…Continuing to articulate my boyhood betrayal.
Although I’ve been dealing with this nearly my entire life, I’ve only just begun.
26 years ago, starting at age 8, I was sexually abused by someone close to me for a number of years. By my late teens I downplayed my abuse as a way to cope. It was reassuring to later learn that many survivors of childhood abuse do this. Sometimes we change our recollection into something less toxic, in an attempt to reassure ourselves that we still have control of our lives. This is a feeble attempt at a making a negative situation somewhat manageable, which only delays the possibility for early healing, and in my case set me up for further victimization.
In my twenties, I found solace and comfort in distractions, people, work, and travel. And of course, I continued to ignore and mislabel what happened to me. But in my thirties, it became apparent that I needed to start dealing with the realities of my boyhood abuse in order to stop self-destructive behaviors and patterns.
I discovered the hard way that denying, ignoring, or soothing my pain through compulsions and addictions just didn’t work….it was time to face the pain. I started writing. 65,000 words later and I nearly have a book. I went into therapy. Told family and friends. And thus, began the road to my recovery.
Recovery calls on you to forgive yourself for your failures, accept your progress, and find ways to voice what’s been silenced. Being able to articulate your experience, whether by speaking about it with friends and family, writing about it, or even through art is a powerful tool.
Can you say “video”?
And while it may be embarrassing for others, or even difficult for them to understand, many sexually betrayed boys who become men find power in telling our stories. In doing so we take dissociated pieces of our history and give them their proper places and names. I also found it empowering to finally confront my 1st abuser. To make him accountable for the impact he had on my life, to finally stand up for that little 8 year old self and demand an apology for not only him, but the man he would eventually become.
Thankfully, after some time my abuser did just that. He acknowledged. He apologized…I’m still working on the forgiveness part. The hope was that we both would find some closure… in the end unfortunately that didn’t happen. These past few months since the disclosure to family and friends, the confrontation between my 1st abuser and myself, not to mention his typical absence from my life during this emotional and gutwrenching time has shown me sadly that he just doesn’t care. Maybe he never did. All these years I had to tell myself that he must have really loved me to do those things to me, and now I can’t even get a phone call. Abandoned twice by him. In my childhood when he was done and now all these years later during my healing process.
“Healing process.” What a load of garbage. I’ll continue to deal…alone. Sorry for the negativity, but how the hell do you heal from being used and abandoned? Hm? Not once but twice. Throw in my second abuser and other abusive type personlities that I just can’t seem to shake and we may as well use both hands to count on. Ugh…whatever.
In the meantime…let’s get the hell out of here. Want to? C’mon, let’s go travel down that open highway – The MOTO Road. Whadda ya say? You know, where bedroom walls, hypocritical Christians, and people who are closest to you can’t hurt you? It’ll be fun.