What is wrong with me?
Today was a hard day to get through, it was a mixture of depression, mixed thoughts and a day of remembering. The depression is really deep tonight as I write this blog and I am honest I don't know where it is going to go, or if one of my alters will come out to add to the writing.
Today was the Oprah show where she had 200 men come and stand up to say they were Sexually Abused. Some of these very men I have talked to on a web page chat called Male Survivor. Sitting here watching the show play on and listened to what these men were talking about was pulling strings at the very pit of my soul. Most things said I could relate to, and their stories had me glued to the television while at the same time thinking about things that happened in my own life. The story where the guy told his mother and she brushed it off, and years they were still married. My sister and I went to our mother and were met with the very same reaction. I am not sure what she said to my sister, but I was told to next time bite it off. Give me one good reason why a little boy or girl would go back to the same person who is our protector and tell. This is the same woman who really had beaten us in the past. I still would give anything to find out how I broke my right hand at the age of 12. I have absolutely any recall of hurting my hand at all. I do remember my hand being held over the top of the stove as the burner was glowing bright orange begging them not to burn me. But not a single thing about my hand.
One of the questions that Oprah asked one of the men on the show was how did the perpetrator groom him so that he could have his way with him. I sat there for a little while thinking about this question, and you know I have no idea how my brother did it. Did he just walk up to my sister and me and say I want you to do something? I mean was there something going on before that between him and me or him and her to make us both comfortable to give into his demands. Did this abuse go on prior to the memory I have at age 8? This is the first memory I have of sexual abuse of any kind. So I do ask, just how did he start it and how did her get the two of us to engage in this. One thing I even remember, is we used to breed dogs and I can remember being afraid that we would get stuck just as dogs do so I must have has some idea of something but I did not know it was called sex. That's how we got beat when he told on us, that's how he was guaranteed we would not tell on him. But now my mind is starting to turn a little bit, how DID I know what we were doing was what the dogs did? And if that is so the case how did he get us to do that?
I do know that he always told me it was okay because everyone did it and I was no different then anyone. That is what I remember after the incident with my sister, the touching, the oral and then eventually sodomy. I used to remember the rape that took place when I was 15, how I begged him not to and then begged him not to climax. I remember sitting in the bathroom crying as I found out he did along with the blood I found in the toilet. But I do remember that it happened several times before, twice I know was at a neighbor’s house where he babysat their son. I would have to go over as he watched adult films and then having to do what he just watched. Many years of this went on, many years my mother knew and many years could have been different if it was only stopped and not allowed to go on.
Why did my parents treat me the way they did, how was it that other people knew they could abuse me. Again, I mention the teacher who used the comment she heard I was a good kisser after she got me into her bedroom. The minister, I do not even know how we ended up in the parking lot with his hand down my pants and my zipper down and unsnapped. How was it that so many people could be brought into the sessions, having their way with my sister or me? Why could I not walk away when I got older and accepted all the mental abuse for years after? Up till then I had been beaten by my Brother, Mother and Father. Sexually abused by Brother, Teacher, Minister, 2 boys who were my brothers friends who lived next door, Kenny the black friend of my brother and one other I do not remember his name but I can remember his face. How was he able to get my best friend to get involved, who I lost as a friend after that? Was I born to be abused? Was I born to be a Boy Toy or punching bag to those who needed to take their anger out on someone?
And in the end, when my brother was arrested it was I who was blamed. I was disowned by my parents, by a vast majority of my family. My father never spoke to me for 3 years after the arrest and passed away never saying a word to me. My mother passes away begging me to take care of my brother’s daughter who was the one who got everything in the will. Leave it all to her and have me take care of her, she has not spoken to me in at least 6 months. And to have my brother send me letters begging for money in prison, as if he thinks I would send him a penny or even reply to his letters. I have no family left but my sister, we talk once and a while. My Fathers family doesn’t live anyplace nearSyracuse
I still carry shame in the fact I have not been to see any of my parents graves, everything that happened in my life and the guilt to sometimes admit what happened. I know or more so I am learning it was not my fault but it is something that I deal with internally. The depression becomes so deep that I can't always stand it anymore and to try and think of something good only makes it worse because it really is not that easy. I just don't know what to feel anymore. I just don't know what is wrong with me. Till Next Time.....
