I feel your pain. I have cried buckets of tears for that innocent, beautiful boy, who did not deserve the terrible things that happened, nor who deserved to be left behind. I too felt as if I had changed and become sullied, dirtied, soiled, and tainted. I became so guilt ridden, and so sure that I was nasty and that no one would ever want me, and that my life had been stolen, my hopes crushed. I truly was never the same.
I have learned that the shattered and broken husk of a boy who remained grew into a wounded animal. The remains took on the outer appearance of life as the wounds inside festered on. It was years before I learned something else.
That the child who split from me waited there still. That the nothingness inside me clammored to be whole yet. That my journey as a man, was to go back and rescue my child.
I used therapy, imagery, and dreams and love...I used poetry, and tears, and incense and rituals. I walked through the looking glass and rescued that tragic boy...he and I walk hand in hand today.