Trigger warning- references to sexual acts and feelings about what happened as a teen
I saw the beginnings of the fruit of many, many years of work in my session yesterday. Thinking about it, it’s like I’m finally getting around to working on what first took me in to see Mama Bear back in 1992. It just took me far longer to get to the point where I could begin to tackle it than I ever could have guessed.
I was referred to Mama Bear by a couple’s therapist because I was so terrified of sex that I had trouble even allowing my husband to touch me non sexually. I knew that I had experienced a date rape in college and Mama Bear says that when I described what had happened, she recognized that I had strongly dissociated during it and that it was likely that I had a prior history, even though I reported my family as being “perfect”.
I know from my journal at the time that in the period when I started to see her, I was experiencing body memories, even though I did not understand them and they made me feel crazy. Yesterday, for the first time, I was able to start to talk about the type of abuse that happened in one of those recurrent body memories. I have mentioned it to Mama Bear in writing before, but I haven’t ever been able to say anything out loud. Even yesterday, I used a combination of words and pointing to an area of my body because I was incapable of saying the proper words through my shame and sense of shock. Even starting to talk about it sent me straight into a re-experiencing, so Mama Bear had me shift to paying attention to what I could physically feel right there and then, plus she got me to talk about the bear blanket that I so love the feel of. But at least I was able to get it out, into the open, after so many attempts to say something.
I can see now that it is highly likely that the abuse memories that were trying to come out all of the way back in 92/93 were largely related to my father, but I simply couldn’t go there. I had good reasons to be afraid of my mother’s older brother (he had hurt me as a toddler, had a history of extreme violence with my mother growing up, had PTSD from being a foot soldier in Vietnam, and was all around an unsettling/scary person.) I am very sorry to say that I attributed memories to him, because he was more acceptable to blame than my father. I suspect that he also used his physical presence to overwhelm me in ways that were very reminiscent of what happened during the sexual abuse with my father.
Anyways, I told my mother that I thought that her brother had sexually abused me and she had no trouble believing that he was capable of it (I suspect that he may have been abused and then turned around and abused her when they were young teens), but she was full of disbelief that she could have missed something that big. Everything got turned around to being about her in that moment and from then on, I kept on trying to ask for help as things got worse and worse for me over the next months, but she could only give me lip service support. What I needed was for her to fly across country and hold me and give me tangible support.
At the level that knew that my father had abused me, the decision was made to close that down, and instead I shifted to working on the abuse with my paternal grandfather. He was openly acknowledged as being a terrible person, so it was relatively safe for me to bring that abuse out into the air.
Twenty two years ago, I was incapable of dealing with my father’s abuse without my mother’s support. I was too young to do it on my own. I had only just started therapy and didn’t have any of the skills that I have learned over all of these years. I was so vulnerable that I was afraid that I was going to kill myself in an attempt to escape the pain and that was without considering my that my father was one of my abusers. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to be able to provide any meaningful support and instead I had to worry about taking care of her, because my distress was causing her distress, I went by instinct and did what I needed to do to take care of myself. Invisibly, everything regarding the abuse with my father was walled off, I didn’t realize that I did it and Mama Bear didn’t know either, because I had never said a word about him. Very visibly, I cut off contact with my parents. I couldn’t take care of both my mom and myself at the same time. What I didn’t realize is that I must have been experiencing a huge sense of betrayal inside. I knew that I was angry at her for not coming through for me, but all beneath the surface, once again, she had chosen my father over me. I had been in a situation where I could have started to open all of that up and let the poison out, if she had solidly come through on my side. But it was a repetition of my childhood and the abuse had to remain unspoken and unknown.
There were at least two other points over the years when my mind started to leak memories of my dad’s abuse and I really looked at it and considered whether he had abused me. Each time, I decided that something had happened, “but surely it couldn’t have been as bad as the dreams make it seem” and it was firmly walled away again because my life wasn’t in a situation where I could deal with something that devastating.
