I hurt for a long time because of childhood sexual abuse. Now I want to provide a safe place for hurting men to connect with other survivors of sexual abuse. Talk to us. You don't have to use your real name to share your experiences or ask questions.

Trying to Remember

(an encore post by Cecil Murphey)

"I keep trying to remember," he said. "I know something happened, but I can't remember exactly what it was." That's not uncommon.

I've written a number of times about my abuse from an old man named Mr. Lee. I know he abused me. I remember his inviting me into his room, putting me on his lap, and laying my hands on his hairy chest. But I can't tell you what happened after that.

For a time I tried hard to recall the details, but they didn't come. I finally decided that they were too horrendous for me to accept. That sounds simple to me now, but it was frustrating then. I wanted to know.

Or did I?

What I truly wanted to know was the certainty that I had been molested. Because I couldn't recapture the intimate details, for a time doubts filled my mind. Am I making this up? Is this my imagination at work?

So much has happened since those days, but two things stand out. First, even though I didn't have the so-called smoking gun of full, intact memories, I had the effects of the abuse. Second, when I finally talked to my three sisters, they confirmed several facts about the abuse.

If I don't remember details, 
it's because I probably can't handle the details.

1 comment:

Joseph said...

Neither do I remember what happened to me 69 years ago. I was in an Alabama bus station waiting to get on a bus to Greenville, SC. I was in the men's room and something happened in one of the stalls. I know it did, because what I do remember is going back into the waiting room and wondering if everyone in the room knew what had happened. That was the summer I turned 17, but when I remember the day, I see myself as a 12-year-old boy. My counselor says that is not unusual considering the psychological abuse I had at home. I never told anyone until 2012. I always felt like I had somehow cause whatever happened to happen. It was like a thunderbolt to realize and accept that what happened was male-on-male sexual abuse. At that point, chains began to fall off. There is hope, my brother survivors. There is hope and healing. To God be the praise.