PTSDGuy
Not Active
It's been 50 years since the abuse first happened, so I guess it's time to finally deal with everything that happened to me as a kid... and how it's been affecting my whole life.
When I was 8, my father raped me over and over. I've always sort of known, but wasn't ready to admit it. I remember hating my father my whole life, but now it makes total sense. It's only recently that I remembered that he called me a fa*got while he did it. I could go into a lot more detail, but that's the basic story... along with using a belt and chains to beat me.
I went to therapy about 20 years ago, and my therapist decided we should try hypnosis. As soon as I was under, I was right back there with him raping me... I totally freaked out, and shut down... For 20 years...
I always remembered hiding to try to get away from him. In closets, under the stairs where we used to keep coats... I still remember the terror of trying to get away from him... I remember running with him and my brother chasing me up stairs, down stairs, all over the house screaming - thinking he would kill me eventually. It wasn't much of a contest - an 8 year old boy versus a 6 foot 3 cop... who had a gun hidden in the house.
I used to know I'd be dead by 30... I figured he'd kill me... that I was just a fa*got who "deserved" to get raped. It's only after a lot of therapy that I started to accept that he was a closet case who hated that he might be Gay, and saw it in me.
As a kid, I was the designated patient in the family - anything that went wrong was my fault. The whole family kept that up until my parents died...
My mother used to phone me every week to "talk".... Her idea of talking was to call me an idiot, and stupid... When I came out to her at about 16, her reaction was, "Couldn't you have been a drug addict?". Yep, to my mother, being Gay was lower than drug addicts. I told her there was no bargaining, she got Gay... From the day I told her, I was called names... for the next 15 years... until I told her if she couldn't respect me, then she shouldn't call back until she could. I never heard from her again.
I also wrote a letter to my father, telling him how horrible he made my childhood. I told him how a real father wouldn't have terrorized his son. I wasn't ready to admit anything else at the time. I never heard from him again either.
My brother, who originally told me he and his wife would support me when I came out, became born again Christians, and instead of supporting me, started giving me bibles and telling me I "could change".... and when my mother saw me throwing away the bibles had the nerve to tell me I "couldn't" throw out the bibles... The same woman who threw away copies of "Loving Someone Gay" that I gave her.
My sister-in-law joined in on the "fun" of going after me for everything.... So instead of three people attacking me, I had four. The strangest thing was that he asked me to be his best man when I was 18. When I look at the picture of all of us at the wedding, we look like we're at a funeral.
When my father died, I only found out from a cousin calling me. At the funeral, my mother had put an old picture of me on the casket and tried telling everyone that I "couldn't come" because I lived in California... She was big on putting on a good face... Except she didn't expect me to call the funeral home! I called, they gave her the phone and I told her what I thought of her and her husband, and what disgusting pigs they were to me. I found out later from cousins who were there that they could hear what I told her, and that she turned white, and then said loudly "thanks for calling" to try to convince everyone it was a "nice" phone call.
Flash forward a few years, and a cousin called me to tell me my mother had died. When I looked at the obituary my brother had put in the newspaper, he included his wife and himself, but only put my name, not my husband of 25 years... and that people should make donations to their born again church - which had nothing to do with her... So, I ended up putting a new obituary myself that included my husband, and decided to call my brother at the funeral and told him what disgusting pigs he and his wife were. When he started arguing back, I told him I didn't give a f*ck what he thought, and hung up.
I actually ended up really close to my cousins after my parents died. It was only then that I started to hear things about my father from them.... Like how they all thought he was a total creep who made them feel uneasy... I found out when we were visiting, and they would go to their rooms to change, he would suddenly open their bedroom doors to catch them naked... That was when I started to finally accept what happened.... and it all started coming back to me.
I've got an amazing therapist, and last week started EMDR with another therapist. It's been flashback after flashback for the last while but there's no way I'm giving up. I'm going to get my life back....
When I was 8, my father raped me over and over. I've always sort of known, but wasn't ready to admit it. I remember hating my father my whole life, but now it makes total sense. It's only recently that I remembered that he called me a fa*got while he did it. I could go into a lot more detail, but that's the basic story... along with using a belt and chains to beat me.
I went to therapy about 20 years ago, and my therapist decided we should try hypnosis. As soon as I was under, I was right back there with him raping me... I totally freaked out, and shut down... For 20 years...
I always remembered hiding to try to get away from him. In closets, under the stairs where we used to keep coats... I still remember the terror of trying to get away from him... I remember running with him and my brother chasing me up stairs, down stairs, all over the house screaming - thinking he would kill me eventually. It wasn't much of a contest - an 8 year old boy versus a 6 foot 3 cop... who had a gun hidden in the house.
I used to know I'd be dead by 30... I figured he'd kill me... that I was just a fa*got who "deserved" to get raped. It's only after a lot of therapy that I started to accept that he was a closet case who hated that he might be Gay, and saw it in me.
As a kid, I was the designated patient in the family - anything that went wrong was my fault. The whole family kept that up until my parents died...
My mother used to phone me every week to "talk".... Her idea of talking was to call me an idiot, and stupid... When I came out to her at about 16, her reaction was, "Couldn't you have been a drug addict?". Yep, to my mother, being Gay was lower than drug addicts. I told her there was no bargaining, she got Gay... From the day I told her, I was called names... for the next 15 years... until I told her if she couldn't respect me, then she shouldn't call back until she could. I never heard from her again.
I also wrote a letter to my father, telling him how horrible he made my childhood. I told him how a real father wouldn't have terrorized his son. I wasn't ready to admit anything else at the time. I never heard from him again either.
My brother, who originally told me he and his wife would support me when I came out, became born again Christians, and instead of supporting me, started giving me bibles and telling me I "could change".... and when my mother saw me throwing away the bibles had the nerve to tell me I "couldn't" throw out the bibles... The same woman who threw away copies of "Loving Someone Gay" that I gave her.
My sister-in-law joined in on the "fun" of going after me for everything.... So instead of three people attacking me, I had four. The strangest thing was that he asked me to be his best man when I was 18. When I look at the picture of all of us at the wedding, we look like we're at a funeral.
When my father died, I only found out from a cousin calling me. At the funeral, my mother had put an old picture of me on the casket and tried telling everyone that I "couldn't come" because I lived in California... She was big on putting on a good face... Except she didn't expect me to call the funeral home! I called, they gave her the phone and I told her what I thought of her and her husband, and what disgusting pigs they were to me. I found out later from cousins who were there that they could hear what I told her, and that she turned white, and then said loudly "thanks for calling" to try to convince everyone it was a "nice" phone call.
Flash forward a few years, and a cousin called me to tell me my mother had died. When I looked at the obituary my brother had put in the newspaper, he included his wife and himself, but only put my name, not my husband of 25 years... and that people should make donations to their born again church - which had nothing to do with her... So, I ended up putting a new obituary myself that included my husband, and decided to call my brother at the funeral and told him what disgusting pigs he and his wife were. When he started arguing back, I told him I didn't give a f*ck what he thought, and hung up.
I actually ended up really close to my cousins after my parents died. It was only then that I started to hear things about my father from them.... Like how they all thought he was a total creep who made them feel uneasy... I found out when we were visiting, and they would go to their rooms to change, he would suddenly open their bedroom doors to catch them naked... That was when I started to finally accept what happened.... and it all started coming back to me.
I've got an amazing therapist, and last week started EMDR with another therapist. It's been flashback after flashback for the last while but there's no way I'm giving up. I'm going to get my life back....