I sat on the stairs, at 7 years old, with my cassette player, alone, all by myself, made sure no one else was around, singing along to a Righteous Brothers tape- singing "Unchained Melody" to.... my own father. To me it was a love song about how much I loved him. I'd sing it and cry. I had romantic feelings for my own father who...... may have never molested me at all. I fell in love with a bunch of different girls, chased them around on the playground in kindergarten and..... I was also in love with my own father. Yet I didn't want out of this fucked up dynamic. I had a Peter Pan Complex and never wanted to grow up. Almost everyone else on here talks about how they couldn't wait to grow up and leave the house. I was in perpetual mourning for my childhood.... while still a child. Constantly depressed at how it was slipping away. What kind of a fucking freakshow wannabe incest survivor am I?
This is also (now, thinking about it) a confusing time period in my life because, although I suspect my dad of being the one I'm seeing in flashbacks, I also lived around my uncle Jimmy and cousin, Jessica (same age as me) during this period (age 6-9). Jimmy gets out of prison in August. He has served 15 years for 11 counts of child sexual abuse, and 1 count of sodomy. At least some (if not all) of those were perpetrated on my cousin, Jessica. I've been trying, but can't, to talk to Jessica and ask her about it all. What is the 1 count of sodomy, for instance?
Anyway, I bring him up to say he and my dad got along swimmingly then, and he is from my dad's side of the family- that side has a LOT of this crap in it is my point. But there's the off-chance it really WAS Jimmy. My dad currently (not being in on my suspicions of him, obviously) has bounced from telling me maybe Jimmy did it, to telling me maybe my uncle Gene (my dad's older brother) did it. Reason being, my dad called me into his room a few weeks ago to show me a sex ad on craigslist with my uncle Gene's picture, titled "A Bear Looking for His Cub", looking for barely legal males to be f-buddies with him. My dad said "This might lend some credence to you believing you were sexually abused by a man". I used a fake account to ask Gene if he would be willing to pretend I was his 5 year old nephew and roleplay with me, to which he responded in graphic detail:
"I would ask you would you like to have a rub down on your stomach & ask you to take off your shirt & then lay on the bed.then ask you to roll over to back then rub down your front & undo your pants &taking your shoes ,socks off, then your pants then your underwear."
He also said "I have a LOT of experience with this". BUUUUUUT.... how did my dad find this ad? Why did he forbid me to write to him clandestinely (he acted miffed when he found out I'd written to him). I mean, really, HOW DID HE HAPPEN UPON THIS AD?!?! I believe my dad posted it himself. But I digress.
My dad would pick me up after school in 1st grade. I don't remember him ever picking up my older brother with me (he was in 2nd grade). And he'd play that same Righteous Brothers tape in the car. He'd stop at the convenience store every day after I got out of school, and let me get a Ninja Turtles 2: Secret of the Ooze pie (a green one of those hostess fruit pies, except it was filled with cream). Where was my brother? Why was I picked up alone? Then there's a huge gap in my memory and suddenly I'm coming home with him from 2nd grade (a different school- which I can't remember- only just started to remember what the school looked like) bumping into my friend, Marty, from 1st grade, surprised to see him, cuz I hadn't seen him in a long time. Why is there a gap there? And my brother isn't with me. Why would he pick up only me, and not my older brother? It makes no sense.
It's not like he deprived me of love, either, that I would be crying and singing love songs about wishing... something. I don't know what. That he would hold me? I guess? I remember he took me on a 3 hour trip up from Central Oregon, to Portland, when I was 8. He took me, alone, with him, called me his little buddy (he did this a lot) and we went and saw the movie "Rock-A-Doodle" at the Lloyd Center mall in Portland. He wasn't neglectful of me at all. I wasn't deprived of love. Yet I was in love with him. And later on, when I was at my grandma's house in Phoenix, she rented Rock-A-Doodle, and I was overcome with feelings of sexual compulsion. I acted out on these by sneaking off into a bedroom and putting on diapers she'd kept from when we were little. That's the first time (to my RECOLLECTION) I remember getting an erection. From a GODDAMNED DIAPER!!
What the hell is really wrong with me?!?! No, I didn't look forward to getting older. I wanted to get younger. And then at the age of 10, I developed some kind of twisted desire to be anally raped. I WANTED it. I could feel it inside me. I KNEW what it felt like somehow. It turned me on. That scared me. It scared me so much, and I felt so guilty about it, that I wouldn't let my father be behind me. I JUST KNEW, deep down, all the men around me, my dad, men at church, deep down that they were turned on thinking about raping me, and I had to do everything in my power to keep from putting that thought in their head. I knew if I let them stand behind me, or get alone with me, that I would tempt them to do it.
Really, what kind of twisted, fucked up freak was I?! I felt like a girl. I knew they could see it in my eyes that I felt like a girl, and that I was suppressing arousing thoughts of receiving anal sex from them. WTF?! In my mind, I knew the pleasure from anal sex- both for me, the receiver, and them, the giver- was so completely overwhelming that it was just a no-brainer that these men would do it to me at the drop of a hat, given the right circumstances. And it was up to me to be a good little Christian boy (I officially converted at that age) to prevent those circumstances from happening. To prevent them from even having the thought cross their mind of how good it would feel to have anal sex with me. I'm being brutally honest here and this hurts to admit. What in the fucking hell was the matter with me?! It's much scarier to think I WASN'T incested, and was thinking shit like that. THEN what does that make me? Again, some kind of bizarre wannabe incest victim. Huh? Who had borderline nervous breakdowns at night from the fear of growing up. The fear of my dad dying (much of my OCD rituals were done to prevent this).
My mom found me in bed one day, around the age of 13, crying, unable to move or explain to her why I was so goddamned depressed and.... well just depressed, I guess. I was having a nervous breakdown. To this day I still have no idea what the hell I was crying about and why I couldn't stop. You'd have a nervous breakdown, too, if you carried around all the secrets I did of horrible sexual compulsions and uncontrollable OCD to prevent everyone from dying, but never being able to explain to them they owed you their life. Like a secret agent or something. Defusing invisible bombs everywhere to keep them from dying.
Edited by Life's A Dream (05/19/13 08:30 AM)