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Survivor story
A Mother's Abuse, and a Distant Glimmer of Hope
Original story
Message to a Survivor
There is hope. I don't fully believe it yet because I'm so deep in the pain. And so are you, right now. It's fucking awful, and we feel alone in it. Because we have learned to be alone. Because the only way you and I survived this life is alone. The stakes were too high. So that's it: alone was the way to do it, so we would never be hurt, again, the way we were, within an inch of our lives - perhaps even at the cost of our lives. Remember you are a survivor. A warrior. Maybe you were just like me: a helpless, tiny child, at the mercy of a malevolent force that pretended to be your caretaker. And yet, here you are: alive. It was awful. It was isolating. If you're a kindred spirit, you know it meant you had to figure out the rest of your life as a lone wolf. A warrior. A pained, hurting, confused person who tried to do it all themselves, with a beautiful, artfully constructed facade that you just HOPED the world would believe: the facade of someone "normal". The facade of someone who wasn't raped, or used, or molested, or duped. The facade of someone who was so well-adjusted, so popular or sexual or sexy or liked, that they would finally be accepted as the camouflage they were wearing to the world -- even when that facade was repeatedly cracked by rage, or pain, or betrayal, or suicidal hurt, or the spreading of the trauma that was inflicted upon them to begin with. Well, the jig is fucking up. If you're reading this, you know that there is no hiding any more. All I can say is: There is hope. It's so far away, for you and for me. But it's there. And the key - it fucking sucks - lies in opening up to other people. Absolutely: there are awful, unsafe, abusive people in the world -- people like my mother, and people like your father, or mother, or uncle, or sibling, or abuser, whatever form they took in your life. But there ARE, also, safe people in the world. They exist. There are true, benevolent healers -- people with a genuine, divine gift to help you heal your heart, your sexuality, your body, and your searing soul. I know, because I have met some. I am deep in the process of recovery, but I encourage you to open your heart to the possibility that you might, just might, meet people who can begin to help you heal too. Some resources that I am availing of: Plant medicine for trauma relief (absolutely huge). Somatic/body work. Books like 'Silently Seduced', 'Victims No More', 'The Body Keeps the Score'. Talk therapy. A meditative practice. And, most of all, reaching out to find a community. If you have nobody, write to me: email. Perhaps, like you, I am a walled-off, protective, deeply scalded soul from years of maternal abuse; so it might take me a little while to reply. But I will. You are a sister or a brother in arms, and I respect you for reading this. May we both survive this. May we both, one day, exceed survival beyond our dreams.
Message of Healing
I want to heal so bad. I want to trust again. I want to trust community. I want to love. I want to be able to freely, happily, openly cum with a woman and give her and me the sexual ecstasy we DESERVE. Healing means separating from my awful "mother", forever. She is nothing to me. For what she took is invaluable.
My mother used, groomed, sexually abused, and ultimately sexually humiliated and sexually punished me for years when I was a child and a pre-pubescent, pubescent, and adolescent boy. She is a fucking monster. I was used within an inch of my life. I barely survived it. I don't even want to admit it to myself, but the number of suicide attempts I have survived makes me a goddamn HERO. I wasn't hospitalized, I wasn't on death's door, but I was close. I tightened ties around my neck that I hung myself from as an eleven- and twelve-year-old, until they almost choked me to death. I drank or abused myself nearly to death way, way, way too many times as a teenager and an adult. Anyway, the awful shit she did involved first grooming and using me -- seducing me -- throughly -- completely -- emotionally, sensually, sexually. When I was a child, this awful woman who called myself my mother would wrap her legs around me in bed repeatedly. And other parts. And say how a "baby" needs a mother's skin (I was a teenager). How the most "pure love" in the world is that of a mother and her son. It was all a lie. All an awful, terrible perversion of the truth to set the stage for her abuse. She used to sexually humiliate me. She would take me into the bathroom in our little flat in City and she wouldl jack my cock off and make me climax. And I would cum on the floor and she woudl scream at me. So angry at me. For what I did, for what she made me did. Pure, unbelievable ,unbearablle rage on her face. I want to cry. And the anger as I came on the bathroom floor. Mad at me, mad at my erection (that she made me have!) So mad at that erection she was intentionally givign me. She hated me. Hating me. Projecting ONLY pure, awful, wrathful, vengeful, horrific hate on me. Screams. Her phenomenal screams. That would rock the whole house, shake the ceiling. I wonder if she was raped by her dad, or her brother. She must have been. To use a little boy, a little child like that. The sexual devouring in her eyes. I'm so ashamed. I feel awful. FUCK THAT WITCH. I DON'T WANT TO DIE. BECAUSE OF HER. Awful monsters like my "mother" - there was NOTHING ABOUT HER THAT HAD ANYTHING CLOSE TO A MOTHER'S ENERGY - need to be held accountable. STOP THEM FROM HURTING CHILDREN. IT HURT EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE. The sexual rage and the pain. The way I have passed on the trauma by hurting nearly everyone in my life. IT STOPS NOW. THE PATTERN, THE MONSTER. THAT AWFUL RITUAL OF SEXUAL HUMILIATION AND RETALIATION AND VICTIMIZATION AND PAIN. THAT FUCKING. STOPS. NOW. IT STOPS WITH ME!!!!!!!!
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Grounding activity
Find a comfortable place to sit. Gently close your eyes and take a couple of deep breaths - in through your nose (count to 3), out through your mouth (count of 3). Now open your eyes and look around you. Name the following out loud:
5 – things you can see (you can look within the room and out of the window)
4 – things you can feel (what is in front of you that you can touch?)
3 – things you can hear
2 – things you can smell
1 – thing you like about yourself.
Take a deep breath to end.
From where you are sitting, look around for things that have a texture or are nice or interesting to look at.
Hold an object in your hand and bring your full focus to it. Look at where shadows fall on parts of it or maybe where there are shapes that form within the object. Feel how heavy or light it is in your hand and what the surface texture feels like under your fingers (This can also be done with a pet if you have one).
Take a deep breath to end.
Ask yourself the following questions and answer them out loud:
1. Where am I?
2. What day of the week is today?
3. What is today’s date?
4. What is the current month?
5. What is the current year?
6. How old am I?
7. What season is it?
Take a deep breath to end.
Put your right hand palm down on your left shoulder. Put your left hand palm down on your right shoulder. Choose a sentence that will strengthen you. For example: “I am powerful.” Say the sentence out loud first and pat your right hand on your left shoulder, then your left hand on your right shoulder.
Alternate the patting. Do ten pats altogether, five on each side, each time repeating your sentences aloud.
Take a deep breath to end.
Cross your arms in front of you and draw them towards your chest. With your right hand, hold your left upper arm. With your left hand, hold your right upper arm. Squeeze gently, and pull your arms inwards. Hold the squeeze for a little while, finding the right amount of squeeze for you in this moment. Hold the tension and release. Then squeeze for a little while again and release. Stay like that for a moment.
Take a deep breath to end.