I'm a survivor of CSA that has kept things bottled up and hidden for decades. I've tried to overcome it and lead a relatively normal life. On paper, my life is OK. But I've suffered depression and social anxiety all my life. I can't form intimate relationships due to trust issues. The Penn St scandal has reignited a powderkeg of emotions and prompted me to seek some support. As I'm typing this, I'm listening to Sandusky defend himself to Bob Costas against the allegations.

The main perpetrator was my mother, a sick abusive person who would sodomize me with her finger. There were dozens of incidents covering a span of years, up until I was at least 8 years old, possibly longer. She did it under the guise of helping with my irregular bowel movements. She also inserted adult suppositories and enemas. But she would constantly feed me stale starchy food, so if she was really that concerned about it, she wouldve adjusted my diet. She also could've taught me to do things myself. But my body was just a toy to her.

Although these were the incidents I remember, there may have been others. I don't have many memories prior to age 5, but my mother told me that I kicked her in the nose, breaking it, after she was supposedly tickling me. I remember installing a bolt lock on the bathroom door, to prevent my mother from walking in on me when I took a bath/shower. I also installed a chain lock on my bedroom door to prevent her from touching me when I was sleeping. I never wanted her touching me in any way. So yeah, that's where the trust issues stem from.

There was no one to confide in. My father left when I was five, died when I was ten, and I had no siblings. I had a male cousin, two years older, that I thought I was close to. But he forcibly molested me (mouth-on-chest) once when I was in my early teens. There was another incident, when he invited me along with his younger sister, to his family's backyard shed. His proposed we all show each other our privates. I told my mother about it, she told my uncle, and my cousin was punished somehow. A year or two after I moved out, my mother and I had an intense argument that somehow involved my cousin. She defended him, and I started crying and shouted that he could've went to jail for what he did to me.

She just laughed.

And that was when it hit me: this person who was responsible for bringing me into this world, didn't give a damn about me. I had tried in the past to move beyond the past and reconcile, but this was the point of no return. She was narcissistic, and took pleasure in my misery. It was the perfect metaphor for our relationship: my suffering and her laughing. The sexual abuse was only part of it, she got off on embarassing me, and seeing me miserable. In fact the main reason I didn't kill myself was because it would've been letting her win: I'd be dead, and she would receive sympathy.

The only person I told was my Therapist, but he was just an old private pracitioner that mainly concerned with getting the $40 copay. What a waste. I tried attending a few depression/anxiety support groups, but the other people's problems just seem so light compared to my trauma. I'll try to seek out groups focusing on CSA; I found one several years ago, but it was only for female victims. It just seemed to invalidate my ordeal. Male-on-female CSA is comprehensible; but to reverse has an extra stigma. People wouldn't want to believe that a mother could do these things to their child. But it happened; I was there.

Edited by ModTeam (11/15/11 05:29 AM)
Edit Reason: Added trigger warning.