My mother was abused by her father. I don't know any details, I just know she hated him and still does. I know she married her husband when she was 17 (she lied about her age) because she wanted to get away from her father.
My mother and her husband were
in Germany in 1960 because he was in the army. He spent much of his
time on the army base and she was in an apartment two towns away.
She got lonely. She had an affair, and became pregnant with me.
So I'm what you call a "love child".
Mother's husband found out
about the affair and pretty much hated me from day one. We think
she let him hurt me because she felt guilty about the affair. Also, since
I was the oldest male child, perhaps she transferred her hatred of her
father to me.
It was physical abuse, but he harmed me sexually too because I always had to be naked and layed over his lap for my whippings. He started with a belt when I was two or three and graduated to a coat hanger, car antenna, a switch (flexible branch from a tree or bush, used as a whip), and an electrical extension cord by the time I was 10. At first, during the whippings, I tried to protect my butt and back of my thighs with my hands. That just made him angrier and he started just tying my hands together with a belt or cord and holding them out in front of me during the whipping.
My stepfather tried to program me not to cry. He always started by saying that if I cry, he will make it worse. So I always held out as long as I could, but I always wound up crying. He concentrated the lashes on the back of my thighs because he knew that hurt more. The pain was absolutely unbearable. Sometimes it hurt so bad, I couldn't even catch my breath to scream. I wanted to die. The cord and the switch were the worst because they made me bleed. I always had to go get the implement, whatever it was. I hated that. I especially hated having to pick out my own switch.
For a few years, he had two jobs and would get home after midnight. If I was "bad" that day, he would come drag me out of bed for my whipping. That is a horrible, horrible way to wake up. Mother whipped me too, but always just with a belt. It was still bad because it was a thin belt. I remember at least one time when she came in and beat me really bad while I was taking a nap and didn't even wake me up first.
My so-called parents destroyed my self esteem. Being smaller than most of my peers didn't help. I was picked on by other kids all the way through high school because I thought I deserved it. Besides, the kids couldn't hurt me like my stepfather did all the time, anyway.
By the time I was an adult, I had buried all my childhood memories. I even had a relationship of sorts with my abusers. I thought everything was fine until I saw two movies that blew the lid off my memories. That was on August 4th, 1998. The movies were Good Will Hunting, and Saving Private Ryan.
Good Will Hunting was about a child prodigy who was physically abused by his father. There is one scene where the psychologist has him backed into a corner of his office and saying "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault." and the young man started to cry. Well so did I. I broke down sobbing in the theater and did not even know why. I still hadn't remembered yet.
That same week, or the next week, I saw Saving Private Ryan. The first 30 minutes was the most horrendous military battle scene I have ever witnessed. It was a re-creation of the taking of Omaha beach during WW II. I started crying then too, and I remember thinking "If I had to live through that, I would kill myself, because the memories would be too painful to live with."
Then that night, I started having my own memories. I had nightmares which were re-plays of some of the tortures they put me through. Then I started having flashbacks where I would re-live the abuses. It was like I was experiencing the physical pain all over again. I was so upset that I decided to take my own life. I called in sick that Monday and waited for my wife to go to work. I got a razor blade and sat in the bathtub naked. I had even picked out the vein and everything and then something occurred to me. I had not written a note.
So I came downstairs and got on the computer and thought well, I'll just write my note... but then I had this thought "I know it looks completely hopeless, but what if there really is help for me?". So I went on in to work Tuesday like nothing ever happened. I thought well about break time, I'll call the mental health line and talk to someone and see what kind of help is out there. But I didn't make it until lunchtime, I couldn't get the memories out of my head. I called the help line and broke down on the phone with the lady in full view of my coworkers.
The help line lady was terrific. She asked me if I was a danger to myself and I had to admit I was. And she kept me on the line while her associate, James, found some help for me. I insisted on female caregivers and they accommodated me. They made an appointment for me to see a therapist that same day and a psychiatrist by the end of the week. That nice lady, whose name I don't recall, saved my life.
About a year ago, I talked with my brother about the abuse. He said you could hear my screams anywhere in the house and even out in the yard. He said he always tried to get away from that sound.
I went to therapy for over a year and a half. I had a lot to learn. I learned:
- Grief is a natural process over the happy childhood I never had.
- It's OK to cry, even for boys. It is not a sign of weakness, it is part of the healing process.
- Abuse destroys self esteem and it is very hard to get it back.
- It wasn't my fault. It could NOT be my fault. It is NEVER the child's fault, even if I always thought it was. Even if I was SURE it was my fault. This was the hardest thing to learn.
-
Looking forward
is easier than looking back, but I had to look back first.
- Therapy is hard because I have to TALK about things I don't even want to THINK about.
- Newly discovered memories of abuse are the most painful. Sharing them with someone I can talk to helps to convert the memory into a "re-run" and that way it doesn't hurt as much.
- Compassion and Empathy. Caring for and helping others is what I want most in life.
- My mother and stepfather are sick people, but that's no excuse.
- My abusers will not take responsibility for what they did to me as long as they live, because that would mean them having to admit they were horrible people. But when they die, THEN they will be enlightened and THEN they will finally have remorse.
- Forgiveness and letting go is important. It is for ME, not my abusers, but it is easier said than done. I haven't reached that point yet. I am allowed to take as long as I need.
Now I'm on medication, but I had
to quit going to therapy because I got a better job on a different insurance
plan. I haven't got a new therapist yet, but I am in regular massage
therapy. It is good for me to experience human touch that does not
hurt. I am doing very well on the job and loving it. I get
to help people all day, every day. I have good days and bad days,
but I feel life is worth living and that's a big improvement. 
For anyone who has been through what I have been through, there is light at the end of the tunnel. You are a survivor and you can get your life back, but it is not something you should have to do on your own. Help is available. (see below). There are people out here who DO care and who WILL believe you!
One thing I wanted to do to
help was create a web page for other survivors. It took 10 months
and a lot of help from another survivor, but it is finished now. It has
useful information, help line numbers and other resources and links.
If you want to visit my site, follow the link below. I would really
appreciate you signing my guestbook while you are there. In whatever you do from this point forward,
I wish you peace.
-- E.J. Wilson
