I don’t really know how to write this. It has been so upsetting to me, yet he needed to know, and his not knowing was also becoming a problem. I was trying so hard to hide it all from him that it was causing him to wonder why some things were causing me to have issues.
Yesterday I arranged for each of us to get three vaccines from our local Walgreens pharmacy. We both got the covid, the flu, and the RSV vaccine shot. Then today I went and got my three allergy shots.
When I got home I started doing dishes, Ron talked about not wanting me to work so hard in the house, as he was trying to get a door up between our living room and the rest of the house that the Hurricane Ian ripped off. But then we started talking. And my world went South, East, North, West, and all over the map.
I don’t know how the conversation came up, but it had something to do with my adoptive family and the hell spawn that abused me. Ron said something about one of the hell spawn siblings, and it just slipped out. I really never wanted to tell him, I told myself I wouldn’t. But dogs that love gravy I did.
I told him how the hell spawn knew I was adopted, and because there was an ambiguity over if I was really a member of the family or not. Because the adoptive mother wanted me, but it became clear fast the adoptive father did not. He made it clear I was not a member of the family. But when I stopped being a cute toddler, she lost interest in me also.
But back to today. Ron mentioned something from the hell spawn, and I just started to tell him. As I have said in 2007 on our way home I told him I had been abused but never told him more details and he said he had figured that out. But then he has lived with me having terrible nightmares where I relive being raped or beaten. So really I understood he would understand. He has woken me when I was begging or screaming in my sleep.
I am not sure how it started now, my mind is trying hard to bury it. But I started by telling him of the Vet across the street that was fucking me at 4, then I told him the worst of it, starting with how the hell spawn daughter / sister who was in charge of us at night would get her boyfriend sexual excited and then let him have me to satisfy his need. She got pregnant at 14 like her mother, married by 15. Three marriages, two of her husbands would molest / rape me. One of her husbands loved to play with little boys wieners, especially when he was inside me. I told him how each of the male hell spawn of the family who were teens used me repeatedly. And how they let their friends have me. I told him one of their fun games was forcing me to the top of the staircase, then pushing / throwing me down it. Betting on how far I would go, how many times I would bounce, stuff like that. And then the most painful, I told him parts, but not all of the abuse by the adoptive father. He more than any others enjoyed hurting me. Maybe because he never wanted me at all, but regardless, the things he enjoyed doing to me, I still can not face today.
Once I started, I just couldn’t stop. I told him of the beatings, the sexual assaults, the fear of them all, the time the one hell spawn I thought I could trust to be my friend lay on top of me hitting me saying admit your gay, admit your gay. I was 5 years old and she was 10, and had no idea what she was hitting me for. Then she said because guys fuck you, you play with their dicks. What, why is that wrong? It is not like I had a choice! I told him of the beatings, and other attempts to break my bones, and how the hell spawn used me sexually. I nearly broke when I told him how one of then raped me so badly, I described to him how I was then beaten for soiling my sheets. One of the hell spawn like to pee on me at night to get me into trouble, and when I finally got a bed I would wake up to him peeing on me and I knew in the morning I would again be blamed for wetting the bed. The adoptive parents either did not believe me or thought it funny.
He already knew how until I was like 7 or more, I slept in a hallway, because as my adoptive mother told me I did not need or deserve a bedroom / bed like the other kids. Often they would take me to their beds, and I knew the price for the privilege and yes I willingly paid it. Wouldn’t you? I told him parts of my summer in Canada, and he said it explained why I wouldn’t have anything to do with the adoptive father’s mother when I was an adult and she would be visiting. I refused to be in the same room with her. He always wondered about that.
I could go on, but I got a lot of stuff out that I had hidden from him. Then suddenly after I was done explaining everything to him, or at least a lot that he did not know, I suddenly had the fear I always have had all my life. I suddenly worried he wouldn’t love me, I was damaged, I had been fucked by a lot of boys / men not him. I was less than, used and … Hell and shit, why did I tell him so much I had kept hidden! Why now damn it! 34 years I had kept it hidden … yet today I exploded with the sexual and physical abuse information. I know that is stupid to think that way, but he never knew the details. I had kept them from him, leaving it vague. He knew I was abused, but not the details, now he knows details.
