was 9 years old we had a finished basement with bench seats along one wall starting opposite the bar and continuing along the entire wall along with a built in table for for a lamp and a place for the grown ups to put their drinks down. There was a built in TV set and record player and shelves of records. There was also in front of the TV built into the ceiling a movie screen that could be pulled down in case they were going to show a movie. In an adjoining room there was a ping pong table and off that a toilet laundry room and a room my father had a work bench and heating system. The benches in the main "family/guest" room were used for storage. The seat was on hinges so you could pick up the seat and keep shit in. I had cleared the "shit" out of one bench and put some of my toys in there and when my mother was angry with me I would hide in that bench and play with my toys in the dark until things cooled down.

I started to remember the beating start after my mother made me remove my shoes, pants and underpants, pick up my shirt and lay face down on my bed. She would then "spank" me with father's 14 carat gold buckle belt. If the spanking got too bad then I would try and get out of my room. I was not always lucky to do that. The part that I started remembering lately is when I was able to get off my bed and sit on the floor next to my bed, in the middle of my bedroom or in a corner while she held onto my arm in order to protect my butt. She would hit me while I was sitting on the floor as she held onto one of my arms trying to pick me up. She would continue to hit me until I got back onto the bed to finish my "spanking". The part of this scenario that I started remembering is being hit with the belt while I was on the floor pleading for her to stop.

Has anyone been able to stop memories from seeping back into your memory? I really don't know what the trigger is because I'm just in a dream world.

Peace, Rainbows, Love, Healing & Hope
 

Nothing Man

Registrant
Oh Jeff, I am so sorry that happened to you. I cannot understand how parents could abuse their kids. I suffered from it too, at the hands of my mother, like you. Memories intrude where we wish them not to be. And when they return they can be devastating.

Your kids, thankfully, will never know the hell you went through. But those of us who have been through it also stand with you and for you.

((((Jeff)))))

Mike
 
Parents can be mean, we read it all over MS. It's just that parts of my past before 9 years old are seeping back into my memory. It's not so much what was done but the fear of what I didn't know what was going to be my punishment.

I would sit bare assed in the corner of the room with my mother trying to pull me out of there and she would start hitting me on the side because my ass was on the ground.

It's the total fear of what was going to be next that is being triggered. Not so much the actual hitting but the fear of the unknown.

Peace, Rainbows, Love, Healing & Hope
 
My mother is continually putting me down and if possible embarrass me. She used to do that all the time when I was a child but then she could beat me also. Now at least she can't hit me.

I brought them up here from Florida and built them a large apartment adjoining my house. all their relatives (who I never knew) all died and they were all alone. They were getting on with age so I thought that maybe my grandchildren can see their grandparents often, instead of just 2 weeks every year when they would come up here. They spent only 2 weeks because the kids were too much for them to handle. Let my grandchildren see their great grandparents. I've made bad decisions in my life but this one takes the cake, this was the mother [sic] of all fuckup's. My mother would give me enemas at least twice a week until the age of 12. I would be whipped with the buckle end of my father's 14 caret gold buckle belt and of course I wasn't allowed in certain rooms in their house unless I had to clean them. So I guess you can see how I despise my parents. My mother is the bitch but my father says nothing if I'm getting the shit kicked out of me.

Why can they still trigger me I don't know. There is something with me that just keeps me quiet when I should be telling them to fuck off.

I work 13-14 hours a day on average. I stayed home last Monday so I dropped into my parent's apartment to see how things are going. I do have to watch them since my father is turning 101 in a month and my mother is 96. I didn't tell her why I was home but just told her I was under the weather. So she pipes up asking me "why do I have to work 13-14 hours a day, and on what am I squandering my money on that I have to work those kind of hours". So I asked "squandering?" and she said yes. so again I asked "squandering?" and she said yes. this went on another 2 or 3 times until she dropped the word squandering.

My mother and father were supposed to pay for the building of their apartment and they were supposed to give me the money they make from the sale of their condo to pay off the construction. My mother told me last year that the reason that they couldn't give me the money for building the apartment was because if I lost the house they would have no money to go and live anywhere. Duh Hey, how about my family? My house was in foreclosure due to the economy tanking and their lack of paying me what they owed.

Unfortunately I had started building just before the the economy tanked. So here I am with a mortgage on my house for 1/2 mill where I never had a mortgage before. Thanks Ma. I would rather have pimples all over my ass than you.

So people ask me why did I bring them up here. I guess I was trying to be kind. But I should have known better because I had basically left home when I was 12. My T asked me if I really thought that they had changed over the years. I was hoping so but I guess that was a little lame on my part.

The part about "Squandering" got to me. I was depressed to begin with since so many people knew that I was adopted except for me. I first found out this past Christmas season. So my wife didn't go into work I guess she was scared I might do something. So she dragged me to Costco. I was never there and I was amazed how their operation worked. It was huge and you didn't see any of the refrigeration equipment but it seemed like it was a pleasure to work on if need be. She wanted to take me to Walmart but I said I had enough of stores. I haven't been in a grocery or department store in at least 30 years.

But when I got home I was egging for a fight. I wanted the bitch (remember she is not my mother) to mention anything relating to the word squandering. I was going to tell her that I'm working 13-14 hours a day because I have a mortgage now since you didn't pay your end of the deal. My kids built them a beautiful apartment and I'm still living in a house built in '38, that's 1938.

It's just her whole attitude that gets to me. My father like always is just reading his books. All I ever wanted was for them to be able to live a long life and that my offspring to have a grand and great grandparents.

Besides their fucken assholes simply because they couldn't tell me that I was adopted. everyone else knew. I used to tell a joke for years that I could not see my mother pregnant, she would never go through all that just to have a kid. I guess she didn't have to. She probably found some prostitute that had to get rid of her kid.

I'm sorry for rambling but I just have to release some steam. Sometimes it's really hard to handle what seems to be not much about nothing but these past two months has been really bad for me.

I'm sorry if none of this makes any sense but I'm just doing a trigger dump.

Peace, Rainbows, Love, Healing & Hope
 
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