Promicarus
Silver Member
The last thing I want to do is invade a space in which I'm not welcome. And as my history is not of what would probably be considered the "usual" variety of sexual abuse--I'd like as much feedback as possible: not only whether others with experience with therapist-diagnosed cases of sexual abuse know if my case would be considered "diagnosable" as such--but more importantly, what are others sentiments...as to whether "I belong".
I've been told both that I do, and that I don't qualify-so I seek a consensus from those not only familiar with the diagnosis and treatment, but your honest feelings as to whether or not I "fit" in your opinions. Any and all responses would be greatly appreciated.
There's no question that most of those suffering from the legacy of sexual abuse have had, on par, much more dramatic and traumatizing experiences than I. I'm well aware of that. But as far as the corrupting, debilitating shame that pervaded my entire life through adolescence-and so colored my sense of self as something unworthy and dirty, etc...and the preoccupation with "the terrible secret which noone must know", which separates one from the world and others, making one an outcast even from him/herself, forcing the creation of an "external, false self" one must portray to the world--in those respects I qualify, in spades.
I hope that any who might feel that I am dishonoring their struggle by comparing mine with their own will understand that I am in no way attempting to do so--which is why I only ask for some resonance, some sense, coming from experience, as to whether I actually have any claim on the title. I know that it ruined my sense of self, and early life--maybe therefore much of my later life, as well. But as for whether it qualifies, I leave that to you.
When I was 5, I was introduced to homosexual sex by an only slightly older boy in my neighborhood. He convinced me to be dominant, while he was submissive. This became the basis of our friendship.
I have other trauma-related issues, as well...most significantly severe emotional abuse by a cocaine addicted father who actively hated me, saw me as a threat to his relationship with my mother, and the fact that he had spent his life from 10-49 in Latin America, and didn't reveal this to me, essentially therefore raising me in with the model of a Latin American male, (but without any accent, as he'd learned English first) and with a "Latin communication style", that was completely different from my peers-and for which I of course had no explanation, at the time (my mother also lived almost half of her life in Latin America, and was essentially "Latinized", as well).
I say this only by way of explaining that I not only had no way to relate to my peers, as we were on different cultural wavelengths, but had a sense of unworthiness through my father's rejection, which made interaction with peers doomed with all the more certainty.
When this boy moved away I was completely isolated. The only other boy in my neighborhood who I could relate to was a second-generation immigrant, and so similarly challenged-whose father was an alcoholic as well. I'd found someone who I could relate to, at least somewhat.
But the only way I had of relating, the only foundation for friendship I'd learned, was on the basis of homosexual sex.
He remained my best and only friend from that point until age 13, during which time we regularly engaged in homosexual acts. However, we never admitted to each other that they were occurring, or that either of us were even aware of them.
A crazy existence, I realize now, of course. I realize I learned to "compartmentalize" as a way of life, not even admitting to my conscious mind what I'd shut away in some space so dark that it wasn't in play, or a factor, even in my communications with my friend. On some level I was aware. But I was able to keep it behind a wall.
At around age 8 my friend's brother discovered our secret. He proceeded to announce it to everyone in his family, and friends--but as he was a known liar and ne'er do well, no one believed him. But I lived in constant fear that everyone would suddenly begin to believe him. This was during the age when such a shameful secret revealed publicly would have ruined my parent's sterling reputation (their highest priority), and probably have resulted in my being sent away, hospitalized, who knew?
This continued to the age of 13, when I split with my friend when he stole from me. But it was just an excuse. I couldn't maintain the comparmentalization, function with the shame and self-disgust, and self-hatred, any longer. I buried it deep, and plastered on a smile.
I have never had a homosexual relationship since, and have had a number of committed, long-term heterosexual relationships. I'm convinced that I repeated the experience I was exposed to at that early age, as the only means I knew of establishing a friendship, and out of loneliness and isolation. I believe the early sense of being intrinsically worthless was derived in large part from my father, and isolation from peers, but that this "terrible shameful secret" did more to traumatize me through self-hatred, and fear of discovery, than any other factor.
But what's even worse, I believe, is that as I was responsible for introducing him to the behavior, myself, I not only had no one else to blame, but felt as though I was the evil party, wholly corrupt and without a prayer of salvation. But this awful secret, acknowledged by neither of us, somehow tied us together, insuring its repetition. Without it, and the secret somehow binding us together, even though unacknowledged-I feared I would have no basis for the friendship, and be left ultimately alone in the world-as not only my father was abusive and unstable, as mentioned, but my mother was harsh, scornful, and manipulative-only showing gentleness on rare occasions, and then only when I'd performed to her standards.
