God the Father

I've become increasingly aware that my relationship with God is, quite frankly, messed up. I turned to God after a spiritual wandering that left me empty, confused, and lonely. What I see myself doing is creating a relationship with Him that causes the same feelings. While driving this morning, I found that my template for my heavenly Father is no different than that which I have used with my earthly father: I love him/Him and desperately want that love back. But I try to please him/Him by "following rules" and never can do it right. I finally pop and rage against my father/Father. For my earthly dad it was a full tilt curse-out that occurred my senior year in high school...for my heavenly Father it comes in tirades that I respectfully keep clear of expletives. The sentiment is same coming out...why didn't you intervene? Why don't you care? Where were and are you? So you care about others, but not me? After all I tried to do for you? Seriously?

So, my religion is modeled after a 13-year old...lovely. I'm more scared of God's repercussions than happy for blessings...unless it's someone else, then I can preach the "correct" argument. I get stuck in the "rules" (ie dogmatic practices) of church rather than see myself as able to come to Him. I wonder if the common symbolism of "going to your Father" isn't a hang-up, since my model for that has been altered.

So, I definitely love the Lord, but I'm struggling with Him. I know He's there, but am not getting the response from Him I'm seeking. I know cognitively that this is a problem with me that has to be overcome...

blue

Quite often, I avoid connecting directly with my feelings...trace that back to the standard model "abuse victim". I've been feeling them today, though. It's an unbelievably heavy sadness when I really think about it all: not just the abuse time, but the mistakes I've made afterward ("because of"), the people I've hurt and still hurt. What I've become and my stubbornness to bust out of that mold. I've spent most of this morning trying outrun the blues, but I finally just sat down and let them catch me...it's that dull heartachey sadness...

I certainly don't want to sit here in and become a victim of it, at all. I'm lucky to have an impromptu therapy appointment today, so that something to fight all of this is on the schedule, disallowing me from wallowing in the sadness.

my problem: my wife

The effects of abuse on my marriage are profound: sex life is completely in the toilet, there's a constant need healing, the abuse symptoms manifest in weird ways, my victim-ness comes out all too often. Sex is particularly weird - lately our sex life has just been horrible...all of which has been my fault. In the past, I would want to run for the hills, or, as the Courage to Heal Workbook pointed out all too well, I would sabotage everything. The problem is, I really love my wife. She is my soulmate and I can't stand that everything is so hard for her in our marriage. Working through all of this with her is hard...and I know it's crazy hard for her. I will continue working each and everyday...in large part because my wife won't and hasn't given up and also because she truly has caputured my heart and soul. My love for her is greater than my fears...I have to leverage that everyday. I hate that the effects are as they are...I feel especially sorry for my wife. She is amazing to stay with me, because she did nothing to deserve all of this. She *has* to be an angel, for I don't think a mere mortal could stand it. She is beautiful, sexy, funny, intelligent and all around amazing...I see her face when I feel weak and know that I cannot quit. For my old habits, my problem is my wife.

falling down...and getting back up

My wife and I got into a horrible discussion last night (this morning) about 2am...basically, my wife still feels lonely, is upset that I don't talk about anything meaningful, and is unsure if I'm truly changing, or just treading water. Her words were that she could be with an abuse survivor, but couldn't be with an abuse survivor that wasn't doing anything for themselves.

I felt the knee-jerk reactions (based on coping mechanisms) crop up quickly:

1. Get mad and want to yell and stomp out of the room (running away)
2. Get mad, throw the whole relationship on the table and muddy the waters (creating chaos)
3. Get sad and blame my situation (playing the victim)

I would love to say that not one of these things leaked out, but that's completely untrue. But, ultimately, I prayed to God. I let Him know that He had a problem and that I needed Him to work through me to fix it. I listened to the words my wife said. I feel horrible that she's been so lonely and it's true that my conversations have not been deep and intimate. I'm going to fix this immediately: I'm going to start tonight off by really talking about my wife and see how she's really doing inside...what she's thinking. I'm going to talk about the thoughts I jot down in this blog, instead of using it as a conduit (or a shield, perhaps?). My wife also talked about me not taking care of myself as well as I should. I'm heading to bed by 11, sleeping by 11:30, every night this week. I'm lucky that my normal late Thursday is altered this week, so I can really do this. I've got to adopt a "in bed by 11, come Hell or high water" attitude. I'm going to kiss my wife...really kiss her...more than ever. I'm going to try to connect with her and feel her soul next to mine.

Basically, I'm tearing down walls I have up to get to her heart. "Screw it" is kinda what I'm saying to those habits of protection. Jump off the high dive, take the turn...just do it. I love my wife so much...she is my support and my soulmate. She deserves to feel loved too...and that's just what I'm going to do.

And the 1,2,3 above doesn't get me there...being honest, being open, and being loving is the only way.

(To my wife: I love you...I'm so sorry I've been closed down...I will fix this NOW)

robbery

One of the biggest "robberies" of abuse, in my experience, has been of self-esteem/worth/etc. As I review some of the coping mechanisms that I have used in my life, I find most of them were born out of a need to protect the "self" in one way or another. My age at the the initiation of the abuse (12) was certainly prime for the mangling of self. That age is one of searching, attempting to discover, etc, and when abuse hit the mix I'm sure it was easy to scramble. As I work through my healing, the recurring theme is that I have to believe in me, first and foremost.

she's the brain

In my marriage, my wife is truly the brains of the operation. Recently, I've felt grouchy, kinda angry, and grumpy...which my wife noticed. I finally tried to explain last night how I felt, but that I didn't know why I felt that way. She knew right away. When I was going through "the courage to heal workbook", the easy parts were empowering. Moving through the exercises, following through, good stuff. As I mentioned a few posts ago, I started to hit the heavy stuff...and I stopped being so aggressive with the workbook (the second part was what my wife noticed). My wife told me that as soon as I hit the hard stuff, I stopped being aggressive. I truly didn't notice.

