Thanks guys, I'm so glad my story could give ppl a little hope / encouragement. It still feels unreal.
I feel almost bad doing this but I have to get this out. This is how my wife just about destroyed all of this and much worse. Ended up ok I guess. You all will have had longer to enjoy my story "clean" than I did.
My wife had supported me telling my folks but in the lead-up had slso called the plan (a cover story and the need for a babysitter) "weird" and "bizarre". It was also this huge thing everyone else had to "accommodate" (funny, whenever anyone else needs sonething the Earth just magically turns into position for them to get it, but only I need to be accommodated). She had also tried to persuade me to push this meeting back - by weeks, to like 12/28 - but I refused, I had to re-normalize my relations with my parents and the waiting was killing me as-is. Just finding an empty day, no friend or family or kid parties or whatever, was near impossible, and it MUST MUST MUST MUST be done in 2012, the worst year of my life, so I could start a better year with maximum hope.
On the drive over to my parents that Saturday morning she was nonstop quizzing me and telling me what to do, i had to remind her i'd been practicing with an expert for weeks snd knew what to do, and to please (and I did say "please") stop saying I might be doing it "wrong." Later on the drive home she was WAY over the top in quizzing me on specific forensic details. "Did he JUST feel all the way up and inside your asscrack or did his fingers actually go up your ass? Did he watch you to make sure you didnt spit? Did he talk to you while you cried?" It was unprecedented but just from reflex I actually answerd her. I hate hate hate hate tslking about it with her AT ALL, let alone the show-us-on-the-doll stuff, but I answered. Eventually she caught herself, said "I'm sorry for intertogating you."
That night, Saturday night, was still basking and beaming and hugging myself, so proud. We were just chilling out each doing our own thing and suddenly out of the pure quiet my wife announces "why did you just do that weird thing right now?" I'd been sitting still quietly and had no idea so asked her to explain and she wouldn't detail, I was just "bring weird."
She asked if I was going to post the story here. She HATES this site and I'm sorry but she is creeped out by all of you and that I talk to you. Started quizzing me - do I PM people? Do I ever call any of you? I know I must never have "someone like that" over as s guest in our house, right, right? In her mind and words I am not like you, what I got was so minor, it's like you get 2 weeks of PT after twisting your ankle and then it's all gone. In early November while we were refugees from Hurricane Sandy and sleeping on floors she found my pills, demanded an explanation... I've told the story here, it's in Traveler's thread "I didn't ask for this." I figured I owed her the truth but was so in shock I could not speak, I let her read my intro post here, then just nodded yes or no to her questions. I'd seriously asked her to give me this place "privately" for therapeutic purposes and she said she would. Then she didn't, she remembered my screen name and searched all my posts and found my "HEARTBROKEN" thread all about being bi or straight-with-SSA. That led to a very ticklish conversation as you can imagine, luckily I also wrote I'd never actually hooked up with a guy. She understood the feelings, she accepted it, she was or seemed okay. And after that she really seriously swore she would never look again.
[Funny story: the night after we'd had that talk, that was late Nov, she was trying on some real tight leather pants and looked really hot, and I said I loved seeing her in those. She said "But are you looking for a dick in them?" Shocked yes, but I was already feeling playful enough to look past it, so I got right up to her real quick and pulled the top of her leather pants down and shoved my hard-on in right down between her asscheeks and then pulled her pants back up around her ass and my dick as best I could. "Yeah, I like seeing a dick in there like that!" And we both laughed and I more or less shoved her onto the bed and just promptly good and proper fucked her senseless right then and there, it was kinda awesome actually
BACK TO SATURDAY NIGHT:
So, more guilting me for posting here. That I was hiding things from her. That I had brought secrets and lies into our marriage and she couldn't trust me, that I hadn't told her - the same shit from Traveler's thread. I kept explaining that it's therapeutic and it's not right for all of that to go there. Which led to demanding to know more of what I say with my T as well (have fought over that before), and how would I feel if she kept any secrets from me? I pointed out she does, she has a weight management group that I never ask about, and she said she'd tell me any of that, and I say I never ask because it's her privacy.
She said she feels so alone in this and wanted to be able to talk to a girlfriend about it. I *FORBADE HER* telling any friends - but like 3 weeks earlier upon similar complaint I allowed her to tell her parents, yes that's right, her parents knew before mine, and I worried every day they'd give it away before I had the chance to tell my story after 26 years. I reminded her she had her parents to talk to and she said it wasn't enough. She said I had s whole support structure that she didn't. By this point I was really mad but doing my best to stay calm even as she was pissing all over my Truth and Freedom Party but I managed to control my voice when I said I'd gladly give up my entire support structure if it could mean the whole thing would never have happened, and that, by the way, it's not the happiest time of my life crying in a therapists office or comparing rape stories with other guys who also try to keep their shit together for their families. But that she should be happy I was getting help when I needed it.
