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#402494 - 07/03/12 05:07 PM Crazy story to tell (not abuse story)
Robert1000 Offline


Registered: 06/27/12
Posts: 336
Hey fellas,

It feels awfully strange to be opening up in this forum, because I've only told three people about what happened to me when I was a kid: My therapist, my other therapist and my spouse. That's not true, exactly. I guess I told my new physician, and I told her casually. I did that in order to get represcribed for meds for PTSD. My heart was beating like a rabbit's.

Anyway, I have an odd story to tell. I don't know that I've ever put all these pieces together for someone to read.

When I was in fourth grade, the babysitter of my best friend raped me and my friend over the course of several weeks or months. I'm not sure how much time went by or how many times it was. He also hurt my friend's younger brother and my older brother. I think the perpetrator used my friend and his brother to entice us. The perpetrator was manipulative and sick. He said it would be fun. It wasn't.

OK. Here's where the story gets interesting. The next year, my mom's best friend confronted my mom, saying that she thought our father was abusing us.

It was a big deal in my family, because that confrontation ended the friendship between my mom and her best friend. In my family at the time, we chalked it up to how crazy my mom's friend was.

Life went on. I struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts, and I was positive that I was a twisted and terrible person. I had auditory hallucinations. For instance, I once greeted an elderly woman at our church and said, "What a beautiful morning." She said, "Not for you it isn't." I was appalled and told my parents about how rude she was. But they had heard her, too. They said she had said thank you or something. At the time, I thought they were lying, because I had heard her. I had many other instances like that.

In middle school, I started to steal MadDog20/20, and at the end of eighth grade I started to smoke pot. I was terribly destructive and self-destructive, and still I struggled with depression. I got into fights. I finally masturbated and was amazed that it felt pleasurable. I did it all the time, multiple times in a row, and felt guilty and sick about it.

I had girlfriends and stuff. I remember being blown away by french-kissing, how great it was, and how electric it felt to put my hands in a girls shirt or into her pants. And by that time, I had completely repressed my memories of abuse. I had stopped being friends with the kids who were abused with me. I ignored them. They lived in another town. When they came to visit, we hardly talked together. And before that, for years and years, we had been incredibly close, together every waking second.

My brother and I never talked either. He acted strange in school. He shaved parts of his head and said that he had had brain surgery. He just behaved bizarrely, there's no other way to put it.

In high school, I'd say that I was a noncomforming conformist. I felt like an outsider, but I guess that's normal for lots of people. I told weird lies. And I guess that some people probably started to see me as a cereal liar. So did my brother. In fact, my mom referred to him as the liar, not me, which I always thought was a little misplaced. But I felt horribly guilty about lying, so I was glad for the reprieve. I told the dumbest lies in the world. Useless lies. I told people that my dad had a different job than he really had. I told people I lived on a cul-de-sac, instead of a street. I guess, I was looking for added status, but even that makes no sense when I look back on it. In truth, I was just hiding myself.

I should add, though, that I was popular in school. I had tons of friends, although I only let them be so close but no closer. I participated in regular stuff. I was in advanced classes. I was in plays. I was in sports. Usually I quit before the season got well underway.

I did terribly in school, although I took only advanced classes. I did good on tests, at least most of the time. One of my best classes was ceramics. I loved it and my ceramics teacher. I also liked art. And English. I guess I liked all my classes. I liked to learn. I failed one math class, because I never did the work, and one teacher finally held me accountable. I smoked pot tons. I got busted in school. I got in a fair number of fights, but I was never tough, at least in reality. I was terrified. One of the only places that felt safe was the weight room, where I lifted all the time. I also drank to the point of unconsciouness as often as I could. And being a dramatic drunk/stoner was what I was all about. Every binge involved a crisis. Vomiting. Car wrecks. Close calls. Fights. Near fights. Overdoses. Just all around crazy shit.

I barely graduated and got off to college, where thank god I did well. I couldn't have been farther from home. I re-invented myself several times over. My roommate came out as gay. It was weird. I got to be very supportive of him, which was great. I wanted everyone to love me, which was terrible because I fucked all sorts of girls--sometimes going from one room to another in the same evening. I let my roommate suck me off. I just didn't really care about anything like that. I wasn't gay. I think I marginally date-raped a girl. She said she didn't want to have sex. We were both drunk. I was putting on a condom when she was saying she didn't want to. I was between her legs. Both of us had clothes off. I fucked her anyway. She participated, but I know what really happened. She knew she was just a piece of meat to me. And she was. Although, to tell the truth, she was also awesome, hot and beautiful. And I would have been glad and lucky to date her. But whatever. That may be one of the worst things I've ever done. (Although as I write that, I think, no, I've done a lot of shitty things.)

Eventually, I lost almost all my friends at college, at least all the girls and my old roommate. The truth is that they eventually shared with each other their stories of lovesickness with me, and realized that I'd been fucking them all at the same time. It was pretty bad. They hated me. That made me realize that I couldn't be a slut all the time. It hurt people too much. As far as I know, most or all of them still hate me.

