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So Tired

May 2, 2009 By Leave a Comment

WARNING – POSSIBLE TRIGGERS

I am so tired from a lifetime of fighting and a lifetime of loneliness. Each day I feel like I am fighting to survive. Thoughts of ending the pain and the drudgery of this so called life become more prominent as the days go by, and the will power needed to keep myself in check is getting harder to muster. I feel like there is someone inside me telling me to give up and I get scared. I get almost uncontrollable urges to finish it, all the while my conscious mind is wondering why it’s losing control.

Nothing will ever replace the lack of what my father never gave me and, without that, I have nothing. Nothing will ever take away the memory of his sex and the box that I created to escape him. I don’t know how to love and I don’t know how to be loved and that is destroying me. There is no more to be said, its do or die. ‘Do’ is losing impetus.

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Depraved

May 2, 2009 By Leave a Comment

WARNING – POSSIBLE TRIGGERS

I’m kind of stuck right now. I’m in an endless world of thinking about and acting out with sex, and I am so very ashamed of what I am doing. I don’t understand why I am doing it and I don’t know what the compulsion is, but it is almost overpowering. I have to write this because I cannot say it out loud. To think it is bad enough, but to act it is just horrendous. The only end is work and teaching, but even then it is in my mind, and the stress of my job exasperates it more. I wish it was normal but it isn’t. I wish I could make it go away but I can’t. If it’s not memories when I am alone then it is this, and the more I live the more depraved and dirty I become. Even if I make myself ejaculate, hoping that the urges will go away, they don’t.  I’ve allowed men to defile me without protection and I flaunt myself like a prostitute, my sexual yearnings becoming more and more depraved in a need for some form of satisfaction that I know I will never feel. I don’t understand. This is not me.

I penetrated myself last night, literally. There is no other way of putting it. When I felt the intense and burning pain inside of me I didn’t stop, I pushed harder. I don’t know why I did it. The pain made me feel stronger and I didn’t care, I got angry and it got easier. The pain was real and I knew it was real, if that makes sense. I bled for quite a while afterwards but then did it again. What am I … stupid? Why the hell can’t I get it into my own head that I don’t want to do that? I did it harder this time and it hurt more, and I bled again, this time for longer.

The pain has subsided now and all I am left with is emptiness and disgust. It’s so familiar that it’s almost comfortable. It’s a state of no energy, just a mess of thoughts fighting for attention. No one can see the scars, but now I can feel them, at least I can feel them. I am fighting myself not to do it again and even though the pain is intense, I can feel it drawing me again. I feel like I am going insane. I can’t stop these things, it’s not me but it won’t stop. I am stuck.

I thought it would end there, but it took another twist. I visited a female prostitute. I still can’t maintain an erection so I thought I would see if a skilled sex worker could do it. She was a beautiful woman but the only way she could get me off was to put her butt in my face. I can’t even write what I did, it’s sick. I am disgusted with what I did and it compounded the feelings from the other depraved sexual acts. I feel sick inside and I feel sad that I have lost control, that I am depraved, just like my father was. Even now, after all this has happened, I am still thinking about it. Why can’t it stop? I don’t understand.

I had sex with a gay couple during the week. See how it is? It’s all about me and it’s all about sex, and that’s not right. These two guys made me feel special. They held me and caressed me, and even kissed me, and I let it happen. They were so warm and gentle. I felt comfortable and loved for a moment, and let them do whatever they wanted. When it was all done they showered me and cleaned me, and made me feel warm inside. When I left I felt confused. I enjoyed it so much that I wanted to love them back. It wasn’t raw sex it was almost passion and I don’t understand how that made me feel. The reason it happened is because I paid them. There is no skirting around it, I wanted two pairs of men’s hands on me and that was what they were offering. I told them what I wanted and they gave it to me. I didn’t expect the closeness and they said that they normally didn’t go that far, but that was probably part of the lie too.  I almost saw feelings in their eyes when they looked at me, or maybe that’s what I wanted to see. Now I don’t know what gender I am supposed to prefer. I felt special for that short period of time and I felt comfortable, I felt safe. I am so confused. What if I am gay?

