I rarely post here, if at all. I go through personality phases like change of clothes. But, what I want most from this group is self-discovery. This is where I put everything on the line.

Mom thought love was supposed to be about her and herself only. Her sexual attraction towards me, had me grow up fast. Dad was a passing conversation and nowhere to be found. My surrogate husbandry with Mom was like being Dad to my no-so-much-younger brother.

I left home at 20 to, what I thought, would be peace. Sure. Did I consider inner-peace in the equation? Mom was not functional without financial support. She did not like to work. When I left, the stabilizing force was gone.

I repressed and others knew. Something was wrong, I just repressed. I was alone. I worked. I went to school and supported. The SA was forgotten. It manifested itself in relationships. I saw Mom in girlfriends and Dad in male friends. I still see this.

No one wants to fit in like this. So, i'm isolated. It's ok.

Then an Uncle, who SA me as well, died. His son now lives with me, whom is older but acts like he's younger (has his own issues to deal, but refuses to acknowledge the issues). The realization is like a flood. It was like I was 10 again.

I cant look at women and NOT see mom. I cannot look at men and NOT see dad. I cant feel good unless I fantasize pain. It's like the attention overwhelms my senses because it is what I can guarantee myself.

So I slap myself in the face for writing this

But, if I read it back to myself in the internet world of anonymity (*sp) - it will benefit to realize, at least, it's out in the open to be ridiculed. It's egotistical and childish but to realize this is to know me. Thanks for reading.

BTW, what is your story?

What are you talking about? There is nothing egotistical or childish about this post. You have pain and want to share it. There is nothing wrong with that! Don't let old voices tell you that you are doing something wrong.

Right now I am not feeling like I can really share my story but I wanted to let you know not to feel bad about this post. I will try and tell my story in this thread later on but right now I am not ready. I am sorry.

thanks for sharing. it is hard to say some things in life, and even admitting them to ourselves. the first step in healing is sharing, and grieving and venting. my story is under the stories section, so i wont retell it here, but i wanted to post something thanking you for joining in. take care.

jeff

I have to agree with SP, there is nothing egotistical and childish with what you wrote. It's real and that's all that matters. I can relate to fantasizing. My sister abused me and it is all to easy to fantasize about her when I start feeling down. Good luck.
mike

SumISum
It took a lot of courage for you to do what you did. And there is nothing egotistical or childish about it. We are your brothers here and it is our goal, each and everyone of us, to heal and move forward. You are no longer alone and dont forget that.

Some of us have found that posting can sometimes be cathartic amidst all the pain.

You are in the right place, so visit, listen, post, help and heal with us brother

Sum1Sun

there is no riducule here. or amongst survivors at all that I've found. And my personal experience is that I've never ever been ridiculed, disbelieved or considered childish by non survivors either.

SA is such a reviled act that people are on OUR side, those that aren't I don't want to know or be around.

You're story shows you are man who suffered badly, but you're now fighting back and starting to reclaim your life. Telling your story and recieving the trust and support of others is a great part of that fight, and a brave step to take.

Thanks for sharing your story with us.

Dave

S1S:

I feel for you. My story:

http://www.malesurvivor.org/cgi-local/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=1;t=001131#000005

Victor

Alright I think I am ready now, at least to summarize it, details are maybe for another time.

I was premature due to my mother's drug addiction so the first 3 months of my life were spent in the hospital and were abuse-free. I don't know if this initial seperation from my family set me back emotionally at all or if all my problems were caused by the abuse. At any rate I did not ever bond with my mother even once I was out of the hospital. From 0-10 my mother physically and emotionally abused me. She was very rough on me and spared no force when she was angry. I remember that she threw me down the stairs of our apartment building when I was about 5 and I broke my leg. My daddy took me to the hospital. She would also lock me in closets and the dryer and make me stand in the cold shower for a long time if I was bad and then beat me when she got the water bill.

