Triggers will abound.

Please go away, if you're in a vulnerable spot.



'K, here we go.

I started keeping a journal, in which I decided I would try to record any memories I had about times/places in the past that might be related to the abuse. I filled in all the info that I knew about the house we lived in from when I was born to when I was 3. I tried to sketch any memory images that could come to mind. I was trying to dislodge those stubborn memories that are locked somewhere between these ears. I didn't have any luck with it.

My best friend just got back from her vacation last week. After feeling like a freakin' Superman a couple weeks ago (helping everyone here, doing great at work, feeling invincible), I had a dose of humility. A bunch of screwed up (not life shattering) things occurred that sent my spirits crashing into the dust. What they were don't matter, but suffice to say, that I'm left feeling very vulnerable.

So my best friend (still reeling from her girlfriend's death in April) is also feeling vulnerable, cuz she found an online grief support group. As we all know, stirring up these feelings, in an effort to heal, can be very hard. So we hit the movies for some laughs. Then returned to her place to talk.

She wanted to talk to me about "Issue #2": my confused sexuality ("issue #1" being the abuse). The night that I originally had the revelation of my abuse, I also announced "I'm gay." The whole night, I didn't feel in control of what I said; I merely decided whether or not to allow my mouth to say what was on my mind.

I honestly can't say why making that revelation was so important to me. I felt like I would physically vomit if I tried to hold those words in. I felt tremendous shame in saying it. But it ended up being a great release of tension, after I did say it. So this caught my friend's attention (she's a lesbian).

I'm still not sure what to make of it. I have admitted that oral sex has started to interest me, and that anal sex has steadily become less repulsive to me (though I still have trouble with the idea). My exposure to these areas of sex is from the crossdressing porn I seek out. Since I hadn't had any crushes on guys growing up, and (provided that I'm actually paying attention to anyone on the street in the first place) I only check out girls, I'm genuinely confused as to why "gay" is the word I needed to say. We didn't make much progress on that front.

For some reason, I started telling her about some of the recent discussions here, and I talked about the recent dream discussion, and what I wrote about recurring dreams. For example's sake, I remembered a couple of my recurring dreams. One, in particular, never made any sense to me.

I would have these dreams that took place in the back yard of the 2nd house we lived in. For some reason, various areas of the backyard would figure prominently in my dreams, but they would be incredibly distorted from reality. Our little yard with an avocado tree, would become the edge of an immense jungle. The one-car garage became cavernous and deep on the inside. And there were... things, shapes hiding in the walls, and hanging from the rafters of the very-high vaulted ceiling of the dream-garage.

That was when I realized that I never cared much for going into the garage, when we lived there. If I ever had business there, I would go in , but get out as quickly as I could. I tried to remember details about the garage. I mentally placed myself in there, and tried to take a look around. I found myself getting very tense, as I took that mental tour. And as I mentally stood in one spot of the garage, I got this really creepy feeling.

I knew, due to my mental tour of the inside, that I was along the right hand wall, just a few steps short of the work bench in back. But once I was "standing there" I found that my mental picture was all black. I could see my own body (arms, chest, etc below my eye level), but all the detail around me was blotted out. And I felt this shadow creep up behind me, growing in size, and looming over me.

As I sat in the my friend's living room, I started to lose my nerve. I told my friend I didn't want to go any further with this memory, but eventually, I decided that the not-knowing was worse than whatever I was about to uncover. That worked, a little. I was only able to go a little bit further, with this memory. But it was enough.

So this shadow begins looming over me, and enveloping me. I feel scared. And as I sit on that couch, I feel my butt clench. I feel like I'm trying to stop something from entering me, or maybe it was already in there, in this memory; I felt full. And I felt scared.

And though I could not see the face of the person doing this to me, this location limits the possible suspects. It only served to give more evidence to my original fear of who my perpetrator was. I am really having trouble dealing with this possibility. And the ease with which I discount this possibility only makes it more likely that I'm in denial. Combined with the other evidence I've talked about in other places on this forum, I have a really sinking feeling that I know who it is now.

My dad.

This is the same guy that I was so happy to see at all my swim meets in high school. We did several backpacking trips together with my scout troop. I wrote inside a Christmas card one year recently, about how proud I was to have him as my dad, that brought him the closest to tears that I've ever seen him.

I love him.

And he abused me.

I haven't been able to sit with this one much, because it was really late when this 2nd revelation came, and I was exhausted, physically and emotionally at this point. When I woke up, it was to the news of the terrorist tragedy. As if I didn't feel vulnerable enough. Then I had to go to work.

I don't know how soon I can make an appointment with my therapist, because it appears that my schedule change at work is being postponed another week. My current schedule conflicts with my therapist's.

It's late, now. I'm very tired.

And I still feel vulnerable, and it seems like my world is falling apart. As usual, brain goes into "hibernate" mode.

We're in this together.

We're in this together. - Nine Inch Nails