So, this morning, I dug back into the workbook...and it is crazy hard to go through. But, I can't and won't quit.

poison

Some of the thoughts that abuse put in me are truly poisonous. I had an uprising of poison thinking yesterday - I felt bad, acted grouchy...it just felt like there was the "cloud" covering everything. Even great things had a haze over them. When that cloud descends, it's difficult to push through it...in fact, I didn't push through it yesterday. In retrospect, I can see that it's just poison thinking welling up and it's certainly not the truth. I'm glad that it only lasted a day, but I've got to better about pushing the poison away and seeing things as they truly are.

workbook notes

My work in the "Courage to Heal" workbook has finally reached the "tough" topic stages. The most recent work was identifying areas of my life which had been affected by my abuse. Through a series of statements ranked "Often" to "never", a quick overview of areas that were impacted by the abuse were shown. No big surprises for me: sex, intimacy, and self-esteem were the "high-hit" areas. I was very pleased to find the lack of any impact on the ability to parent, which has always been a fear of mine. What's incredible about this process is the realization of how the effects of abuse can truly permeate through life. The number of areas that are touched are amazing. There's always the thought that crimes impact more than that which is seen on the surface, but it is SO true for child sexual abuse...I'm sure my abuser has NO idea how much her abuse sent shatters through my life. I would love for her to have to face that realization, but I'd rather be victor in spite of her despicable behavior. My victory is having survived, then overcoming and winning in life in spite of my past.

keeping out of the extremes

I've been leaving my wife out too much. I saw being a victim as all talk, all neediness...so recently I've been charging along on my own, but not really talking to my wife about the details...I've missed it and she misses it...it's just been scary to even venture anywhere that ~could~ be "victim-ish"...I am so determined not to be a victim any longer...but I really do have to talk with my wife...

high tide thoughts

I absolutely love the ocean...I find it fascinating, exciting, and beautiful. One way the ocean proves it's power is through rough waves. I've been out in the surf before and been hit with a wave, only to stand up in time to have another smack me down. And on, and on...

Fighting against the thought patterns that the abuse, and the coping with the abuse, created is a lot like those waves. I find myself actively dismissing thoughts throughout the day...talking to myself when I feel a "wave" rise up: "no, that's not right...the way to think is...". It really is amazing how many "waves" there are...they swell all day long...it's truly exercise to fight them down. I know that the key is to challenge them and replace them repeatedly, until the new thoughts take root, but it is a battle. A battle I will win though...surf's up!

consistency

I had a great weekend - I truly connected with my wife on all levels, I was very happy, very productive...it was wonderful. I have an understanding (finally) that I can't rest in the happy moment though...recovering from abuse and the resulting psychology makes me think of an alcoholic that doesn't drink for a weekend - the fight continues after the weekend. I'm very blessed and happy that I finally have the cognitive recognition that this isn't just about getting a happy moment and then letting life run in the status quo...I really do know that I have to fight and heal every single day...and I'm actually energized about this journey.

tool turns to weapon

One of the more difficult things (aren't almost all of the "things" with abuse recovery falling under the category of "difficult?) to come to terms with in recovery is how things that were helpful tools during the abuse have actually turned into weapons after the abuse. A prime example for me in panic...obviously, panic during the abuse is understandable and probably to be expected. It was an appropriate reaction that rose up in circumstances of danger. Unfortunately, during the abuse, those circumstances were common and pretty much constant. Thus, panic ripped out of control for quite a while.

Now, after the abuse, my panic has 2 problems. First, it triggers strangely, quickly, and out of balance with the situation I'm facing. I can go from 0 to panic in no time, without a throttle, and often without real cause.

The second problem is how I've built it into my life. As an older, more mature person, I actually use panic to avoid dealing with things I don't want to deal with. Panic has become a "trump card" of sorts. Now that I've accepted that I'm in recovery, this use can't happen any more. It keeps me away from real responsibility, which is necessary to grow. It also keeps me from dealing with situations that are unpleasant in a reasonable way. Unfortunately, unpleasant situations can't be avoided.

Panic used in this manner quickly loses it's shock value to those around me. Panic isn't something for those that love me to worry over anymore; rather, it's a tired shtick that is more annoying than anything. Of course, I also run the risk of creating a "cry wolf situation".

So, another demon to face: panic. The good news (sarcasm) is the only way to deal with panic, is to deal with it as it's happening. I'm not looking forward to that, but I am looking forward to moving past it.

wanted: directions for being an adult partner

One of the most obvious problems that occurs because of my abuse is my inability/lack of knowledge of how to be a partner in a true adult relationship. In my marriage, I'm fine when things are good...I can be a good partner. When there's something difficult to deal with, not so much. I am starting to understand that I share my life with my wife and that we deal with things together, but for some reason, it always feels "off" to me. My wife senses it, saying that I'm "acting weird". To me, it feels anxious and panicky...I feel like the difficult situation will cause an irreparable rift between us, even though that's not even close to the case. I cognitively recognize that "things" in life will be easier to carry when the load is shared with my wife...I just need to live that way. I'm working on it...

2 thoughts

My wife is actively reading "Allies in Healing", by Laura Davis. She pointed out the following to me:

"And most important, you need to hear him say, repeatedly, that he's committed to working this through so that things can change. His words won't take your pain away, or put your immediate needs in alignment, but they can make a tremendous difference in the way you feel."

I absolutely do feel this way, so for my wife: I am committed 100% to working this through. Thank you for your love and support.