My mother also incested (is that a word?) with me and when I was 3 she began to prostitute me. It started out that she would bring me along to the crack house and there were people there (men and women) who would pay her for some time with me. She taught me how to please a man and she taught me how to please a woman but the latter was done through incest. At first she would not let them have actual intercourse with me because she thought that I was too small (very small for my age) and I might die and then she would be in trouble if someone found out. She forgot about that rule pretty quick though. After a while she was taking me to people's houses who wanted me and sometimes I was left there overnight (as long as she got paid for the entire stay.) There were repeat customers as well. Mostly men, but some women. She tried to sell my sister at the crack house once and I saw my sister be molested but after that I would hide her somewhere in the house every time we went so that no one could get to her. My mother would also sell herself regualrly and either lock me in the closet so I would not interfere (she often forgot about me and I was once stuck there for 3 days) or she would make me watch.

When I was 10 my parents divorced and my mom stopped prosituting me. She married a rich guy named Ray and "reformed" herself. She got custody of me. (My sis lived with my dad.) She stopped being a crackhead bum and instead her and Ray were high-class coke addicts instead. She was still emotionally abusive and was sometimes still physically abusive but mostly she ignored me. Ray had a great big house and I liked it alright but Ray would get drunk and act weird towards me and one day he coerced me into the basement and raped me and then he would come into my room in the nights. By then I was pretty accustomed to this sort of thing and I was in adolescence so it was very confusing in terms of my sexuality.

Then, my mom went to prison (for drugs) and I moved in with my dad. My dad had never been abusive and things went OK for a while. I was very troubled though, and would sell myself and I was into drugs. At around 14 I became very mentally unstable (later to be diagnosed as schizohprenia which I most likely inherited from my mother) and got into heroin and was kicked out of my father's house. I went to my uncle's house in Boston but he kicked me out as well and I spent the summer on the streets. I sold myself for money. Later I got back to my dad's house and got on medication and stabilized.

In high school I met a girl who I was not in love with but I felt like I needed to prove something so we dated for a long time. This resulted in me moving out of my dad's house. My sister had moved out as well at this point and my dad's mental health deteriorated. He had been hospitalized for extreme depression before and he was an alcoholic. He lost his job and had to move into a crappy apartment, and eventually he commited suicide. This upset me so much that I dropped out of school and became very withdrawn.

I ended up setting a rich family's summer house on fire because of my anger at my father's death and was sent to prison. There I was raped 12 times in one afternoon, on my third day there, and was sent to the prison hospital for my injuries and then was raped several more times when I got out. I had to submit to sexual slavery (very common in prison) so that I would not be gang raped again. This lasted for 2 years. I just got out in the year 2000. That was the last rape and since then I have not had any more rapes although I had been selling myself on and off until last summer.

Wow, I really did not mean to make this post so long. I'm sorry. Maybe I will post it as a seperate thread later. I hope this isn't too much of a hassle to read to to scroll through if you don't want to read it.

Sick Puppy:

Words cannot express the emotions I feel when I read your post. My brother it was horrendous what you suffered through.

There is however one sentence that makes me so happy for you Until last summer. And all of us here are so proud of you for that thing that you have done and that is to say ENOUGH.
Heal with us my brother and continue to offer the assistance as you have in the past

CAUTION-COULD BE TRIGGERING & WAY TOO LONG

QUOTE
______________________________________________________________
I rarely post here, if at all. I go through personality phases like change of clothes.
__________________________________________________

The first post I saw by you was about the government’s conspiracy for
mothers to incest sons. My first thought was “here is a sick individual,
this is very painful to read, but I want to get a bigger picture of who this
person is.” Suddenly the post disappeared. This didn’t surprise me.
(I later found it in the unmoderated section.)

I now love this scarcastic first post.

Your next post offered little to my picture of who you are and where you
are coming from.

Now I see you as so much like me it is just incredable.


Glib off the wall comments from me make it difficult for people to get to
know me. My wife, kids, and close friends know to hang around and
listen until it makes sense to them.

I am a hard person to get to know.


This defense of mine has served me well.

With patience, those who know and love me have learned to decipher
my cryptic language, as I have also become more verbal in my
comunicationsas time has gone on.

My artwork has been a part of own personal criptic language that
I, myself, am sometimes able to decipher only months after I've completed a work.

QUOTE:
__________________________________________
But, what I want most from this group is self-discovery.
__________________________________________________
Wow, you state your needs so clearly. I honor that, and I expect you will
experience that and more. I think that’s why most of us are here.

