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Tez-I have more weird questions
February 7, 2007
1:25 am
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In 1962?? You were ahead of the times, mate. You *must* have got them in Liddypool, where our lads were just beginning to make a splash.

I bring this up because today is Feb. 7, a date I celebrate every year.... today is the 43rd anniversary of the day the Fab Four arrived in North America prior to their "really big" appearance on the Ed Sullivan show. Beginning of the British Invasion!

Hey Tez, do you know anything about the Easy Beats? I hear they were Australia's answer to the Beatles.

February 8, 2007
3:59 pm
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Hey Tez

I'm glad I could make you smile!!

So you were one of these bodgie-guy people? What kind of car did you have? Did you win any of the drag races?

Bevdee

February 8, 2007
5:07 pm
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kroika

On the 7-Feb-07 you said:

"In 1962?? You were ahead of the times, mate."

I might have made a mistake. I was at the RAAF(Royal Australian Air Force) Base Wagga Wagga doing my training when the pub event occured. I was at that training base twice. Once in 1962 and then in 1964. I thought it was the first time but I might well have remembered wrongly - not uncommon for me these days.

Mea culpa.

February 8, 2007
6:00 pm
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bevdee

On the 8-Feb-07 you asked:

"What kind of car did you have? Did you win any of the drag races?"

My first car ever was a 1939 Chevvy Sedan - I never ever won a drag race in that machine.

I then had a 1950 Singer Sports - and English car. It was a poor man's MG and was equivalent to the MG TC performance wise and looks. I won one drag race spectacularly in that car.

One night while at a milk bar full of 'bodgies and widges', My mate and I were challenged by this bigmouth to a drag race around a predetremined surburban route. I wasn't too keen but when the whole milk bar started with their puk, puk, puk ... implying that I was a 'chicken' I agreed. My Singer had an overhead cam engine not common in those days, and would really scream and rev out. I left the bigmout standing, but he wouldn't say die. In his big Yank Tank(sedan) he was right up my arse trying to pass me. My car, though half the horsepower, had a very low slung ultra light aluminium and wood body. It clung to the road in corners like shit to a blanket. We hit this hairpin corner - in surburbia I remind you. I went around with screaming tyres. In my rear vision mirror I saw this big loud mouth's car - full of guys - rolling end for end mid air. He couldn't take the corner hit the culvert and rolled end for end ending up upside down on its roof in the middle of the bitument. I stopped a considerable distance away so that the cops wouldn't know we were drag racing and ran back with my mate to the car. All the doors were jammed on the roadway and all the guys were piled on top of each other inside bellowing like stuck pigs. Water, oil, petrol and battery acid was pouring all over the road. Shits were trumps! Somehow my mate and I got one door open severely damaging it dragging the top across the bitument. By now we had gotten all the guys out of the wreck in a state of shock. The big mouth driver kept repeating over and over in a state of great distress: "Look at me old man's (father's) car! He'll kill me!" Then this real old guy - probably younger than I am now - came running out of a house and started abusing the lot of us. "You idiots roll a car without a scratch and I stub my toe panicing to get dressed and out here trying to help you louts. I'm going to ringing the police." With that he turned around and went back inside his home. I was the only one in any sort of control of nmy senses so I took the leadership role. I got all the guys my mate and myself included, about 6 or 7 of us, to push the car back onto its wheels. I got all the guys back into the wrecked car and got the driver to see if it would start. It did! With his arm outside trying to hole the driver's door closed, the not so big mouth now driver, drove this wreck down the road away from the scene of the prang to avoid the imminent arrival of the cops. The engine was running like a hairy goat and quickly overheating from lack of oil or water coolant, the front wheels all at an odd cast and camber snaked the car erratic from center line to culvert down the road. I walked back with my mate in the dark to my car a fair way in the distance leaving the accident scene serene and peaceful ready for the arrival of the police to scratch their heads; only the oil, petrol water battery acid, broken glass and bits of metal remained to bear witness to the whole debacle. Back at my car, the drama over and with no threat from the coppers finding us my mate and I roared laughing - a real primitive victory laugh I guess. I never saw the big mouth again. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall next morning when the big mouth's dad went to drive his car to work. 🙂 I never saw any 'Father Kills Son' headlines but their would have been 'blood on the wattle' that morning.

How's that for a true story of the one and only victory in my drag racing career.