Later on the page, there was this (speaking to the family of an abused person):

"Remind yourself that this is the abuser's fault"

What I found truly interesting was that I didn't read this correctly the first couple of times through. I read it that "it was the abused's fault"...in other words that the mess is my fault. My version is absolutely true in many ways, but it's also important to think of things as stemming from the violation that was the abuse...not in an excuse way, but in a "getting to the bottom of things way". The original mess was the abuser's, the mess that has occurred when I haven't dealt with the abuse is mine.

excuses

I was witness to a conversation this morning that truly highlighted the way in which I use excuses. Party 1 was arguing for a position that truly didn't have a leg to stand on. Party 2 was arguing against the position, using reason. What was most striking was the way in which Party 1 twisted their arguments to fit their case. Weight was given to items that weren't really that important and when that failed, logic was just ignored. This is exactly how I have been living, with everything having and excuse, even if the excuse was the blanket excuse: abuse. I'm going to be alert for my using the term "yes, but" during an argument - in this case, that meant, "that's true, but I don't want to consider that fact because it weakens my side of the argument".

definition: excuse

From Brian Houston (Hillsong Church) -

Excuse: the meat of a lie in the skin of a reason

great scripture from Joel Osteen

From Joel Osteen's "Never Say Die" sermon:

"Because you got a double dose of trouble and more than your share of contempt, your inheritance in the land will be double and your joy will go on forever". (Isaiah 61:7 msg)

Sounds like a promise to me as a survivor if I ever heard one.

the truth

I spent my morning time working on a section of the "Courage to Heal Workbook". I REALLY like the book: it has manageable sections, but they do push the edge, no easy work. It also has a really good method for opening and closing the "session", so you don't expose yourself and feel scared all day (although there's a ton to think about).

Today's work was on telling people now about the abuse and the truth (then and now). I was really amazed at how much I didn't consciously realize that my abuser had laid out so many brainwash lies to keep me from telling. It was strange to think about her making me feel like I was responsible for her. One sentence that is so absurd in retrospect it made me laugh out loud: (A belief she instilled in me was...) "that if I told anyone I would have ruined her life". It's so crazy in retrospect...that she would abuse me and then make me feel like I had the power to ruin HER life. It truly makes me head reel and spin to try to figure that out. I believed it wholeheartedly at the time...I truly felt responsible for HER. Other layers were: 1) I would ruin my life 2) I would ruin my Dad's life by embarrassing him and making his world horrible (be an outcast at his work, force him to move, maybe cause him to disown me) 3) That I would be an outcast and shunned by society forever. Interestingly, my Mom was not a target, because my abuser's assault against her was more combative - I actually was led to believe that I hated her and she hated me.

It's a lot to digest...it's really strange at how much of this I didn't truly accept or realize until I worked through the exercises.

post addendum

My wife read my post where I laid out the points she used to build herself up and offered an important correction:

"I may not feel strong, but I really am BECAUSE I accept and love God - He lives in m heart and that is my center...He is the strength in me that can't be broken or taken away. He dwells in my heart and there's nothing I or anyone else that can take Him away. So when I'm broken down and there's nothing left of me - God is still in the center. And how can you feel weak when God is your center which the rest of yourself is built?"

This is why she truly is my role model for building self worth.

no, really, i am alone

As I mentioned, my marriage is falling apart, which is why I have to heal, once and for all. I'm at work today and panicking, teary-eyed...generally falling apart at the seams. My immediate reaction is to run to someone: call my parents, call a friend...let someone see my hurt, thinking somehow that helps it.

It doesn't.

So today, I'm praying...praying hard. And I'm repeating my wife's saying over and over, "I may feel not strong, but I really am".

I guess this is how you build yourself, huh? Be alone and try to survive? It's foreign to me...and scary as hell...but if it makes a man of me, I'm in...

how to build self-esteem

(See? Short posts make me want to post more :-) )

My wife has built herself up to be an amazing, self confident person...I asked her how she did it...these are my road map:

1. Make no excuses
2. Set really high standards
3. When you get answers from God, you have to do them
4. You have to WANT to be happy with yourself
5. You must take care of yourself
6. Do everything to be happy with yourself, no matter how hard those steps are
7. Ask yourself: When I am by myself, am I happy with myself
8. Pray for strength to do whatever is needed to do what is needed, regardless of other people
9. Don't build self-worth through big events, but through daily events...one day turns into three days, into a week, into a month
10. You have to want to have a good history and every day is building history
11. Joel Osteen says God promises you can and will be happy
12. You either believe or you don't - nothing in the middle
13. Sometimes you don't feel strong, but you have to know you are
14. Inside is a rock, emotions don't change that core

I'm all that's left

9/17/09

My world has been completely destroyed.

I have driven my wife away completely by my refusal to heal and my reluctance to let go of the hurt, pain, shame, guilt, etc.

I want her back so badly I can't stand it...but I know that I can't win her over without healing me, completely, once and for all.

So I am repurposing this blog...I've been waiting to write until I had a dramatic and elegant thesis to post, which is just my way of hiding behind one more thing. From here on out, I'm going to be posting more, but most likely in shorter posts, with an emphasis on being completely honest and open about my life and what's going on right then. I'm working through the "Courage To Heal" workbook, so I would guess that a lot of that will show up here too.

The blog is for my thoughts, because, quite frankly, no one in my life is left:

• my parents are sick of the victim
• my in-laws don't talk to me anymore
• my brother can't deal with my whining
• my sister-in-law in avoidant and unavailable for my selfish rants
• my friends are sick of the depression and the gloom
• my wife...is ready to leave me

God is there for me, but not if I don't work for myself. I've often prayed for miracles, but I know in my heart of hearts that He is not going to move until I move in faith to heal myself and protect myself.

I think this is the absolute bottom...I'm alone, I'm scared, I'm unbelievably sad...and there's nothing to do but start...

Reality, or is it 'Reality As I See It'?

One of the most disturbing and frustrating things that I do on a regular basis is make up my own reality. I suppose, if I wanted to dissect this psychologically, I would find that creating realities was a decent coping mechanism during abuse. If you can believe that the horror of reality isn't really reality, life might be tolerable.

As George from Seinfeld explained, "is isn't lying if YOU believe it".

What faking reality has done, however, is allow me to hide behind that fantasy (irreality?) instead of facing life, taking ownership of the "way it is", and making changes for a better life. I suppose that I've been too scared or lazy to do these steps...typically victim stuff.

