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Magical World

Wouldn't it be lovely if, with just a twitch of the nose, life, or any aspect of it could be changed. Instead, positive changes always seem to involve tremendously hard work, determination, and endless setbacks. How lovely it would be to have the powers of Samantha Stephens.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

Counseling Session...unknown number...will it ever end?

I was so ready to talk to Therapist on Wednesday. Usually when Darrin comes with me, he and Therapist spend the majority of time talking about things, and very little time is spent on me. I don't mind this because Darrin has very few people he can talk to, and I understand that I really do make his life stressful.

This time, however, he seemed to understand that I was really in need of some counsel of my own (it could have been the lack of eating thing--that always seems to be an indicator that I'm freaking out). Darrin sat quietly and let me talk. I told Therapist about the stress I felt when I presented my topic on same-gender attraction at the stake leadership meeting. Therapist makes me laugh--he was so happy! He said the fact that I would allow that many people to know about my abuse was a huge step (especially since two months ago I told him I wouldn't tell anyone else because I didn't want anyone to know). He says that means I'm becoming more comfortable with myself and my past, and that's a good thing. He was also ecstatic that the SGA issue was being introduced with love in our stake--and mentioned the irony that I was presenting, but no one knew I was speaking from experience. That's okay--it's not time for anyone to know yet.

We talked about my tentative plans to spend Thanksgiving with my extended family--which would mean contact with my cousin for the first time in 16 years. Therapist said we could work on preparing for that meeting, but in his mind it was a little soon. Then he added, "But you keep surprising me. You're about as gutsy as they come." Good. It's about time I showed a little courage. I've been afraid for most all my life.

Therapist asked how my research into pedophiles went. I began to tell him all that I found. His eyes got large. He asked, "How many days did you spend on this?" Many, that's for sure. At least a week. He said he hadn't intended that I do such an in-depth research project. I asked him if he remembered who I was...he laughed. I'm not capable of just "looking". I have to learn everything I can. I explained how what I learned had been so upsetting. He mentioned I'd lost more weight. Yes, it's difficult to eat when physically ill. He asked if I'd been able to make the parallels between my treatment, and that of a victim of a pedophile. I had. We talked about how most victims of pedophilia who experience the extent of abuse that I have, are usually killed. Somedays I view those who have died as very lucky. Therapist says I need to view my life as a blessing. It's not easy to do that.

I told Therapist how I had been talking to a number of friends about the abuse--more than I ever have before. I told him how one friend had helped me understand that my cousin didn't love me (thanks TB), and while that was terribly hurtful, it was also liberating in some way. I told him how another friend reiterated that I could make it through this, that he loved me, that the atonement could help me heal (thanks AtP). I told him how others were just supportive and wonderful, letting me talk, helping me feel supported and loved (thanks AO, Tito, -L-, and others who have emailed and chatted with me). My therapist told me that he believes that I have had people placed in my life to help me every step of the way as I work through all that has happened. I know he's right--so to everyone in my life, online and off--I just have to thank you, and tell you I love you for any help I may have received from you, intentional or not.

My assignments:
1. Eat daily.
2. Now that I have figured out how to emotionally separate myself from my cousin, I have to figure out how to accept him back--in a way that God would condone. I said, "I don't know how to do that." Therapist said, "I suggest you ask the Lord. I think He'll have some good ideas for you."

I'm working on the first thing. Some days I can, some days I can't. I haven't begun the second. I'm a little overwhelmed by it--no, actually, I'm a lot overwhelmed by it, stressed out by it--I hate it. It's been a rough week. I don't know what to do. I don't want to ask the Lord. I don't want to do my assigment. I'm frustrated and sad. I hope I can find the courage to try. I'm not terrifically courageous or strong right now. Ugh--I hate this.

