CAUTION-COULD BE TRIGGERING & WAY TOO LONG
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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....