I know that this behavior isn't moving me to a place I want to be (trust me...not even close!), so I thought this would be a good place to list some realities...in no particular order...but these items are me, right now, that must change:

1. I'm a horrible husband.
   
2. I'm unwilling to take care of myself. Eating right, sleeping right, exercising right, etc.
3. I'm often scared and anxious, not unlike a little child.
4. I'm not a good friend.
5. I'm selfish, egotistical, and self centered.
6. I'm scared of intimacy and therefore am a bad lover.
7. I'm a procrastinator, putting off everything and anything.
8. I'm an even bigger procrastinator when I fear something...ostrich with his head in the sand.
9. I have never built, or felt I have deserved to build, self-esteem.
10. I'm worried about people liking me...often at the cost of those that do like me.
11. I don't know how to say "no".
12. I put my wife, then girlfriend, through hell when we were dating.
13. I didn't put attention and care into my proposal to my wife...resulting in a hideous time.
14. I ruined our wedding, cancelling the first date, and not making the second incredible (not making the second one anything, really).
15. I am egotistical.
16. I play the victim role for comfort.
17. I get embarrassed easily, because of my lack of self-esteem.
18. I am always competing, except if I can't win, I play the victim.
19. I am bad son.
20. I am a worse brother.
21. I keep all the facets of my life separate.
22. I play roles too much instead of being me.
23. I am lazy.
24. I am a bad husband (worth repeating...a few times, really).
25. I am a bad listener.
26. I am controlling.
27. I don't like to look at myself in the mirror...especially deep into my own eyes.
28. I truly don't understand a lot of the time.
29. I live in weird windows of reality instead of real reality.
30. I don't completely grasp that I'm 35.
31. I mope for attention.
32. I don't think I'm really worth anything.
33. I ignore bad situations by pretending them away.

These are just a very few of the things that I cannot remain to be...

The Best Part of Waking Up

I woke up this morning in a tizzy...thoughts were swirling in my head regarding my wife and I, my therapist appointment today, school deadlines that I'm behind on, work obligations that I would face today, feeling exhausted with NO possibility of more sleep. I realized on my way into work that this is pretty much every day. Even on "days off" I'm either worried about my marriage or jumping into a school assignment, or something else. My eyes close and my eyes open to the same crowded roar in my head.

I really, really want to figure out how to wake up, take a deep breath and just be thankful for the day. I want to make things right so that I can curl up with my wife and hold her for 5 minutes before my day starts. I want my thoughts to be how nice my wife's hair smells, how lucky I am to have another day on this planet, how quiet the morning is.

I have to figure out how to get that....

Let's see I.D.

I mentioned mourning a couple of posts ago, which has been a hard, strange trip. A recent event made me drop into a significant depression that I didn't see coming.

My wife and I have friends that just sent their daughter to college. Here was this girl, who we have known since she was just a girl, who seemingly overnight turned into a young woman ready to spread her wings and leave home. I saw the happy/sad/excited/nervous part of going away and it struck a bizarre chord in me.

It jolted me into the realization that I am not that age, at all. I think of my college years as a struggle that I ultimately lost - I ran over 700 miles away only to crumble (with a semester to go, no less) under the strain of having my abuse unresolved. I saw college as my salvation, only to have it not be. I saw it as a chance to be "normal", which didn't happen. Somehow, in my mind, I didn't stick myself back at age 12; rather, I continued to hold some sense that I was "just out of college"...young, fresh, ready for the world with time to spare. Seeing our friend's daughter made me realize that this is absolutely incorrect. I'm 35 years old...leaving for college was over a DECADE ago. Heck, leaving college under the pressure was a decade ago! I'm closer to 40 than 25. I'm not "going to clubs", drinking, partying, etc age anymore...I'm really grown up.

So why do parts of my soul hurt like a child? And how can I leave that chapter behind with grace and peace instead of a sense of loss? Why does this realization make me sad? Will I ever not be behind, missing the present by thinking I'm in the past? How do I live as the real now? Who or what am I supposed to be like at this age? I feel so much pressure to be something right now, but I'm not 100% sure what that "something" is...I mean, I can only be me, but...

My advice to our friend's daughter? Live in the here and now and soak it all in. Live life in the present and live it to it's fullest. Don't wish for the future or the past you'll miss chunks of your existence which you can never get back.

Let's talk about S-X baby, let's talk about you and me...

So, in reading back over my posts thus far in this blog journey (blourney?), I've talked about a few things here and there, but I think it's time to cut to the quick and make myself pretty damn uncomfortable. It's time to talk about sex. (For anyone playing the home game, I'm reasonable sure this will span a few entries, or will spawn a few entries...)

It's probably unnecessary to say, but sex during my abuse was confusing, bizarre, hurtful, and ranging in the gamut of activities from relatively benign (as much as a malignancy can be benign, I suppose) to the bizarre and brutal. When I revealed to my wife one example of what I thought to be some of "the worst" that was done to me, I wasn't sure if she was going to bawl or throw up, or both. If nothing else, it's proof that an adult female abusing a male child is not "The Graduate", or some other romanticized version of this act.

What the abuse became, unbeknownst to me, was the basis on which I would build my understanding of sex. It's the ground upon which I learned what things were, how things worked, how to do this, how to do that, etc. Strangely, although I have some memories and thoughts that I wish I didn't know about, I didn't think that the abuse had messed me up too much.

My basis for this thinking was when I first became physical with the beautiful woman who is now my wife. (There's a gap between my abuser and my wife, kind of...it's strange and is fodder for blogging yet to come. For this time, suffice it to say that I had a few girlfriends with whom I did very little, physically. My wife was the first serious physical relationship). I feel that I moved a little quickly through the courtship, but to me only getting to first base after little bit ~was~ going slow. Regardless, I did ok. I took direction well, was always interested, and made it a goal to make my girlfriend (now wife) feel fantastic. She told me I was skilled and good at what I did, although it was a common complaint that I wasn't interested in build up and anticipation, foreplay, etc...I was always heading to a few key spots. In other words, I was lacking the ability to connect intimacy with sex. I loved this girl and thought I was connected, but I realize now that I wasn't truly bridging the gap between sex and love and intimacy. At some point, I was moving from intimacy and/or love into sex mode. As we matured in our relationship, it became obvious to her that I wasn't connected for some reason. Her suggestions were that I move slower, why didn't I want to kiss longer, and, dammit, why did I hop up from bed the millisecond that orgasm had completed?