There were others that had spectacular highlights, such as the time my mate in a hotted up 1934 Plymouth Roadster raced my 1939 Chevvy sedan down the main drag of our suburb both cars 'flat chat'. He was in the lead when a patrol car full of cops went screaming past me and finally got past my mate forcing him off the road. Being a good mate I pulled in behind him instead of making a run for it. The cops would have got my number anyway. Of course we all were in the shit up to our eyeballs and denied that we were drag racing - Yeah right!! Anyway the cops car was full of cops and I saw a case of grog in the back seat. I think they were off to a party somewhere. After a huge tongue lashing they inexplicably let us off with a very stern warning. I guess that none of them were in a huge paper work mood and wanted to get to their party ASAP.

Will those two stories do? There are many others.

February 9, 2007
4:58 pm
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Tez,

Always good to hear from you.

"How's that for a true story of the one and only victory in my drag racing career." That was excellent!! It surpassed my expectations!!

What is a milk bar?

"Will those two stories do? There are many others." Any time you want to tell, I will listen.

Maybe someday I will tell you how I looked in the 80s- in my heyday.

I hope everything is going well for you. I am fixin to take my last final in my courses, and after alot of thought, have decided to take a longer break between this one and the next one. I have been pushing myself too hard, rushing through these courses as if the hounds of hell are at my heels.

I have had a couple more dreams and a few emails from the casinoguy. Yeah, he still wants me. Huh!! For some reason, he has really stepped up his efforts.

See, right this instant it is Friday 4 PM, and I am sitting here, looking at the time on the pc, thinking - yeah he will be there at the casino in 20 minutes. Dangit, I don't know if "he" will ever go away.

How have you been?

Bevdee

February 10, 2007
7:35 pm
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bevdee

On the 9-Feb-07 you asked:

"What is a milk bar?"

Nowadays a 'milk bar' would probably be a coffee lounge or a 'cafe'.

In the 50's young under-age(under 21) teenagers hung around milk bars drinking malted milk shakes(malt + milk + ice cream + flavoring + lots of agitation). The bodgies and widgies would congregate in their droves, spilling out onto the footpath, sitting along the roadside curbing for a hundred yards sometimes. The police would make their rounds nightly and shift them on only to return after the cops were gone. Many 'bodgies' were riding motor bikes and driving souped up cars. I had both at various times. My first bike was a 1942 Army BSA, an old 500 cc single side banger. Then I had a sprung hub 650cc Twin Trumpy(1950 Triumph Thunderbird). That was my pride and joy.

The Brando movie the Wild One featured a Milk Bar scene in which the bodgie and widgie gang led by Brando crashed the milk bar with Brando chatting up the local milk bar attendant. Brando was riding a Trumpy TBird, i.e. 1950 model Triumph Thunderbird just like mine!! My present bike, a 1994 XV1100cc Yamaha Virago, would 'shit all over' my old Trumpy TBird but that bike was made 44 years earlier.

I hope you now have a better idea what a 'milk bar' was. I'm sure you had them in the states then too. But you probably had another name for them.

Then you said:

"Maybe someday I will tell you how I looked in the 80s- in my heyday. "

I bet you were (and probably still are) a 'living doll', a 'honey', a 'cute chick'.

Then you said:

"I am fixin to take my last final in my courses,..."

I wish you well.

Then you said:

" ... have had a couple more dreams and a few emails from the casinoguy. Yeah, he still wants me. Huh!! For some reason, he has really stepped up his efforts."

Perhaps it is because both you and he have been thinking a lot about each other and remembering the great sex that you both obviously had together? That sure would send powerful telepathic messages back and forth between you two. When we have these 'little fantasies' we don't dream that the other person is unconsciously eavesdropping - do we. I really believe that they are and vice versa!!

Then you said:

"See, right this instant it is Friday 4 PM, and I am sitting here, looking at the time on the pc, thinking - yeah he will be there at the casino in 20 minutes. Dangit, I don't know if "he" will ever go away."

He will have received your telepathic message - I believe!

By now Friday night has passed. Did you seccumb to the temptation and venture down(or up) to the casino just to see if he was there?? 🙂

Tell the truth and shame the devil!

I'm still dancing. Tonight(Sunday) will be the 3rd time Joy and I have been ballroom dancing this week.

