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My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER (Read 15703 times)
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My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Dec 5th, 2008 at 1:01am
 


I've been keeping an eye on this forum for a very long time now, long before I first made my account I read what people here said and now that I’m finally going to tell my story I believe a little introduction is in order.

I am in my early twenties, I am a young man living in Finland, and I was molested by my brother when I was young, when exactly is difficult to remember exactly. The exact date of when it happened has long since disappeared into the mist of my memory but what happened has been burned deep into my soul. I apologize for my rather impersonal nickname but I prefer to keep even the slight chance of someone finding about who I am to a minimum. I don’t want this to get out before I’m ready, when I can release it as I see fit.

My story will be rather long and at times rambling so I apologize for that before hand but since everyone who posts here regularly has proven themselves to be honorable and just people I’ll tell my story here first.

I remember walking out of the nurse’s office in the elementary school I was at and thinking about why I have so many headaches. I walked down a long empty corridor until I suddenly realized why I had so many headaches. Some time prior to that I believe I read something about how repressed memories can cause headaches in people, I was reading as many scientific magazines as I could get my hands on even when I was only 12 or so. I collapsed because I remembered what happened to me, all of it. To this date I’m not sure what happened or why I remember it precisely then and there, some things and possibilities race through my mind as I think about it, it could be that something the nurses said planted a false memory of it in my head, after all it was in the golden era of false memories the 90's when the nurses were seeing signs of abuse everywhere.

But today, more than a decade later I still remember it as vividly as if it was yesterday, I still remember how I felt, how it all felt, how I acted afterwards, everything that was said. Every detail is burned to my mind as if it was yesterday and I remember that the days, the weeks and months afterwards never felt the same as the times before. When I look back at how I felt, how being me felt like in the times before that it felt soft and as if I was safe, after that I do not believe I have felt safe for 15 years. The first time I felt safe after that was some time ago when my girlfriend was lying on my stomach.

IF you don’t like to read the whole incest in its gory then skip over this part:








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You see, I always adored my big brother, many younger brothers are like that, they look up to their big brothers and hope to be like them some day, we went to the same school and he is 6 years older than I am. Sometimes I must have been annoying as many children are but his hatred for me went above and beyond what is normal. He had been in an awful daycare facility up until he was three, what happened precisely I do not know but I do know that it effected him for the rest of his life. That or he was born an asshole. Either way he was mostly mean to me throughout my childhood so one night when I’m lying in my bed and one of my parents (to this day I cant remember if it was my father or my mother there) was reading a bedtime story to me my brother appears in the hallway and looks at us. The story was being read as usual and after a while my brother asked if he could read the bed time story to me. I remember thinking how nice it was that he was finally being nice to me. So I looked at my parent and said it was alright, my parent handed the book to my brother and went downstairs. My brother sat down next to me and started reading. This is the part where it always gets hard for me to tell the story. He was sitting next to my bed on a chair reading the story, I was absolutely mesmerized by him, I wanted to take in every moment of this precious time, and he was being nice to me. I don’t remember exactly what he said to get into the bed under the sheets with me, I do remember it never felt natural, and I remember how uneasy I felt, how my senses were telling me that there was something wrong with this situation. After a while he stopped reading and took pulled down his pants and told me to grab his thingy. I was too young to have ever experienced sexuality at that point in my life so I did not know what was going on. I simply knew it felt wrong. I did as he asked and I remember how he told me to squeeze and do it faster, I remember how it felt in my hand, how it still feels in my hand, when I think of this I can still feel it in my hand, still feel its texture in my palm, still feel how its warmth pulses on the surface of my skin. I remember I did it until he had an orgasm as I have a faint memory of something on my hand. This much I remember for certain, then I’m not sure what happens. In one possibility one of my parents walks up and he hurriedly gets out of bed and says he just finished reading and I say what happened, he gets dragged downstairs and someone else finishes the bedtime story. OR he says he finished the story and I ask my mother to read me another one and nobody is the wiser about what happened. Either way I remember that after my mother finishes the story and I’m in bed my brother walks to the door and stands next to my bed, I remember I’m facing the wall pretending to be asleep but I’m still wide awake just wishing he would go away and this would all be in the past. He says talks about what happened, I still don’t remember what he said but as he leaves he says something that was burned to my conscience forever. He said, "Remember, this is your shame as much as it is mine."


