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#428438 - 03/19/13 01:53 PM . [Re: KMCINVA]
Life's A Dream Offline


Registered: 08/25/11
Posts: 886
Loc: Bouvet Island
.


Edited by Life's A Dream (04/21/13 10:54 PM)

Top
#428464 - 03/19/13 07:28 PM Re: Recreating abuse *TRIGGER WARNING* [Re: Life's A Dream]
Chase Eric Offline
Moderator
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 10/25/10
Posts: 1493
Sorry if this is also triggering...

We never escape this, do we? It's as if we seem happy to settle for extracting the nectar of the darker pleasures of our abuse, retry it again and again like putting on an old uniform, re-enacting the battles of our younger selves. And yet we so often forget the things that felt bad and shameful and wrong at the same time, only remembering enough to know we are condemned to being sexually magnetized to an unfulfilling darkness.

We look at ourselves - we look at this thread. This is the damage done. And yes - let's talk about fakes and phonies and role playing because I think it hits us on so many levels. It goes right to the core of intimacy. It makes us incredibly vulnerable just to talk about it. It's really terrifying to just lay it out here for everyone - that takes trust so few of us have. What happened to me was so secret, so shameful, I never thought I could ever talk about it even obliquely with anyone. In fact, I didn't even tell my diary. Yet here I am. And so I'll dare a little sharing...

Was it pleasurable to have this guy have sex in me (note: not with me) just about every other night? Frankly, for me it had all the sexual rapture of a sneeze. I knew it was coming and desperately didn't want it. Until it overtook me and I surrendered to it. And in that simple transaction I owned his sins. I am dismissed with a pat on the head and a promise with a 3-hour expiration that it will never happen again. My body, having both betrayed and defined me, is left holding a part of him inside me that stains my soul. If sex is an artistic, interpretive dance, this was ours: he pumped into me all his accountability, and I owned it. That was pretty much the sexual politics that went on. And sometimes I just plain maneuvered for it - ready to take it - just to keep him off the girls. Those were the moments I really owned - not wanting it yet asking for it, not wanting to feel it yet being overwhelmed by it never-the-less, then having him tell me I made him do it when I responded. I guess that is how life's greatest pleasure somehow becomes a twisted curse. Does it make me a fake that I still cannot undo the sexual rewiring he imprinted upon me? Does it make any of us a phony that we still do because we were taught so indelibly?

I am still trying to relearn it all - as if maybe I possibly could - but I would argue it's not fake but precisely the reality. Healthy sex should enhance the person, define the soul, express love, create new life. With me, I learned to "enjoy" the opposite. I learned that pleasure was something that devoured me, overwhelmed my senses, embarrassed me, and took my choices away. My body gave pleasure to another without my consent or control. How do you reconcile that as a "young man" (as I was called at twelve)? Maybe acceptance is the mind's way of avoiding insanity. Maybe there are lessons we just learn despite ourselves. I adapted. I kept my sanity. At an enormous price. It was more than just sex and forbidden intimacies. The physical depth of the penetration was nothing compared to the psychological depth. He planted himself in my head - he just lives there forever and I can't get him out. He is the doubt I feel when I should be confident. He is the lost potential that never became reality. He is the self loathing and confusion I feel when I try to understand who I am as a person, as a sexual being. I have lost my sense of who I am in this world. I see me as perhaps others do not - because I still see the world through 12-year-old eyes, sometimes.

The way I see it - for me - is that the intensity of sexual memory always stays with a person. Yet the flip side of the abuse which at the time was so much bigger, now seems so small - things like the terror of being discovered. The fear that all my friends would try to do this to me. The absolute disgust at seeing this same guy line up little girls face down on the floor of our basement - including my sister. The confusion of the stranger within me he was making me face, the things he was making me feel that I was too young to understand. The repulsion that I might ever grow up to be like him. The terror when he got caught that I would have to testify and share my humiliation with the world. The shame I felt when my dad - who never knew his own kids were victims - told me I was really "a good boy". I couldn't even own that father-son moment, I didn't believe it. He died without knowing me - even though we both loved each other. That's the price *I* paid for owning my molester's sins.

Burned at the stake? Really? The truth is we were ALL burned at the stake a long time ago in basements and bedrooms and tents and rectories. When we think of the sexual patterns that seem condemned to be repeated into eternity without knowing why, let's not forget that it was inherited as part of a bigger package of dysfunctions - like not finding true loves or being able to hold jobs or becoming prostitutes or homeless or being accident prone or even suicidal. Those patterns often seem to have no end, either.
_________________________
Eirik




Click my pic to see why I'm here

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#428471 - 03/19/13 09:40 PM Re: Recreating abuse *TRIGGER WARNING* [Re: Chase Eric]
BraveFalcon Offline
Greeter
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 02/25/13
Posts: 1147
Loc: The ATL
Hi Chase Eric. Absolutely amazing post! I have nothing more to add, just wanted to tell you that.

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#428505 - 03/20/13 09:54 AM Re: Recreating abuse *TRIGGER WARNING* [Re: Life's A Dream]
traveler Offline
Member
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 02/07/06
Posts: 3524
Loc: somewhere in Africa
Eric - this is one of the most perceptive and eloquently expressed descriptions i have ever read.
Lee
_________________________
As my life goes on I believe somehow something's changed
Something deep inside...
I've been searchin so long to find an answer
Now I know my life has meaning
Now I see myself as I am, feeling very free...
When my tears have come to an end I will understand
What I left behind: a part of me. Chicago


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#428512 - 03/20/13 12:36 PM Re: Recreating abuse *TRIGGER WARNING* [Re: Life's A Dream]
just me Offline


Registered: 05/27/09
Posts: 196
Eric!
_________________________
My Story

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#428515 - 03/20/13 12:59 PM Re: Recreating abuse *TRIGGER WARNING* [Re: Life's A Dream]
JayBro Offline


Registered: 11/13/12
Posts: 271
Loc: Germany
Very beautiful and sad post, but it rings so true in so many of ours souls and minds.
_________________________
,,Nun ging es immerzu, weit, weit bis an der Welt Ende."