What's interesting is that I didn't know the answers to any of those queries.

But, sex moved on and, after becoming married, we entered the realm of intercourse. We hit some highs and some lows, but I attributed any waning to being tired/busy/etc. I truly had no idea of how much I wasn't giving my wife of myself.

Then, through a series of emotional/relationship pits from hell, I had to turn into the leg of the journey I am on now. The one where I'm owning the fact that I survived abuse, that I wasn't at fault, that I was taken advantage of, that a lot of bizarre sex stuff happened without me being able to understand what was really going on.

And sex, which had been a least semi-normal for my me and my wife, turned weird.

I got worried, I got upset, I pulled away. Then I pushed forward and was overwhelmed with emotion/reaction to being intimate. Where was the guy that was knowledgeable and confident (at least on the outside)? Instead of pushing to my wife, I pulled, then pushed, then who the hell knows? I'm trying to unlearn some sexual stuff while learning another set altogether. I'm trying to learn how to be intimate and close as if I wasn't abused from 12 on. I'm trying to disconnect any thoughts of sex as sex and replace them with thoughts of sex as sex...and love, and intimacy, and fun, and...

And what's even more difficult about the weirdness setting in is that I really want to have sex with my wife. My wife, and this is absolutely true, not the standard husband-has-to-say stuff, is stunning and sexy as all get out. She is phenomenal! I want to touch her, feel her, have sex with her. Often!

But it's hard to sort through and allow sex to be intimate and close and fun and spontaneous and unscripted and focused and loose...

I really want that relationship. I miss feeling that closeness with my wife (and can't even imagine what it could be). My fantasy isn't something crazy and off the wall, it's waking up at 2:30am together and making love with abandon. It's morning sex. It's honey-I'm-home sex. It's sex without my past, but with me, fully. It's sex without the running dialog of thoughts in my head. (I really just want to hear, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...." so that I pours out of me to her).

It's a fight to get there. A fight I lose a lot. But I want it.

Of course, I like things complicated, so an upcoming next post will add another layer...

Good Mourning?

I am mourning and, oh, does it hurt. I'm not entirely sure the extent of what I'm mourning yet, but I believe that it's a mixture of mourning my stolen childhood and those lost years, the lost opportunities, and the lost relationships. The "if only" stuff...

I find my chest aches and it feels like my heart is in a knot. The person I mourn...is me.

I think of my childhood...not the terrible abuse years, but the good, fun, clean, innocent years. I've seen pictures of me then and the radiance in my smile was truly that of an innocent child. In that face I see the hopes and dreams, the wants and the possibilities that the child in the picture didn't even comprehend yet.

And thinking of that face causes me to mourn.

I miss that child...I miss that Me. I actually hate the loss of him more than I hate the "killers" of him. I need that Me...I want that Me...how do you move on without him? He (Me) was a great kid...full of laughter, absolutely overflowing with love and affection. Dreams poured out of him (me) at an unbelievable pace...and they were going to happen! They were true and unhindered! They were the way life was going to be.

I know I mourn him when I look at my face now and think of the differences. It's not age that makes us different, although certainly that is there. No, it's the slight crease or wrinkle that I know is from pain. It's the eyes...the eyes tell such a big story. There was a light in him (young me) that I miss...and I mourn.

God, how I miss him (me). Lord, how I hurt for him (me).

Land, Ho! No, sorry...still sea...

A teacher once described making progress in life as similar to steering a ship - if you point the ship at a target and hold the wheel steady, you will never reach your goal. The ever changing pushing of the sea requires that the wheel be constantly adjusted to take into account the waves that push the ship to a fro. Only through flexibility to not stay on the straight line will the "straight line voyage" be successful.

This is frustrating in "normal life" (a term I'm not sure is true, but I'll use here to differentiate from my experiences), but incredibly difficult in the healing process. I've been pushed by the waves a lot as of late. The lack of blogging is a prime example - I was writing fairly regularly, making it a priority. In the past week or so, I've let it slip behind other priorities. I find myself several degrees off course...time to readjust.

My work with my wife and home responsibilities is another area in which I've had to constantly adjust. I made a pledge a couple of weeks ago that, since I know that I will mess up and return to old habits, the millisecond I recognize that this has happened, I will fix it and move to a positive position. ("5 degrees starboard!") What amazes me is how many times I have to adjust and how frustrating it is. My turns of the wheel as of late:

1) I promised my wife that I would take a day off of work to work on outstanding yard work. The day approached and I forgot...I let it slip of the radar. The night before the day arrived, my wife became incredibly upset. To her, this signified not caring about our home, not keeping my word, and "falling off" of the healing wagon. Very fair assessments. To fix it, I called in the sick the next day and did my yard work. Not the optimal fix, but I felt deep inside I *had* to do it.

2) My wife and I went couch shopping and really felt close during the process. We were picking out a major item for our house. We settled on the couch...my job was to go back to the store, do the credit dealing, bring the couch home. 3 weeks (let that sink in) passed...I avoided the situation. I know through introspection and therapy that I avoid out of (mostly unjustified) fear. I was scared of the credit check - my earlier life was not "credit-pretty", but it is good now. Even so, I avoided the situation. What I did do was hurt my wife's feelings - I didn't talk about being scared, I didn't realize that I was hurting her feelings - "why doesn't he want to share this experience and make our home better?"

3) Reading and workbooks. I have read a few chapters of my latest book, but haven't set a dedicated time to do the reading, nor have I demanded of myself that reading and workbooks is made a priority. It is SO easy to let this slip...and this does not help the healing process.

So I adjust. Turn, turn, turn. What I am dedicated to is not stopping. Realizing how ingrained abuse made some beliefs and how firmly rooted bad habits are is so frustrating. There are times when I suddenly realize I'm messing up (without realizing AT ALL prior) and feel this sinking feeling in my stomach. I feel sick..."I can't believe I messed this up!"

As I'm turning, adjusting, moving...I want to let my beautiful wife know something: I love you. I'm sorry for every time I hurt your feelings, for every time my old, bad habits surface. I am dedicated to healing and dedicated to you. Thank you for your amazing patience, of which I am unworthy. I know that the "other side" holds beautiful life for us. I know I will fall, but I will always get up and make things right. I love you.