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You can start reading from this down
















That in essence is my short story, but it was enough to absolutely devastate me when I realized it later on. For 15 years I carried it with me and I am now mere months away from revealing it to the world, I plan to write a small book about it, about my experience and coming to terms with it.

To this day I’m not sure if my parents know of this, which of these possible memories is the real one, which one really happened, did my parents know of what happened or are they still in the dark, when I tell them of this if I find out they've known of this I will disown them and start my new life and severe all but the closest bonds of friendship. I have already decided that I will never call my brother a brother again nor will he ever be my friend again, he would have to come before me on his knees and beg my forgiveness before I would even think of giving it, but he wont.

If my brother remembers this at all and still acts the way he acts then he is an animal which does not deserve to be called a human, he still tries to torment me as much as possible, he spreads lies about me and mocks my spiritual beliefs, going so far as to email my mother behind my back and telling how he is "tired of having to look after me". The hypocrisy of that man is beyond belief. IF he does not remember then he is an uncaring animal who can harm others and not even remember that he does it, either way he is a person so far beneath me that he doesn’t deserve the dirt on the bottom of my feet. I think I kept in touch with him for as long as I did hoping the vain hope that he would apologize to me now that we are adults, come clean and sob fully confess that what he did is wrong and it has haunted him since, he hasn’t and the email he sent to my mother was the last straw for me, I have not talked with him since and I have no plans to either, I save my time for the people that matter.

My parents are a different story however. My mother I told of my depression in a fit of anger, after she had badmouthed my girlfriend, even if ever so slightly and then laughed at me for trying to point out that it upset me that she said so. I blurted out in a fit of rage that she is an emotionless shell of a person and that I was depressed for nearly a decade and suicidal and the only reason I’m alive is thanks to the girl she badmouths and so forth, she turned around and walked away and never brought that conversation up again. I have never told her of this but as I said, I don’t know if my memory is accurate or not, if they do indeed know of this then I’m not certain on how to act, if I should cut contact with them or not. I gave them many years and many signs to simply ask me if I’m doing alright, simply to inquire as to how my life is, instead of pointing out my flaws and how "lazy" I am. I believe that the only reason I still live at home is because I hope beyond hope that they would notice something is deeply wrong and simply ask. I started looking for a job a month or so ago but it will take a while to even get one and then to move out. As I was studying at a university and not planning to move out or even live this long my life plans were not exactly easy to modify. I had a major fight with my parents a month or so ago at the same time I started looking for a job and I have not spoken with my mother since, we still live in the same house but I will not say a word to her that is not absolutely critical. I Get along with my father since he specifically asked to talk with me after we had the fight. He asked if the two of us could talk and sort out what is going on.

In my darkest moments after this some months I go I nearly committed suicide. I had my date, method, time and suicide notes done but at the last moment fate intervened. A woman whose life I saved ended up saving mine. We are now happily together and plan to get engaged sometime soon.
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Tracey
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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #1 - Dec 5th, 2008 at 2:31pm
 
Hi Story-mail,

I'm pleased I checked in here today as to of posted all those thoughts and emotions would require some support and acknowledgement.

BTI is a very safe and honest place, full of very supportive caring individuals, set up by a very caring individual for others to share experiences and support each other when required.

I hope you are now feeling relief after writing all your words down.  I am pleased you are here with us and have found support in another close to you.

What your brother did was wrong and the age difference between the two of you one which he would of been aware of his actions.

