My body tells me that I was abused in the family boathouse; where the men and boys changed before and after swimming, while girls and women changed in the cottage. It tells me by a feeling of fear and terror when I think of the boathouse. Tension in my anus and a full choking feeling in my mouth and throat.
It has really been difficult to recover a complete narrative, since when I approach it (or it approaches my consciousness) I want to go away; I feel impulsively drawn to act out sexually with porn, and/or get drunk, and/or abuse food.
But the feeling is that I can't get away. There is no where I can go. My T calls it memory. The feelings that I gotta go, and the futility and shame that arise when I can't go.
So confusing and so distressing.
Now, more memory is coming up, of ejaculate warm and slick and then cooling and contracting on my face. How can I say, "Dad, get that penis out of my face!" How can I reconcile all my experiences of him encouraging me to do good things, laughing, nurturing me, being a great dad, and then this utter and complete breach of role, of responsibility and trust. Something tore inside me. Something ripped. The facade of the world tore, and he taught me that the real ground of being is selfishness, disdain and impulsiveness.
Somehow that became my training. To take care of my mask, the veneer of caring and playfulness and thoughtfulness, while nurturing the dark, greedy, resentful and manipulative energies within me.
I'm falling out of love for my first family. I can't unravel the good from the bad.
My 57 year old sister is professionally disabled; she has worked hard to attain the designation of disabled and get support from her insurance company and the government. She talks about "horrendous" pain and "horrendous" treatment from insurers and medical people when I believe more and more that what was horrendous was the breach of trust when at least one loving parent abused her and her mind could not hold the two things at once. So she acted out sexually and compulsively for years. "Rebelling" hmmmmm I don't think so.
And my brother not capable of holding down a job in which he has to physically show up at for the last 40 years; insulating himself through e-commuting and management of his various personas through the groups he belongs to, with a pressurized artery of paranoia running through them; the government can't be trusted, people in authority and institutions can't be trusted and we all need guns guns guns to "protect" ourselves from threat that I believe more and more was the threat and trauma of being abused when he was young and then not being able to hold both experiences of his father as loving and his father as sexual compulsive and predator.
And me. I raised 3 boys and didn't sexually abuse any of them. Now that's success. I did use porn compulsively throughout my 20 year marriage and I was certifiably codependant, loving, controlling and obsessed with her. But the marriage is over and my 3 sons are finding their way with honesty and courage in the world.
I'm in a healthy, honest relationship with a new woman who I have no secrets from. Both of us are committed to learning and growing separately and together.
So what is my problem? There is still a part of me that is terrified of what happened as if it is still happening. It is so hurt and confused and wants wants wants to believe the family myth of loving and especially safe parents.
But, when I believe this, I disbelieve myself. And I begin to lie to my partner. And I'm drawn compulsively to porn and alcohol and excess food.
When I believe my body memory, my heart is soft and open to the world and I learn and flourish.
Who am I to protect my 91 year old living and breathing mother, and my father whose body is rotting in the ground? It is still so painful and horrible to feel that I am deserting the family. "Wrecking" the family. Exposing the family. And that I will be so alone and worthless and bankrupt if I do.
My T calls this memory too. And I think it is, but it affects me through and through.
Everything is great in my life and everything sucks in my life when the shame and body fluids that were injected into me aren't acknowledged, and still I deny deny deny.