I haven't seen Ms. Sneaky in a fortnight. She'll be there tonight - for sure and for certain. I believe she is putting out the feelers for another guy. I think her relationship with her fiance is on the rocks. She has just about given up on me, I think. I hardly ever think about her much these days - that, I believe, is the reason she is giving up on ever getting me back. It takes 'two to telepathically tango', both a transmitter and a receiver, eh!

Til next time ... ...

February 10, 2007
9:54 pm
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Tez, it is always good to hear from you.

You say -"By now Friday night has passed. Did you seccumb to the temptation and venture down(or up) to the casino just to see if he was there?? 🙂

Tell the truth and shame the devil!"

The truth is - I did nothing. I resisted and I spent a very restless night. (You know you told me once that there is nothing I can't do for myself, but it just isn't the same.)

I had trouble going to sleep and after I did I was awakened to the sound of voices in my house. I am sure it is ghosts talking. I know this sounds insane, but this house! When I lived next door and took pictures at night, there were always these things that showed up on the digital image - over and around the house. Photographic orbs. Trailing mists, small winding smoky-like horizontal columns. Now, to test it, I go outside, take pictures of the back yard, and there are all kinds of things showing up in the processed images, especially around the dog. On night last week, I heard the faintest sound of a bell ringing. This went on for about an hour. I am not afraid of any otherworld, but I wish the bastards would let me sleep!! It's the least they could do-- it's not as if I am having smudge stick ceremonies to drive them away!! I'm accepting the *what it is*.

Dancing 3 times this week!! Y'all are sure cuttin a rug. (I don't know if you've ever heard that expression, but down south- that means dancing!) I'm glad your minds are giving each others a break. I notice that the telepathy between the casino man and I waxes and wanes.

Milk bar = malt shop, I believe.

"Then I had a sprung hub 650cc Twin Trumpy(1950 Triumph Thunderbird). That was my pride and joy." I guess so! Nice ride!

As for the 80s? I had long long layered hair that I assisted in its blonde-ness. I bought huge amounts of hairspray so I could lacquer my hair to stand way up high on my head. The trick then was to style my hair, then lie on the bed on my back, with my head hanging upside down, and hair falling away from it. Then came the hairspray. Then I flipped over and repeated this insanity on the backside of my hair. When I stood up-voila! Bighair! I was ready to go. What we liked to do, being in our early twenties, was get to happy hour at a bar with a buffet, so we could eat for free!! We got drinks for half price, then danced and flirted with our big big hair. Hustled the poor guys for drinks after the happy "hour" was over.

My nieces got a big laugh out of looking at my hair last year when Gramma got out the photo album.

As for the break from school? I just can't do it right now. Tez, I'm having a hard time. I feel as if I have made these huge strides, by bringing all this long-buried stuff out of me. I have faced some unpleasant truths about myself in my journaling. I don't want to acknowledge some of it. I want it to go away. But, all this stuff is coming to the surface, and a part of me believes I am not ready to deal with it. But it just keeps coming.

But, I feel freed in a way. When I wrote the stuff out? The way I regurg-ed it was not to just spew it and say here is what they did to me, here is what life did to me. I wrote out the facts, then I tried to see how it affected me, formed me. *because of this - I believe I do this*. To remember what I did and how I felt, what I have moved beyond, and what I can't get past. How that upbringing affected my decisions at that time.

It kind of helped to see it in black and white.

The suicidal history, the possible BPD connection with my mom and sissy, and my complex love-hate-competitive relationship with my sister. It has helped me to express all my feelings honestly, share it here, and not be judged or rejected in the way I was when I expressed them in my mother's home.

But there's still more. Goodness gracious, will it ever stop? I still need to admit my true feelings about my daddy, our one time estrangement and the barely honest relationship we have developed since. At some point I will have to allow my mind to touch on the sexual molestation perpetrated on me. Right now, I can't or won't think about it. But the stuff just keeps bobbing to the surface.

Next Monday, I have an appointment with my primary care physician. I am going to ask him for a referral to a therapist. This is a big step for me. In my physical world, I walk around like everything is ok. This is the face I try to present to my *public*. This is Indian Health care and my relatives go to or work at that clinic. It feels risky.

February 12, 2007
7:59 pm
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Hi BevDee.

I wrote a long response and then clicked the wrong tab close and lost it. I'm really pissed off with myself for my lack of care and attention..

I'll get back later.

Luv yah!

February 12, 2007
8:05 pm
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No problem. I am always glad to hear form you.

February 13, 2007
6:03 pm
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bevdee.