You come across as very grounded and focused on the future.  Be patient and be very kind to yourself.  You know now as an adult what was done to you was wrong and should never of happened and your brother will too.

I remember years ago when I first posted my story here and I had my first response what a shock and at the same time relief and sense of somebody finally understanding what I had gone through.  My wish is for you to feel supported by us all here and you are very welcome.

Tracey

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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #2 - Dec 5th, 2008 at 9:50pm
 
Dear Story-Mail,

I am so glad to know you have come to the point where you feel safe enough to share here. I want you to know that I do my best to keep this site safe, and that having a safe place is a top priority for me.

Your courage shines through. I can't imagine the torment you felt growing up. I hope you truly know that what happened was not your responsibility or your blame. I hope you know that your sharing helps so many of us here...it reminds us that we are not the ones to blame.
I admire the stand you have taken for yourself, and I am so happy to know that you have someone in your life who supports and loves you...and someone you feel safe with.

I do hope that you write a book. There are so many male survivors out there, but I think that they feel as if they can't share what they endured. Your courage helps them to know that it is okay to talk, it is okay to share, and it is okay to acknowledge and begin that healing process.

I am glad you are here, and I hope that you will find as much help and healing from us as we will find from you.

Sincerely,

Ty
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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #3 - Dec 7th, 2008 at 3:54pm
 
Story-mail,
welcome to bti.  I can only hope this site will be as safe and healing a place for you is it has been for me.
It took a lot of courage to share your story with us.  I can only imagine how exhausted you may have been having put your experiences on paper.  Your strength shine through your words. Remember, the shame is your brother, not yours.
Many of us come here to share our stories and our struggles as we heal.  If it is helpful, please feel free to share and seek support.
Good luck with the job hunting and getting your own place.  I hope it all falls into place quickly for you.

ciaro
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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #4 - Dec 8th, 2008 at 11:18am
 
Dear Story-mail,

Thank you for sharing your story with us.  I know it took great courage to write it all out for others to see, but you've come to a safe place to do that.  I hope you find the support you need with us.

I'm sorry your brother molested you.  My brother molested me, too.  I felt so confused by it all because we had always been best friends.  We no longer have a relationship.

I could relate to what you wrote about your brother being mean to you.  I have a sister like that.  She was never physically or sexually abusive to me, just mean.  It never made sense to me when I was growing up, but now I realize it was just part of the dysfunction of our family.  Since I was the younger sibling, she saw me as a safe place to dump her anger.  For a variety of reasons, the two of us no longer have a relationship today.

I am sorry for all you have experienced.  You seem determined to heal and find a way through all the pain and I commend you for that.  Please feel free to share again, if you want.

Rev
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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #5 - Dec 8th, 2008 at 11:50am
 
I will write again soon but for now i must focus on life concerns. Thank you all for your kind words, i'll get back to you all soon.
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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #6 - Dec 8th, 2008 at 6:23pm
 
Welcome!!  I'm so glad you felt safe enough with us to share your story.  That was very brave!  It's not easy taking that step.  I can relate to your story a lot.  I'm sorry that your brother is such a horrible person who could do such a thing.  I will not have anything to do with my brother again ever.  I will probably have to see him at my mom's funeral.  But that will be the last time.  Unfortunately we can't pick our family members.  But we can choose as adults who we will decide to be around and call our family now.  I always felt like I was obligated to be a good sister to my brother ~ just because he was my brother.  My family.  Thank God my therapist helped me realize that I owe him nothing.  And more importantly, I don't have to be around him just to make my mom happy.  That saved me from a lot of pain.  I hope that you continue to heal.  It sounds like you have found a good support system in your fiance.  Congrats!  Hang in there and share whenever you feel like it.  We're here. 

