On my introduction itwas suggested I tell more of my story, but to focus on who I used to be. I admitt that I understand that question from two anges; 1) who was I as a child before the abuse?; and, 2) who was I during the abuse?
First, let me also state that I was physically and emotionally abused before, during and after the sexual abuse (or, incest some would call it). Before the sexual abuse I am not sure who I was. I was a hyper lovingly boy that did his best to please his family, especially, his mother whom seemed neglectful from this young boys earliest memories. One of his earliest memories is of living in a trailer park in Arkansas with his mother, father and brother. This young boy does not remember what caused it but he remembers his mother suddenly yelling at him and all of a sudden picked the boy up and literally threw him across the living room. The boy remembers hitting what seemed like a large pine chair, hitting his head and seeing blood on his fingers when he touched his face. All the boy can see is mother yelling about something and his brother bending over him and picking the boy up. The boy seems to think that it was his brother who protected him from his mother.
That's is basically the first detailed memory I have of my family. I then seemed to face two decades of being yelled at for what seemed like everything I did or said. I endured ridicule and verbal put downs that seemed done on purpose to break me down emotionally to make me more useable in order for my family and those around me to use me for their own personal gain or reason, but then tossing me aside when done. I was called gay, embarrassing to be around and worthless. I put up with my mother telling me that if I ever needed to talk to just come to her but when I did I was yelled at for either. Leaving my room w/o permission or told "I don't care", "get out of my face". The only thing I remember waiting for and I guess in my own little way praying for, was the moments my mother seemed nice and loving toward me. It was only at these few and far between times that I was allowed to actually be part of the family and was treated nicely...but these times did not last long and just as quick as they appeared they disappeared, and it could happen right in the middle of a good moment. I tried to do everything I was asked to do but that still wasn't enough. It took me years to stop flinching whenever my mother came near me, especially when leaning over me. This was b. whenever she did she would slap me (for no reason, but never around anyone else but my brother). I guess what I am about to say is typically for siblings, but my brother was the spoiled one (my family will even tell u that now) and my brother played it up to the fullest at times.
I stop here bc I haven't allowed myself to look at these memories in at least two years. I will continue the story on Part 2. Thanks for allowing me to lay theses wounds bare.
Edited by ModTeam (10/02/12 04:55 AM)
Edit Reason: Added trigger warning for specific physical abuse descriptions