2 Comments:

  • At Saturday, November 04, 2006 4:39:00 PM, Blogger Julie said…

    I found you via AtP's site, and I have to say how amazing you are. I didn't experienced quite the same thing you did (I think the experience I had in childhood was much milder, if you can say that about abuse, than yours), but I've been through the whole therapy process. It was quite a journey. Of course it's different for everyone, but I think I can understand in some very small way what you are going through. And I must applaud your strength and courage. You are amazing. Thanks for posting such raw emotion. I think it helps others who've experienced abuse and are scared to confront the past. Best of luck and all of Father's blessings to you and your family.

     
  • At Saturday, November 04, 2006 6:44:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Hi there, I'm a "pedophile", a "boylover" actually, and I've been reading your blog since you first posted the word "pedophile." Blogger has a nice search utility that keeps me up to date about "common discourse" regarding minor-attracted adults (MAAs).

    I'll probably continue to comment on your blog overtime, if you don't mind, but for now I'll only say a couple things about your particular cultural subject position.

    First, to put things into perspective from my vantage point, what it seems to me you are doing is--and your therapist can help you understand this--constructing an extreme Other.

    Basically the Other is anything we as individuals or a culture view as different from ourselves. At one time in history Blacks, Jews, gays, women, hispanics, muslims, have all been a socially constructed Other, a patron of fear and loathing that is slowly applied on a marginalized group until it becomes socially acceptable to punish that group (or person) for simply existing. Tragic examples of this include slavery and the Holocaust.

    Currently, the profaned Other, the extreme Other in our culture are Pedophiles. Nobody wants to hear what a boylover or a girlover has to say about the predicament, but everyone wants to hurt them as tremendously as possible. Just as society desired to hurt slaves, or the way the Germans viewed gays in Nazi controlled germany.

    That said, reading your narrative, you do have a legitimate claim to abuse. What happened to you was terrible, and I wish you all the luck in coming to terms with the past and self-healing in the future. I can relate with much of what you talk about as I, too, was a victim of sexual abuse. However, my abuse came to me because I was a boy who identified his sexual orientation early and attempted to deal with it. I was 13 when my parents read my journal where I wrote about my romantic attraction to other boys, most of them a few years younger than me. And I was 13 when my father, a preacher, decided to take a baseball bat to his "pervert son."

    Do you find it ironic, as I do, that the thing you are constructing as a monster, the pedophile, is also the reason I am so scarred, only I am the on the receiving end of a culture that has trained itself, very efficiently, to hate. It's almost as if we are living in parallel universes, each coming to terms with adult-child intimacy in different, yet synchronistic ways.

    I was in intensive care for two months after my father's cleansing mission. I, a pedophile, and a boy of 13 lay in my own blood and feces for seven hours before my mother took me to the hospital and told the doctors that I had been jumped in an alley.

    I remember moments of dissociation from my childhood after that. I remember never speaking to my father again, and never looking him in the eye. Imagine living with a man who you think wanted to kill you just for feelings you could not change.

    Two years later, I was 15, and living on the streets of Phenix, AZ. I was prostituting myself for money and drugs. That's when Charles, a man of 53, someone who had paid me for a blow job a few times, asked me if I needed help. By and by I ended up at his house. We became lovers. He got me to enroll in school. I finished. I went to college. And a few years ago I graduated with BA degree in history. Charles, the pedophile, paid for everything. We don't live together anymore, but I consider the man who you might condemn to be my savior. And here I am, writing a rather long reply to you. Isn't interesting when we stop creating monsters and start understanding personal stories how the fear we construct, how the victimhood we construct, runs away and hides as the real monster that it is.

    I don't want to defend what is wrong. And you have a right to your pain and your healing. But please remember that the categories you are constructing are simply that, categories.

    It is now almost legal to hunt down and harass, hurt, or even kill pedophiles, and I have to ask myself how it has come to be like this? How has Nazi Germany suddenly sprung up here in North America? How has the hatred my father showed towards me become the ideology of an entire culture?

    You talked about T.S. Eliot in one of your posts, that poet was fond of saying that only lesson to be learned was the lesson of humility, humility is endless. And Humility, of course, if we are Christians, is also forgiveness.

     

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