I bet Superman is more of a '5 hour energy' type of guy

Overclocking, in information technology terms, means to run a computer component at a speed higher than the manufacturer originally intended, so that performance increases. Obviously, possible side effects are overheating, damage to components, etc.

I overclock my physical being in horrendous ways. My average for sleep is 4 hours per night, although it is not unusual to see less. I push through the sleep deprivation with will power and caffeine...a lot of caffeine. Coffee is consumed in mass quantities and, for a rapid boost, Starbucks bottled frappuccino can be downed very, very quickly to flood the brain with artificial alertness. I had to give up Monster, Red Bull, Sobe Energy, and the other energy-chemical cocktails when my wife saw them becoming a bit of a problem. (How many empty monster drink containers can be on one car floor? A lot.)

I do have a busy schedule: I work a demanding full-time job, have contractual work I do outside of the main job, and hold important roles in my church. For these items alone, I average about 13 and a half hours per week on the road getting to a from various locations. I also am a full-time graduate student. The program I'm in demands weekly class interaction, readings, and writings along with exams and a major paper per semester. In addition to all of this, I have husband duties, house duties, family duties, etc.

And I am tired.

Tired past a-frappuccino-infusion-will-save-it stage. Tired as in nodding off behind the wheel tired. Losing chunks of time tired. "Snapping to" in meetings, wondering if I was asleep or just zoned out tired. Body bloating tired.

When I'm this run down, time plays tricks on me. Days feel like an eternity and a blink of an eye all at once. Weeks peel off of the calendar with no warning. Months evaporate without a trace.

The funny thing (funny used loosely here) is that being awake, being busy, has not been satisfying. I have longings to travel more, to experience more, to laugh more, to see more, to be with friends and family more, to feel real intimacy with my wife more (which is an entire subject for another post). I'm not having fun. I'm not experiencing life. I'm not seeing the roses, much less smelling them. I feel like a hamster on a wheel. Sure, I'm doing well at work, school, and church, but I can't honestly tell you how that's happening. I know that I've been blessed to be able to cram tasks into "holes' of time in which they should not fit. The "cramming" in itself creates a sense of running away from a monster that is continually catching up. I'm trying to be invincible, bullet-proof, Superman.

And I'm intelligent enough to know that I'm none of these things. I'm terrified that it will all catch up to me. I don't know how I'm able to score well on school tasks...one day Superman will look up, realize the essay is due and it's not done yet. Church tasks are run on a wire. One day I will not have my stuff together when it counts. Work tasks pile up constantly - eventually I will be pinned under one and won't be able to get out from under it.

As far as my physical health goes, I've been warned. I went to a sleep specialist when this all started, because at the time the symptoms could pointed toward insomnia. An overnight sleep test revealed no abnormalities which led the doctor to tell me that either I a) get more sleep by going to bed earlier and staying there longer, or b) will have serious health issues and possibly die.

And yet, I push. I've been trying to figure out why - here are the best 2 theories I've come up with thus far:

1. I don't know how to take care of myself. From what I've said earlier in this post, obviously I know the steps to take care of myself (got to bed, stay there). What I don't know is how to make myself a priority and to take charge of my health. I really seem to have a lack of self worth that is clearly reflected outward by this behavior. I feel horribly guilty if I make my sleep a priority. I feel like I have to be invincible, I have to be perfect, I have to be Superman, and yet, I know in my heart I am none of those things. I feel scared if I show weaknesses in some areas (and not in others - VERY weird) and I've somehow attached being mortal when it comes to sleep as a weakness. I also feel very vulnerable if I take a stand for myself (and I'm not even up again opposition!). It's sad to realize that I don't love myself enough to make myself a priority. It's something that I'm not sure how to overcome. I have to take care of myself or I can be certain that healing won't happen or won't stick.
2. Being busy and exhausted leaves little time to feel. This is classic, according to the texts I've been reading. Obsessions, whether drugs, alcohol, work, etc., take the place of living in the pain that is reality. Running away from problems. Dissociation. I've long known that I am a dissociation king, which I needed to use to survive for a long time. What I didn't realize is how possible it is that my overexertion is an addiction, of sorts.

What I really think is that there is some combination of these two theories going on. I'm not loving myself enough to take care of myself, which creates a vulnerability to allow for the obsessive overexertion. It's a difficult place to be since, like all addictions, it's hard to see the problem when you are in the problem. I'm not sure how to fix this, but I definitely want to. I know I'll have to face both the anxiety of loving myself along with the pain of attaching to the abusive past. I've already made huge headway into feeling (with a LOT more to go), so now is the perfect time to try to love myself. Loving myself is something I need to write about...but I'll save that for another post.

Until then, I'll keep working and maybe, just maybe, try to get some rest...

Teacher, Leave Them Kids Alone

Just a quick recollection and regret that I have.

My abuse was perpetrated by a female school teacher. Probably coming from a family line full of educators, I had great respect for teachers, their authority, and their knowledge. A combination of factors led me to become the perfect target for this particular teacher's grooming, which led to abuse. Age 12-18 were chock full of this abuse and it continued much longer than that. But after high school, I did go to college. Several hundred miles away, at a prestigious school, in the discipline that my abuser taught.

By this age I was a complete train wreck of a human being, barely holding it together. Again, perhaps because of the educators in the family, I was able to push to excel in school. I was again a success on the outside and a dying child on the inside.

When I went to school, I was floundering for direction and guidance. That direction could have come from the teacher that was my mentor, who I will call "Bob" for this blog. Bob tried to help me, but I was so gun shy from any attention. I remember several times talking to Bob after a class and feeling absolute panic when he asked if I wanted to walk with him to his car to continue the discussion. This was normal, but I felt it was grooming. I remember him asking if I wanted to grab something to eat one day, that he would pick up the tab. Again...normal, right? But in my reality, his buying lunch could mean anything...

