From one Survivor to Another (Part I)
if you found this page, then it’s not a coincidence. welcome. it’s safe for you to be here. what i am about to share is to support you in some way and some how that even i don’t understand. i am just letting the words flow through me and feeling them as they land on the paper/screen. i don’t even know where to start to be honest haha… fuck.
most of what i will be sharing comes from flashbacks at really odd times and i have pieced them together over the years. that’s how cptsd operates. you don’t get it like a movie. the flashbacks are often times decades apart and i don’t even know they are a flashback in that moment. it’s more like… well thats an odd flashback. where did that come from and i wonder why it’s showing up in this moment.
at this point in my life, i am not able to look you in the eyes and say i have gone from surviving to thriving… at least by my definition of thriving…and maybe that means i need to re-examine my definition of thriving to be honest. it certainly doesn’t feel like i am thriving… especially as i share this with you. i am however able to look you in the eyes and share this story.
warning… this is raw and unfiltered… just sayin.
so in no particular order because i don’t have a plan and i will not edit this to make it look pretty and succinct. i wish to honor and accept the cptsd that lives within me on a daily basis. and i type in lower case with pauses (the three dots)… because things flow out easier when i am not having to remember “proper punctuation and grammar”. the pause feels better than a period sometimes.
the sexual abuse started early… around 2 or 3 based on the flashbacks i have experienced so far. it continued from my family of origin and outside the family sources until i went off to college. here are some things that feel important to share in no particular order…
all of it was without my goddamn fucking consent… including from my parents and what they did… for example, because my dad loved to gamble, he would often trade me and my body to clear his debts… the one flashback that is very vivid is at 14, being raped by an aau basketball coach and two of the players on the team. i am not certain how often to be honest. they needed 3 of them though to subdue me because they knew i would fight like fucking hell. my younger self submitted, keeping me alive thankfully. and luckily for me, i sprained an ankle early on in the season and was no good to them any longer so they released me from the team. that ankle sprain saved my life. and here’s a fun fact… i am not gay, i have never secretly fantasized about being with a man and i do not prefer to have sex with men even though my body ejaculated multiple times while be raped by them. it wasn’t the first time either that my body ejaculated while having something stuck in my ass. i am not sure how far that goes back… but definitely in those formative years of life. by the way, the ejaculation is natural and physiology.
after high school was the first time i ever had sex with a woman and it was without my consent. i know that may sound weird or odd. it took me decades to accept that fact with clarity that even though it felt amazing and i was camping with friends, it was still without my consent. i didn’t take the lead, i didn’t flirt or tease with her. she wasn’t even my girlfriend so why would i ever imagine this was going to happen!!! she was dating another guy in our class. they had been dating since our sophomore year. i had no fucking clue that was the plan when i agreed to go camping. i was a virgin. yes it felt amazing. yes i ejaculated immediately. it wasn’t violent. i wasn’t drugged or drunk. its a real challenge to communicate this feeling and experience.
my parents thought i was gay. this is one of those aha moments that i didn’t piece together until 30+ years after moving away from home. i never masterbated growing up. i didn’t even know what it was or how to do it. i was the oldest child so there was no one to teach me. thus, i wasn’t in the bathroom for hours at a time haha. literally, all i did was wake up, go to school, go to some practice for sport (baseball, basketball and football), go home and eat, do homework and repeat. i was fucking dead robot which is what made me a good athlete. yes, i had girlfriends. we would “go steady”. my first kiss with a girl was 7th grade at a “make out” party. girls used to grab my dick on the bus sometimes and that felt good and very uncomfortable as well. very confusing for a young boy. when i told my father i was getting married, he said “no your not”. i thought that was odd at the time and brushed it off.
i am not sure how much sex my parents and their friends had with me. most of those flashbacks are still locked up in “the vault” and i am certain for good reason. this may sound weird, i know now that i was a threat to my dad on many levels because my mother was sexually attracted to me.
i am also not certain the dad who raised me was actually my biological father. i have this hypothesis that there were multiple different seaman samples inside my mom’s vagina when i was conceived… or as i like to say… when the divine spark first appeared within my by body. they also used to joke about the mailman because i didn’t have any of their features per se. also, the brother that came after me did have their features, especially of my dad. and the half-sister that came later on had similar features of my dad. i also have another hypothesis that the main reason for having their first child was so that my dad would have a better chance of not having to go to vietnam. that was his nature… using his kids to protect himself.
i learned to ejaculate by myself accidentally during my 2nd year of college. i was with a woman… well 2 actually… after a party and we were drunk. they had both passed out and the alcohol was still having an effect on my body. i wanted to keep my dick hard for when either of them woke up. so i passed out a little, wake up and my cock was soft. one time, i went in the bathroom to stroke it to get it hard again. no one told me to do this. i didn’t observe anyone doing it consciously. i did it instinctually. and boom, low and behold, out came the seaman. unbeknownst to me, that was the start of a sex addiction that would last until my 50s… 30+ years. it was fucking destructive. i lost jobs because of it. it destroyed my marriage. it made me so not present for my children. it fucking destroyed me. its like i had no agency at all… as if i was just watching it all happen. i fucking hated that feeling of helplessness and on a different level, i was sooooo addicted to the mental fantasies and projections and the feeling of release, that i didn’t want to stop. not stopping allowed me not to feel and experience the helplessness. not stopping kept me “sane”. i am certain it kept me from not going to prison for murder because there was so much fucking rage within me. so thus, in a weird and twisted way, i am forever grateful for the addiction as well and all the destruction in it's path… because that destruction was better than being in prison for life.
that’s enough for now. i am not trying to tease you. there’s more to share. i am not even sure how many parts there are going to be. that’s not for me to decide. the writings and sharing will express itself through me when i feel called. i am actually feeling quite exhausted. i can feel the shame, the guilt, the regret, the helplessness, the fucking anger, the grief, the despair… and it’s exhausting. when i share stuff like this, usually all the “wanting to die and suicidal thoughts and feelings” energy resurfaces… along with the “who the fuck do you think you are” and “you are nothing fucking special” energy. it takes a lot of energy to sit with all of it and let pass. its fucking heavy. i never know how long they are going to stay. i only know they will eventually move on.
if you have read this far, all i can really tell you is that you are not alone in whatever you survived. please dont use this as a comparison. my story is one of billions. some had it more intense. some had it less intense. the content of the story doesn’t fucking matter in the end. it’s about accepting reality. acceptance does not mean approval and consent. honestly, there are days when i wonder “why the fuck i am still here?” in the end, it doesn't matter why i am still here. the fact is, i am. that means i exist. that means i am somehow worthy and good enough to be here (not feeling that in this moment sharing this part of the story). there is only One Source, One Power, One whatever you wish to name it in this world. it creates life and ends life. period. so since i am still here today, and even though i don’t understand why I am here having gone through these experiences and more, I accept, respect and honor the experiences… everyone fucking one of them. i accept, respect and honor the Source for keeping me here and alive and being with me through all of these experiences. it’s not my will, but Thy will.
much luv and gratitude for you reading this today 🤲🏼💖🤍☯︎ keep fucking going… i am.