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My story *May Trigger*

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My story *May Trigger*

Postby AfterBarca » Tue May 31, 2011 8:59 pm

I've just returned from a vacation where my body started giving me signs that I've been sexually abused while growing up - something I literally have never even imagined could have happened to me. I'm sharing my story to share my experiences with others, so they may learn, and to seek out help from those who are further along the growth process than me. I'm scared.


May 31st, 2011

I've just gotten back from my trip to Barcelona and some very difficult things have come up.

It started just before I left to the trip, with me reading an article about Sugar Ray Leonard admitting to having been sexual molested, which I shared with XXXXXX and XXXXXX. She responded by sending me link to Oprah talking with her studio audience who were 200 men who had been molested. While listening to it I started to feel weird. And then sad. And then teary. And the then I started lightly sobbing, and I didn't know why, but I felt as though there was something more to this.

While walking on the way to XXXXXX and XXXXXX's hotel room in Barcelona I started to have a strange feeling spring up – I was remembering feeling vulnerable, shy and anxious while taking a shower with my dad. I tried hard to grasp at more, but that's all I could get was this feeling of discomfort.

I got to their hotel room and took a bit of MDMA. We walked to the Gaudi Cathedral and it started to kick in – very subtlety. I felt happier, and more open to both of them. After lunch we went back to the hotel room and I did a bunch more MDMA. I started to think more and more about my father, and my upbringing, trying to force memories to pop up. Nothing surfaced. Then XXXXXX asked me to picture my little baby self in the form of a pillow, and to hold myself and tell myself that it was going to be ok, that I was going to look after him. This really got to me, I burt into tears and clutched the pillow hard. I held it so tightly and close to my body. I started crying, sobbing. But I couldn't ######6 remember why I felt like this. XXXXXX would ask me questions and my mind would be vacant, it would be empty, I could remember nothing. But my entire body would ache, would heave, would respond. It was a complete mind/body disconnect - something I'd never experienced before. But your body does remember things, and my body was remembering something terrible something bad, and all I wanted to do was hold myself and tell myself it was going to be ok and that I loved my baby me. That I would take care of it. When XXXX said something like “He can't hurt you anymore” that really caused me to start writhing and sobbing. Something else that came up was how saying I love you to my mom felt weird, strange or forced, and there's likely some reason for it. Either by her actions, her not responding to possible warning signs, or my blaming her for something. I don't think I love my mom or dad. I can sense love from my mom at least. I also feel guilt for not feeling comfortable doing so. Never have from my dad. Think he does, he just can't give any. I'm starting to think I may have this issue as well.

I decided to go to the concert after this but was not there in any meaningful notion. I didn't want to speak to anyone. I wasn't really able to feel any of the music. Just mindlessly walking around following XXXXX and XXXXXX from act to act. Eventually the Flaming Lips came on, and their visual displays immediately made me feel nauseous and sick, and I made my way out of the concert because I was sure I would throw up right there and then. I felt scared the entire way back to my hotel, I felt as though someone was after me, that I was in danger. I've never felt that before.

I went to my hotel room and felt what it was like to lose my mind. My brain raced, my memory ached, why the ###$ couldn't I remember? I started checking my body for damage....had I been raped as a boy? I had never had any issues with butt, with my penis. Seeing other men's penises didn't make me feel worried or scared? I had never really had any major hangups around sex...Remember, remember, remember, you must remember!! But I wouldn't. Not consciously. But my body did, my soul did. And I cried. I cried for hours. I cried until dawn. ###$ XXXXX and XXXXXX how could they leave me like this alone! I don't give a ######6 $#%^ about some lesson in codependency I needed them. But I didn't even really want anyone there watching me cry and roll on my bed and cry and cry. And all the time crying about what? I didn't know. I heard voices in my head, saying nothing, whispering nothing at the edges of my consciousness. I literally heard foreign voices in my head.

