A stirring from the past

Recently, every time I watch TV or check the news online, I invariably find something on rape or child sexual abuse. Saturday was no different. First there was a documentary of a girl (Confessions/The Letter on Dateline NBC -- link below) who was raped. Then it was a show that had a male child sexual abuse/predator/survivor subplot in it. I had taken them all well. I had a decent sleep. I was proud of myself.

Sunday morning I was telling the only guy who knows I'm a sexual abuse survivor about the above. I added, "I wonder if this is a sign!". The response for the rhetoric stunned me. He asked me if I considered myself a child abuse survivor. I was stunned. He knows about it, not in detail but in summary. So, why would he ask that question. After stammering for an answer, wondering if there is a meaning I do not understand, I managed a "yes". I didn't think about it then. Now I'm.

Sunday evening, my mind had wandered into the story of the girl who was raped while unconscious (Confessions/The Letter on Dateline NBC). During the narrative she said something about coming back to her room and showering for a long time because it felt dirty. It jogged my memory and I remember doing the same. I felt the same way again and stayed in the shower for nearly an hour.

Eventually, I had to get out of my house. I went for a walk. Then went and visited a friend as promised. But, I still am reeling from the onslaught of memories served fresh. I remember details of the curtain, the shape of the room, the entire incident in short. I also remember walking back home embarrassed, blaming myself, ashamed of myself, cursing myself, angry, afraid, confused,...
I remember staying the shower for nearly and hour and a half. It was a Saturday afternoon-evening time. I remember looking at the mallu-auto guy and wondering how much he knew, every time I saw him. I wondered how much the other people knew.

All that aside, I've been seeking one thing... only one thing all this time: acceptance and support. Not pity, not apologies, not pain, not revulsion, not scowl, not any of those. Acceptance and support... an understanding of my situation and then to treat me still the same way as I'm now. Barring perhaps O, there is only one person right now that fits the bill, Py (MT). She is the only one who didn't run away or treat me any differently. Thank you my friend.

Pedophilia

Here is a follow up to my previous post. This is interesting in that, it is not just in India that such horrors happen. In fact, I find it more audacious that someone who downloaded child porn be let loose in the society. Have we learnt nothing? This really angers me. I think this is the person who needs to be put in jail and pick soap, if you know what I mean. Sometimes, I wonder if even that would be sufficient. Sure you can claim he needs psychological help. But, I don't think he deserves anything... he deserves the iron maiden. No, I take that back. I think he deserves torture... simple yet elegant. Make him listen to 24 hours of hard metal songs immediately followed by 24 hours of elmo, sponge bob and such. There is his therapy! Shame on us for letting such criminals out in the open. I'd rather have a thief than a pedophile in the open.

Rape & Injustice

As I was reading BBC news on the South Asian section, I found this India rape accused weds 'victim'. How horrible is that? A few years ago, I might have thought that was appropriate justice. That is what the movies have said. That is exactly what I've been told to believe in. No, not anymore. It must really be horrible for that girl who is in that marriage, even though she might believe this is the best thing that can happen, as I did a few years ago.

If I think back on it, it is all because of the societal pressures on a non-virgin unwed girl. Yes, a non-virgin girl cannot be married to "another" guy. And, however horrible the guy might be, it is the responsibility and duty of the woman to make sure that the family goes on. It is important that she adjust to his needs... no whims and fancies. This is utter horrible. This makes me angry. As Ms. Walia says, shame on the court. Shame on the judicial system -- the judges, the prosecutors and whoever is involved in this heinous crime.

On a similar note, here is another such audacious proposal. Kudos to the woman who rejected it.

Friendship

I have recently come to realize that it is not easy for me to strike friendships with men my own age. I'd rather be with men who are older (by a decade or two) than I'm. Whereas when it comes to women, I don't have that problem. Perhaps it is the same "victim" mentality. But, I don't think so. There are other factors as well.