So, here I am, twenty two years later. Lots of life experience, time off from therapy to get my daughter off to a good start, a couple of masters, some professional work, and many, many internal changes later, I am ready to take it on, after three years of intense prep work with Mama Bear. Granted that I have been tackled the whole “my dad abused me” issue for a big chunk of that time. But now I ready to start to deal with what probably is the crux of the matter in regards to my sexual relationship with my husband: How my father raping me affected my developing sexuality as a teen and all of the confusion/ guilt/ shame over the acts done, feeling like I was betraying my mother, confusion over what sexual acts do I like/ want to do and what is only because of the abuse, what are my own responses and what are conditioned responses, shame over expecting pain and sex to go together, remembered conflict over both wanting to tear off and throw away my body so I couldn’t feel anything and sometimes wanting to be touched. And more than anything, that one type of act. It isn’t even anything that is all that unusual, but inside there is such a sense of overwhelming shame for some reason it makes me feel less than human. Perhaps worst of all is the fact that my body learned to like it, a lot. I feel so confused with that- part of me feels completely disgusted and betrayed by my body and another side of me understands that there are lots of people who find it pleasurable. It’s yet something else for me to try to puzzle out and find a way to make my peace with, along with so many other sexual experiences with my father. (Now that is a sentence that a person shouldn’t ever have to put together.)
There is so much shame over being a teen, knowing what is right and what is wrong, and what was happening with my father was very wrong. Somehow, it’s like there was no choice in whether there would be sex, though, just how I would manage my part in it. Mama Bear tells me that is normal in cases when there has been long term abuse from a young age. She is going to bring in something for me to read, which I hope can help me understand what happened better.
The thing is that I wanted very much to be loved by my father, I just didn’t want to be loved that way. I wanted to be held by him, because even as a teen, I needed a safe snuggle; I certainly didn’t need an intense sexual experience. I needed for him to see me as important and useful, but it was toxic for that importance to be as a sexual partner.
And I did want to be touched in some of the ways that he was touching me, but not by him. But by a boy that I liked who and my father made too afraid to date me. I wanted to be kissed, but not feel my father’s tongue in my mouth, I needed to kiss someone I wanted to kiss, to start lightly and learn what I wanted. I yearned to feel my body close to this boy’s, but what I needed was to experience that sweet wanting to be oh, so close, but to be held and safe with that wanting. I don’t know for sure that I would have gotten that with this boy, but I do know that he very much liked me, he respected me, and cared enough about me as a person to continue to be a close friend, even after my dad scared him off from dating me.
I was a physically healthy teen. The time was right for me to develop sexually, but not only had things gone wrong earlier, but my dad was using me through this very vulnerable period.
(((Cat))) It’s hard to say much right now, but I just want you to know I read what you wrote and it resonates so strongly with me (except that my abuse ended at an earlier age because my parents divorced and my father abandoned the family and I do not have any clear memories of actual acts). The ambivalence about the sex, the being drawn towards your father because you craved his love and tenderness but being repelled by what actually happened. But I also know for me that fear was so pervasive, that sex at least gave me a bit of a respite, so there were times when i did “want” the sex. It so totally screws with your head. I’m trying to dig into how it has affected my sexuality and it’s very difficult, slow going. Forgive me, but it helps me to hear how long it has taken you to get to this, because it’s taken me that long also. I have such respect for the courage and commitment you have to your healing that knowing this eases my own shame. And I totally agree with momma bear, you don’t experience that kind of abuse for years and one day wake up and say “I’m old enough now, i should stop it.” Your ability to stop it was taken away by the abuse. I hope the book helps, but in the meantime I want you to hear loud and clear that no blame falls on you. Thank you so much for being so open and vulnerable, I can’t find words (or the courage) to talk about this yet, it’s too raw, and it’s immensely helpful to read what you write. And you’re right, no one should EVER have had to put that sentence together. I’m really sorry. xx AG“`
And I’m sorry that your experiences happened for my post to resonate so strongly, but I am very glad that it could help at a time when you needed to not feel alone.
Yesterday, Mama Bear and I agreed that there is a reason that this has taken so very long to come up. I needed to have enough security in order to deal with it. I couldn’t get it from my mother, so I had to build it from the ground up, over many, many years. And I both needed to know that I am strong enough inside to not be destroyed by it now and to be sure that I had someone to stand by me who wouldn’t flinch and could provide support in the ways that I needed.
You talk about wanting the sex. That is something that I decided to not go into in this post. I have talked about it some in the past, but probably not in depth. There is a part that exists to want and enjoy all of the acts that he liked. I don’t directly remember, but I have been “told” that if I liked what he was doing, it made him happy and things went much better for me. Those times when that part just wasn’t there were bad, probably both because I wasn’t being buffered by “liking” what was happening and because he wasn’t trying to not hurt me. I think that he indulged in those darker impulses at those times.