I told them early on the next that I wasn't going to make it to the last day of the concert, that I was going to watch the Barcelona final instead. I stayed in bed and cried. And cried. And cried some more. I cried so deeply, so strongly, so terribly. I had never cried like this. Ever. And why? Why was I crying? What was wrong. My mind wouldn't give me any answers. I just stayed in the hotel room and cried. I asked for guidance as to what was happening, and all I got were a few tidbits, on the edges of consciousness, in between sleep and this waking, crying hell. One was a sign I think to turn my back on poker – a dream where I turned my body away from a poker table and physically walked walked away. Another was an image of my younger brother, ________ has some role to play in all this too. Something to do with tickling? Tickling until deep pain? Tickling, showers, and _______. Had I done something to ________? Had I know something had happened to him? Was I a part of it? What had I done to my brother? Or know? Or let happen? My own brother?

The same happened on Sunday, I sat in the hotel room all ######6 day and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried some more. I went to have lunch at a restaurant nearby, using all my mental power to stop myself from crying, feeing utter despair. Not knowing what to do. And just as I was doing so, a tour bus passed in front of the window of the restaurant I was in that said “XXXXXX”. Synchronisty. I smiled. Had a tasty lunch. Then went back to my hotel room and cried all afternoon and evening long as Barcelona played and celebrated beating Manchester United in the Champions League final.

The next morning I felt lighter, physically lighter. I had a headache, my entire body ached, but I did feel better. I kind of felt as though I had started to go through a soul scrub, and one layer of deep pain had been scrubbed off. I have no idea how many more levels I have to go through, but am committed to this process. It feels right. I do believe that I have an inner healer, and he believes I'm ready for this. I do trust in this.

I've just finished watching a few different episodes on Oprah about child molestation, and how the image is often now that of someone in the shadows with a trench coat who attacks you, but it's most often someone you know who grooms you and slowly starting introducing more and more things to you. They brought up the point that it can be physically pleasurable, and emotionally and spiritually deeply damaging, so my reaction to check my body for scares, pain, tissue damage, whatever would likely be irrelevant. It also spoke of the grooming process, and I can recall sevearl occasions of men as I gerw older trying to molest me. I remember being in the __________ Airport when I was maybe 10 or 11 and a man sitting down beside me with a beard. My brother and father had just left to go to a ticket counter or something. He kissed me on the cheek once, and I thought it was just some weird Arab thing because I had just gotten back to M _______ from C_________. Then he kissed me again, closer to my lips, and this felt wrong so I pushed his face away. He asked me to come with him somewhere, and I said no, and and as soon as I said no, he left the scene very quickly. It seems as though he would have done something terrible to me. I remember another time in a taxi where a Pakistani taxi driver tried to to kiss me and fighting him until the taxi stopped. I even remember in 12th grade in C __________ one trying something similar, and again fighting him of. This all leads me to believe I have or had some energy, something which lead people to do this, that I had been groomed, and these people could sense that about me.

It's weird how emotionally detached I've been while writing this whole thing. That doesn't seem healthy? The cover up begins again? Or I'm done crying for a while?

The whole codependency thing is something I need to look a lot more closely at because I'm starting to feel that I've very codependent. It's ######6 incredible but even as I'm starting to tell people I need my space for a while, I feel guilt about it! Sorry I can't come to your birthday pary _________, but I'm just starting to come to grips with being sexually abused as a child and I think I need to respect that more than going out to dinner with a bunch of degenerates. I need to start to questions my thoughts a lot more, I have a lot, lot more guilt in me than I've ever acknowledged. And it was guilt masquerading as other things, as empathy, as compassion. It's ######6 guilt isn't it.

The more I think about it, the overwhelming feeling when my father is around is not one of comfort, love or happiness, it's worry, and fear. What the ###$ is that? How could I not be conscious of that? But it's true – the overwhelming emotion I feel around him is worry and fear.

It's also becoming more and more strange that I have such a lack of memories from childhood in K_________ From C_________ onwards...around 7 or so I'm fine. But I literally have maybe two memories of my time in K__________. One of biting my brother's fingers, and that's because my parents told me I did it. The second is of the neighbourhood swimming pool, and loving it. I'm starting to feel that a huge piece of the jigsaw puzzle is there, in K_________. Maybe I should visit it, find the area I used to live in. That feels like it's a good idea.