I’m very tired now. I have spent the entire week off work thinking about and acting on sex. Each time I indulge it gets more and more depraved. Each time I find that I blame someone else but in actuality I should be blaming myself. I should be able to beat this but the urges are far too strong.  I don’t know where I go from here.

It happened again. I am so tired of this. I knew that a week off work would be hard and I knew that the season would hurt and it did. But I didn’t expect to become a pervert, more so than ever. I have become lazy and self-centered and I have become a sexual deviant, and I actually enjoyed it. Oh god, now what? There are no more depths to fall to now.

Right now there is no anger. The sexual predators are safe for one more day.  Right now I feel like I am in a void. I am shouting inside my head, and I am crying inside, but outside nothing changes. Do I want to die? Right now, yes, but I am a coward. Sad isn’t it?

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It Continues

May 2, 2009 By Leave a Comment

WARNING – POSSIBLE TRIGGERS

It’s been another day of short bursts of tears and mood swings. All I want to do is hide away and not be seen. Friends have called but I have ignored the phone. I don’t want anyone around me right now. I might let it slip that I think I am gay. It’s bad enough that I have told people about my father, the other would be much worse.

I took the bike out for a run and, for a while, I was preoccupied, but my temper got the better of me again. I don’t get the moods, I don’t understand them but, more to the point, I can’t tell which mood I am in and when they are going to hit. I still feel strangely empty and I have not acted out today, nor yesterday for that matter. That’s strange because it’s something I always do and not doing it leaves me in the real world, where I don’t want to be.

I don’t know if my attitude to men is because of where I am right now. I have been noticing men more and more and feel almost settled in that view. It’s like I crossed a boundary of some sort but, you know, I just want to be normal and have a normal life and being gay isn’t normal. I’m confused again.

On television I keep seeing references to father and son and I feel instantly so sad, and tears well up in my eyes. I see male/female couples interacting and I feel cheated that I haven’t successfully had that and, more than likely, never will. I see happiness around me and I am glad that those that feel it have it, I really do, but I know that with the quandary in my head right now I cannot have that and I feel robbed. I walk with my head down so as not to be noticed because I feel that others see my issues and will judge me for it. I know that’s not a rational thought but I can’t help it.

There is too much going on around me right now and I can’t keep up, I just want it all to go away. I want it to be quiet, I want to feel something other than emptiness or sadness but it won’t go away. I want to be normal but that will never happen and I can’t adjust to what I am feeling and where I am headed. I don’t want to notice men. I want to love and be loved and I want to feel safe so why does it have to be like this?

Soon it will be time to go back to work, to go back to the stress and to fight to survive again. With the beginning of the week comes the schedule from hell where I have to be yet another person, where I have to be the leader and make the decisions that they don’t pay me to make. I have to run a department that is woefully undermanned and when it all goes wrong, I have to pick up the pieces and try to rebuild it. I have to plan the move to the new building, on top of it all. I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel and I can’t do this anymore. I live in hell 24/7 and I want to rest, I want peace. I’m running out of options and I am tired.

Back to the question, do I want to die? No, I do not want to die because it would be a terrible waste of my life but, you know, I can’t make the pain go away and the allure of peace is so comforting. I am stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.

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A Letter to My Therapist

May 2, 2009 By Leave a Comment

WARNING – POSSIBLE TRIGGERS

Saturday – Another Day

The past few days have been strange. I don’t feel much but then I feel too much. I know it doesn’t make sense but it is how it feels. Many times a day I feel on the brink of crying, for no reason sometimes. It just rises up, and then fades away. I take a double breath or two, as if I had cried, then it’s gone. I feel empty. The mood swings are instantaneous and mostly quite dramatic. I can go from laughing and joking with a group of friends but, as soon as I am on my own, I am empty and dead inside again or I am raging in hell. My head is never quiet and I don’t get a moments rest from the thoughts and the memories, not even in sleep anymore. I get flash backs that are so fast that I am not sure what I am seeing. I ‘hear’ memories … my sister crying, my mother shouting, I know I am crying, but I can’t hear myself in those memories. I can’t think properly, I’ve made some terrible mistakes at work and I can’t even write properly anymore. Sometimes even telling the difference between green and red is hard; sometimes I can’t talk properly, as if I’m drunk or uttering sentences that don’t makes sense, and mumbling; sometimes I am aware that I am not in here, I am out there looking in here. I think I am losing my mind and I am scared.