Please tell me, all who care to respond-do I qualify as having suffered sexual abuse?
Thank you
I've been told both that I do, and that I don't qualify-so I seek a consensus from those not only familiar with the diagnosis and treatment, but your honest feelings as to whether or not I "fit" in your opinions. Any and all responses would be greatly appreciated.
There's no question that most of those suffering from the legacy of sexual abuse have had, on par, much more dramatic and traumatizing experiences than I. I'm well aware of that. But as far as the corrupting, debilitating shame that pervaded my entire life through adolescence-and so colored my sense of self as something unworthy and dirty, etc...and the preoccupation with "the terrible secret which noone must know", which separates one from the world and others, making one an outcast even from him/herself, forcing the creation of an "external, false self" one must portray to the world--in those respects I qualify, in spades.
I hope that any who might feel that I am dishonoring their struggle by comparing mine with their own will understand that I am in no way attempting to do so--which is why I only ask for some resonance, some sense, coming from experience, as to whether I actually have any claim on the title. I know that it ruined my sense of self, and early life--maybe therefore much of my later life, as well. But as for whether it qualifies, I leave that to you.
When I was 5, I was introduced to homosexual sex by an only slightly older boy in my neighborhood. He convinced me to be dominant, while he was submissive. This became the basis of our friendship.
I have other trauma-related issues, as well...most significantly severe emotional abuse by a cocaine addicted father who actively hated me, saw me as a threat to his relationship with my mother, and the fact that he had spent his life from 10-49 in Latin America, and didn't reveal this to me, essentially therefore raising me in with the model of a Latin American male, (but without any accent, as he'd learned English first) and with a "Latin communication style", that was completely different from my peers-and for which I of course had no explanation, at the time (my mother also lived almost half of her life in Latin America, and was essentially "Latinized", as well).
I say this only by way of explaining that I not only had no way to relate to my peers, as we were on different cultural wavelengths, but had a sense of unworthiness through my father's rejection, which made interaction with peers doomed with all the more certainty.
When this boy moved away I was completely isolated. The only other boy in my neighborhood who I could relate to was a second-generation immigrant, and so similarly challenged-whose father was an alcoholic as well. I'd found someone who I could relate to, at least somewhat.
But the only way I had of relating, the only foundation for friendship I'd learned, was on the basis of homosexual sex.
He remained my best and only friend from that point until age 13, during which time we regularly engaged in homosexual acts. However, we never admitted to each other that they were occurring, or that either of us were even aware of them.
A crazy existence, I realize now, of course. I realize I learned to "compartmentalize" as a way of life, not even admitting to my conscious mind what I'd shut away in some space so dark that it wasn't in play, or a factor, even in my communications with my friend. On some level I was aware. But I was able to keep it behind a wall.
At around age 8 my friend's brother discovered our secret. He proceeded to announce it to everyone in his family, and friends--but as he was a known liar and ne'er do well, no one believed him. But I lived in constant fear that everyone would suddenly begin to believe him. This was during the age when such a shameful secret revealed publicly would have ruined my parent's sterling reputation (their highest priority), and probably have resulted in my being sent away, hospitalized, who knew?
This continued to the age of 13, when I split with my friend when he stole from me. But it was just an excuse. I couldn't maintain the comparmentalization, function with the shame and self-disgust, and self-hatred, any longer. I buried it deep, and plastered on a smile.
I have never had a homosexual relationship since, and have had a number of committed, long-term heterosexual relationships. I'm convinced that I repeated the experience I was exposed to at that early age, as the only means I knew of establishing a friendship, and out of loneliness and isolation. I believe the early sense of being intrinsically worthless was derived in large part from my father, and isolation from peers, but that this "terrible shameful secret" did more to traumatize me through self-hatred, and fear of discovery, than any other factor.
But what's even worse, I believe, is that as I was responsible for introducing him to the behavior, myself, I not only had no one else to blame, but felt as though I was the evil party, wholly corrupt and without a prayer of salvation. But this awful secret, acknowledged by neither of us, somehow tied us together, insuring its repetition. Without it, and the secret somehow binding us together, even though unacknowledged-I feared I would have no basis for the friendship, and be left ultimately alone in the world-as not only my father was abusive and unstable, as mentioned, but my mother was harsh, scornful, and manipulative-only showing gentleness on rare occasions, and then only when I'd performed to her standards.
Please tell me, all who care to respond-do I qualify as having suffered sexual abuse?
Thank you
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