Today was the Oprah show where she had 200 men come and stand up to say they were Sexually Abused. Some of these very men I have talked to on a web page chat called Male Survivor. Sitting here watching the show play on and listened to what these men were talking about was pulling strings at the very pit of my soul. Most things said I could relate to, and their stories had me glued to the television while at the same time thinking about things that happened in my own life. The story where the guy told his mother and she brushed it off, and years they were still married. My sister and I went to our mother and were met with the very same reaction. I am not sure what she said to my sister, but I was told to next time bite it off. Give me one good reason why a little boy or girl would go back to the same person who is our protector and tell. This is the same woman who really had beaten us in the past. I still would give anything to find out how I broke my right hand at the age of 12. I have absolutely any recall of hurting my hand at all. I do remember my hand being held over the top of the stove as the burner was glowing bright orange begging them not to burn me. But not a single thing about my hand.
One of the questions that Oprah asked one of the men on the show was how did the perpetrator groom him so that he could have his way with him. I sat there for a little while thinking about this question, and you know I have no idea how my brother did it. Did he just walk up to my sister and me and say I want you to do something? I mean was there something going on before that between him and me or him and her to make us both comfortable to give into his demands. Did this abuse go on prior to the memory I have at age 8? This is the first memory I have of sexual abuse of any kind. So I do ask, just how did he start it and how did her get the two of us to engage in this. One thing I even remember, is we used to breed dogs and I can remember being afraid that we would get stuck just as dogs do so I must have has some idea of something but I did not know it was called sex. That's how we got beat when he told on us, that's how he was guaranteed we would not tell on him. But now my mind is starting to turn a little bit, how DID I know what we were doing was what the dogs did? And if that is so the case how did he get us to do that?
I do know that he always told me it was okay because everyone did it and I was no different then anyone. That is what I remember after the incident with my sister, the touching, the oral and then eventually sodomy. I used to remember the rape that took place when I was 15, how I begged him not to and then begged him not to climax. I remember sitting in the bathroom crying as I found out he did along with the blood I found in the toilet. But I do remember that it happened several times before, twice I know was at a neighbor’s house where he babysat their son. I would have to go over as he watched adult films and then having to do what he just watched. Many years of this went on, many years my mother knew and many years could have been different if it was only stopped and not allowed to go on.
Why did my parents treat me the way they did, how was it that other people knew they could abuse me. Again, I mention the teacher who used the comment she heard I was a good kisser after she got me into her bedroom. The minister, I do not even know how we ended up in the parking lot with his hand down my pants and my zipper down and unsnapped. How was it that so many people could be brought into the sessions, having their way with my sister or me? Why could I not walk away when I got older and accepted all the mental abuse for years after? Up till then I had been beaten by my Brother, Mother and Father. Sexually abused by Brother, Teacher, Minister, 2 boys who were my brothers friends who lived next door, Kenny the black friend of my brother and one other I do not remember his name but I can remember his face. How was he able to get my best friend to get involved, who I lost as a friend after that? Was I born to be abused? Was I born to be a Boy Toy or punching bag to those who needed to take their anger out on someone?
And in the end, when my brother was arrested it was I who was blamed. I was disowned by my parents, by a vast majority of my family. My father never spoke to me for 3 years after the arrest and passed away never saying a word to me. My mother passes away begging me to take care of my brother’s daughter who was the one who got everything in the will. Leave it all to her and have me take care of her, she has not spoken to me in at least 6 months. And to have my brother send me letters begging for money in prison, as if he thinks I would send him a penny or even reply to his letters. I have no family left but my sister, we talk once and a while. My Fathers family doesn’t live anyplace near
I still carry shame in the fact I have not been to see any of my parents graves, everything that happened in my life and the guilt to sometimes admit what happened. I know or more so I am learning it was not my fault but it is something that I deal with internally. The depression becomes so deep that I can't always stand it anymore and to try and think of something good only makes it worse because it really is not that easy. I just don't know what to feel anymore. I just don't know what is wrong with me. Till Next Time.....
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