I was born September 18, 1964, a year after my brother. When I was two years old, our mother abandoned us with our father in Maine and moved to Connecticut with her "playmate". After divorce and remarrying, she decided to seek custody of us (my brother and me) when we were entering school-age. Eventually winning custody, we were taken to CT to live with her and her new husband. I remember riding in the car for hours, he was wearing a brightly colored Hawaiian type shirt.
He worked the late shift at Pratt and Whitney Aircraft, so he was home during the day. I was four years old at the time and my brother was just sent away to kindergarten class. Our step-father was in his bedroom trying to sleep and he called me into the room to nap with him. He got my pajamas off and proceeded to suckle my penis. i doont know how long i was in the room but when it was over, i walked out ionto the kitchen. MY mother was doing dishes at the sink and she asked if i had a good snooze. I told her the he sucked my pee peee. She gasped out in dismay, "Whatt?"
I dont know what happened of the incident between them (judging from the many years that followed, i would guess nothing much at all). It was all hushhed and swept under the rug. Later years, they had children of their own, a girl and a boy. He would drink heavily, half a bottle of Barton's Reserve bourbon chased down with beer every single night, bar none.
He was always beligerent in everything he did. Theres a difference between disciplining a child and being too drunk to get up to beat them, so you reach for the nearest object to throw at them... such as the empty whiskey glass that he just gulped down or an ashtray with two burning cigaerettes (because he forgot that he already had one lit)... my brother had a pair of scissors thrown at him once... just an everyday occurance in the household of our youth.
Our mother would go out on satudrday nights to play Bingo, leaving us with him. When all my other siblings were occupied for the night, doing their own thing and tending their own interests, our step father would seclude me off somewhere and suckle me. He threattednd many time to knock my teeth out if i did not stop squirmimng and resisting.. THreatening with obscenities what he would do if i told anyonee,. MY mother would reteurn from her bingo night and find me sitting in the dark of my room alone. she asked a few time if he was "doing it" to me again/. i denied it.
I had soo many opportunities to tell someone, anyone... my teachers, principal, anyone, but it was the only life i knew, the only family i had. What would happen to me? What would happen to my brothers and sister? THe rape continued through out my entire chilkldhood until i was 14.
Normally, I like to be very, very, VERY conscious of what I'm doing. But one day, I was browsing in a book shop and saw a book entitled "Every Boys Judo". Like an unfeeling robot, i just grabbed it, paid for it, and walked out the door. No thought was even made. Its like somebody else was buying it.
I smuggled it home and read through learning the basic principals of it. It is an entirely defensive art... there are no attacks or offensive moves in it. It taught to use your opponents own weight and force against them. It taught to relax and think on moves using the physics of motion and balance to your advantage. Thats all I learned from it. I did not learn all the stylized moves or any fancy gymnastics... just the basic principles behind it all. Nothing physical... just the mere philosphy of it.
One day, he came from behind me and wrapped his arm around my neck. My immediate thought was not what I even expected. I thought logically that he would expect me to lunge forward and resist, in return he would pull back with his weight (and a weighty man he was). Instead, I relaxed and he went tumbling backward. He hit his back on the corner of a wooden hutch nearby. He howled in pain and I ran like a rabbit!
Later that day, when everyone was home from school and work and friends houses, not a word was uttered from him. He could not even look me in the eye. He never touched me again after that, but the years of fear and rape and molestation was still racing through every thought of my being. Always there. In my dreams, in my thoughts, in every aspect of my relating to people.
He died in February of this year. When my uncle (his brother) phoned me at work to inform me of his death, I nearly clapped with glee. Finally, he is dead and shall not touch another life ever again. I had to contain it as to not appear as a ghoul. I refused to go to the funeral.
I have not seen a doctor in ages. My boss coaxed me to see one for enrollment in the new insurance policy at work. Since then, they have been trying to regulate a dosage for my thyroid (it seems its not putting out what its supposed to). I have been having more vivid nightmares since taking the drug, but my PA says its not the synthetic hormone doing it. After relating the nature of my nightmares, she has suggested PTSD could be the cause.
Its one thing to know that you're dreaming and see it for what it is. But when they are as vivid as these and all based on real events, I cannot recognize them as dreams but thinking they are real. Dreams are usually filled with symbolism. There is nothing symbolic about these dreams!
I have no time to think it through in these dreams. Urgency is now!! I have to live through them to end them... only to wake up and realize they were just dreams. Waking up breathing like a locomotive and heart pounding out of my chest and then shaking throughout the day.. Everything is like some wild jungle even though I know on an intellectual level that it was just a dream the night before. Every noise is loud and every light source is a spotlight on me.
Edited by ModTeam (10/30/13 01:12 AM)
Edit Reason: Added trigger warning