First memory I have is only 2 scenes long... Starts out w/ me in a bed that's in a corner (my head to the corner) and a gangly teenage-ish sized guy on top of me. Then the memory immediately flashes to the Volkswagen Pop-Top mini-bus in the driveway. I was in Belgium at the time so I was 7 or younger.
Then my brother started on me when we moved to CT in the middle of 3rd grade. Not sure he started just when we arrived back in the States, I just know it was after I'd turned 8 and ended after I was 14. I don't remember much detail about what he'd done in the beginning, although I had to pretend I didn't know how to kiss when the neighborhood girls were "practicing" kissing on their hands. I think that was when I first felt shame. I've blocked so much of my life out of my memory. Throughout the years he did everything to me and had me do it all to him. I remember dressing up in homemade "sex slave" outfits while I (wow, this is the first time I've ever told anyone this detail.... :no:) I .... well, had personal relations with myself. Ugh, that's so hard to admit. I was still in CT so I hadn't started 7th grade yet when I was play-acting alone in my room. As an adult, I know that what I did was a normal reaction to a completely abnormal situation, but the child in me still feels so dirty and ashamed. I had an insatiable appetite for self-satisfying for a very long time. I don't know if he ever got it in, I remember him getting up for the vaseline and then it's all blank. But, when I finally really did it for the first time, there wasn't any pain or bleeding or anything.
When I was in 7th grade, after we had just moved to NJ, an a$$---- on the school bus nicknamed me "scumbag" for what I cannot possible understand. I began to ask friends about what their brothers did to them. Their brothers "played doctor" with them, but never anything remotely close to what mine did to me. I was never able to reject my brother or tell anyone in the family. He covertly threatened me. I know now that the first incident set the stage for my being so easily manipulated. Then I got my first present from a guy...I was 14. I shut down and basically didn't even thank him for the gift. Needless to say he rejected me...after I had seemingly rejected him. I spent high school years feeling worse and worse about myself. I became more and more introverted and alone, nobody really called me and I never went to prom or anything other than a couple of parties. I ate a gallon of chocolate chip ice cream in one sitting more times than I can count. I told my parents about my brother summer after my senior year and went to my first counseling sessions. But, incest wasn't taught in mental health school and I spent many years trying to find qualified therapists to help me.
Then when I was 22 I finally went to college and got tricked - I was at a dorm party and the guy said his birthday was the same as mine. I didn't believe him so we went into his dorm room (door was propped open) so he could show me his driver's license. He was telling the truth. But, then before I knew it, he kicked out the stopper and had me on the bed, yanking my clothes off with his hand over my mouth. Oh yeah, now I remember my brother did that all the time too. Ah, memories are a wonderful think to forget. There was loud music in the hallway and nobody could hear me yelling at him to get off me. He was at college on a wrestling scholarship. I knew I didn't stand a chance and just gave in so I wouldn't get hurt. I didn't tell anyone about this for a long time. It was 1985 and nobody would have believed that I didn't do it willingly - date rape just didn't happen back then.
I ended up further down the self-hate highway than ever. Started dating a black guy who did crack. Shoot, I went with him to Harlem to do crack. (Something else not many know about). Parents didn't like him, so I moved in with him. I found another therapist and realized that I was with this loser because I was angry with them for not saving me. As soon as I realized that, I felt the freedom and completely lost the need for his company.
But, I was still lonely and desperate for male attention. I pined for guys, fantasized that they were calling me (did this since high school) and that they were having sex with me. My theme song was "At Seventeen" by Janis Ian. Wow, that song was written for me.
I "dated" guys who only wanted one-nighters. I thought I was in love with them all. Holy cow, looking back that was far from reality. I met my now husband in 1989 after a "rebound" from a guy who was so wrong for me it wasn't even funny because he was so quiet. Although he was one of the few that I truly enjoyed having sex with and thought that this was what a "normal" girl felt like. Gosh I wish I had the feeling of being nervous for "my first time." I was robbed of normalcy!
Anyway, this guy I married, "TC", took the place of my brother. He is self-involved and really doesn't give too hoots about me and blames all of our problems on my past. That's actually true. If it weren't for my brother and the abuse, I would never have gotten involved with him. But, alas, here I am 23 years (16 yrs married) with 3 beautiful children. Circumstances in the fall forced me to finally get the gonads to file for divorce, with my parents' help - they mailed the lawyer $7805. I believe they're finally "saving" me.
Now to my current issue - PTSD rearing its ugly head again. I've always suffered from hypervigilence, and overeating, and depression, and self-doubt. But last fall seemed to be the turning point. I had already resolved to stick with the marriage until my youngest graduated in 2018. I was okay with being 55 before freedom for the sake of my kids. I earned my bachelors in 2010 and started my Masters in Sept 2011. I hit my highest weight of 195. But started walking and watching what I was eating and was down to 175 by Christmas. I filed for divorce end of Nov and served him 3 days before new years after finding out that he'd been in my email...the slimy dog. Then I fell and broke my finger and started to not get homework done and spiraled into eating and wanting to sleep and my self-image tanked.
I'm a stay at home mom and make $1000/mo. Can't support myself. Used to make $45,000 16 yrs ago. I know I can get $2000-$3000/mo from hubby after divorce, but don't want to make everyone suffer. My head spins, I don't feel worthy of success, of looking good. Oh, about that: In the past, when I felt like I looked good, I believed that it was my obligation to give sex when it was asked for. Getting fat was the wall. Sex throughout marriage was an obligation and triggered my hypervigilence and pain during. I'm so scared that I'll fall back into that obligation mode just to get the attention of a man.