I, after reaching my senior year, crumbled for the first time (and not the last, but that's for other posts). I quit school suddenly, returning home to my parents house. I told Bob that I was taking a semester off so that I could really "get" all of the teaching from my time there. I was going to work and work and work so that I could finish my school career as a superstar. This was a lie. I really just couldn't get up from bed each day and prayed that I would have the courage to die.

The image that stings, still, came a few weeks later. Bob sent me a text to work on, that he had written. In the front he wrote, "I miss you! Love, Bob". I felt like throwing up. This was normal, right? Or was the panic that I felt right? Bob never tried anything, never wanted to. He wasn't an abuser. He did love me, we had a teacher-student relationship. He wanted to be my mentor. But my past wouldn't let me be a student. My abuser did take that away from me. To her: damn you!

I'm actually very happy with my career (not in the original discipline) now and my life (which has potential to be amazing, which is why I have to heal!). I do wish that I could call Bob and explain everything, but that wouldn't make a lick of sense to him. Not really fair to him either. So I won't and I won't live with this regret ruling my life. It's just an example of something I've uncovered. Something that abuse affected. A scar that I run my finger over, remember the past, and realize that it is, truly, the past.

To Bob: Thank you for helping me...thank you for your mentorship...thank you for your friendship. I'm sorry I couldn't play the role of student...I wanted to! But I couldn't. I hope you know, somehow, that your efforts weren't in vain, that they helped shape me and I still talk of you often. Love, Matthew.

My Life's VCR keeps blinking "12:00"

Actually, the real problem is that the "pause" button doesn't work.

As I've documented in this blog, I've (relatively) recently truly turned to face the demon that is my past and actually fight that monster. I'm finding that one very difficult part of the recovery process is that it doesn't happen in vacuum...life can't be "paused" while I heal. There is still "life" going on. There's still the everyday type of tasks: lawn needs to be mowed, dishes need to be washed, dog needs to be walked, etc. There's still "work" tasks: work projects don't wait for me to heal, deadlines still come, work politics are still alive and well, etc. There's still relationships: my wife needs and deserves her husband, my parents want a son, my friends want their friend, etc.

In short, I can't expect life to pause and wait patiently for me to heal, at which point I can press "play" and rejoin the party in my new, shiny, healed self.

So, since life can't pause, there's a strange line between self-care and selfishness.

I've recently fallen too far on the side of selfishness and I am sorry for that.

Part of the problem, too, is that my history of not ~really~ dealing with my demon led me to be a horrendously selfish person. I was acting as a victim, expecting everyone to do anything and everything for me, because I had been so hurt and damaged. "I went through Hell...it's time someone took care of me" was my unspoken charge. People in my life became sick of me...I pushed my wife, my parents, my in-laws, and my friends away by my "Pigpen-from-Peanuts"-like cloud of woe that followed me everywhere. It was easier for most to avoid me altogether than to be around me. The distance only fueled my quest for people to pay attention to me. Not pretty.

So, I'm actually fighting now, but the self-care/selfishness line is so hard to "get". I have spent several of the last days inundating my wife with talk, with very little actual results. I've been selfish. I don't want to wallow in the victim role at all, but thinking about the past, reconnecting, etc is a dangerous, slippery slope towards that pitfall. Overcorrection isn't the answer either: declaring that "this block of time isn't going to be invaded by my healing" isn't realistic. This part of my healing path feels like mud that I'm trying to run through.

I unfortunately don't have a clever VCR analogy to tidy this up. No "replace the remote batteries and away we go" type of line. Rather, I hate that I've been selfish and I am fighting to remain in self-care without hurting those around me with my ignorance of them. To my amazing wife: I'm so sorry that I've been so selfish...I will do better. To all of my brothers in pain out there, I'm betting that you find "life" overwhelming when you attempt to heal. I don't think there's a silver bullet answer, but my gut tells me to keep fighting. That's all there really is. I pray for strength to keep fighting for me, and for you.

Look Alice, a rabbit hole!

I begin today's entry with a candidate for "anti-climactic, anti-prophetic phrase of the year":

"Life is hard"

As I said...a winning statement.

This isn't a post pointed at the hardships I endure because of my past as an abuse victim; rather, I find myself amazed and, at times, overwhelmed at the variables that swirl around the healing process. One example: in order to heal, I have to come to a place of forgiveness and understanding regarding my parents' inability to protect me from my childhood abuse. This has proven to be difficult. (Apparently, I'm full of "understatement of the year" entries today).

At first glance, the issue was simple. Parents have one job and one job only, to protect their children, no matter what. Mom and Dad, you failed at your job. You failed miserably. On a scale of 1-10, 10 being excellence, you didn't even register. You reeked at your job. Seriously.

When I look at the situation in retrospect, I can see that there were signs of my abuse that probably should have been picked up on. I was gone from the house, at age 12,13, etc, for hours at a time, with no explanation (or incredibly weak explanations). I lied to them, but I was a teenager...teenagers don't lie well (especially when the lies are layered and there are a lot of interconnecting lies...I was smart, but not that smart). A simple raid of my room would have turned up evidence, I'm sure. Tracing phone calls, following me...I'm certain that I would have been found out.

There is also evidence that they basically knew what was going on. My dad stopped me on my way out of the house once and asked if I was going to my abuser's house. When I answered, "no", he said, "you need to know there are some things I can't protect you from". (insert sound of jaw-dropping here) Whaaat?

So, thinking on this level, there is anger....no, ~rage~. I was 12! See above mention of your one job and your absolute failure to perform that job.



But is that all there is?

Probably not. Looking deeper reveals a tangled mess of variables that may or may not be relevant:

My mom was a daddy's girl and her father died when she was a young teenager. She was left with cold, emotionless mother and no other support. Time to grow up.

My dad was told at age 12 that, "it's probably time for you to get a job". So he did and has worked ever since. Time to grow up.

My abuse start? Age 12. Time to grow up?

If a child is depressed or anxious today, there is help. Mental health is a known, public issue.
Therapy does not have a stigma attached to it. Medications, when necessary, are out there.
When I was anxious and depressed, it was "just going through a phase". This seems ludicrous now, but looking at the past through the lens of today is inaccurate, at best.

