Last night I had gone to bed earlier than Ron, my husband as is normal. I slept on my side of the bed and Tupac slept on Ron’s side against Ron’s pillows. We have two small car type pillows and we normally put one down against Ron’s pillows with a towel over them for Tupac to lay on. He sometimes has incontinence of his bladder and at the end of the time length of his drops he tends to get drips from his anus. We are not sure if he just gets into something outside that causes it or it is his drops preventing it as Ron is not great at keeping track of the drops or his spotting.
So when Ron came to bed he started to pull back his blanket and sheets only to realize Tupac had urinated a lot. Again not his fault, he does this when deep asleep sometimes. He is old and badly injured on his lower back end. We think he got hit by a golf cart because he is terrified by them. So Ron and I changed the bed at 10 pm last night.
Ron has gone out to visit with a nurse he worked with and I started washing the sheet and blankets from last night. As I lifted the bedding up to put it in the washer the smell and sight of a pee soaked circle right in my face triggered first one and then more memories. I lost track of time, I was that boy having been peed on while on my mat in the hallway, I was the boy so proud of his first bed to be forced to beg to drink a teen male’s urine rather than have it on my first bed at age 8 … only to have them do it to me anyway. To have to kneel or stand as the males peed on my pants or in them knowing I would be given public punishment by the adopting parents for peeing myself. Forced to accept them doing to me something I had no way to stop, too small and too weak to stop to do anything, and then suffering the public punishment in front of them as they laughed and mocked me with the approval of the adopting parents.
I went to the bathroom next to the washer / dryer and threw up in the toilet. Once done with that I just sat there on the floor and cried. A damned 62 year old man, once a decorated enlisted military man who served in two branches of the service, sitting on the bathroom floor with my back to the sink cabinet sobbing for remembered past pains, hurts, and emotions I can never seem to make stay away but resurface again and again and again into eternity. They tear at me, destroy me it seems like every time.
Finally I was able to calm down. Ron was gone so I had to deal with no support. Yes I could have called Randy but I did not have my phone and even the thought to find it was something I couldn’t manage. Damn even as I try to type this I keep breaking out in tears. I sometimes wonder if the living abusers ever feel bad over what they did to me? But I know not, they were too well schooled and inducted into hate by their parents. So I finished putting stuff in the laundry, kept drying my eyes and blowing my nose.
When I got back to my Pink Palace office … which I will be leaving soon for a grand better brighter room, I took the dry up nasal spray and sat down to write this. I struggled as always … should I burden my friends with it … Well they did not do this it is not their fault. Hey they are really good people I shouldn’t throw this dirt on them and soil them with my own past it is not their fault!
These people don’t deserve to have these thoughts in their head like you do, give them a fuck break from your whining you piece of damaged shit the voice of my adoptive father screams in my head! It rings so loud along with the other names called me. The worst were when he was angry or during the abuse. But his general feeling about me he beat into me. Now I am so tired. I want to quit. I want it all to end. I want to give up.
But there is joy in my life I force myself to remember. I have my wonderful husband of nearly 35 year. I have a home, and enough income to survive. I have good things in my life. But they only cover the screams of the abused child I was, even raped after I came home from the military by them until I was able to escape to my own home and then to the safety of Ron’s protection from them.
Thank you for letting me write this. As always it is a horrible fight to do it, it is like being abused all over again to describe it. But the process of doing that, of voicing the hurt makes is so much less, drives it back into the holes it hides into. I need to write to get it out of me. I am so grateful there are people who understand this and willing to listen as I do, taking unto themselves their own memories my writing may trigger. I am so sorry I might do that to others, to hurt them. But it is the only way I know to get some relief myself. So I thank you all greatly. Hugs.
Scottie's Playtime 
Scottie, I love you. There are no words other than those.
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Thank you Janet. The kindness of you and the people here who don’t mind when the emotions overwhelm me to let me vent them here. They say the more you can vent the memories, the more you can say / address the abuse the less it can harm you. As I wrote I feel bad about throwing my burden on you and everyone here. It seems wrong somehow. I try to limit how much I share here to keep the harm my abuse did to me from spreading to others. You and others here are also abuse survivors and I have to be careful not to harm you by sharing my own childhood. I care about you and the people who come here. Hugs.
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Never worry. We are your friends, and we love you. Maybe you can let us shoo those thoughts on through and out.
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Hi Ali. You are a wonderful and grand person. For some reason I have a view of you that I realize is unrealistic but as someone I feel I should protect. Maybe because you told me of what happened to you with your first husband. Or maybe the niceness of who you are comes through in all you write and express. But I realized one reason I post of my feelings and abuse on MS is we are all survivors there and understand the need to vent about our feelings and our abuse. We all have been through it and understand it. We all hurt together and the shocking facts of what is done to children / little bodies is something we have all experienced to different degrees. As someone on the site told me this morning … don’t worry about throwing your dirt on us here or soiling us, throw it on the pile we all add to and we will deal with it together.
But Ali it is different to post it in detail here. The people here for the most part have not been abused, not lived the life I did. It feels abusive in a way for me to share my childhood here. The people here did not do it or cause it. Yes they care and they want to help, but my putting those memories in their heads seems … unfair of me. Yet I started the first blog, Scotties Toybox, to champion those who needed someone to stand up for them like I needed someone to do for me as a child, and to vent / voice my own childhood abuse. I have continued that in every blog I have had.
I thank you and everyone who comes here. I thank you and Randy for helping me keep the blog going and sharing your ideas, feelings, and your discoveries to all of us. Your posts add a depth to the blog it did not have and expresses stuff people want to see / know. Again, thank you for all you do and the person you are. Hugs
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I struggle to understand emotions in myself and others (alexithymia), but as per other comments here, we are here for you. Never feel guilty about needing to talk about your experiences, no matter how unpleasant they seem to be. We listen and where possible we want to make your load lighter. I feel that we are privileged by getting to know you better.
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Hi Barry. Thank you. I thank you and all who come here. I do wonder if they come here wanting other topics and get hit with one on my childhood instead. I realize as you said everyone can choose to read or not … but I do feel guilty after I post one of my abuse posts. One of the issues we have on the Male Survivor site I belong to is a few people will post then feel horrible about it and delete the words of the post but of course the thread is still there and all the responses are. I don’t do that, if I feel the need to express it or say it I keep it up.
Barry the way you feel about me is how I feel about you. Here and on other places where I am asked about neurodivergent issues I often suggest your blog. I feel so grateful for all you have shared with me about your life, how being autistic effects you and your wife, and the things you find frustrating. So many of my incorrect preconceived notions you corrected and showed me the truth of being autistic. You are an important voice for your community as I hope I am for mine. I hope you will continue to share and help me to understand the issues you and your community face. Like emotions being difficult for you (alexithymia) that is something I did not know but makes sense when I think how autistic people interact with others and get ostracized for it. Reading other people’s faces and emotions is how most people deal with each other. If you can not do that you will become the outcast. It is important for all of us to try to understand that people not grasping others / our emotional state is not a failing of caring about us but maybe simply how we / they process the world / people around us. To be honest Barry I have never been diagnosed as autistic but sometimes I miss social / emotion clues. My point is why should we blame autistic people for something the rest of us may do also.
Sorry this got long Barry. But I just wanted to express how grateful I am that you entered my life. You have taught me about your country, about yourself, your family, and about issues faced by autistic people. Thank you. Best wishes.
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