1. I'm more "mature" for my age in some respects. I don't really feel comfortable hanging out in bars and stuff like that. I'm not really big on outdoors-y things as a group.
2. I prefer smaller groups than bigger ones. I usually consider 2 a company and 3 a crowd. It is just the way I'm.
3. My topics of interest seem to be much different from what men my own age are interested in. I'm simply tired of listening to what does not appeal to me. It comes across as mindless chatter to me.
4. In no small measure, I'm a dork. It makes me uncomfortable in social situations in general. When hanging out with other men, especially of my own age, I find that this aspect of me is particularly uneasy on myself. Yes, I feel insecure in my social skills. Women seem to tolerate this better.

There might be cultural undercurrents that I'm not entirely aware of; However, I'm not going to hide behind them. Regardless, I thought I should mention this.

Something to ponder!

Trust and mistrust

I had my first therapy session of the year today. It was good, very good indeed. I went in with one thing in mind. Came out with a more fundamental understanding of things. It was wonderful.

I usually trust people completely, and very easily. I do not doubt their credibility from the get go. All this time, I've thought my problem was this trusting nature. But today, I realized to my own surprise that it is not just my trusting nature that is a problem. It is also my distrusting nature that is a problem. I realized that I loose trust in people as quickly as I trust them. That is really bad. This is mainly due to my insecurity. I feel the need to be reassured in any relationship. But ultimately, the reassurance has to come from within. Right now, it mostly comes from without. This has unfortunately broken a few of my relationships in the past -- not just the romantic, mind you.

This is really a pressing issue for me right now. That I overly trust initially and then soon afterwards unreasonably distrust is unhealthy I feel. I know it is better late than never, nevertheless it has cost me rather dearly, I'm afraid. Huh! I could only hope that I don't repeat the mistake again!

One more thing...

I just found out that Edgar Allan Poe was born today. Just an interesting fact about a favorite poet/author of mine. Thats all. I think that is a good note to end the day on!

Lending a helping hand, a realization of sunyata

I've been helping D with the computer for her friend. D finds the help I've been providing rather too selfless. I wonder if she is struggling with the idea that I'm being this helpful without asking for much, if not anything, in return. It even worries her, I feel. It would perhaps do the same to me. She is trying hard to see what the "real hidden agenda" behind all this is. At this point, I don't have any at all! The way I see it, I have the opportunity, time and "skill" to do what needs to be done. I can be thankful for that. Sure, there is that satisfaction I gain from helping someone. That satisfies my ego. I makes me feel important. I hear nice words from a good looking woman. It makes me feel fulfilled in some ways. So, I guess there is an agenda.

That said, I think there is one agenda that is beyond me. As I was eating at the Heartland Cafe, and reading Dune Messiah in parallel, I realized this: I'm nothing more than an agent through which the universe acts. I'm playing my part exactly as it was meant to be. It is almost as if this body of mine belongs to something else, and it simply acts through me to get to its means or whatever it does or needs to do. I know it sounds very New Age-y, but I'm afraid I'm not able to express this any better than that. I think Frank Herbert's Paul from Dune Messiah expresses this better:

...It occurred to Paul then that all creatures must carry some kind of destiny stamped out by purposes of varying strengths, by the fixation of training and disposition. From the moment the Jihad had chosen him, he'd felt himself hemmed in by the forces of a multitude. Their fixed purposes demanded and controlled his course. Any delusions of Free Will he harbored now must be merely the prisoner rattling his cage. His curse lay in the fact that he saw the cage. He saw it!
...

The only difference is that I don't see it as a cage. I rather see is as a much more opening experience. There is no me, only a flux going through what is recognized, rather associated as "me". Only the flux of change and flow, coursing in me and through me. So, where is "me" and "I" in all of this? I find no such thing, yet there is such a thing. What a strange thing this is! This is what has been labeled in Buddhism (& Hinduism) as sunyata, I guess.

What a strange feeling it is... it is all-encompassing because of the lack of everything, it form arising out of formlessness, formlessness arising out of form. This has been a very very interesting day with some wonderful realizations. Fascinating!