The incident with the peer from the LGBT center is weighing heavily on me. I know I shouldn’t have had sexual intimacy with him, but in that situation where he was holding me he was so gentle, he was stroking my head and holding me close, his arms were wrapped tightly around me and I felt safe, protected, comfortable and even loved, and I felt happy and sad at the same time. I don’t know how it led to sex but I do know that I felt an intense betrayal as soon as it happened. I didn’t orgasm but he did, and that was so familiar. I can’t get that out of my head, it was in a car and we could have gotten arrested. How could I let myself do that again? Now that resource has gone and I am left out here again.

Something has changed. In the conversation we had on Wednesday you mentioned about intimacy with men and having just sex with women. I had thought it was the other way around, but you were right. I had towed the party line and tried to stay on the heterosexual path, thinking that women were who I was supposed to be close to, and have sex with, and love. In the three times that I have had relationships with men I have felt more complete, more emotional and more in tune with myself than I ever did with a woman, but I refused to acknowledge that. Why didn’t I see that? Why do I have to know that now? I don’t want to be gay because it will complicate my already complicated life but I am looking at men more since then. I catch myself looking, wondering and even wanting, and it’s comfortable, almost natural. I think I can accept that but I know my friends won’t. If I finally find peace in who I am I will have to lose my friends again. I don’t know if it’s my emotional state right now or what, but it’s like I know I am gay and I think that I could be comfortable with it, after a while. Others around me won’t. Why do I care about being judged by them? If they loved me like they say they do then wouldn’t they want to accept me as I am? I don’t think so.

You ask me sometimes, do I want to die. In an effort to be honest right here, right now … yes, I want to die. It’s the only way to make the pain stop.

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I’ve had enough

May 3, 2009 By Leave a Comment

WARNING – POSSIBLE TRIGGERS

I’ve Had Enough

I don’t really know where to begin because it’s such a complex thing … thing being a word that does no harm but suggests an entity. I don’t even think I understand the gravity of the situation I am in, and I am the one in the middle of it. I am taken by surprise daily by what I feel, do and what I learn about myself, and it’s a journey that I don’t think will end … that is until I end it. It seems that may be the only way to rest, but that’s another story.

Every day of my waking life I have to deal with my past. I have to remember it, relive it and suffer for it. I didn’t do anything wrong, I was a child, I didn’t know what was done to me was wrong. I was a sex toy for my father and my mother beat me for it. The walls closed in and I was left in a box. I made that box. That box protected me while the hell went on around me. That box was my home for the years that my body was used and abused and that box is still with me now trying to protect me, but I can’t fit in it anymore. I am spilling out. The real world is colliding with the pretend world and the acting is becoming more difficult. The sexual side effects are consuming me and my anger inside is boiling hotter than a volcano. I can’t hold on, I can’t hold it in.

I sit here alone again, as always, because I can’t make sense of how I feel. Sometimes I don’t know if I am the real me, and that is so scary. I have a successful professional career. I have fought for what I have achieved and I am happy that I had the chance to achieve that, but I don’t have ‘me’. I don’t have the notion of how to be loved and I don’t have any idea how to love and I am always lonely and that feels so very cold.

All I want is to be drawn into someone’s arms and be told that they love me. I want to feel protected and nurtured. I want to not have to worry about what is around the corner. All I want is to have just a taste of the childhood that I should have had. All I want is to live. It’s not too much to ask but it can never be gotten and that is so unfair. I feel cheated out of something I deserved to have and I am lost as a child in an adult’s world. I don’t know who I am anymore.

My mind is a blur of memories, emotions and things that cannot be told. There is so much noise in my head that I can’t tolerate listening to music, and I love music. I am lost in a sea of sound that makes no sense. I am drawn into a cycle of behavior that is not good but I cannot resist it, it consumes me. I can’t live like this anymore. As each day passes so each part of me leaks into the other parts of my life and my behavior becomes excessive. As each part collides with the other the energy builds and the anguish burns like acid on raw skin. The hatred and anger that I have carried for so many years is fighting to get out and I am fighting to keep it in. If it comes out, someone will die and I cannot be the cause of that.

