I repressed all memories of abuse.
...however, when my mom divorced my dad...I slowly started to feel this loathing and rage towards him.
Way more rage than would be accounted by what I remembered, and I began to suspect.
At 19 I got back a couple of memories of assault. These made sense. The two perpetrators in the memories? Yeah.
I could not pry out memories about my dad, though. Feelings? Yes, but no memories. I ended therapy and figured I never would remember.
...In 2011 the dissociation shut off...and I found myself to be not quite alone in my head.
Mom went back to work, at night, as a nurse when I was six. Until my maternal grandma moved in, he could get away with a lot at night.
Anyway...this last year? I got memories of being taken to a party and used to make a short film.
That was kind of the party opener? Then me and this kid I knew from school were passed around...
...After that I seem to have been sold. I am getting the feeling there are more memories on the way of getting rented...
Too, I did not think I was sold after age 8, as well. I thought the abuse ended at 8, when my grandma moved in with us
My grandmother did get sick, as in repeated small strokes... and my mom was working nights...
At that point I had ( on some level, deliberately) made myself enormously fat. Dad found that disgusting. Apparently he found someone that did not. Dad hated us, we cost him money.
But all this is really, REALLY bizarre.
...I don't know that I believe myselfs.
I think I found the man who was the other child at the party...
On the sex offender's registry in the old town my family moved from. Plus he's got some drunk arrests reported in the local paper. That in itself is kinda indicative? But attempts to contact this man by snail-mail with the intent of carefully broaching the matter got no response.
I might be able to go through old school records if I am able to go up in person, will do at some point, see what I can find.
I may contact the local FBI office around there, as the FBI child porn vault sent me a blank rejection letter...they don't help you figure out if your film is sitting there in their storage unit of horrors, apparently.
My dad's still alive, but I can't get around him because of my rage? Plus I don't believe that bloated weasel would tell the truth.
Thoughts?
Writing all this out has made me feel floaty, spacey, tired.
My inside people tell me we were just so, so tired that night...sadly, my dad liked to force Pottymouth et. al. to orgasm. Well, these guys at the party thought making my body orgasm, which it was trained to do easily, was fun, fun, fun. I was 6. I was also asthmatic, and they were smoking.
We were just so tired. We went through pain, disgust, terror, embarrassment, shame...to exhaustion.
Dad hit us all the way home, and we don't know why, he made us wipe all the slime off the car seat.
Sorry, I'm just the Front in here...do you hate us?
...however, when my mom divorced my dad...I slowly started to feel this loathing and rage towards him.
Way more rage than would be accounted by what I remembered, and I began to suspect.
At 19 I got back a couple of memories of assault. These made sense. The two perpetrators in the memories? Yeah.
I could not pry out memories about my dad, though. Feelings? Yes, but no memories. I ended therapy and figured I never would remember.
...In 2011 the dissociation shut off...and I found myself to be not quite alone in my head.
Mom went back to work, at night, as a nurse when I was six. Until my maternal grandma moved in, he could get away with a lot at night.
Anyway...this last year? I got memories of being taken to a party and used to make a short film.
That was kind of the party opener? Then me and this kid I knew from school were passed around...
...After that I seem to have been sold. I am getting the feeling there are more memories on the way of getting rented...
Too, I did not think I was sold after age 8, as well. I thought the abuse ended at 8, when my grandma moved in with us
My grandmother did get sick, as in repeated small strokes... and my mom was working nights...
At that point I had ( on some level, deliberately) made myself enormously fat. Dad found that disgusting. Apparently he found someone that did not. Dad hated us, we cost him money.
But all this is really, REALLY bizarre.
...I don't know that I believe myselfs.
I think I found the man who was the other child at the party...
On the sex offender's registry in the old town my family moved from. Plus he's got some drunk arrests reported in the local paper. That in itself is kinda indicative? But attempts to contact this man by snail-mail with the intent of carefully broaching the matter got no response.
I might be able to go through old school records if I am able to go up in person, will do at some point, see what I can find.
I may contact the local FBI office around there, as the FBI child porn vault sent me a blank rejection letter...they don't help you figure out if your film is sitting there in their storage unit of horrors, apparently.
My dad's still alive, but I can't get around him because of my rage? Plus I don't believe that bloated weasel would tell the truth.
Thoughts?
Writing all this out has made me feel floaty, spacey, tired.
My inside people tell me we were just so, so tired that night...sadly, my dad liked to force Pottymouth et. al. to orgasm. Well, these guys at the party thought making my body orgasm, which it was trained to do easily, was fun, fun, fun. I was 6. I was also asthmatic, and they were smoking.
We were just so tired. We went through pain, disgust, terror, embarrassment, shame...to exhaustion.
Dad hit us all the way home, and we don't know why, he made us wipe all the slime off the car seat.
Sorry, I'm just the Front in here...do you hate us?