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.

I Hate These Feelings

We all despise those painful memories that won’t let go. For most of us, the mourning begins as grief over being molested, of living in secret shame, and hiding our pain from others. That grief morphs into helplessness.

A friend, going through a lengthy period of despair, said, “I hate these feelings. I don’t want them.”

Before I could respond, he added, “But I need them. I have to face those losses and betrayals and grieve.”

Not many of us are that insightful. Even when we’re aware, we still run from them.

Healing begins when we face our pain.

3 comments:

Andrew Schmutzer said...

The feelings come in waves and seasons of life. As the mountain of healing is climbed, it gives greater...and more painful...perspective on what happened.

Lately, I've turned increasingly to meaningful rituals that I weave into my laments that I pray. But I refuse to dissolve into toxic behavior or thoughts that will only be destructive. That said, is there any pain like emotional pain? Since taking the Myers-Briggs personality text, I'm accepting my "high-volume" emotion/feelings for the first time in my life.

Anonymous said...

I really hate the feelings. I can't seem to go anywhere without being conscious of what is between my legs. I trust that God knew what he was doing when he made men this way. My stuff being self regulating as to temperature means that at any given moment there can be some kind of circus going on down there. When that happens I can be flooded by feelings of being touched, reminding me of what happened and why I am so conscious of being male once again.

This alone can flood my mind with painful, shame filled thoughts of what it was like to be groped and fondled every chance he got. Through those actions constantly reminding me whose I was and what I was good for. When caught off guard I can emotionally be right back there silently enduring the embarrassment.

I have learned to shove it aside and concentrate on the task at hand in all but the most intense experiences but I don't see how I will ever get over being so intensely conscious of what I keep in my pants. I just have to remind myself that it is over, those are mine and no one else has a right to go there unless I give permission.

Feelings, nothing more than feelings, but oh the weight they can bring to the moment.

Joseph said...

Anonymous, I can certainly relate to your post. Because of what happened to me when I was longing for genuine masculine relationship in my early teens, I had the horrible misconception that masculinity was what was between a mans legs. The resulting twisted feelings caused havoc in my marriage and my concept of sexual relations.

What bothers me more than what happened in the bus station restroom, is the resulting temptations to seek out more comfort in public men's rooms. Awful. However, thank God for a counselor who has with the compassion of Christ, listened to my letting it all out, and showing me that recovery is not hopeless.

Hang on, anonymous, junk is junk--whether it's between our legs or somewhere else! (I find humor helps; hope you do too.)