My friends love me. My friends try to understand but they have their lives and they deserve not to have my burdens too. I support them and nurture them and love them, but I can’t let them do that for me, and I don’t know why. I love to give, it feels so good to give, but please don’t praise me because praise hurts so much. Why? Please, someone tell me why? I want so bad to understand.

I thought I had a handle on this but it gets worse by the day. I suffer physically, mentally a spiritually because I am weak. I am weak because I do not know how to be strong. I am weak because the walls between the separate parts of my life are melting and becoming one. I am pushing away everything and everyone that I hold dear because I cannot hurt them and I cannot let them see the evil that lives inside me. I don’t live, I don’t even survive, I am just here.

The burden of servitude to this life is too much. I don’t want to die, I so want to live and I yearn to be happy, but I can’t, I am consumed. If I carry on I will hurt someone or, worse still, kill someone. Someone posted a link to the names and addresses of sexual offenders in the community and that sent me over the edge. I want to kill them. I want them to hurt so much more than the people they deprived of a normal life. I want to hurt them so bad, so much and that can’t happen. I am a soft, gentle and caring person, but I am also lethal. I can feel the anger inside me rotting me away. I can feel the morals of my life sliding away; I can feel the plans coming together in my head. I kill them; the police kill me, that way I don’t have to do it. For once, something makes sense. For once I feel like I can achieve something.

Oh god, I can’t let that happen. I want to be free. I don’t feel anything right now. I am numb. I want to cry but I can’t. It gets stuck inside me. I am crying inside, I can feel it, but it won’t come out. My life is a distant dot on the end of a long tunnel. My existence serves no purpose. A man can only suffer so much before he breaks. When the bomb goes off inside me I will no longer be a man, I will become like the devil himself and someone will die. Please god let it be soon. I’ve had enough.

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Letters along the way

May 3, 2009 By Leave a Comment

WARNING – POSSIBLE TRIGGERS

This was the beginning of a period of writing the reality of what I was going through, and what I was feeling. This signifies an early attempt to move forward beyond the point of being a victim, still not understanding who I was or what I was doing, let alone where this would lead me. The entries below span about four months and were started after I started therapy. The information burst out of me, almost in waves and would leave me feeling tired and drawn, almost like a disease taking its toll on your physical self.

This, in my mind at the time, was a last ditched effort to rationalize the past and take stock of the future. It is very graphic and somewhat disturbing. It is not something I am proud of, but it was real and it had life. To read it is not necessarily to understand it. Some of it may not make sense until you further the nature of being in my situation, some of it may raise questions, some of it may never make sense. Either way it cannot be denied in the context of this blog, it cannot be denied because it was real, and I will not let it have life against me.

The thoughts are broken out into sections, each section representing a series of thoughts for a day, more often written at the end of a day or the end of a weekend. I found that writing and being anonymous, but still being somewhat public, gave more voice to what I was thinking and allowed me to be ‘real’. I didn’t want to have to tailor the thoughts so as not to hurt or upset someone. This was the ideal way and it served me well. Writing it was also rationalizing it in my mind. I could see the thought and sometimes deal with thoughts, sometimes not, but at least writing them gave a small amount of comfort. I have always noticed that I can achieve some level of understanding, or waylay a misguided thought or idea if I write it down. Often I would edit my writing to take the sting out of it if I knew a tangible person would read it. Sometimes it was too disturbing, even for anonymous writing. Looking back it is a reminder of how far I have come, and how hard I fought to survive.

It is so easy to condemn someone for their actions when you have never experienced the trauma leading to that action. It is so easy to judge those that are not like you and it is so easy to think that something like this would never happen to you. That is part of the problem in dealing with this in the real world. The thought that someone would look down on you or tell you how depraved you were really, really hurt. It would stem the flow and stop or slow the healing process. This method allowed freedom, limited as it was at least it was said. I stand by it; I remember it for what it was and I honor myself knowing it is done and I am healing in spite of it. Judge me if you will, it doesn’t matter anymore.

I’m free of it now – the memories are still there, and I look back and think ‘wow’, that was me – look how far I have come – and I have come a long, long way. You have to know that it’s worth it, even if it doesn’t feel like it at times, you have to know that you are worth it.

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