From: erc@unislc.uucp (Ed Carp)
Subject: Ed's Abuse - A Brief History
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL6]
Organization: Unisys Corporation SLC
Date: Thu, 12 Nov 1992 18:40:53 GMT

Since there's been so much speculation about my motivations and life
experiences here on asar, I've decided to post (again) my story - why
I'm here, what brings me to asar, etc.  I have resisted posting it
before now, because while I can show compassion for others posting their
stories, to me, posting mine is a show of self-pity.  But, I will be brave
today and post it.  BTW, I couldn't find my original post, so I'm having
to retype everything.  I will put my emotional reactions to what I have
written in brackets "[]" at the end of each paragraph, to make it clearer
for the reader.

This is not a very comprehensive synopsis, but I think it serves the purpose.

There *are* spoilers here - if you are offended at sexual acts involving
ridicule and humiliation, skip this.

First, an abridged physical description of me - which will fit in later in
this story.  I am 35, 5'7", and weigh in at about 145 lbs.  A little short
and light for the average female's tastes, I'll admit.  I have brown hair and
blue eyes.  I am also adopted, having been adopted when I was 6 months old.
According to the medical records I have been able to find, I was almost dead
of starvation when my parents adopted me - my natural parents just didn't feed
me, I suppose.  [neutral]

My father was in the military for four years, and retired on a medical
disability, having been gassed during WW II and had shrapnel in his back.
He then turned to law, and became a practicing attorney.  My mother is a
housewife (sorry about the implied sexism).  [neutral - stating facts]

My first memories are of me when I was about 7 years old, and my memories are
not very clear up until high school/college days.  Most of what I remember
about my childhood was living in constant terror of my father (who had a very
bad temper), often fantasizing about suicide in order to hurt my father back.
My mother often emotionally manipulated my sister and I (she, too, was adopted)
by using the threat of my father's anger against us - "don't do that, you don't
want to make Daddy mad."  [anger at being manipulated]

My parents were never big showers of physical closeness to us - we never got
the hugs and kisses and physical affection that others got, and perhaps that's
why I crave physical affection even now (sometimes I want a hug so goddamned
bad it hurts - and there's no one here anymore).  [I have tears in my eyes]

We were never allowed to express anger or rage - we were told "you'd better
scratch your mad spot and get glad real quick!" in a threatening tone by my
father.  Of course, *he* was allowed to express anger or rage any goddamned
time he felt like it.  [anger at having to suppress emotions]

We were never allowed physical privacy - our bedroom doors were never to be
closed, even while dressing, and I was forced to dress in front of my parents
for as long as I can remember, until I graduated from high school.  [anger at
embarassment]

My sister (who is 3 years older than I) and I never got along very well.  I
remember my childhood as being one of hiding out from my parents, and
alternately being ridiculed by my sister in front of her friends and her
seeking my approval at her calling my mother a "witch".  I remember my sister
being cruel to me, tricking her naive little brother to gain any advantage
she could.  I cared about my sister, and couldn't understand why she would be
deliberately cruel to me.  [shame at being gullible for my sister]

So ... we come to college.  I'm in college across the state (and, believe me,
Texas is a *big* state...).  I remember my father sending me letters - all
typewritten, all on his office stationary.  How impersonal. :(  I come back,
am attending a junior college, meet this woman, and marry her.  Well, yeah,
perhaps it was a stupid thing to do - but, I suppose, it was a way to keep
from feeling so lonely.  II was moving out of state to this new job, and I
didn't want to go alone.  [sadness]

So, I married this woman.  Nice enough woman, if a bit co-dependent.  We
weren't sexually compatible *at all*, though, and I wound up turning into
the person I most hated in the world - my father.  I hated myself for doing
it, but couldn't see that - and couldn't see what I had become.  I suppose it
*is* true that you will turn into what you most hate.  The old "mirror"
concept comes home to roost. :)  [sadness at what I went through]

So, I get a divorce, and spend some time in therapy for it.  Met someone else,
and *she* asked *me* to get married!  I was so flattered, I accepted.  Well,
gang, therein follows two years of the most intense hell I think I have ever
experienced.  Emotional abuse, sexual abuse, financial abuse, etc.  Her
attitude about sex 95% of the time was "well, I gave up sex for Lent, and I
forgot who I lent it to!"  The underlying attitude was, "Sex?  With *you*?
Hahaha!!  What a joke!"  Life consisted of walking on eggshells to avoid her
violent temper 3-1/2 weeks out of the year, then, right around her period,
her expecting me to pack 3-1/2 weeks of sex into 3 or 4 days.  When I couldn't
"perform", I was ridiculed, called names (both in and out of the bedroom),
endured stuff like "shrimp", "a *real* man would've been able to satisfy me",
and a host of other insulting stuff, sometimes during the sex act itself.
She was very ritualized about sex, having to have foreplay in an exact
manner, follow all the steps, or get trashed for not being a good lover.
Oh, when it was good, it *was* good - I suppose that's why I stuck around for
as long as I did.  But it wasn't often - and when it was bad, it was *bad*.
She used to brag about her ex-husband, "Mr. 9-1/2 inches", and how she was
so much more pleased with his sexual performance "because he was built like a
*real* *man*".  She used to brag about an ex-lover, and how he could "ride me
all night", and how I didn't "measure up" to her standards of sexual perform-
ance.  If she couldn't achieve sexual pleasure with intercourse, she would
push me off, swear at me, then masturbate to orgasm, ignoring me.  If I were
to masturbate, she would berate me, calling me names.  [anger]

It got so bad that I asked a friend of mine, Taylor, to some over and check
the situation out - "is it me, or is it her?"  He maintains to this day that
she was the only woman he has ever met that would be better off in an
institution.