At about the same time, my brother came out as gay. I tried to be supportive of him. He didn't want anything of it. He had a boyfriend. And then his boyfriend and he broke up. My brother moved to a different city. And then he started dating girls again. Now he's married with two kids. A few times his wife has referred to him as "bisexual."

And then after years of holding things together and not dealing with my own past, I finally had something of a breakdown, and I told the truth about what had happened when I was a kid. I've also owned up to the crappy things that I've done since then. I mean, I'm not all bad. I have a lot of good qualities. And I have never made a habit of victimizing people. I've never victimized children. And although I've always been afraid that I would be a child molester, that's not even on the screen. THANK GOD!

And yet I worry about my brother. I have a cold and distant relationship with him. He and I are never honest with each other, emotionally. He avoids me like the plague. I recently reconnected in the most vague way with my childhood friends. It breaks my heart to see their happy faces on facebook. I wonder if either of them has become a monster. I worry and wonder about my brother. Why did my mom's friend warn her about what she thought was my dad? Had my brother done something screwed up with one of her younger kids? Had she heard something? I don't know.

I haven't told my parents about what happened. How could I? For one thing, I'm furious at them for not protecting me. That's something I need to work on, but please... pay attention to your kids, for God's sake! I'm mad at my older brother for not protecting me. Or maybe it's more accurate to say I'm disappointed. Profoundly disappointed. And sad.

Here we are. Brothers. And yet we have this huge secret that we've never acknowledged.

I don't know. Crazy stuff, huh? It feels good to get it all out.

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#402499 - 07/03/12 06:37 PM Re: Crazy story to tell (not abuse story) [Re: Robert1000]
Chase Eric Offline
Moderator
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 10/25/10
Posts: 1308
(((Robert)))

Your story resonates on so many levels. I don't have the time I'd like to respond (I could easily write for an hour), but wanted to reach out quickly and tell you that much of what you said is very similar to things I have experienced - the hiding, the almost compulsive lies that seem to yield no tangible benefits anyways, the anger towards those who should have been protectors. I even relate to the advance classes in school yet never doing great because - well - I was distracted with trying to find my place amongst my peers.

I hope the T's you had were good ones - mine was. He taught me how to really confront myself, how to stop kidding myself about what I experienced and who I was. I think the one antidote to everything you mentioned that I relate to - for me at least - is just knowing myself better. I have found that when I reach that level of understanding with myself, I tend to "listen" to myself - my better angels - more than when I didn't understand myself as well. If that makes any sense.
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#402610 - 07/05/12 10:05 AM Re: Crazy story to tell (not abuse story) [Re: Robert1000]
Robert1000 Offline


Registered: 06/27/12
Posts: 336
Thanks Eric. I just have to say.... One of the worst things about having this kind of shitty stuff in my history is that I've felt alone, isolated un-understandable for so long. It's truly healing to pour out thoughts like those above and then to read your response. I was actually kind of scared about admitting to all that stuff. I mean, Christ. I've never owned up to at least two or three things in there before. Not in a straightforward acknowledgement, anyway.

The other thing I like about this forum is that I can run across people like you and then go back and read your posts and see myself in them. Damn. That's good. It's awesome to see other people along the healing path. It's enlightening to see people ahead of me. And it feels great to offer encouragement to those who are still stumbling in the dark and the pain.

So, thank you. I completely agree with the ability to listen to your better angels. What a wonderful way to put it.

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#402617 - 07/05/12 11:06 AM Re: Crazy story to tell (not abuse story) [Re: Robert1000]
Chase Eric Offline
Moderator
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 10/25/10
Posts: 1308
Originally Posted By: Robert
Thanks Eric. I just have to say.... One of the worst things about having this kind of shitty stuff in my history is that I've felt alone, isolated un-understandable for so long. It's truly healing to pour out thoughts like those above and then to read your response.

Thanks, Robert - we have kept these secrets for so long - so tightly held. I kept a diary the year I was 12/13, and the abuse started then for me as well. And I didn't admit a thing to it! I was terrified to even hint at it.

So being here, opening up as we are - is truly cathartic. I find I write things then regret half of what I wrote for revealing so much. It's a universal issue with sexual abuse of boys, I think - how interesting it is that not one Sandusky victim came forward - they had to be discovered and encouraged to open up.

Being here and showing our hearts and secrets is no trivial thing to do. At least here I know I won't be ridiculed or thought less of a person because of the stolen intimacies I experienced. It's more than theft - what we lost to the hands of our abusers. In my case, I felt like a marionette puppet - strung up to act the role he wanted me to, the way he wanted me to, feeling what he wanted me to feel - the strings attached to the deepest recesses of who I was, my budding and embarrassed and fragile sexual awakening that he seemed to control at his whim and take ownership of. All I owned was the guilt and culpability he assigned to me. I was a playground to him, a toy. All I knew how to do was give - all he knew was how to take. It's a daunting thing to try and reconcile that. For almost all of us, I suspect, it's much easier to just bury the memories and not look back at them.
_________________________



Click my pic to see why I'm here

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#402628 - 07/05/12 02:21 PM Re: Crazy story to tell (not abuse story) [Re: Robert1000]
Robert1000 Offline


Registered: 06/27/12
Posts: 336
Thank you.

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