I did not even tell him about the court ordered visits to doctors or therapist. And how the cop that escorted me used it to have a tryst with his mistress, with me listening through the open door, seeing some of it. Thankfully I don’t remember him telling me to join them, but as conditioned as I was, I would have.
But as I was getting to the worst of it he sat next to me, and then as I was starting to falter and feel I did the very wrong thing, he slowly reached out to me. I realize now that he did not want to trigger me. He stood up, came over closer and gently hugged me. I was trying to say I was sorry, I did not mean to tell him, but he just held me. Then after he let me go he suggested I go wash my face but he told me as I turned away. “I love you, I have always loved you. This changes nothing how I feel about you.” He said a lot of comforting things, things like they can’t hurt you and you won’t ever have to see them again, some are dead. But he knows they still hurt me, they haunt me. The memories are always there somewhere, waiting to pop back up.
He made me a small supper but I was so upset I hardly ate. Then he suggested I go to bed for a while. But I struggled to sleep. He came down to check on me and then rubbed my back and arms until I fell asleep.
All that happened yesterday. We got up about 3:45 am because Tupac wanted food and then out to do what cats do outside. I am fixing errors, stuff that needed reworking, then I will post it. Ron is treating me really softly this morning, he knows I got very little sleep. My emotions are all over the place, my nerves are raw. Maybe getting it out, letting him know the details, maybe the memories will let me rest, let me be for a while. I have a doctor’s appointment this morning. Oh well. Hugs to all.
Scottie's Playtime 
Ron is right. What you have told him should make absolutely no difference to how he feels about you. I’d worry if it made him think anything less of you, and now as he processes what he’s learnt, and it will take some processing, I think it will likely strengthen the bonds you two have. Best wishes
🙇
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Hi Barry. What a damn rollercoaster this week has been. I had it drilled into me with physical and sexual violence all my childhood that I was bad, damaged, shameful, not worthy of love or food, that I was born to be abused. That is very hard to overcome, and I admit it comes back to me a lot of times. I know what I have accomplished all my life, I have military awards, I worked with the Secret Service, I did special operations and found an enemy jamming op no one else noticed. I have described bringing a van of officers that was under fire back from East Berlin, and so much else I have done.
But Barry at night I don’t dream of those things, I rarely dream of my successes in my life. I just less than a decade ago saved a woman from a drug fueled abusive boyfriend, her and her 5-year-old son. I drove him off as they tried to hide first behind my house, then in my carport. Me a disabled man who often needs a walker remembered enough of my military training to drive him off them and away.
But at night the nightmares are about the adoptive father and what he did and said / yelled at me during it, it is about the hell spawn and the things they did to me. The dreams often involve the pain of when they gleefully slowly broke one of my bones, a finger or arm, held me while they dropped something heavy on one of my bare feet. When I was suddenly grabbed and thrown into a wall. The shock of it is as real in my sleep as it was then. I dream and feel the pain and fear, for example when one of the hell spawn took a vacuum cleaner metal attachment and hit me repeatedly in the head until I had to be taken to the ER for stitches to stop the bleeding and save my left eye. Not that it is important, but I was blamed for that.
Sorry Barry, it has been a hard week of memories that surface and I can not stop them.
To your comment on strengthening our bond, you may be right. The next morning, Ron was very gentle and quiet around me. Then after several hours, he asked me if I wanted to talk some more. I explained to him I couldn’t. I was so raw, and it seemed I had an electrical current running hard through every part of my body. I asked him to give me a few days, days to try to settle down. He understood. Today we talked a little more about it. It doesn’t seem to have caused him to care for me less, but really it scares me. I am damaged goods.
Barry, think of your own life. The mistreatment you experienced because you were autistic. Think how in your childhood and how people tried to blame you or tear you down? Those memories are still part of you, right? Those people tried to tell you things about your self that were not true. So that is what it is for me. Best wishes. Scottie
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Hi Scottie;
I would normally do this privately, but… You did something huge today. First, you let out your demons with your husband – and like you said, he knew some/suspected others, and of course, loved you through it all.