There's a painting of my father that I did as small child. I strongly feel as though it has deep relevance to all that's coming up now. He's naked in the picture, but even as a child I made a point of drawing his penis. It still hangs in our current wall in ________. I need to take another look at it and see what I feel.

I almost feel as thought this entire spiritual growth thing has really just only started right now, after what happened on this trip. But it makes more sense that all things that have lead to this point had to happen first before this could be revealed.
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Re: My story *May Trigger*

Postby CrackedGirl » Tue May 31, 2011 9:24 pm

Sounds like an awful lot to think about and process. What I would suggest is that you get yourself a good therapist to work through this stuff with. I dont have to tell you how important this is as it is obvious how seriously you are taking this from your post. Good luck and keep posting

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Re: My story *May Trigger*

Postby evanessence » Wed Jun 01, 2011 12:27 am

i agree with cracked girl , good advice . also it sounds like you have a lot of good info already ,everything you mentioned from ophra and other places is right on . in my personal experience being a male survivor has lots of effects ,both physical and emotional . there are not a lot of resources for male survivors .i'm glad you found this place cause these are good people .
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Re: My story *May Trigger*

Postby CrackedGirl » Wed Jun 01, 2011 12:34 am

Forgot to say don't force memories they will come when you are ready.

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Re: My story *May Trigger*

Postby AfterBarca » Wed Jun 01, 2011 1:15 am

Thank you both for your replies.

I have been seeing a therapist since last October. At that point, it was because I knew my father was cheating on my mom, and had been for at least five years with numerous women. The guilt of knowing it was really messing me up, and I was acting out with lots of drinking, and seeking other escapist routes as well. I felt as though by speaking up I would be responsible for breaking up my family, by being quiet I was responsible for allowing it to happen. I finally did get the courage to speak up, and did so. He initially denied it, but made several comments over the course of the conversation to the effect that he's done this sort of thing many times before. It was made even more dysfunctional by the fact I was still living underneath their roof as a young professional so I really couldn't escape it, it was always in my face. I've since moved out, on the advice of my therapist.

I just spoke to him about it around five weeks ago, so the timing of this is tough. I have been trying really hard to force memories, which is something I keep reading is a bad idea. It's a hard urge to fight - like a scab you know you shouldn't pick at.

What's very strange for me about this is that I really feel that my mom is the one who's invovled - something I've read very little about in my research.

My therapist is about to head off for two months tomorrow, so the timing of all this is really difficult as well. It's also so damn hard because the most natural thing in the world to do is to turn to your family and yet it is the one who's causing the pain.

I'm starting to feel overwhelmed. I hate this. I hate having now power over this, over what happened, over what I can remember, over feeling guilt all the time. It's so damn exhausting. And I haven't slept a wink tonight.
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Re: My story *May Trigger*

Postby evanessence » Wed Jun 01, 2011 2:39 am

feel free to come here anytime you need to talk sometimes it is good just to get things out. guilt is the tool of abuse ,it's used to keep us quiet ,it's used to make us take the blame .it's so hard to get rid of . i don't think forcing a memory is a good idea cause can you really trust something thats forced ? unfortunatly i think you will remember ,and that's when the hard part starts . it's a good sign that your questioning things and looking for answers ,i hope you find them .
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Re: My story *May Trigger*

Postby CrackedGirl » Wed Jun 01, 2011 9:40 am

I am sorry to hear your therapist is away. You can keep posting here for support. Mothers do abuse kids. I am sorry for all the distress you are going through.

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Re: My story *May Trigger*

Postby Arbie Wun » Wed Jun 01, 2011 12:24 pm

AfterBarca, I know that women do abuse and it is not always a mother that does it. I too was abused by a lady and this was something that happened in my childhood also and since then of course I have dealt with it in many different ways.

I do hope you keep posting in here because there are a lot of lovely wonderful people here who will help as best they can.
The bright light at the end of a dark tunnel could be an oncoming train, but it could also be the way out of the darkness...
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