Mandi Smiley
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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #7 - Dec 18th, 2008 at 3:13pm
 
In essence I have to accept that I will never be healthy, I can wish and wish but I will never be so. I can however get healthier. There will always be the occasional painful memory that creeps to the surface, there will always be the sensations in my body that I can’t get rid of. These are things I’ll live with, every day when I wake up they'll be there, every day when I go to bed they'll be there.

That I can live with these is a testament to my strength, that I have to live with these is a testament to the weakness of society to protect the once that need protection. There are so few men in this society that come forward with an experience like the one I have that I hope I can one day give men strength to live with something like this.

I remember being mocked for my behavior, the behavior that was caused by the pain in my heart. Being told I’m unfit, that I am not a good person, that I am perverted. It is true that I was unfit, bad and perverted since that is what I was made to be. I remember when I collapsed against a wall in the junior school for what felt like days, I just sat there and felt so wrong. There is no place I can hide from the shadow. I remember when I was young, maybe around 7 or 8 and I started wetting my bed, all caused by abuse. I remember dreaming I was in the toilet and taking a piss, only to wake up the harsh truth. As any child would I told my parents what happened, I remember how angry they were at me. They were angry and mystified why it was happening, why I was suddenly doing it when I had never done it earlier. I remember how I was filled with such intense anger when they were standing over me in the middle of the night talking about it. I remember how angry I was, how I felt I had no place to go if I wanted to feel anything but shame and abandonment. If I wanted a way out of this shame I would have to tell of another shame which would only bring me more shame, so I did what I could and I held it all in and in place, I simply stood there and got angry and never said why.

The signs were all over the place, I was barely in my teens and I was acting out sexually far beyond my years. Even when I was in the 3rd grade or so I was acting out and poking the girls with brooms and acting like the horny teen, I as 9-10 or so.

I remember lying on one couch while my mother was sitting on another and we were watching a movie called "The War Zone" a story of incest. I would recommend it to anyone here if watching it is not too emotionally disturbing. I remember I almost started crying at several scenes but from 10 years of hiding my emotions I could keep it in check. At one point my mother says "If someone did that to my children I’d tear out the perps eyes", I remember I turned to her and thought, "What if it is one child doing it to another".

My childhood leading up to the abuse is one filled with miracle and wonder. I remember when I was a young child people who met me described me as an unusually aware child, one teacher going so far as to describe me as "the man from outer space" then going on to write in my report card how its possible to talk with me about anything and how talking with me was surreal since I was so "aware". Those are exceptionally strong words in a society that strongly favors fitting in. I remember many spiritual events in my early childhood and many strange things that I have later confirmed with people who were present during these events and they all agree that they were quite unusual. I remember being 2-3 years old and playing next to my family on this small outlet/peninsula where small groups sometime go to eat lunch. I was sitting on the floor next to a table and I lift one of the floorboards up only to find a ground beehive, I promptly dropped the board and probably smashed the nest causing the bees to go all mad and sting everyone but me. I remember when my family runs away from the table and I sit there for 45 seconds or so. I remember that I look at the bees around me as they are in a circle a few feet away from me and non of them sting me, I look in amazement at these bees that are circling me but never getting close or stinging me. Then my mother runs back, grabs me in her arms and runs away, and during the short run back she was stung by 3 bees, in the whole over a minute that I was surrounded by bees not one ever stung me, all other members of my family were stung by a dozen or more bees in the less than 15 seconds they spent there.

I have many similar experiences in my youth that can only be described as bizarre beyond belief. I've run through deep deep bushes of stinging nettles which I’m allergic to in nothing but my bathing suit when I was a child and not receive a single sting, I’ve done things that should have either seriously harmed me or even outright killed me and not taken a scratch. I remember falling from a tree some 3-4 meters high, landing squarely on my back and not even having the wind knocked from my lungs.

I’m not sure why I’m telling this since it doesn’t really have to do with the abuse but I suppose it does have to do with me. I was a child not easily harmed and not easily surprised and since the abuse I have spent, in one form or another 15 years in almost perpetual darkness. But I wanted to show that while my parents failed to protect me when I needed their help the most and failed to see that something deeply wrong was going on I did have a happy enough childhood leading up to this.