My dad was a workaholic who bottled up his emotions. I remember him either being at work (5am - 6pm) or working on the house. Gathering around the ol' kitchen table to talk about our days was not on the schedule

My mom was dealing with her life. 2 kids, housework, working full-time, a distant husband, perhaps?

Both parents have anxiety and depression, admitted in brief glimpses that I've pulled out of them.

My brother, dealing with many of the same issues I did, turned to drugs about the same time I was going through my abuse.

I was succeeding at school and extra-curricular activities, so I'm sure my parents thought that the absence of a complete meltdown meant everything was at least "OK".

And what if they did really "get it" and want to help? Was dad afraid of the effect on his job? Would they have to move? Did they have the money to do that? What about the social network they had built? Would they need a lawyer? How could they prove anything? Would they lose the son that appeared to hate them? What about the stigma? Where do you go for help?

The variables, the confusion, and the time collide to create a reality that is overwhelming. A reality that they were in and they had to choose how to navigate. Do I think that they should have protected me, no matter what? Yes. Can I look at the reality of that time and at least see that, yes, life was hard for them too? Yes.

I've just spent a few hundred words on the confusion surrounding the part of my abusive past that deals with my parents. That's only one tiny part of the whole. Healing and trying to sort through all of this can be hellish, confusing, disorienting, saddening, enlightening, and highlights one obvious truth:

Life is hard.

Pinocchio, a real boy

In my recent attempts to face the demon that is the childhood sexual abuse that happened to me, I've discovered that the brain has some funny ways of dealing with things. When I was in the abuse, I was in the situation itself, but also dissociating to deal with it all. I have full belief that, in order to survive, my brain "checked out" just to stay as sane as possible. This dissociation created a safety insulation between my soul and the reality of the abuse. On a psychological level, it is amazing that this will happen. It's not unlike swelling after twisting an ankle where the body rushes fluid to insulate around the injury and protect the joint from further damage. In a sense, my psyche has been swollen for years.

Many years later, I thought that I was facing things. I would acknowledge to myself that, yes, I had been abused. I truly believed that this simple act of labeling would be the courageous act that sparked a flurry of healing. In fact, there was still insulation that I was unable or unwilling to strip away. I was on one side and I saw the past abuse almost like a movie. There was a character that looked like young me, sounded like young me, etc, but I didn't really "attach" to the character. It made it easier to make the acknowledgement, like I was seeing a news story about a car crash. It looks horrible, I'm sure there is sadness and pain involved, but, hey, "Wheel of Fortune" is 5 and I won't remember a thing about the news story then. I certainly won't carry the pain with me. (Note: I hope to talk more about the "blacked out" parts of the "movie" at some point, where I have massive dissociation still lingering). So I acknowledged, maybe even hurt a little, but the demon was still fully entangled in my soul.

So now I'm turning toward the demon, ready for a fight. I've been talking about the abuse with my wife and in therapy, in full detail. And I've been attaching...really being there again. The reality is a crisp picture where I actually feel the touches, the pain, the mental agony, the confusion. I can smell things that were in that house, I can feel things like I was there. The insulation is gone. The movie isn't a movie, but a first person, three dimensional reality. When I talk about certain events, other things are starting to come back to me. I remember complicated details that I never thought were there. It is, at times, exhausting and overwhelming. It is a scary, sad process that is only cathartic after the fact, but hellish while going through it.

I'm also finding that the uninsulated memories are there when I'm not actively talking about them - when I'm driving, or watching TV, or cooking - they aren't in a separate box anymore. It feels like the past and the present are merging, which I think is the goal and ultimately will be a good thing. It's the goal of healing, of overcoming, that keeps me trying to do this merge, because sometime being "a real boy" is a truly difficult thing.

The Who and the What

The "Who"
Welcome to the first post on this blog. A little about me: My name is Matthew, I am 35 years old, married to an amazing woman, a Christian who actively seeks God, a worker in the Information Technology field, a part-time musician, a son, and a brother. The most pertinent fact for this blog is that I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse perpetrated by a female school teacher. For over 20 years, I have lived as a victim and have watched that perspective destroy much of my life. I have lived in constant turmoil, pain, anxiety, frustration, guilt, depression, sadness, hopelessness, chaos, and fear. My abuse started when I was 12, consumed my teenage years, and then ate away at my 20's when I stayed in a twisted, horrible, codependent relationship with my abuser. Essentially, I was a hurt 12-year-old for 20 years.

The What
And now there is this blog. As my inner twistings of my abusive past (and my unwillingness, or inability to deal with it) has led me almost destroy my life again, I've turned to face the demon. To do so, I have engaged my amazing wife in open (albeit ugly, detail-wise) dialog, started counseling with a qualified therapist, and have begun a reading every book about childhood sexual abuse (especially related to boys/men) that I can find. It is often suggested (in the books, by therapist, by wife) that my thoughts and feelings need to be journaled, tracked, and recorded. The first reason for this blog is just for that: so that I can journal my thoughts and feelings and see what's going on in the landmine field of a head I have. Why a blog, you may ask? Because in my quest for information, I have found a lonely wasteland with no information. To become a true survivor, one can no longer feel isolated and alone, but I did. I didn't see anyone talking about male sexual abuse, there were no support groups near me...and it was terrifying to go through this process without the empathy and understanding that can only come from other survivors. This blog is out there for anyone who needs it, so that a victim can see that there's at least 1 other person on this planet that honestly "gets it" and supporters of victims can see another survivor's writings and may find something that helps them. My abuse cannot be without a purpose.

One important note: I hope to start a dialog with people viewing this blog and encourage you to contact me. I would love to hear from you. HOWEVER, if you are a survivor and you need help, especially if you are contemplating suicide, PLEASE GET PROFESSIONAL HELP IMMEDIATELY. I am not a therapist and have no psychology credentials, but people are available to help you. I will be glad to talk with anyone about the fear of getting help, but it's really just important that you do get that help. Let this blog and my journaling let you know - you are not alone...and take that and become a victor, just as I am trying to do.

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