My mind is still buffering me with many of the memories with my father, particularly memories after about the age of 5. There is a middle section there which I pretty much have skipped over. I have some pretty clear memories of what probably was the first rape. And then I have clear bits and pieces. I have very detailed body memories, but nothing visual and no real story to go along with them. I just know what is happening because I know what those sensations mean. And with a lot of the teen stuff, it’s emotions, beliefs, sense of self, reactions to thinking about something, and being “told” something by someone inside. I have a strong sense that the memories are there, inside, but I am far better off dealing with the layers that present themselves before I go to the actual memories.
This is painful, draining, tricky work, isn’t it?
I was in my late 20’s before I could accept my early experiences were in fact sexual abuse. I used to wonder how that could be true if I enjoyed the “games” as a young child and then, at times, would actually seek out the second abuser when I was a teenager… how could it be abuse if there was so much pleasure? I am now 52 and half way through psychotherapy before I am able to answer those questions. Your honesty will help so many others
The whole aspect of pleasure muddies the waters so much, doesn’t it? I remember being astonished by Mama Bear’s reaction to my first horrified admission that I thought I remembered that at some point I had felt some pleasure while being abused. “If you were able to get anything that was remotely positive, so it wasn’t all just pain and torment, then I think that it was a good thing. I can only hope that you had some reduction in your suffering.”
We have since talked a good deal about how the feelings of pleasure did complicate things emotionally a great deal and she clearly feels a great deal of compassion for the position that I was placed in, but she still believes that it is better that I was able to take in the pleasure part of the experience and not only be stuck with the fear and pain.
It isn’t my fault that my father took advantage of the fact that my body was developing and functioning correctly. It isn’t my fault that he used my inborn sensuality against me. It is good that I maintained an ability to make those connections. It’s just too bad that while I in the midst of dealing with all of this chaos that I can’t make those connections right now.
I should mention that this was back when all that thought that I was dealing with was my grandfather’s abuse, which generally was quite sadistic. What I didn’t realize then was that the non sadistic abuse was all stuff that had happened with my father and that’s where the pleasure came in.
I agree with everything you say, I also went through pain, guilt, and pleasure, but of course, it takes nothing away from the fact it is abuse and they robbed us of our innocence.
From experience in my own therapy, chaos happens a lot – times when we are unable to make certain connections. I think the connections are still there, its just that it can get so jammed packed in our head, it is often difficult to see them.
I don’t have any memories of my father doing anything to me but a strong gut feeling that he did and some things that suggest he did also my grandfather.
Did you always have a feeling or was there a time when you never would have imagined it happened?
This gut feeling has only come to me in the last couple of years with regards to my father. My grandfather as well but with him I get pictures of it in my mind.
My therapist tells me I have parts and I’ve begun to learn about them a bit. I wonder if some of them carry memories that I’m not aware of yet.
I’m so sorry for what they put you through. You’re right that is should never be. I’m really glad that you have “Mamma Bear” to walk you through this in such a way that you can cope with.
Hi Zoe. I am having a really difficult time answering your question for some reason. Probably because I am struggling so much with whether I believe myself or not. I tend to write from the place in me that is more clear, so it probably sounds like I don’t have doubts, but there is this whole section of me that is desperate for none of it to be true. At the very least for the worst of what happened with my father to not be true.
It’s been so thoroughly dissociated that I think that most of the time the daily me didn’t suspect him of sexually abusing me. However, I have treated him warily and kept him at a distance for as long as I can remember. When I was in my early and mid 20s, I might have told you that I had a great relationship with him and believed what I was saying, though. After that, I had a clearer sense that something was wrong, but I couldn’t say what was wrong. A couple of times, suspicions about my dad came up in therapy, but each time I backed off and quickly forgot that I even had the suspicions. The only reason that I know is because of journals from those times.
My dad’s behavior is less variable than it sounds like your father’s is. Within the home, things are about him, but he generally wasn’t cruel about it, just self centered and unable to care about other’s needs. Some anger and cruelty came out sometimes, but it wasn’t the rule with him. The sexual abuse was the ultimate in self centeredness and it could be cruel as a result, but I don’t think that it was about being cruel, at least not most of the time.