You wrote

"As for the break from school? I just can't do it right now. Tez, I'm having a hard time. I feel as if I have made these huge strides, by bringing all this long-buried stuff out of me. I have faced some unpleasant truths about myself in my journaling. I don't want to acknowledge some of it. I want it to go away. But, all this stuff is coming to the surface, and a part of me believes I am not ready to deal with it. But it just keeps coming. ... ... ... ... ... I still need to admit my true feelings about my daddy, our one time estrangement and the barely honest relationship we have developed since. At some point I will have to allow my mind to touch on the sexual molestation perpetrated on me. Right now, I can't or won't think about it. But the stuff just keeps bobbing to the surface."

You undoubtedly have come a very long way indeed. You've done very well too. Very few people are able to even admit to having problems in their psyche.

Today I am reasonably happy to confront and accept anything that I see or recall into my conscious mind. I've done some pretty disgusting things in my life, rest assured of that fact!! What I am going to write now is fiction from my imagination extremely loosely based upon my own tortured psyche in my past recovery.

I think that what happens goes something like this: A thought arises that would undoubtedly be socially unacceptable to many straight laced people. For example, imagine that you had the thought: "I'd like to have sex with the casinoman dressed up as a 10 year old girl in handcuffs sitting on his lap, talking like a 10 year old." The next thought, either conscious or otherwise, might be: "How disgusting of me to think that! What if people knew I was thinking that! I mustn't have such thoughts and desires. I must be a good girl. Who would want to know such a person who thinks such disgusting thoughts."

Or you might read a story about some child molester. Then you might start fantasizing about cutting his penis off with a rusty hack saw and hanging him up by his balls to bleed to death slowly and in agony. A split second later, you might be horrified that a nice girl such as yourself could possibly have such thoughts and desires. Either you must deny that part of your psyche its very existence or you must allow your self-esteem to plummet. A lose-lose situation.

Even worse, you might even remember getting some pleasure from the molestations at one time or another. The thoughts that might come after that would be horrific for you. You might think: "I encouraged him - its my fault - I'm no good and worthless, disgusting. I can't stand myself. Wang, wang, wang!!!" One horrible thought following another feeding the emotions associated with feelings of self -disgust. The desire to shut down the whole mind at such a time would be very strong indeed. Great anger might well up inside you. "Why should I have had to go through those childhood molestations? It's fucked my head and my life up. Why should I have to go through feelings of victimization, powerlessness, of being a nothing, to be used and abused as a child. I shouldn't be angry. Angry people are not liked. I won't be liked. I'll have to stop these angry thoughts. But I can't!!! I'm falling apart!"

Underpinning ALL of these imaginary thought scenarios of mine are just a few common things. Firstly there is harsh unreasoning self-judgment. Secondly there is raw fear consequent to that self judgment. That fear is fear of rejection by those in your survival support system - fear of abandonment by those near and dear to you. That bolus of fear probably lies deep in your amygdala. It was put there when you were a child. It is a time bomb of fear just waiting to be triggered into full blown arousal by the right stimuli - hopefully not this posting.

The solution that I see is that in the safe environment of therapy you can divulge your absolutely worst self-image, thoughts about your worst most disgusting memories and your worst recriminations and feelings of guilt, anger, etc and then realize that the therapist is smiling. You hear him/her saying; "Its OK, its OK. I've heard far worse than that. Now lets look a little more closely at all this."

After many sessions what was a huge crushing weight becomes the size of a golf ball.

I speak from experience here. Some of the things that I have done in my life though far from being pretty is nothing compared to what others have done. I am absolutely positive that I can say the same thing about you. That is why I feel confident that the huge oppressing weight that you carry will dissipate to the size of a golf ball too after it all sees the light of day.

My arrogance tells me that if I had one-on-one long verbal conversations with you I would be able to drag the whole 'baggage' up and have you crying and laughing at the same time. Lacking the channels for such a one-on-one conversation, this medium here is inappropriate, I feel. Besides, exposing your most vulnerable self here on the world wide web would probably make you feel neither comfortable with nor free to open up your unconscious mind at all.

I hope in physically posting this I hit the right button this time - not like the last post to you that I erased by accidentally hitting the close window button.

February 13, 2007
6:32 pm
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Tez

I have a long one coming for you too. Thanks for your post. I'll have this shortly? Longly?

Bevdee

February 13, 2007
7:52 pm
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Tez,

Thanks for your post. It was worth waiting for.