She was mad I hadn't told her. She was mad I didn't have an elaborate truth-telling plan for her but did for my parents. I reminded her that when she'd found out it was like 3 weeks after I had really accepted it was really real and had my first flashbacks and I could barely handle it myself, that the day I utterly broke and had my emergency and called the emergency number on my healthcare card and was in a psychiatrists office that day (Oct 24), that when I first told the psychiatrist and first said it out loud to any person I FAINTED DEAD AWAY ON THE FLOOR [note: this is not how I depicted the story in my first posts here, I am sorry. When I started here I thought there was some rule you had to be in therapy already or you'd be banned. Some might remember I initially signed my posts under a different name. I'm sure you guys understand being fucked up and terrified and not even the Internet being anonymous enough at first]
ANYWAY. I had already gone over those issues with her in a SIX PAGE EMAIL, and she said not to worry about it, it was okay, she wouldn't complain anymore. I asked her if now her anger made that a lie and a secret on her part. She dodged and kept hitting me - secrets, lies, trust, secrets, lies, trust, and I had been steadily crying more and more for several minutes but still talking, and I was apologizing, I was sorry I'd hurt her, sorry for secrets, I was SORRY FOR SECRETS (!!!!!!), and sorry I'd hurt her, and -
And after like 6 rounds of that I turned into something and had something happen and I don't even know what it was, it went from "I'm sorry I hurt you" and suddenly I was SHRIEKING and screaming it out that I WAS THE ONE WHO WAS HURT, I WAS THE ONE WHO WAS HURT, HE HURT ME, HE RAPED ME, I DID WHAT HE ASKED AND HE STILL HURT ME, over and over shrieking it, minutes, crying impossibly hard, losing everything, I guess it was a hysteria fit or something, and then she was holding me and kissing me, she was sorry, she "didn't mean to add salt to the wound" and hoped it hadn't spoiled the day, and that we shouldn't "fight."
I calmed down, we talked about nothing, we held each other, we even laughed. She pumped her breastmilk and I went to clean the bottles. Downstairs I saw myself in the mirror, a clammy corpse with no color except around the eyes. I felt like a beaten wife having to wash the dishes after. The day was RUINED, I'd lost everything I'd worked for and all of the good feelings, could barely even remember what had happened past the sound of my own screams a minute earlier - and that had been the biggest "concrete" goal of my entire therapy so far!!!
I felt like she had been unfaithful to me. "Unfaithful" doesn't have to be sex, it means abandoning, betraying, hurting the weak spots.
And the thought kept going through my head:
Suicide... or, murder-suicide???
I stormed upstairs and said I was really angry and hurt, that all my prep had been for nothing, that 3 weeks practice and worry and nervousness was all ruined, and what the hell was wrong with her?!?!? She said she was sorry, that "the conversation got away from her." I told her I was hurt real bad, she said she was sorry. I told her I had to have whatever therapeutic resources I needed and that was final, and she said okay, and that no matter what I still ought to see Saturday as a victory. I really debated sleeping on the couch just to drive home how fucked up that had been but figured things had escalated bad enough, no need to make it even worse.
Turned on SNL just in time for the choir singing "Sleep In Heavenly Peace" for all the murdered children, that destroyed whatever was left of me. I took my sleeping pill gratefully, for the first time.
Sunday morning, the very first thing I said to her was how angry I was at her and that she'd really hurt me the night before. She said she had a right to feel how she feels and -
And nothing, I cut her off: "YOU SHOULD HAVE WAITED!" I was a teacher for 9 years, a tour guide, an event emcee and occasional voice actor, I can activate The Voice Of God when I really need to and I fucking well did, the room echoed, she meekly agreed she should have waited and was sorry but I should still see Saturday as a great victory.
We spent the morning at some ridiculous party of her giant family, like birthday 24 for cousin 19 or vice-versa. I hated everybody and everything and didn't day 3 syllables. I couldn't believe the hell I was in and all I'd lost.
I locked myself in the bathroom, needed help. But who to call? Do I cry to my parents? I actually called the main MS number - no, there are no crisis services here (btw, why is the MS voicemail message a woman? Weird, right?). I debated asking someone I'd PMed if I could call, but how long would that take? I called my T, on a Sunday she wasn't there, left her a desperate message, aimed at nothing I guess.
Leaving, my wife said people had commented on my bad mood and "it isn't still because of last night is it?" And I say "What if it is?" She asks me to explain.
My head spun - I thought I'd made it clear enough for a month! But ok, fine, as dad said, lance the wound and drain the pus. So I said:
"This was my ONLY CHANCE of being in control of my story and getting any kind of rewarding response from it. I didn't have the chance to have a plan put together to tell you, you found out the wrong way. I don't want to tell my sister or my in -person friends. I can't do anything to the perp, in the eyes of the law he became innocent when I turned 23. This was the one and only thing left I could have done to control and own my story before another person who knew me that well - PLUS the fact that I'd at least been *thinking* of telling my parents for 26 years and I only had one chance at it and now it was ruined. That I was cheated. I was cheated. This was the only little thing I could ever get but it was also my most solid and achievable therapeutic goal for myself and I'd been cheated the chance of any benefit from it."
And she said I was right. She apologized abjectly. She was so sorry, she knew she had been "mean and nasty" to me and hadn't meant any of it, that she lost control of her emotions and the conversation, that she was so sorry, and also that she'd been so proud of me Saturday, prouder than ever, and I'd always be the same man to her and I should please remember the victory I'd had because it had still happened.
She apparently hadn't gotten the full symbolism and really thought it was more a matter of getting a secret out than of getting anything good in. I really thought I had made that clear, but in retrospect I probably hadn't used that exact phrasing or made it clear.
I dealt with it, I was okay. She said what I needed to hear, and I remembered all the good gains from Saturday. She has a longstanding "thing" about talking "nasty" - she is aware of it and feels bad about it, she knows she is too much like her nasty-mouthed girlfriends and months ago when I really confronted her over it she made a tremendous improvement for my / our sake and has actually stuck with it. But what a fucking time to relapse!
Anyway. That was Sunday. Not much else more intense or volatile could possibly happen pertaining my story than already did this Monday, Tuesday, Saturday, and Sunday, and if anything else does happen, fuck it, I'll get in the car and drive to the perp's house and see just how much of the joyous emotional rollercoaster I can share with a 92-year-old man, to thank him right and good for all the excitement.