So I had this family story of my dad being great that would have been a lot easier for me to maintain than it would have for you. During the day, he generally was ok, could even do good things (even if they really were about him), so I was able to live the family myth. What happened at night was horrible for me, but I kept that dissociated away behind walls that were very thick, for the most part.
I really, really didn’t want to know that my dad had abused me. If I’m remembering correctly, I pretty much had to be hit over the head with dreams or memories before I would look at it. Each time. This time, it took 2 years worth of experiencing memories and tearing myself apart over whether they could be real or not before I could seriously entertain the thought that they had a strong basis in reality.
I hope that this made sense. I was very scattered while writing…
Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry I put you through that. If you don’t feel you can answer something, I totally understand. I also understand what you’ve said here. I suspect with mine but I don’t feel it. Maybe because I’m not able yet.
If it hadn’t had any value to me to write, I would have told you something very brief and that it was too difficult to go into details. Much of my session today was about believing myself in regards to the abuse with my father, so this let me continue to try to put things together.
Okay good then. It’s really tough to believe ourselves eh? Especially when no one else did.
Everything you write resonates strongly with me because I too am struggling through a disconnect from my father. I read each of your posts with great interest and hope that one day I can feel ok again. I’m 24, single and a virgin. I was assaulted in my freshman year of college and that, I feel coupled with the abuse from my father has made me fear men and sexual acts of any kind or magnitude.
I am so sorry to hear about your abuse with your father and how it has affected you. I wish you as smooth a journey as possible as you heal.
I read this yesterday and went into a weird dissociated state during reading it. It resonated so strongly. I can’t remember the details of the post if I’m honest, and I know not to read it back now for where I am at as I need to stay at least a little present for right now, so I cannot fully tell you why or what got me. I guess I just needed to say that I can relate very much, I don’t think I’m quite strong enough yet to go ‘there’ so as ever I’m in awe of you for being able to. You always seem a few steps ahead of me in your healing and yet always standing very close, which is comforting to know. Much love to you my friend xx
I’m sorry that the post was so triggering for you! Please do take care of yourself! It will be here for you to read, if and when you feel ready for it.
Does it stand out to you that both of your parents subordinated your needs to their comfort?
Yes. I talked about this some today. The anger at my father is coming out in bursts. And my mother showed me in so many ways that I couldn’t trust her to come through for me. Most of them were relatively small, but the pattern was clear.
Just simply having to live with living by day as if everything was ok, great even, and not just having these night time experiences that should have been impossible in a sane world but both living with AND needing to reject an internal reality that reflected what was happening. That’s completely and utterly crazy making.
Mama Bear called me today on still needing to tell my parents that I see the grass as green and the sky as blue, even though they see the opposite. I so need to say that my dad hurt me, I don’t trust him, and I don’t want to have anything to do with him, ever again. But I am so frightened of my parents’ reactions. So complicated. She’s trying to get me to look at and pull apart what are old fears and what are current, so I can address them.
Today, I said, “I wish… I wish… I don’t really know what I wish about them!” Her response was, “My wish for you is that you are able to find the course of action regarding your parents that you can best live with. There is no good solution here, but I do think that you can figure out what you can live with, so this doesn’t keep on hanging over you.”
You wish they were the people they claim to be maybe, who really, really love you.
I’m sorry. You have a heavy burden of grief.
I do wish that my father was the person who he pretends to be. I definitely wish that he was capable of really loving me.
I don’t think that it’s about my mother not loving me. I believe that she does. I think that it is about her not being able to tolerate my reality, not from lack of love, but from other personal deficiencies due to her own childhood. It’s hard for me to look at it clearly, but I’m guessing that she lacks the strength and courage. It’s very hard to say that I might be stronger and braver than her, but I have gotten this far and she wasn’t able to walk beside me at all.
Yes, there is a lot of grief.
How are you doing? I have been thinking about you.
I guess I am thinking of love as being that ability and willingness to set one’s own desires aside to care for someone else’s needs, and one’s own deficiencies will sometimes hamper that. Others will often think of “love” as just the feeling of an attachment and warmth, which your parents had for you. My parents did too, but they loved me like a favourite appliance. They were just so impaired, they had no ability to nurture.