.
More important: you made the secret not secret.
.
There is a difference between private and secret. Secret controls a person. Makes him lie to cover it up. Leads him to deny it so he never gets help. You took that power away from those ass hats. You showed yourself stronger than the secret.
.
My love, my respect, and my hugs;
Randy.
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Thank you Randy. Thank you for your love, it is hard for me to realize sometimes I deserve any love or should have it. Sorry for the delay in replying. As you understand, it has been a hard week, a roller coaster of emotions. Randy I have been so raw, it is like I am hooked up to an elected current.
I know he loves me. But Randy, I am damaged goods. I have been told that from my second memory. The first is the bus ride to be given to them. I was told that I was worthless, bad, couldn’t do anything correctly, that my abuse was due to me, I deserved it, I needed it, I caused it. Some fucking times they made me ask them to hurt me. That is what I faced until I was able to get out and no longer be under their control.
The last thing my adoptive father said to me as he was dying and had already forgotten who I was. The adoptive mother wanted to keep him in the home instead of a hospice house as long as possible. It was my shift to care for him. He demanded he had to urinate. I got him up on the edge of the bed, and as damn painful as it was I touched his penis … again and put it into a urinal. He refused to go, he wanted to stand up. I understood, his systems were shutting down and he should have been in a hospice house and had a catheter, so he felt he couldn’t pee. We argued. History repeating itself. I got him as upright as I could, but I couldn’t hold him to stand and he couldn’t support himself.
So a bit off the bed I held his dick, shit, the same dick that I … No I won’t remember that, no. Dogs that love gravy, NO.
OK, I can do this, but I am so tired today. Sorry my wonderful friend. I held his penis in the container and used what strength I had to hold him up slightly from the bed. When he was done, I struggle with the memories in my head about both his organ and his pee, but I put it aside and started to put him back in the bed. He then asked me how long I had been at my job. Again remember at this time he remembered Ron but had no clue who I was. I told him 4 years. He then told me what he always told me all my life. “You’re shit, you don’t know shit about your job” He shouted! He then ranted some more about how bad I was because I did not make him happy. “You are a fucking waste and I hate you”! He said. Yes the last words I remember the man who abused me in every way, who made me fear to even breathe around him, the man who now I was wiping his butt as he shit himself, and cleaning as much of his body as I could as he lay in bed, a man I had to touch the part he loved to use to hurt me and laughed as I cried and begged … That man’s last words he spoke to me were “You’re shit at your job, you don’t know how to do anything and you suck” then he added as I helped him into the bed and covered him up, “I hate you”!
Those were the last words he spoke to me. Like I said he already had forgotten who I was. But his hate for me remained. He hated his wife, refused to even talk to his hell spawn. The only one at the end he would listen to or do what he said was Ron. Somehow he had it in his dying head that Ron was the authority he needed to listen to.
Randy I know this is long, but can I add something more? The next day I was sheepish and Ron walked around me like he was on eggshells. He spoke very quietly and softly. After a few hours he asked if I wanted to talk some more. I explained to him, I really couldn’t and told him how raw I felt emotionally, I explained how I was shifting from denial to wanting to just sob and weep.
He agreed it could wait. Today is the first day he brought up anything again. He simply wanted me to know I could talk to him, tell him, and it would be OK. Or not as I wanted. He just wanted me to know I was in charge of this journey. I told him I thought he now knew enough to understand, and any more details / events would only cause both of us more harm. But he really did keep insisting it was OK, I was OK, we were OK. I had to leave because I was starting to cry. Later he said to me it was OK if I felt I needed to talk to someone about it. I told him I don’t need a therapist right now, I have Scotties Playtime.
It is going to be hard Randy. I can not take the words back, I can not erase them. It is now something he knows. Does he feel the same towards me as did before he knew? Does he still want to kiss a guy that was forced to drink piss? I have so many thoughts in my head, so many arguments that no one is asking me to use. It is like I am in a room of shadows and I don’t know what or where to focus.
