There are times when I get deeply depressed. Not over having been molested. But over the course my life has taken since then. Immersed in guilt over the choices I've made, things I've done, or not done. The people I've hurt, the wreckage I've left in my wake. Maybe because I'm middle aged, and thats when men are supposed to take stock of, and responsibility for, their lives. I'm jealous of the younger men here who are dealing with their CSA now, instead of waiting for 42 years as I did. I wish that I'd had their courage.
I know its a fruitless exercise. The past is gone, I can't change it, can't make up for it, can't always blame my abuser, my parents, or _________ (fill in the blank). I can only live my life differently from this point forward, with all the understanding I've gained about the roots of all my bad choices and behavior. Thats what the self-improvement books all say.
I'm learning to let go of the pain of the CSA experience in my past, but somehow, I just can't seem to let go of the pathetic, miserable 42 years that followed.
Woody Allen is famous for the line: "My one regret in life is that I am not someone else". I can't help wishing.....
I went back to the doctor
To get another shrink.
I sit and tell him about my weekend,
But he never betrays what he thinks.
Can you see the real me, doctor?. The Who