Ugh. sorry this is so long. I hope anyone who started reading hasn't fallen asleep by now. :bounce:
Then my brother started on me when we moved to CT in the middle of 3rd grade. Not sure he started just when we arrived back in the States, I just know it was after I'd turned 8 and ended after I was 14. I don't remember much detail about what he'd done in the beginning, although I had to pretend I didn't know how to kiss when the neighborhood girls were "practicing" kissing on their hands. I think that was when I first felt shame. I've blocked so much of my life out of my memory. Throughout the years he did everything to me and had me do it all to him. I remember dressing up in homemade "sex slave" outfits while I (wow, this is the first time I've ever told anyone this detail.... :no:) I .... well, had personal relations with myself. Ugh, that's so hard to admit. I was still in CT so I hadn't started 7th grade yet when I was play-acting alone in my room. As an adult, I know that what I did was a normal reaction to a completely abnormal situation, but the child in me still feels so dirty and ashamed. I had an insatiable appetite for self-satisfying for a very long time. I don't know if he ever got it in, I remember him getting up for the vaseline and then it's all blank. But, when I finally really did it for the first time, there wasn't any pain or bleeding or anything.
When I was in 7th grade, after we had just moved to NJ, an a$$---- on the school bus nicknamed me "scumbag" for what I cannot possible understand. I began to ask friends about what their brothers did to them. Their brothers "played doctor" with them, but never anything remotely close to what mine did to me. I was never able to reject my brother or tell anyone in the family. He covertly threatened me. I know now that the first incident set the stage for my being so easily manipulated. Then I got my first present from a guy...I was 14. I shut down and basically didn't even thank him for the gift. Needless to say he rejected me...after I had seemingly rejected him. I spent high school years feeling worse and worse about myself. I became more and more introverted and alone, nobody really called me and I never went to prom or anything other than a couple of parties. I ate a gallon of chocolate chip ice cream in one sitting more times than I can count. I told my parents about my brother summer after my senior year and went to my first counseling sessions. But, incest wasn't taught in mental health school and I spent many years trying to find qualified therapists to help me.
Then when I was 22 I finally went to college and got tricked - I was at a dorm party and the guy said his birthday was the same as mine. I didn't believe him so we went into his dorm room (door was propped open) so he could show me his driver's license. He was telling the truth. But, then before I knew it, he kicked out the stopper and had me on the bed, yanking my clothes off with his hand over my mouth. Oh yeah, now I remember my brother did that all the time too. Ah, memories are a wonderful think to forget. There was loud music in the hallway and nobody could hear me yelling at him to get off me. He was at college on a wrestling scholarship. I knew I didn't stand a chance and just gave in so I wouldn't get hurt. I didn't tell anyone about this for a long time. It was 1985 and nobody would have believed that I didn't do it willingly - date rape just didn't happen back then.
I ended up further down the self-hate highway than ever. Started dating a black guy who did crack. Shoot, I went with him to Harlem to do crack. (Something else not many know about). Parents didn't like him, so I moved in with him. I found another therapist and realized that I was with this loser because I was angry with them for not saving me. As soon as I realized that, I felt the freedom and completely lost the need for his company.
But, I was still lonely and desperate for male attention. I pined for guys, fantasized that they were calling me (did this since high school) and that they were having sex with me. My theme song was "At Seventeen" by Janis Ian. Wow, that song was written for me.
I "dated" guys who only wanted one-nighters. I thought I was in love with them all. Holy cow, looking back that was far from reality. I met my now husband in 1989 after a "rebound" from a guy who was so wrong for me it wasn't even funny because he was so quiet. Although he was one of the few that I truly enjoyed having sex with and thought that this was what a "normal" girl felt like. Gosh I wish I had the feeling of being nervous for "my first time." I was robbed of normalcy!
Anyway, this guy I married, "TC", took the place of my brother. He is self-involved and really doesn't give too hoots about me and blames all of our problems on my past. That's actually true. If it weren't for my brother and the abuse, I would never have gotten involved with him. But, alas, here I am 23 years (16 yrs married) with 3 beautiful children. Circumstances in the fall forced me to finally get the gonads to file for divorce, with my parents' help - they mailed the lawyer $7805. I believe they're finally "saving" me.
Now to my current issue - PTSD rearing its ugly head again. I've always suffered from hypervigilence, and overeating, and depression, and self-doubt. But last fall seemed to be the turning point. I had already resolved to stick with the marriage until my youngest graduated in 2018. I was okay with being 55 before freedom for the sake of my kids. I earned my bachelors in 2010 and started my Masters in Sept 2011. I hit my highest weight of 195. But started walking and watching what I was eating and was down to 175 by Christmas. I filed for divorce end of Nov and served him 3 days before new years after finding out that he'd been in my email...the slimy dog. Then I fell and broke my finger and started to not get homework done and spiraled into eating and wanting to sleep and my self-image tanked.
I'm a stay at home mom and make $1000/mo. Can't support myself. Used to make $45,000 16 yrs ago. I know I can get $2000-$3000/mo from hubby after divorce, but don't want to make everyone suffer. My head spins, I don't feel worthy of success, of looking good. Oh, about that: In the past, when I felt like I looked good, I believed that it was my obligation to give sex when it was asked for. Getting fat was the wall. Sex throughout marriage was an obligation and triggered my hypervigilence and pain during. I'm so scared that I'll fall back into that obligation mode just to get the attention of a man.
Ugh. sorry this is so long. I hope anyone who started reading hasn't fallen asleep by now. :bounce:
