In every screwed-up family there is the One who has been chosen to be the Cause For Everything. The easy receptacle for everybody’s stuffed feelings. And if/when that person starts getting better, everybody else falls apart because they’re forced to look at themselves for answers. Can anybody spell s-c-a-p-e-g-o-a-t?
Person. (I don’t know if you’re a guy or a girl.) There was something wrong, or else you wouldn’t feel this way. Feel your way slowly? Because you may be in denial. And revelations can be a shock.
Do you think there is a genetic component to sexually abusing one’s own children? It seems obvious that you don’t do that, from the OP. However, I was sexually abused by my father, who was sexually abused by his father, and the fear that I would sexually abuse my own kids (even though I know I’m not a pedophile) and/or the fear that I would pass down pedophilic genes, is pretty much the biggest thing stopping me from wanting to have kids of my own.
I dunno, I guess this is kind of a stupidly-worded question. Because I know that genes don’t cause behaviors. But I still wonder if there is an increased latent tendency or desire there, as I doubt it was just coincidence that my dad turned out the way he did.
I remember the physical, mental and emotional abuse from my Mum since I was was 4 years old. Dad worked over 50 miles away, and I’ll come back to him later, but he was never involved. I had a brother 15 months younger and a sister 5 years younger. My brother put up with pretty much with what I did. I didn’t notice it happening to my sister.
There was physical (hitting with hands, shoes, belts, canes and belts), emotional rejection (I’m 45. About 10 years ago it was strongly suggested to me by my Dad’s cousin - who was a close family friend - that my parents married because my mum was pregnant with me and this was 1960s England. Apparently she blamed him and me for her not marrying into a better life) and mental abuse. I was told off for any perceived imperfection, negative reinforcement (Skinner called one of his discoveries Operand Conditioning - well the opposite of that). My mum was not a figure of love to me.
You get to guess the rest until I was 14 and put a knife to her throat and told her if she ever used violence on me again I would kill her. From that point on if I did any of the teenage things boys did (like smoking, staying out late, trying a little pot) she would call the Police on me.
I moved out to bedsit a soon as I could. Weirdly I joined the RAF (Couple of unprovable fibs about my past and I was in) where I spent 11 glorious years. I has a set of rules and orders I could follow and knew what action would lead to what consequence, what an appropriate punishment for a crime should be, stuff like that. I saw out Gulf War One and Bosnia. Then I had the first of many nervous breakdowns. I spent a year sick in the RAF and left on Redundancy. 13 days after leaving the RAF my first wife, N, left me taking our daughter B with her. End result? Apparently I have a “Borderline Personality Disorder”. N moved all over the country making it impossible for me to keep in contact with B. Despite a Court Order I got a single photo of B from the age of 6 to the age of 15 every January forwarded through a Solicitor. I last physically saw B when she was 6. She’ll be 19 soon. I don’t blame either of them. I get a lot of “She’ll come looking for you when she’s ready”. Perhaps, perhaps not. either way I’ll be able to handle it.
It gets better.
To replace the people missing in my life I turned to drugs. Eventually I was injecting heroin and cocaine and living the appropriate lifestyle. This went on for a few years until I decided to clean up, get my shit together, detox and go for a job. I managed all this over a couple of years with much help from my Community Drug Team. I ended up in a full time job, in recovery from drugs. Sadly I had contracted hepatitis C through my injecting drug use. The treatment lasts a long time and hurts, emotionally and physically. In a lot of ways it reminded me of my childhood. Treatment failed (despite 100% compliance) both times. In between I married P in Turkey! Bit of a bolt out of the blue for me, but what a fantastic thing after just getting out of a methadone clinic. P quickly became pregnant and our gorgeous daughter, Z,was born. She’s 9 right now and will soon be 10. Unfortunately the adult relationship between me an P didn’t work out. Perhaps it was down to culture and they have a Matriarchal system in Turkey. Perhaps it’s something more cynical. who knows? I still love Z with all my heart. I just knew I couldn’t bear being pushed around by a woman § again. It was equals or nothing. We ended up divorced due to her finding another man. I was seeing Z on an off. This led me back to drugs again. And self harm with knives, razors and pills.
Somehow it was more brutal this time. Larger scores were involved, many more deaths through overdose and the occasional person getting murdered (not by me, I hasten to add). It was like living in the film “Trainspotting” for 5 or 6 years. Again I got so low I sought counselling. This time I moved to a New City with (yet another) new woman. The good news is that I’ve been in recovery from drug use for about 7 years now (none of that NA excuse stuff, either, just the good old fashioned way). I’m on a part time BSc course in IT, working full time. Things are looking good. I have a Court order for regular contact with Z despite her living 50 miles away and me having no car and living on minimum wage. Surprise surprise P is not complying so I have to go back to court again, but I’d do anything for my kids. I’ve not let Z down yet. I’ll walk those 50 miles if I have to.
Back to my Dad (I said he’d be back). I had a serious heart-to-heart with him a while ago and asked him why he never stopped the violence. Turns out he thought his duty was as the provider so he was out of the house at 05.30 and home at 20.00. He never spotted or knew a thing. We were so scared of Mum we assumed Dad must be in it too. Well I accept his version and have let go of years of hate for him.
Mum has apparently had “cancer” for the last 20 years or so. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t spoken to her in that time. But I don’t know may cancers that take that long to rot you away. With a bit of luck it will be a new one that slowly eats her from the inside and makes her immune to painkillers. So no bitterness left there, then.
I am left not knowing what to think. Borderline personality, PTSD from the forces, Schizophrenia and psychosis from the drugs. Shit, I’m so covered in labels I can hardly see myself in the mirror anymore. I’m on anti-psychotic and antidepressants meds and probably will be for the rest of my life. I can live with that. Occasionally I have to take diazepam for a few weeks to calm shit down a bit. I can live with that too. I have great female (and male) friends, and have survived relatively unscathed a couple of relationships and break-ups.
Mine is not a lone story. I’m just the one with the time and resources to sit and write about it. I know dozens of people in similar situations. Punks, skinheads, goths, Hells Angels, soldiers and tramps. I help with what I an, where I can, if I can and if I feel I should. Sometimes all it takes is 5 minutes to listen to someone’s troubles and a hug to let them know that you know they’re human. I am no hero. Don’t hold me up as some martyr - I’d spit on you. I’m a man who’s had a shitty life but has done what he can to the best of his ability. That includes fathering 2 daughters, though I respect those who feel they can’t. I remember a counsellor talking to me about child abuse, she said that a few do go on to perpetuate the abuse but a greater number react as I do - they despise abusers and have no time for them at all.
Despite everything, and despite having to stop typing because I was crying so hard, I consider myself a lucky man. I have taken what life has thrown at me and done what I had to do. I have survived relatively intact and to use a Christian metaphor “The Devil knows who she is”.
I wish strength of feelings, emotion, will and compassion on each and every one of you. May your Deity of choice (if that’s your thing) look down beneficially upon you.
Peace, out.
ps excuse typos, twisted logic etc. I’ve just read through this twice and don’t have the strength left for a third go
Just posting to say that I know Leanwilf in RL (I posted a link to this thread to him) and he is indeed a brave, strong and loving father to little Z who is as lovely a child as anyone could wish for.
I’ve discussed this with a number of counselors and therapists, as well as read books about this. Not limited to sexually abuse, but mental health as well.
In short, no. IIRC, there is a correlation between people who grow up being abused and going on to perpetrate it. It’s not 100% by any means, but it is one of the factors.
My older brother and younger brothers are examples of sexual victims becoming perpetrators. However, as far as I understand, the relationship is between being the victim and is not genetic, e.g., step children suffer the same fate as biological offspring.
leanwilf, damn. I wish I could say more.
IANAexpert in genetics, but I’m someone whose extreme reluctancy to have children stemmed from a history of emotional and (attempted) sexual abuse. Right now I’m working on trying to get Middlebro to learn to take it easier with his son (the Kidlette is perfect, the Kidlet can’t do anything right… which reproduces Mom’s own “Littlebro is perfect, the two eldest can’t do anything right” :smack:), mostly through showing him and occasionally through telling him (or telling him “hey, it’s me who’s teaching him, shoo”).
I don’t think it’s genetic, it’s a combination of mental/emotional damage (my Gramps from Hell never understood either incest or minority; he eventually got the notion that his wife would get mad if he performed incest but couldn’t really grok why) plus societal issues (I reckon it’s got to be worse in societies which view women and children as the property of the Head of the Family than in those where they have independent legal rights). It’s a matter of “it worked well for me, so what the hell are you complaining about”, which gets made worse by either legal systems, religious structures or other authorities making it clear that the abuser is whithin his/her rights and the abused should just shut the fuck up.
I hope that by being female, maybe the cycle is already broken in my case (and I just don’t know it yet, because I haven’t had kids). I don’t know how far back sexual abuse goes, though. I never knew my grandpa except through a couple visits and some pictures, because he lived in Florida and died when I was too young to have any sort of relationship with him. And I can’t ask my father about it, because we aren’t on speaking terms.
leanwilf, your story is really sad. I strongly feel, though, that there’s no excuse for a parent having no idea that the other one is abusive. There is a duty to your kids not to let that shit happen. What your dad allowed to happen constitutes malignant neglect, in my book, and that’s what I feel toward my mom’s inaction during my own abuse. It’s a bit different in my case compared to yours, in that I didn’t assume she knew about it all along. However, I was cautioned by my father on multiple occasions that if I told her (or anybody), bad things would happen to her and to me. So under threat of injury, I couldn’t say anything to her at the time. But I still felt (then AND now) she should have fucking known it and intervened, because it happened while she was in the house.
I still harbor a lot of anger over what feels like my mom’s failure to protect me, but then I don’t think I’ve evolved nearly as much as you (or TokyoPlayer!) have. bleh. Typing all this out doesn’t make me cry (I wonder what that says about me, that I feel a sort of clinical detachment), but it certainly is pretty fucking depressing.
Uh, no. Not just no, but OH HELL NO. While I’ve not yet had the pleasure of meeting you in real life, I already know you are much more than that.
If you really believe this of Bill you need to discuss it with him. If it’s true (which I doubt, he could probably get a booty call cheaper than a plane ticket), then you can decide if you want to continue. If it’s not, then you need to get to where you can stop thinking that of him - and of yourself. It’s not fair to either of you to continue with this eating at you.
I have nothing to ask, I just have always respected and remained in awe of the OP. That people can (and do) break the cycle of abuse is incredible. I’m honored just to read TokyoPlayers threads.
With your adorable youtube videos of Beta-Chan, I hope you know that you now have a rich life that others envy.
Questions.
Does being a parent trigger memories of the abuse? Have you ever felt emotionally overwhelmed in those moments and how did you cope with it?
How do you deal with your family of origin when it comes to your children?
What’s weird, when I think about it, is knowing my kids are probably going to have a relationship with my mother that is NOTHING like what I had. I’ve already talked to her about my fears for my own kids given my abusive upbringing and she understands and is willing to respect our boundaries as parents, whatever they are… but the reality is that Grandma to them is going to be a warm and loving person instead of the angry and confusing person I grew up with. I admit I’m a little envious of my own future kids in that respect. To think that they will not be tainted by all this pain I’ve carried with me for so long brings a lot of joy, but also a longing.
And it makes me wonder how I will address my own past with my children. How can I tell my kids the truth without tainting their view of my Mom? My Mom has always stated that there are things about her past I will never know… recently one of those finally came out, and I understand why she kept it from me. She was trying to protect me.
I both feel I wish I’d known sooner and I wish I didn’t know at all. It’s a very painful secret that has permanently altered my understanding of my own life and the people who gave me life. Was she right to tell me? Would I be right to tell my children? Where is that fine line between exorcising your demons and keeping the truth from your children? Is it selfish or selfless?
Do you plan to tell your kids what you experienced? How do you know when the time is right?
Well, I’m already seeing a professional (for my depression, which has faded over the past few months), and I think I’m going to bring this up this week. We’re already talking about something someone mentioned earlier about how anger is a sort of defense mechanism, and it seems these things all fit together. Perhaps, not necessarily through abuse, there’s been something that makes me feel powerless. I can keep people posted if you’d like.
I’m a guy. I know I there are certain places in my mind where I do not like to go, but I’m usually aware of it. Still, I will try to see what’s going on.
I am pondering on my reply to this. I am not sure yet how much I want to say.
I am 47 years old, You would think, by now, I would be over it (the abuse and ignorance). Not so much.
Will post more tomorrow.
I will say that I love you guys. Even though you are random people on the internet, you make me think about things I would rather ignore. You make me face up to my random fears, and you make me a better, more “real”… me.
These posts make me examine my life and decisions like I never have.
I always thought I was weird and completely alone. I now know that’s not true.
Thank you all for telling your stories.
I will try to tell mine tomorrow.
What she said flatlined, and more. You cannot be a good partner unless you learn to at least appreciate yourself, which takes help, time and maybe medication. And once you have recovered from the foot, as soon as you can, I want you to talk to someone about your self image, because what you see in you is very wrong - you are a good person and I am sure Bill knows that (he ain’t paying all that money for just a booty call!), and you need to know it too! Please tell us you will?
More towards the subject of the thread, I was abused as a child, probably not as much as some here but then I don’t remember big chunks of it. I was severely depressed beginning at least in my pre-teens, had/have attachment disorder, sexual issues and a really bad self image until I was in my 40’s. I never had children tho I did end up raising my last two brothers - at first there wasn’t a conscious choice not to have them, there was just never a time when I could even get close to affording to have one. Later when I could I’d been in therapy long enough to realize that I had pretty much zero understanding of normal parent/child relationships and since I had no burning need to have kids, it was better I didn’t.
Back to flatlined - I have personal peace and self confidence now. It took a long time and a lot of work, but it would have been unfair to my husband to have not done so. He really didn’t need his second wife to be a nut job like his first… 
My former therapist talks of the resilience of the human spirit. It’s not an easy task, but well worth it, especially when the most adorable little girl on the planet comes running to greet you.
Being a parent itself hasn’t triggered any memories of the abuse. I’ve done a lot of therapy and trauma work, and the memories don’t hold the same overwhelming force they used to.
It’s actually healing in a way, and has both more and less understand my own parents.
Having babies and toddlers scream and throw bloody murder temper tantrums challenges the sanest of parents, and anyone can get overwhelmed. This morning, a particular three-year-old in this household abandoned her normal, well-behaved self and decided that every #$%#! step of getting ready for day care was going to be a struggle. On the day we really needed to get out the door. They can tell, and it’s a great chance to see if rules still apply, even in a hurry.
I started getting that tightness in my chest and on the second use of “I’m going to count to three now” knew that it would have been there (or before there) that my father would have come unglued and started hitting. Fortunately, this is where you can make conscious decisions to not escalate the situation, and instead make it a game, so calm was restored, and that three-year-old did get on her big girl panties, her pants, shirt, jacket and helmet.
What having my own children has made more difficult to understand my parents behavior is not understanding how my father could not love his kids at all, and how my mother wasn’t able to gather enough strength to protect us.
One day, it hit me. I was carrying Beta-chan in a sling around and around the block at 3:00 am because that was the only way to get her to sleep, and Mommy needed a break. This was the first commitment that I could never undo. Houses can be sold, jobs quite. No one really likes to, but divorces are possible. But you can never undo becoming a father. For the majority of parents, they become attached to their children and make tremendous sacrifices, and one of the sacrifices you make is the luxury of having a breakdown when you have children in your care.
Beta-chan is three, Didi is one. All they will know for a number of years is that they have a really sweet grandmother in America. Grandpa died years ago, which is just as well. The brother who raped me will never meet my children.
One would have hoped that she would have chosen a little more effective way of protecting you.
The question how much to tell or not, and the timing, pales in comparison to the question of how well do you get. How much do you get past the shit?
For the children of those who are unable or unwilling to get well, and suffered abuse, neglect and misery have a completely different fundamental need than the children of those who did overcome and grew up within a healthy environment. My father grew up in his own hell, and knowing that has helped me come to my own understanding of the hell I had, but had he gotten the help he so desperately required, there wouldn’t have been the more than 40 years of suffering.
Hopefully, for my children, knowing at some point will help them piece together why there were never happy stories of Daddy with his Daddy, like there were with Mommy and her Daddy, but finding out won’t have them running to their therapists saying “Ah ha! Now I understand.” I say “hopefully” because I sincerely intent to continue the healing process and continue to learn to meet their changing needs. No one’s perfect, and they could wind up with some issues, but it shouldn’t nearly be the same magnitude.
My sister has been pretty good at striking a reasonable balance with her kids. They know that things weren’t pretty, but she’s not burdening them with unnecessary details. The kids are 12 and 15, and the older is a pretty thoughtful young lady, so she’ll figure things out.
I see it as sort of like teaching about sex. Age appropriate responses. I don’t know yet when that will start and how much.
Yes, please do so. I’m glad that you are seeing a professional, and this is exactly the type of thing to discuss with them.
I’ve found that that’s a good place to start.
You’re not alone, and it can get better. I know, I’ve been there.
For me, I didn’t have specific memories triggered, but I have had this weird knee-jerk fear/conviction that someone is molesting my daughter when she presents with confusing emotional reactions. She’s not historically someone who is very forthcoming with feelings so, a few summers ago, something was going on at camp which was really bothering her and she acted upset and withdrawn long before she was able to articulate her feelings. When I tried to talk with her, she would cry and cry and say, “I can’t tell you.” I was frantic, convinced that someone at camp was molesting her. My husband, luckily, is pretty level-headed so I could show him all of my fear and get it out of my system, then address my daughter appropriately. Turns out, “I can’t tell you” in this case meant “I can’t figure out what’s bothering me” and we were able to slow down and sort through her feelings. If I had been running around screaming “Oh my God, is someone touching you??!” the way I was in my head, I know I would have been of zero help to her (if not outright making things far worse).
My sisters and I have all struggled with this. My mom is not only much different than she was when we were growing up, but she’s rewritten history so much in her own mind that she would never acknowledge what she was like. The fact that you are able to be so clear and open about your boundaries will serve you well.
TokyoPlayer-
Thanks for creating this thread. I admire your resiliency- I can’t imagine going through half of what you described and coming out remotely human, and yet here you are.
Also thanks to everyone sharing their stories here and on the other recent thread with the poll about abuse and how you turned out. Reading them has been sad at times, horrific at others, but generally therapeutic. At the same time these threads remind me about a lot of stuff I’m really struggling to get past.
Other than therapy and your spouse, what has been your greatest resource in overcoming your trauma?
-El Burro
This question wasn’t for me, but:
Something to love. Everyone’s will be different - gardening, sports, having pets - but for me it’s music. Listening to it, sure, but also writing, singing and playing it. A teacher’s kind suggestion of “play it out” on one rotten day has gotten me through many worse days, and enhanced the good days. Hearing a song, with or without lyrics, that seems to say exactly what I needed to hear. Creating something and knowing that beauty is important and there is a little of it inside me. Feeling things that I can’t seem to write or speak about and getting them out on the keys… nothing better.
I hope that anyone who has ever felt worthless or powerless or joyless can find something that lifts them up, too.
:smack: Damn. See, this is another example of your past getting to you. My parents (and probably the vast majority of parents in the 60s) framed everything as children “testing” their authority, when in reality, there is a certain amount of testing, but also children can pick up the tension in the air (we were in a hurry) and don’t know how to react, so she wasn’t able to act like she normally does. That’s one reason games work rather than continue getting stricter.
My mother has never really dealt with her issues and the amount of damage she did. At 76, I don’t much of a chance of her changing now.
Reading about abuse, dependency, codependency, trauma therapy, stories of other people, etc.
Groups for victims have been good. I used to attend Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA), a 12 step group for people who had grown up with alcoholics or other dysfunctional parents. It’s really good to be able to talk about the abuse and put the feelings into words. Knowing other people have dealt with similar issues is therapeutic, as is getting hints on techniques.
For people who grew up with a severe level of abuse or neglect, there is nothing which beats a good therapist trained in trauma issues. I spent quite a while bouncing between unqualified, ineffective counselors and had given up on therapy until I found someone who could help me. Fortunately, psychology field had developed in the last 25 years, and they are starting to understand trauma and its affects better, as well as developing better methods of helping.
This is the reward for the hard work of overcoming abuse. You get to watch your little ones and really enjoy them.
For me, getting in contact with other people’s pain, and using my experience as a springboard to become more engaged in preventing suffering from others. One of the most helpful things I did was take a course on child welfare, which focused heavily on the foster care system and child maltreatment investigations. It was a real eye-opener on just how many advantages and blessings I had in my life. Every day on the Straight Dope you can read stories of people going through some serious stuff. And just becoming more aware of the fact that people go through trials and tribulations all the time - and somehow come out alive - well, it makes my past seem more normal, somehow.