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#428519 - 03/20/13 01:46 PM " [Re: JayBro]
lbcali1978 Offline
Member
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 02/16/12
Posts: 217
"


Edited by lbcali1978 (04/28/13 11:51 PM)
_________________________
They said

Come home

I said

I'm confused and alone

They said

We understand

I found out they don't

I'll walk the path exactly how I've always done it

Alone

Top
#428523 - 03/20/13 02:04 PM . [Re: lbcali1978]
Life's A Dream Offline


Registered: 08/25/11
Posts: 886
Loc: Bouvet Island
.


Edited by Life's A Dream (04/21/13 10:58 PM)

Top
#428529 - 03/20/13 02:19 PM " [Re: Life's A Dream]
lbcali1978 Offline
Member
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 02/16/12
Posts: 217
"


Edited by lbcali1978 (04/28/13 11:52 PM)
_________________________
They said

Come home

I said

I'm confused and alone

They said

We understand

I found out they don't

I'll walk the path exactly how I've always done it

Alone

Top
#428576 - 03/21/13 04:37 AM Here was my favorite part of Chase Eric's comment [Re: Chase Eric]
Publius Offline
Member
MaleSurvivor

Registered: 03/13/12
Posts: 425
Loc: OH
Sorry if this is also triggering...

We never escape this, do we? It's as if we seem happy to settle for extracting the nectar of the darker pleasures of our abuse, retry it again and again like putting on an old uniform, re-enacting the battles of our younger selves. And yet we so often forget the things that felt bad and shameful and wrong at the same time, only remembering enough to know we are condemned to being sexually magnetized to an unfulfilling darkness.

We look at ourselves - we look at this thread. This is the damage done. And yes - let's talk about fakes and phonies and role playing because I think it hits us on so many levels. It goes right to the core of intimacy. It makes us incredibly vulnerable just to talk about it. It's really terrifying to just lay it out here for everyone - that takes trust so few of us have. What happened to me was so secret, so shameful, I never thought I could ever talk about it even obliquely with anyone. In fact, I didn't even tell my diary. Yet here I am. And so I'll dare a little sharing...

Was it pleasurable to have this guy have sex in me (note: not with me) just about every other night? Frankly, for me it had all the sexual rapture of a sneeze. I knew it was coming and desperately didn't want it. Until it overtook me and I surrendered to it. And in that simple transaction I owned his sins. I am dismissed with a pat on the head and a promise with a 3-hour expiration that it will never happen again. My body, having both betrayed and defined me, is left holding a part of him inside me that stains my soul. If sex is an artistic, interpretive dance, this was ours: he pumped into me all his accountability, and I owned it. That was pretty much the sexual politics that went on. And sometimes I just plain maneuvered for it - ready to take it - just to keep him off the girls. Those were the moments I really owned - not wanting it yet asking for it, not wanting to feel it yet being overwhelmed by it never-the-less, then having him tell me I made him do it when I responded. I guess that is how life's greatest pleasure somehow becomes a twisted curse. Does it make me a fake that I still cannot undo the sexual rewiring he imprinted upon me? Does it make any of us a phony that we still do because we were taught so indelibly?

I am still trying to relearn it all - as if maybe I possibly could - but I would argue it's not fake but precisely the reality. Healthy sex should enhance the person, define the soul, express love, create new life. With me, I learned to "enjoy" the opposite. I learned that pleasure was something that devoured me, overwhelmed my senses, embarrassed me, and took my choices away. My body gave pleasure to another without my consent or control. How do you reconcile that as a "young man" (as I was called at twelve)? Maybe acceptance is the mind's way of avoiding insanity. Maybe there are lessons we just learn despite ourselves. I adapted. I kept my sanity. At an enormous price. It was more than just sex and forbidden intimacies. The physical depth of the penetration was nothing compared to the psychological depth. He planted himself in my head - he just lives there forever and I can't get him out. He is the doubt I feel when I should be confident. He is the lost potential that never became reality. He is the self loathing and confusion I feel when I try to understand who I am as a person, as a sexual being. I have lost my sense of who I am in this world. I see me as perhaps others do not - because I still see the world through 12-year-old eyes, sometimes.

The way I see it - for me - is that the intensity of sexual memory always stays with a person. Yet the flip side of the abuse which at the time was so much bigger, now seems so small - things like the terror of being discovered. The fear that all my friends would try to do this to me. The absolute disgust at seeing this same guy line up little girls face down on the floor of our basement - including my sister. The confusion of the stranger within me he was making me face, the things he was making me feel that I was too young to understand. The repulsion that I might ever grow up to be like him. The terror when he got caught that I would have to testify and share my humiliation with the world. The shame I felt when my dad - who never knew his own kids were victims - told me I was really "a good boy". I couldn't even own that father-son moment, I didn't believe it. He died without knowing me - even though we both loved each other. That's the price *I* paid for owning my molester's sins.

Burned at the stake? Really? The truth is we were ALL burned at the stake a long time ago in basements and bedrooms and tents and rectories. When we think of the sexual patterns that seem condemned to be repeated into eternity without knowing why, let's not forget that it was inherited as part of a bigger package of dysfunctions - like not finding true loves or being able to hold jobs or becoming prostitutes or homeless or being accident prone or even suicidal. Those patterns often seem to have no end, either.
_________________________
"Life is like this dark tunnel. You may not always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you keep moving, you will come to a better place." ~ General Iroh

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