Quote:
_____________________________________________________
Mom thought love was supposed to be about her and herself only.
___________________________________________________

I already feel myself being suffocated reading this, as I I go back to the
house I grew up in.

It is a feeling that was also restimulated by the movie, ”Spanking the Monkey.”

I felt I was a non-entity, and lived for her life, never mind what safety I needed
as a young man.

I also heard how awful men are, and about her disasterous dates prior
to her marriage. One man she dated is now my half brother. Yes she
at 30 married his 60 year old father, who was to become my father.
The half brother would be about 90+ years old if he were alive today, I'm 57.
My dad would be 120 years old.

What she doled out as love was about what she needed, and how she
looked as a mother. She said, “Don’t ever tell anyone, they won’t
underestand.” It didn’t occur to her that I didn’t understand either.

QUOTE
_________________________________________________
Her sexual attraction towards me, had me grow up fast. Dad was a passing
conversation and nowhere to be found. My surrogate husbandry with Mom was
like being Dad to my no-so-much-younger brother.
___________________________________________________

My dad died when I was 10, he was 73. I don't remember
feeling connected to him either,though his importance was evident
when I cried at his wake and was told big boys don't cry.

She announced that my older
brother would be taking his place as our authority. He became the
breadwinner of the family. He lost his adolescence and was suddenly
a father. She behaved very seductively to him. It was his job to wash
her back in the tub while she covered her ample breasts with her arms
around her knees in a pseudo modest position.

He was also one of my perpetrators.

I was her romancer and confident as I spent my adolescence in bed
with her. My little brother replaced me in her bed when I, at 17, went
into the Navy.

QUOTE:
_____________________________________________________________
I left home at 20 to, what I thought, would be peace. Sure. Did I consider
inner-peace in the equation? Mom was not functional without financial support.
_________________________________________________

Close experiences here too, sum1sun.

QUOTE:
____________________________________________________
She did not like to work. When I left, the stabilizing force was gone.
___________________________________________________

She expected me to find a job in a factory after high school, and bring
her my paycheck forever.

It is part of our biologigal make-up to use our primary caregivers as a
template of adult roles. I for one have felt like I have been up a creek
without a functioning paddle.


The child in me believes the only way to get acceptance with men as
friends is what my big brother taught me. The way to survive with women
is to self castrate, become asexual and attend to their other needs.

For the most part I have a patient wife.

I have also learned to have nonsexual intimacy with men.

QUOTE:
__________________________________________________________
I cant feel good unless I fantasize pain. It's like the attention overwhelms
my senses because it is what I can guarantee myself.

So I slap myself in the face for writing this
___________________________________________________

I guess a part of me will always be the ungrateful son for exposing her secret,
but I'm learning to feel very grateful to myself for having done so.

The pain has always been so pervasive in my life. I did not know life
without it, so I increased the complexity of my life to asure I lived the role
and lifeitself as a victim and failure that I felt I deserved. To give all that
pain up is pure terror for me. I learned the
lesson for self-contempt
and self punishment well, and it guided my life.


There is a Jungian saying that says that it is not the shadows we fear
(because they are familiar), it is the light we fear.

We fear the power in our own light that we were born to experience,
not the world of shadows, as we were taught to live.

I still struggle with this, but it is getting easier to live in my light.

This is a part of my story. I have been around here a long time so some
of my posts go way back.


under SURVIVOR STORIES (Page 2) :
A Part Of My Story, self-witnessing after a long break --RJD--- March 25, 2001 06:26 AM
http://www.malesurvivor.org/cgi-local/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=10;t=000012

OR UNDER:
http://
http://www.nomsv.org/cgi-local/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=1;t=000569

OR UNDER:
PIECES FROM MY THESIS--
REGARDING ABUSE BY MOTHER---RJD---September 17, 2002 10:36 AM
http://www.malesurvivor.org/cgi-local/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=1;t=001078
OR, EVEN YET ANOTHER PIECE:
http://www.malesurvivor.org/cgi-local/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=1;t=001511

I feel like the scarecrow who went to OZ. A piece of me is over here, and another piece of me is over there....