I’m looking forward with both dread and anticipation on the day when I get to shed myself of this darkness that I carry. I've gotten so used to being the one who was abused but couldn’t tell that it has nearly become me but it isn’t me. Once I get the financial stability I need and finally move out I’ll be able to do what needs to be done next. The next step would be to write long letters to all the people  involved in this in one form or another. To tell them what happened, why I must do what I do in response and that I will no longer shield them from the responses to their actions, I hope this all works out for the best. At the same time I hope this all doesn’t work for the best since in a way I don’t want this to work for the best, I want to be abandoned and I want to leave this family. If this works and all is in the open I would have to face my parents as whom I really am for the first time in 15 years. I have lost so much of my life to this that I’m not sure if I can live the rest of my life alright. It is like coming out from a lifetime of torture and wondering if I have what it takes to live the last few days of my life well.

I suppose this is how Nelson Mandela felt.
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Reply #8 - Dec 27th, 2008 at 6:37pm
 
I remember when I was a child, I had this recurring nightmare, in fact more than one, but one of the recurring once was simple, there was a large hill ahead, I was walking up it and I was getting tired, my brother, mother and father were steps ahead of me and I looked at them and asked for their help  but they simply stood there, some times they didn’t turn back to face me other times they did but I remember they never came down and picked me up, they would always stand there and even on the times they looked back they simply said for me to pick up pace and start walking faster. I remember that many times I rolled down that hill and I woke up once I hit the bottom. I also had a recurring dream where I was in the shower with my father, I was perhaps 3-5 in this dream, I don’t know how old I was when I first had it but I had it well into my early teens. Sometime during the shower a man with dark torn clothes and the looks of a man who lives on the street comes out of the hole in the floor where the water goes (Cant remember the word for that).  My father fights with this man and I’m not sure if he wins or not, its been such a long time since I had it. Another recurring dream I have is one that always ends the same but starts in different ways, In early parts of the dream there is usually no specific thing I do but towards the end I start to fly or glide over the landscape and try as I might fly away my brother flies up and grabs me by the ankle. We all know where that particular metaphor, the ankle grabbing comes from.  I also have a recurring nightmare where there is a demon in our Sauna and he wants to devour me but I manage to negotiate it so that I offer him a stake from the fridge and he doesn’t eat me, I however have to keep this a secret from my parents in the dream.

All of these dreams, to me, paint a clear picture of a disturbed childhood. Luckily I don’t have these nightmares anymore, though occasionally if I go to bed before midnight I have the most horrible nightmares imaginable that make me stay up for well over 24 hours afterwards.  In many of the pictures of my childhood I show the signs of chronic sleep depravation, with bags under my eyes. When I look at a mirror now I sometimes wonder where the bags went off to.

I’ll write more when I feel up for it, I always appreciate the answers here and I will eventually use this long post to reveal my secret to my parents, this is, in a way, my hidden diary. So anything you say here might be eventually read by her. Even if it isn’t I will read it and I will appreciate the response, thanks.
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Reply #9 - Jan 2nd, 2009 at 2:19pm
 
Hi Story-mail,
Having read your posts, my strongest feeling is sadness at the loss of your childhood because of your bothers abuse.  I am so sorry for that.  You deserved to be just you, safe and cared for.  It makes me angry that your mother could not hear you or be concerned for you when you told her of your depression.  That says more about her than you.
It is true that we can never change our pasts. Our abuse will always be a part of us.  We can however, change how it effects us and we do not have to live out of fear and darkness.  It is a long and painful journey to healing and it is possible to live inspite of our past abuse. 
It is hard to do alone though.  I am struck by your courage and know that you have the strength and will to heal.  And confronting our abusers and our families can be a helpful part of our healing.  I hope when the time comes, that this will bring you a release. 
I'm left wondering, have you been to counselling? You don't have to answer that question, by the way.  I have found having a therapist, experienced in working with people who have been abused, invaluable.  She is my anchor, my safe place, my safe person, with whom I can be just me, in all my pain.  Maybe, it is something for you to consider.  Healing, as you know is painful, and can leave us very fragile and vulnerable at times.  I would love to see you having someone who can support you and accept you for who you are now, a very courageous young man who has survived.
journeying with you

