After just a few sessions of EMDR and of course a lot of
other work. I have been able to remember what I could not remember prior to
EMDR and the support of the anti-anxiety drug Xanax. Without these dual aspects
of therapy, I could not remember these things let alone tell their story.
There is no way to ease into the description of such evil
inhumanity, so hideous memories that cognitive dissonance would require their dissociation
through repression for the organism to continue to exist.
Between the ages of 2 and 9 years, my mother on the
occasions that suited her once a month once a week would carry me in from my
room to hers. Our house was very small about 900 sq ft. so she did not have to
carry me a long distance, and obviously my brothers and sisters knew what was
going on, because soon it would be their turn weekly, monthly this interval has
not crystalized fro me yet.
Once in her bed my mother would disrobe exposing her naked
body to me. This would bring various levels of excitement to me depending on my
age from a pure tactile stimulation. The feelings were flavored with a others
of tenderness and love or a motherly love and closes ness between the ages from
2 and 4. Between those ages there was no
sexual arousal but feelings of love and closeness mixed with tactile sensations.
By the age of 5 to 9 particularly by age
9 I had become conditioned to associate these events with a nascent sexual
arousal for, of all people, my mother.
So I would be taken into my mother’s bed at these ages 2 to
9, she being stimulated by the sight of a child. I really don’t understand
this. I kneeling in bed before her she
nude and she stripping me nude no matter how old I was.
I remember at the youngest age of 2 rubbing up against her naked
body and the tactile stimulation and the rubbing of my penis against her vagina. I came to associate with love and affection
even though it was not love or affection at all. Whets was taking place for my
mother was sexual arousal. I could see this by the maniacal look on her face. This
was not love but lust stimulated by beholding a young child her own, although I
became conditioned to see this objectification of myself as love, because it
was the only affection and closeness that I received as a child.
The tactile stimulation itself was much like being tickled
but tickled or tacitly stimulated beyond the point of pleasure and well into
the realm of pain.
For the survivor this was not childhood sexual abuse; that phrase
is from the perpetrators point of view. It is a part of societies language or
ontological perspective that must change if child rape is to stop. The perpetrators
are the only ones being sexually aroused or stimulated. The perpetrators, they are the only ones getting
off sexually. As a victim as a child as a survivor, I was just and object to be
used as long as she wanted in order to receive whatever thrill it was that she
received. Sense I had not matured physically sexually I had no release from
this torture there was no end to it for me just rape and pain. It as if I were a human dildo with feelings.
This rape and pain with no release is another level of woundedness
that I wish to run from. These emotions are stating now to be separated from
the hideous and frightening emotions that I run from at I when I felt the full
impact, hideousness and ugliness of being a sexually experienced child.
Remember being raped by my family, and this was not limited
to my mother and father, started when I was pre-verbal – I could not speak or
form cognitions in my mind of what was being done to me.
When the pre-verbal aspect is considered I the
child was left with feelings of closeness love, sexual objectification, pleasing
my family by allowing myself, and I thought I had control even though I did
not, nut pleasing my family by letting the sexually objectify. “letting them”
in fact I had no choice. And yet there was no expression of love, affection its
associated emotions or cognitions just torture the torture of trauma and naked
bodies and the illusion of self-worth by allowing myself to be sexually objectified.
Dad would often eventually come home and join us in the bed,
mom ad I. At the ages to 2 through 4. I would be pinned between them with no
means of struggle or escape forced to touch an tactily experience my father’s gentiles.
I would also be naked and pinned between
their naked bodies rubbing against them in a hideous intractable tactile stimulation
trapped with no escape which I came to
associate with love and affection even though it was only objectification.
Then the oddest thing happened with me as catalyst my parents
would cast me aside and begin their own sexual activity between each other. I was the object of their arousal, thus so
that they could in engage in sex. This was my purpose for being born.
As I was left alone at their time I would borough under the
blankets often ending at the foot of the bed or sliding off the side onto the
floor so I could make my escape into my own room as they tangled in whatever it
was that ignited their passion.
This went on weekly, monthly probably sometimes either
weekly or monthly but certainly when the urge was upon them
This was their show I was on an object to them a human dildo
of sorts practiced and loved for stimulation but never experiencing human love
of a child between mother and father.
As I got older I was used more and more as a participant literally
and figuratively between my mother and father. The emotions associated with these
sessions were very confusing, First I was pre-verbal so I could not cognate
(think) what was going on I only experienced pure emotions. Secondly I was at
an age where I had not developed clear boundaries, i.e., I did not know for
sure where I began and ended and where my parents began and ended they were still
a part or parts of me that were indistinguishable from myself. This is the self
that I was supposed to be developing with their help. This is the function of
parenthood to help the child develop a sense of self. Finally, there were these emotions these
tactile simulations love, were they affection? No. They were the
objectification and the discounting and the blurring of that very self that it
was their duty and my expectation for them to help me develop, nurture and grow.
Complicating my developing sense of self was their own definition
of my purpose as both object and catalyst for their sexual pleasure. I existed to somehow stimulate being
responsible for their sexual pleasure and being responsible for driving their
own sexual arousal between each other to each other when I had no concept of
sex as love or intercourse between a man and a woman as an expression of love.
There in my parents bed I experienced the emotions, tactile,
feelings primitive cognition which formed my developing self and which I had
to live with repressed through dissociation of the cognitive dissonance presented
parents and lovers.
Of course repression of any kind, for any reason is mental
illness not mental health, anyone who attempts or succeeds in repressing
emotions for any reason is practicing a form of mental illness whether this is
sanctioned by a guru through meditation, an inspirational speaker through the
power of positive thinking, bible thumpers who use scripture to negate the love
of Christ and His human experience, and the cognitive psychologists themselves,
who have come up with numerous methods of repression from CBT to the prescription
of psychotropic drugs like SSRIs all designed to make the organism manageable and
cover up the hideous truth of human evil that exists in our society –
especially in the United states of America.