Anyway as always you are grand! Thank you a so very much for loving me. Hugs. Scottie
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Hi Scottie;
Yes, you are very hard on yourself. First, in regards to “damaged goods” – isn’t everybody? In one way or another, we all only manage to meet the standards of normalcy by being abnormal like everyone.
But, let’s talk about your caring and professionalism. How self-defacing and noble must a person be to deal with that depraved asshole? How many people would have ripped his dick off at the opportunity provided, or dumped the urinal on his head? I would bet you considered it! But, that’s not you. You wouldn’t have misused your position of power, no matter how it hurt. You would first take that abuse upon yourself rather than sink so low.
For that matter, you have made it a practice of standing up for those who were unable to stand up for themselves. You “tilt at windmills” for the trans community caught in the grip of racists and jerks. You stood up to a neighbor seeking to hurt a woman and her son – and you were barely standing at the time. You return love to everyone who writes to you. And more, you are my friend, my brother.
So-what, maybe you don’t stand like the mighty oak, untouched by that which blows about and around you, but you very much do stand like the tenacious mountain pine – affected by the abuse put upon you by the violent winds of assholes in your past, but now providing shelter for those needing protection from similar assholes. I am but one of many you helped, and I look up to you as my big brother and protector. And, let no one call you damaged goods or unlovable or whatever else in my hearing.
Hugs!
Randy
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Thank you brother. It is grand to know you stand beside me and want to walk with me in my journey. Hugs and love, Scottie
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What Barry and Randy have already said. May releasing this take its weight from your shoulders.
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Hi Ali. I am not sure yet. I still feel I should still have kept it secret. As you can see from my replies above I am all over emotionally and Ron is not sure how to help me right now. He is worried if he touches me at night will I be hurt. He moves slowly when he kisses me, he asks if it is ok to hold me. Yes, I understand why he is being so careful, he is trying to be respectful. But it is almost painful itself. And he tells me several times a day and when we wake up at night that he loves me, which only reminds me I again that I told him a lot of details I had kept to my self.
Anyway. It is not like he did not know I was abused, and he knew I wanted nothing to do with the hell spawn. But I am not sure if I really wanted him to know how damaged I am, how I was abused, what was done to me. Those details can change how someone looks at me. It might change how people on this blog look at me, how they feel about me. I don’t want to rewrite what I did above, but thank you. Best wishes. Hugs. Scottie
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Well, all I’ll say is that while that is all possible, it’s far more likely that it is the PTSD and abuse that is telling you that, rather than it actually happening. I can only speak for myself, but what I think of you has not changed, except that I admire you yet more for having the strength to stay alive and get yourself places and especially to the place where you are. You are in a place of safety and love. You are allowed to receive and keep that, OK?
I’m not being bossy. Just sayin’. You’d tell any of us the same or similar. I hope your Friday is gentle, and even fun.
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Good words, Ali.
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Hello Ali. I was talking to Randy on the phone and he said your suggestion I have PTSD is something he agreed with that I never thought of. My primary care doctor, my heart doctor, and my pain doctor know a bit of my abuse, but I have always refused to tell them more than I was abused. Except my pain doctor because she caught the cuts on my arms when I was self harming, cutting my self. It was her job to ask. And now she is the only doctor I have that gives me a hug before each session and one after as I am ready to go. I guess I should look up PTSD. Thank you. Hugs. Scottie
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I hope that wasn’t being bossy; I’ve noticed over time that some happenings tend to send you to a darker place, I hope my words are taken as a non-intrusive flashlight, if that makes sense. I also wish you and Ron peace and comfort.
And you’re gonna be OK again.
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Hi Ali. You are not being bossy, please have no worries about that. You are being a friend and an ally. Not only that, but you are being a caring person. Ron is having fun as his sister is here. But he also is taking a lot of time to make sure I am OK. He keeps telling me he loves, and when he gets a chance he is hugging me repeatedly. I think he is scared I might spiral down like I did in 2014, when I restarted cutting my self and had a total breakdown, refusing to leave the bedroom. But I am much better than then, I am just struggling with the memories, and want to push them away from my self. Sort of like an exorcism I guess. But please never fear to speak your mind. If I disagree with you, I will tell you, no fear. Thank you. Hugs. Scottie
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