There was some discussion about having a forum for survivors of abuse that included violence. Having been the victim of both at 11, I was supportive of that because each has to be approached in its own way. The sexual abuse is one thing and the violence with it is another.

In my case. the physical torture lasted for a few hours when I resisted anal sex. Them it was swift and cruel, a heavy blow to the head that cracked my eye socket. I was so stunned that it took several hours to recover. In the meantime, he got what he wanted.

I had to work through the sexual issues first. That took a few years. Then the next layer of violence and torture could be handled. It did't seem as important as dealing with the sexual part until I was through that. Now it's important. The sexual abuse humiliated me but the violence made be fearful and feeling vulnerable. I'm still working on that.

There was all of that. And there were the chains. It will be worse if you cry. God help you if you scream.

Survivinguy, Jeff, Robbie, Drop, Little Big Man, Puffer, lbcali, Daniel, Green, Chase Eric, PeteN, Devon, StAiNeD...

I am weeping for each of you. and for myself. i don't think i have cried about it since I was 10 or 11 - the time i decided i wouldn't give that satisfaction ever again of letting him see me react to the pain.

If it's not to much to handle, how did you deal with it?

for years, decades, i laughed about it and pretended that it was just a normal part of growing up - never let on even to myself how bad it really was. But i started to realize when i had kids that i wasn't going to repeat the past with them. only the past few months i admitted the full extent.

Lee

Disassociation for all the pain I could ignore and for the pain from which I couldn't detach - I felt it and screamed and cried and begged for it to stop. None of that ever mattered to anyone and at some point two of my abusers started gagging me so my screams were muffled. The only choice I had after that was to try to forget about it as soon as possible. I couldnt complain about it to anyone because I knew he'd kill me if I did so I'd ignore it after the particular abuse session until the next one. I wanted to be able to make it so they couldn't see I was suffering but the ways they tortured me were just too scary for me to pretend anything. I always told myself I needed to be tougher and that this time I wasn't going to feel pain or cry - but I don't remember being able to do that during torture, I know I did during the rapes later I was able to pretend it didn't hurt or I didn't care but I think that may have been why my primary abuser started to torture me - because raping me wasnt enough anymore.

I still periodically have body memories of the torture with needles and it still really hurts when that comes up. I like to think even the body memores will stop someday.

Likewise Lee, sorry for your sufferings - when I started this thread I was selfishly hoping I wasn't alone and now I'm sorry I wasn't alone in this part of the abuse for all of your sakes.

My heart goes out to so many here. I don't think my abuse was anywhere near as terrifying as some of the things I have read in this thread. The cruelty and sickness I've seen related in this particular thread of posts is so dark - so overwhelming.

dissociation. I would focus at a point at the wall and ignore them when they raped me. Sometimes it felt like they were doing it to someone who looked like me, as if i was floating above the scene. Or I would turn inwards into my own happy fantasy world.
I learned to ignore the pain rather quick. Things that make other people puke or pass out just don't really hurt as much to me. As if i could block it out. Doesnt always work though. But explains why i could finish soccerpractice with broken ribs for example.
Of course also i didnt know any better, it had been that way all my life. When i got older and figured out it wasnt so normal I still had my brother to take care off. I went trough all of the abuse because i felt i had to protect him and take care of him. The last thing we wanted was to be seperated from each other. That happened once when i was like 5 or 6 and it wasn't a good experience, either. So being scared of fostercare too, it seemed best to just keep it all a secret and just deal with it till i would be old enough to get out of the house and take care of us both.. Of course things went differently... And when my brother died, i died too.