ciaro
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Reply #10 - Jan 7th, 2009 at 5:27pm
 
Thank you Ciaro, Sorry I haven’t responded earlier but I’ve been busy, my girlfriend proposed to me on a cruise some days back and its been keeping me busy. I did have the time to post but I felt unready to do so.

And no, I haven’t been to counseling in the professional sense, sometimes I’ve thought about it but getting therapy here is very difficult, time consuming and/or expensive.  We do have free healthcare officially but unofficially it is mostly a joke. In the city I live the waiting line to get your second appointment is 9-16 months, if you go to the private healthcare it is in excess of 200€ a visit. Needless to say that is unacceptable. My mother did offer to pay for it but the offer was made in such a tone without the needed support and talk that it was clear it wasn’t an offer in the real sense, more of an insult. I realize how helpful it would be if I had a good therapist, good medication and a good healing environment but it is something I do not have nor do I see anyway of getting those things. If I walk into a health center or a hospital the most they will do is give me a pack of SSRI or SNRI medication and send me off.  Some time ago a boy under 20 murdered a 16 year old girl in cold blood at a basketball field and handed himself to the authorities, when he was sentenced he said that now, finally, he can get some help. He had spent a good part of his life trying to get treatment for his depression only to be rebuffed at every turn. So no, I know I would benefit greatly from good counseling but in my situation it is impossible to procure. If I do take the option my mother offered I would have to strip away what little self respect I have left and go crawling back to the person who abandoned me the first time asking for help and as I have written here, that help will not be given with a smile and it would most likely simply worsen the situation as I would constantly be in a position of being labeled the “one who needs therapy” by the people who hurt me in the first place and they would be paying for the therapy. It is a situation that would take away the little liberty and choice over my own life I have and since that is the thing that has kept me from going completely nuts it is something I won’t do.

Right now the closest thing I have to a counselor are a few of my friends who’ve helped me through this for many years now and of course my girlfriend who proposed to me Smiley. I had what can be described as a breakthrough after my girlfriend proposed to me. For the first time in a long while I felt genuinely afraid from the deep bottom of my heart. It was a charming sensation despite its deep seated terror. Charming because despite the terror I felt it was the first time in a long while I felt anything that deeply. I love her of course but that love hasn’t been a burning passion, nor has anything else for that matter. For a long while I’ve walked around like half asleep, even my skin feels like I only just woke up. I remember what it feels like when I just woke up because I remember my childhood so vividly, I remember that all the touches and sensations used to be much more vivid, much more alive. When I wake up in the morning the sensation stays the same as it did in my childhood for a few moments before it slowly starts to fade. It feels like my eyes tell me the world is a horrible place with no love in it and every speck of light on my retina drives me deeper into depression. Still, when I wake up I feel like I have the energy to do many things, I have no trouble with walking long distances and I still feel energetic, it is just that everything seems so dull. So, when she proposed to me I felt afraid to the very bottom of my feet and that was a truly charming sensation.