She would lie to me about household finances: "but, I *paid* that bill!"  I
would see where money was taken out of the checking account, ostensibly to
pay the bill, but it would never get paid.  Our relationship got so bad that
we were sleeping in separate rooms.  We had separate work schedules, and one
night, she walks in at 3 AM, walks into my bedroom, turns on the light, and
tells me she want to "have sex".  I looked at my watch and asked her if it
could wait until a better time.  She says, "nope."  I ask why.  She says,
"well, I want to make sure you haven't been with another woman."  As if she
could tell - hah!  I refused.  She pushed me back onto the bed and started
to take my clothes off (I usually slept in shorts).  I tried to get away,
she tackled me halfway to the door.  I'm literally dragging this woman across
the floor, trying to get away.  I finally broke free, and she meets me at the
front door, fists raised.  She throws a couple of punches which I avoid.  I
finally get around her, and out the door.  Safe!  [why did I go through all
this?]

I remember clearly a turning point in our relationship - we were in San
Antonio, and a company in Salt Lake City wanted to interview me.  I mentioned
the fact that I wanted to fly up for the interview.  I was told, "I don't
want to move."  I explained that this wasn't an *offer*, just an interview.
The argument got more and more heated, and she finally pulls her .357 Magnum
revolver out of its holster, aims it at me, pulls the hammer back, and says,
"You know, I could blow you away right now and not feel a thing."  I decided
"the game wasn't worth the candle", so to speak.  [neutral]

The divorce takes 8 months - by that time, I have filed for bankruptcy.
I start getting back on my feet again, start dating, only to find out that
I'm impotent! :(  Shit.  I eventually get back in therapy for this crap,
and for some of the shit I went through in my marriage.  I was rather
surprised when my therapist tells me "you were sexually abused in your marriage"
because I usually associated sexual abuse with dirty old men offering candy to
little girls to "come with me for a ride".  Well, my education began.  Strangely
enough, I started to discover that my ex- had strong indications of being
sexually abused (strong ritual behavior, especially about sex, ambivalence
about sex (well, OK, downright hostility), compulsive behavior, etc.)  The
more I learned about sexual abuse, the more I saw people around me exhibiting
the signs of abuse.  [sadness]

When I started telling my story to folks, I saw that others had had similar
experiences.  I began to get asked for help, so I boned up on therapist's
names, addresses, etc. to give, in case someone asked.  I'd been asked by at
least two ex-SO's for information on getting help for abuse.
--------------------------------- cut here -----------------------------------
That brings me to today.  Why am I here?  To help, as well as be helped; to
share experiences, to grow past this scar in my heart, to help heal as well
as be healed.  This is part of *my* process, you see.  Along the way, I have
learned coping mechanisms that I share with others.  I have learned that the
only way I can love others is if I can learn to love myself.  I have learned
that I am responsible for putting myself in situations where my capacity for
love is tested, refined, and honed.  I have learned that my feelings are *mine*,
and I am responsible for them; the anger, the shame, the hurt.  By presenting
these ideas and concepts in a "third person", an observer (if you will) role,
I hope to avoid pain (1) by avoiding re-experiencing those situations that
led me to those ideas in the first place, and (2) by redirecting flames away
from me and onto those ideas and concepts I espouse.  You see, I don't
entirely trust many of you here, and I am afraid that if I presented these
things as things that work in *my* life, you will flame *me* personally for
them, so I detach and present those ideas in a "observer" role.  Perhaps
that's where the confusion lies about "Ed's not a survivor".  I very much
resent that implication, and the fact that it's bandied about as fact.  I
claim as much right to be here as anyone - I was on the original mailing list
when Peter Fay started it way back when.  Sometimes, when I detach and give
advice and suggestions, I can even forget for a while what has happened to
me.  :(  It's also a way to avoid (or attempt to avoid) escalating anger into
rage.

Some of the advice I give folks (and accept, too) are things that have not only
worked for me, but for many, many other people, too, but one has to be in a
particular place, emotionally, to hear the words and understand.  There are
many here that can hear my words and benefit from them, and there are some who
cannot.  For example, the concept of personal responsibility may be acceptable
to someone who has been down that road of healing for a while, but may evoke
outrage in a survivor who hasn't come that far, or down that particular path.

For the flamers, I can only hope that they can see that while their personal
attacks may help them vent anger, they certainly do nothing to present a warm,
friendly face to anyone who happens to wander in.  This is a place of healing,
not a place of uncontrolled rage.
-- 
Ed Carp, N7EKG     erc@apple.com, khijol!erc@saturn.upl.com       801/538-0177

"There is nothing to seek and nothing to find.  You're already enlightened,
and all the words in the world won't give you what you already have.  The wise
seeker, therefore, is concerned with one thing only: to become aware of what
he already is, of the True Self within."  -- Zen maxim
-- 
Ed Carp			erc@apple.com, erc@saturn.upl.com	801/538-0177

"There is nothing to seek and nothing to find.  You're already enlightened, and
all the words in the world won't give you what you already have.  The wise