"It is a time bomb of fear just waiting to be triggered into full blown arousal by the right stimuli - hopefully not this posting."

No. Not your posting. What I'm fixing to tell you is what I have been putting off since last June. I have an appointment with a therapist in three weeks. It was very difficult for me to tell the dr that I needed to see a therapist. When he asked me why, needingsomething to document, I just looked at him. He prompted me- "anxiety?" so I said "yeah that'll work" He was pretty cool about it.

Now - the sexual molestation. I have spent several hours quietly trying to remember what happened during and after that incident. When I first told you about it, you asked me if I remembered feeling pleasure. And I dodged that ball. Because it made me angry. I only told you I remember fear. I couldn't admit it, Tez.

Here is what I remember. When I was 9, (almost 10) the 14 year old female babysitter (our next-door neighbor) told my sister and I to dress in our little swimsuits - she was going to teach us to mode!! She had my sister step outside our bedroom, so she could have me walk down the runway first, and when Sissy did this, the B-sitter locked the door. She grabbed me and pinned me to the floor and kissed me and rubbed and sucked my breasts. I felt pleasure and arousal. There was no vaginal penetration of any kind. She held my arms pinned above my head, laid on my body and talking into my mouth, told me not to say a word.

I remember my sister knocking on the door, then banging on it. I was 9, she was 6. When Sissy was knocking I tried to get up, but she was bigger and stronger than me, and it made me angry and afraid. I was afraid that my sissy would get the flimsy lock open and see. I was afraid the B-sitter would do the same thing to her next. I was angry because I was pinned to the floor by her body.

I don't remember how I got up or what the B-sitter said when she opened the door to her. I can't remember how long it lasted, it's as if there are mists swirling around that memory and I can't see it. I wonder what would have happened if my sister had not been there.

This is not nearly as extreme as some of the stories I have read here, and I don't know if I have minimized the significance because of that, or because I just didn't want to deal with it.

Probably the latter.

I told my mother and she and my daddy tried to talk to her parents about it one night. From my bedroom window I watched them make the walk across the yard, and I sat and waited. My daddy was too embarrassed, I suppose, to discuss this with me at the time. My mom came to my room afterward and told me the neighbor parents said it wasn't possible. Then she looked at me and said, "you aren’t lying about this are you?" Then she told me she was taking me to see her therapist. I thought this was because she thought I was lying. Or she thought I was insane.

She took me to her therapist one time. I don't remember what we talked about. He was a kind, handsome man. He had me draw pictures. He asked my mother to talk to him afterward, and on the way home, she told me that in the picture I had drawn of my house and family, she loomed larger than my daddy or the house! She asked me why that was. I remember my fear at the anger in her voice. I remember feeling that I had done something wrong.

She did fire the babysitter, though.

The B-sitter's sister was my best friend. We were in the same class. Our bedroom windows faced each other and each night, we would pull the shades up and talk for a few minutes before saying goodnight. The friendship was over. It was hard to lose her. At her parent's request, we were never put in the same classroom again. They transferred her to a new room in March - the 3rd quarter of the year. Wow - I just thought of that - this remembering is getting easier. I just wish I didn't feel so nauseated.

Also, after this, I was a pariah in the neighborhood and school until my parents divorced and we moved into town. I did make a new friend, (actually she cultivated me) who stuck by me from 4th grade through college. I still talk to her occasionally, and she sends me pictures of her grandkids. I am now wondering what she knew - we never discussed it, but she always hated the B-sitter's sister, my little ex-friend.

I am trying to remember, and I am considering when my anger started. I think it was always there, because of my family, but I believe it got stronger and stayed longer after that. I started acting out at school, and actually visited the principal's office a few times in the next couple of years.

I remember having sexual thoughts at the age of 10, after the molestation. I don't know if this is normal or if it was a result of the molestation awakening feelings in me prematurely. I don't know this because after the one visit to the therapist, I never mentioned it again, and the subject was never brought up.

My Barbie dolls - the MAN and the WOMAN had doll sex. My poor little sister was scandalized and told me I was nasty, but she never told my mom.

