Hello, everyone!

I am so tired today (not sleeping much), but I wanted to try to get a few things written down while they are fresh in my mind.

First of all, thanks to Mandi and Sacredheart for their replies to my post yesterday, titled "Obituary".  I appreciated what you had to say.  I'll write more later about that.  I've just been bombarded with new memories and I know if I don't type them up soon, I may lose them again.

I am beginning to understand my childhood in a whole new light and so many things are finally making sense.  As you know, I've been writing about my father's pedophile group from time to time.  I think there's a part of me that has always wondered if this stuff was really true.  I think that's one of the problems with repressed memories.  Even when they return, the memories are sometimes fuzzy.  Anyway, now I know that my father really did belong to a group and I know where most of the activities occurred.

Since reading the obituary last week of one of the group's members, I've been able to piece together more of the story.  When I very young (probably starting at the age of 3 or 4), I was taken north of town to one of those old metal trailers (we called them housetrailers when I was growing up) -- a 1950's model.  It was situated on a small lake.  In the state where I grew up, lakes were a very common thing and it would have been easy for someone to have put a trailer beside the water.  It would have provided a very private setting and no one would have questioned its existence.

I believe that this trailer was where my father's group met most of the time.  I've also uncovered memories of meetings at my grandmother's house.  My grandmother worked during the daytime so her house was empty quite a bit of the time.  Anyway, I believe that the man who died last week was sort of the ringleader for what was going on in my early childhood.  I believe there were a lot of photographs taken at the trailer, and it's possible that this man was the photographer.  It's also possible that the trailer was used as a darkroom since most people did not have Polaroid cameras until later.  (I'll have to look up on the internet and see when the first Polaroid cameras were made available.  My father had one when I was in high school and I know there were some earlier models, but a darkroom may have still been needed when I was very young.)

Like I said yesterday, the man who died last week left the area where I grew up in 1962.  That goes along with my memories.  I've long had the feeling that my father's group disbanded for awhile, then reformed when I was in high school.  That's when my high school band teacher joined the group. 

Thanks for listening!  I just needed to get this written down.  I am so grateful that I am finally remembering these things!  My whole childhood makes so much more sense.  Hopefully, I can get some sleep soon.

Rev

Sacredheart,

Thank you for your wonderful, caring, supportive reply.  I needed that this morning!  I finally managed to get some sleep last night, but my mind is still very fuzzy this morning.  I think it's because I'm still processing all that has happened these last two weeks.  The interesting thing is --- just before this last round of memories came to the surface, there was a day when I was so tired, I could hardly put one foot in front of the other.  I thought I was coming down with some sort of cold or flu because that's how my body usually reacts just before I get sick.  Since no other symptoms ever materialized, I realize now my tiredness had to do with returning memories.  This is the very same thing that happened years ago (in 1996) when my first subconscious memories returned. 

Sacredheart, you're right about these memories running deep.  When I left home at 19, I only had a few conscious memories of sexual abuse -- mainly when my father would talk about sex and want to expose himself to me (as a "way of educating me").  It took another 13 years before the subconscious stuff started to surface, and then it was in the form of PTSD symptoms and rape dreams.  In 1996, I started to finally understand what had happened to me.  The trigger for all this was a phone conversation I had with my dad on his 80th birthday.  He said to me, "All my friends are gone."  Consciously, I knew he was telling me that because of his age, all of his friends had died.  But subconsciously, I connected this piece of information to his pedophile group and must have finally felt free to allow these deeply-buried memories to resurface.  My memories became even stronger when my dad died in 1999.  Now, seeing this obituary of another group member on the internet has unleashed even deeper memories.

I feel like I must be getting close to the end of these memories.  Surely not much more could have happened!  I think your description of this group as cult-like is accurate.  I do know these men had quite a network going, sending messages through post office boxes.  I wonder if other children were brought to the trailer.  I assume that since I was there (and my father allowed other men to molest me), that there must have been other children involved.  I do know the names of each pedophile's children, and that seems odd since we did not grow up in the same communities or go to the same schools.  So I assume I "knew" these kids, too.  I find myself wondering if my dad molested other children.  I assume the answer to that is "yes", too. 

I do hope my story helps others.  Yes, I come here and write these things for my own benefit.  But I hope that in writing about my father's group, it will give others the courage to talk about their own experiences.  I think this type of thing was much more common than people realize. 

Sacredheart, thank you for saying that I matter to you.  What a wonderful thing to say -- and just what I needed right now!  You matter to me, too, and I am so grateful for your support and encouragement.  I wish you well as you continue to process your own past. 

Rev

Thanks, Mandi!

I really appreciate your support.  Thanks for reminding me that as difficult as my childhood was, I made it through it!  I'm the only one in my family to survive what happened.  Thanks for all the lovely things you said about me, too.  I needed to hear those things today.  I think it will take awhile for me to accept these new memories.  I believe they are absolutely true.  It just takes a while for my conscious mind to wrap itself around new information.  Thank you for being here for me.

I'm sorry you and John have been sick.  Hope you feel better soon.

Rev

Mandi,

Thanks for your encouragement.  It IS hard to accept that these things really happened, especially since I blocked so much of it out.  But I know these things are true.  I'm so grateful for all the people here who do understand what I'm writing about.  As you know, I've really struggled with my 3D friends because they don't have the same basis for understanding that you and others do.  I would hate to have these memories returning without the support of other survivors.  Thank you, Mandi, for always being here for me.

Rev

Sacredheart,

I'm sorry you've been having new memories come to the surface, especially since you don't want to remember.  It can be very difficult and scary when these things surface and I don't blame you for feeling the way you do.  I finally figured out that what I fear is the emotion attached to them.  It's not as bad now, but when my memories first appeared, they were accompanied by overwhelming feelings of fear.  I would wake up during the night with terrible physical symptoms that didn't make any sense at all.  I finally realized that if I could just let myself sob for awhile, the physical symptoms would disappear and I could go back to sleep.

You asked me what I do when these new memories appear.  I guess I just try to process as much of the emotion as a I can by crying.  It's as if I'm letting myself feel a little of what I couldn't feel as a child.  I have to keep telling myself while I'm crying that emotions cannot harm me.  It feels like it at the time because the emotions are so intense.  But after I've cried for awhile, I feel soooooooo much better.  It's been worth the effort to let myself cry everything out.  Other than that, I've tried to keep a notebook of returning memories.  It probably sounds strange, but I want a record of what my life was really like.  I grew up blotting all the bad stuff out and actually believed I had a great childhood.  I want to know the truth.  Sometimes I wonder who I am now, with all this new information.  Having these memories has changed me, especially in the way I relate to people.  I don't have as much patience with trivial things or with superficial conversations.  It's as if -- since I've dealt with the worst that can happen to a human being, why waste time talking about inconsequential (at least in my opinion) things.  Maybe this is just a stage I have to go through.

Sacredheart, I can relate to so much of what you wrote concerning the reactions of others.  My 3D friends can't cope with what happened to me and have made it clear they don't want to hear about it.  I even have a friend with a counseling degree who acts like she thinks I should be getting through my repressed memories faster than I am.  (Sigh.......)  I'm glad you come here and share with us.  I don't know what I would have done without this site because my 3D friends did not support me and I didn't want to go back and pay a therapist again (we are too near retirement to be spending money on therapy!).  I think you're right in that survivors can offer a special kind of support not found elsewhere.  Please feel free to write again or e-mail me.  I will answer.

You are in my thoughts.

Rev