No matter what happens I don’t want to lose that I want to retain my emotions and be able to feel so alive. I’ve thought about telling my family about this, I’ve thought about how I should tell them and for the first time in a long while, maybe ever, I have a reason to tell. When it was just me I could have simply committed suicide and everyone would have been better off (besides me of course). Now that I have a girlfriend I love and a life I’m willing to stay alive for, even if only by a bit I have something that’s worth destroying this family over. Since if I tell it, is certain this family will fall apart, that will seriously worsen the situation my nephews will face. In the past I was holding this in to protect the lives of my nephews from the embarrassment and difficulty they would face when this is made public, now I will no longer do so since I have a fiancée to look after. I’m simply contemplating how I should tell it, where, and when. In a few weeks I will have to go to prison for refusing armed service. I will post here before I go but when I do go I’ll be gone for 3 months, I will try my best to keep my wits about me and not get into any trouble, I just hope this forum will be here when I get back. Right now I plan to write a letter and hand it to my mother the day I leave for prison and tell her to not open it until I’m in prison, where I explain what happened, why I’m angry and that I plan to move out when I am released. There are problems with that plan, mostly that I can’t secure the finances necessary to rent a house yet. I will think of something but it might ruin the plan and I’m afraid that if I don’t tell soon I’ll never get the chance since my father is fairly old and there is no way of knowing when he will die. This is the choice I now face. If I decide to tell when I go to prison I will have to do so within a month. If I plan to tell later I have to hope my father stays alive. All in all it is a very bad situation to be in, I will survive as I have before, I simply hope I wont “fall asleep” again.
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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #11 - Jan 12th, 2009 at 11:23pm
 
I'm not ready to forgive, not yet, but i'll get there. I'll get there I need to remeber this.
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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #12 - Jan 14th, 2009 at 4:30pm
 
Perhaps it will help to remember to take things in baby steps, one step at a time.  I find when things are intense, just slowing down and taking baby steps helps me not to get overwhelmed.

Well, what a roller coaster of emotions!!!

Congratulations on your engagement.  That is wonderful news.  I wish you both all the best for the future.

And I'm really sorry to hear about the prison sentence for refusing armed service. Crazy!!  Be very, very gentle with yourself during this time and remember 'it will pass'.  Perhaps it can be time to be still and reflect.  I wish you luck with whatever decision you make about telling your family.

I will be thinking of you and sending you some healing light.

ciaro

PS sorry its rushed and short.  I'm on my way to bed  Smiley

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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #13 - Jan 15th, 2009 at 10:24am
 
Well, a letter came for me, in it were the prison authority's instructions on when I need to arrive and where. Now I have a week and a half left in which to write my letter, I’ll write it eventually there’s no doubt of that, it might take a while and I might push it back to the last moment but this stops now. Hell or high water I’ll no longer carry this. It was never my fault, I was barely a child and I was hurt by my brother and blamed for by my parents. When I tell them I’ll give them a link to this forum post so anything anyone says here will be read by them. If there is anything you want to say feel free to and I’ll do my best to get them to read it.

So now I’m faced with a choice, do I forgive or do I want more time, my heart asks me to forgive but my stomach, my gut, is telling me I need more time, if I forgive now I’ll play down how much I suffered and I’ll not get into a balance, to forgive I must truly be ready for it and much as it hurts me to say it, I’m not ready. For possibly the first time in my life I'm ready to start processing how much I hurt.  This is going to be hellishly difficult but hopefully I’ll pull through.  The only way my parents will reach a balance and accept the failings of other people, their parents, friends and family members if they are shown how badly they failed and their own self is brought clear into view. The only way that can be done is if I show them how their failure has affected me. Maybe after that they will understand other people and their blindness better. One way or another everyone will have to face their demons.  The next 2 weeks will be the most difficult of my life and I hope I have the strength to pull through, they will be difficult not because of the prison, not because I would be forced into this but because I must choose. Because I must be able to maintain myself through all the disgust, all the hardships and still do this. It will be difficult, yet I want to do it. I will no longer carry this within me like some disease.
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Re: My story, Such as it is. WILL TRIGGER
Reply #14 - Feb 8th, 2009 at 2:26pm
 
My prison sentence starts tomorrow, it was nice talking here, thank you all for the help *waves* bye! Cheesy
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