Speaking in the listener's language

So far this day has turned out very interesting. First there was a realization about my self-blame. Soon afterwards, I got an email from a rather anxious א. My reply email appears to have impressed her so much that she had to call and thank me. I'm finally starting to understand what people hear when I say the things I say. I'm suddenly having this glimpse of what the subtext of what people are saying is. More than that, it is about what they need to hear. It doesn't mean I'm able to answer them easily. Right now, email seems better suited, since I can think and say what I really mean to say instead of just saying something. No, it is not about saying what they want to hear, but it is about conveying what I want to say in better terms. In a sense, it is speaking in the listener's language. This works better when emailed. In direct conversation, I'm pretty much in the throw of things, myself. It is a process. I'm starting out on it.

Another interesting thing that has been happening is that I'm starting to "understand" M. He and I have never, looked straight in the eye, so to speak. But I think that is improving. He volunteer's information as I start to do the same. Interesting.

There is more I want to add, but I think that deserves a separate post in and of itself.

Guilt and self-blame

Those two have been the most powerful emotions in shaping me. Especially self-blame. I had another one of these yesterday. This time, I caught myself leaning towards self-blame for things entirely out of my control.

I found myself get caught in the middle of a "couple's" fight. Technically, they are not a couple, but that is besides the point. Finding myself in the presence of two people fighting opened the flood gates of self-blame for me. "It must be because of me", I thought. Granted, there might be some old flames are work. But, knowing that history and questioning its influence on current possibilities, I started with my self-blame. I must not be here. I should get out. I'm causing trouble for them. In crept Guilt right then, I'm at fault. I'm the one to blame. Why do I end up in between all the time?

It took me a while to recognize it has got nothing to do with me, per say. Even if it were due to the history, that person has to deal with it. Not I. This I realized within an hour of when I first started feeling that way. That is new for me. I usually don't ever realize it, not until it is too late and I'm already in depression. I'm happy to have made that progress, if you can call it that.

Today, I realize that this has been the trend in a lot of my personal relationships. I don't think it is a exaggeration if I were to say that it is the case with all. I've always seen things in the light of "my fault", rather than for what they were. I've always wondered what I could have done differently so that the conflict could have been avoided. I do not recall asking myself whether or not what I did was right, only what could have been different. It never mattered to me if acting different would have been fair or unfair for me.

That doesn't sound right even to write! But I've done that exactly that all my life, especially in relationships that mattered the most. Hmm, something to work on!

A new beginning

Here I'm, watching a Frontline movie (Hand of God) on child abuse. It is bringing back my own memories. More than that, it is giving me courage to post about it online. So, here I'm blogging about my broken childhood.

I find Hand of God pretty evocative. Here is the introduction:

In "Hand of God," filmmaker Joe Cultrera explores the very personal story of how his brother -- Paul -- was molested in the 1960s by their parish priest, Father Joseph Birmingham, who allegedly abused nearly 100 other children. Producer Joe Cultrera tells the story of faith betrayed and how his brother Paul and the rest of the Cultrera family fought back against a scandal that continues to afflict scores of churches across the country.

"I was inspired by my brother's strength of spirit in surviving his abuse," says Joe Cultrera. "His story was unlike any I had seen in the media. I thought a detailed film about his and my family's experience would prove healing and freeing for others."

[...]

At 14, Paul, an altar boy at St. James Parish, came under the guidance of Fr. Birmingham. Birmingham was young and friendly, often taking the boys on trips and inviting them to the rectory for Friday and Saturday night pizza parties. It was during confession that Paul's relationship with Fr. Birmingham changed. Confessing to masturbation led to private "counseling" sessions at the rectory, where Paul was sexually abused. Birmingham also abused him during nighttime rides in Birmingham's black Ford Galaxie and on trips out of town.

"When you're totally wrapped up in the environment of sin and guilt, you internalize it yourself. At least I did. I decided it was my fault. It was something the matter with me," says Paul. "You think you've done something really bad. So you become very adept at drawing a huge circle around that part of your life."

[...]

"The film created an opportunity for my family to deal with these issues in a very intimate way," says Joe. "We have emerged as a more understanding unit. One of my hopes is that the film will inspire other families to talk."

While there was no priest in my childhood. There was a sufficiently powerful figure involved. Perhaps one day I'll have the courage to post my story and face next to each other. To me this story shows me another male child abuse survivor, who came out and put his face and voice where his story is. That is where I wish to be, some day! And one day perhaps I'll be able to share this with my family and expect understanding in return!