Here is the part of myself that I denied and hate. I fear a lesbian coming on to me. And it happens a lot!! It happened when it was not as easily accepted by society as it is now. It happened in high school, college and it has throughout my life. I have always been supportive of equal rights for everyone. I passively support gay rights, but the thought of 2 women together makes my stomach churn. I hate watching porn flicks, because I get sick when the obligatory girl-on-girl scene shows. Or threesomes! It seems like those scenes are in every fucking porn flick. Once a lesbian lady told me, trying to talk me into having sex with her, that I had never had oral sex until a woman gave it to me. She stuck her tongue out and wiggled it at me. I told her, "No thanks, I'll take what I get and train what I don't get"

Two men? Don't want to watch it, but the mere thought of it does not make me ill.

I don't want to be a homophobe. It's not right. And what I really hate? Is feeling that I am no better than the hypocritical narrow-minded people that I encounter everyday. Because I don't like them. I am uncomfortable around condemnation and contempt, even when it is not directed at me.

With the rapes during my four years with the abuser? That was some bad shit. Real bad. I'm just not in the mood tonight to discuss the pain he inflicted. Even when he was not hurting me, it was only 90 seconds before he ejaculated. I tried to steel myself against feeling any arousal, because I need at least 180 seconds!! I would lie there and count - 1 motherf***er, 2 motherf***er, and it never failed - at 90, he grunted and collapsed on my chest. With proper foreplay and during-play, it's never just a one-time deal for me, but I didn't even get one with him. But I was not successful at steeling myself. So, I hated him and I hated the fact that I could be aroused, if even partially. I fucking hated it, and I hated myself for not being able to control even that. My traitorous body.

You nailed this one, you know. "Or you might read a story about some child molester. Then you might start fantasizing about cutting his penis off with a rusty hack saw and hanging him up by his balls to bleed to death slowly and in agony. A split second later, you might be horrified that a nice girl such as yourself could possibly have such thoughts and desires. Either you must deny that part of your psyche its very existence or you must allow your self-esteem to plummet."

Remember my ex-roommates? I have fantasies about his sodomy in prison, and the thought of his pain makes me smile. He weighs about 120# with a pocket full of change. This feeling is so fierce in me, I gave up trying to talk myself out of it. I just let the thoughts come, and I think - "Go ahead - drop that soap!!"

"My arrogance tells me that if I had one-on-one long verbal conversations with you I would be able to drag the whole 'baggage' up and have you crying and laughing at the same time."

Baby, didn't you know you do that anyway? Here? You make me laugh and you make me cry.

"Besides, exposing your most vulnerable self here on the world wide web would probably make you feel neither comfortable with nor free to open up your unconscious mind at all."

I have actually been more vulnerable here than I have anywhere else - ever. It may not seem like it, but that's how tight I had everything wrapped up. It's time to talk to someone face to face. You are right though- about opening my unconscious mind - I don't think I can do that in front of the pc. I kind of wish I could.

Thank you so much for this post. I appreciate you, Tez.

February 14, 2007
6:55 pm
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Tez

For the last few months, I have tried to "go" with my emotions. To allow them when I am aware of them. Instead of fighting them. I am a little more aware of the way I block emotions. When I am home, and the circumstances permit me, I try let them flow.

I got up this morning and let this flow - not quite the unconscious mind/free association kind of thing, but I felt the need to get this all down. Maybe I did this too soon- but the following were my thoughts before coffee.

Here it is -

Last night as I wrote that post, I became nauseated. As I re-read it, my nausea increased.

This whisper kept running through my head. I have a secret that I can't talk about ever.

While writing it, getting all out of me, I never cried. I was in my mode - intent on trying to arrange my words to more than babble -to convey what I wanted to say, but by the time I finished with the post, rereading it several times, I was trembling. I knew I shouldn't have read it so many times, but I always want stuff to be perfect. I shuddered at times, and I pushed my chair away from the table and retched once.

And I heard that cousin's voice from when we were little kids - Don't you be no goddam crybaby

My head started throbbing. At the time, I wondered my old friend, the migraine was trying to protect me - by distracting me with physical pain.

When I submitted it my entire body was shaking.

My eyes were suddenly heavy, and my stomach and bowels were churning.

I have a secret that I can’t talk about ever

I just told it -in detail. I admitted pleasure. My mother's whisper - The less said about that the better. I admitted feelings that aren't nice. I posted it for an anonymous forum to see. I ran to the bathroom feeling so ill, I thought I might vomit or need to evacuate my bowels.

I can't believe you did this.

Youll have to leave it now. Tez. Everyone. Even Bevdee. It's not cool - anger and loathing and fear. the pleasure. So uncool.

I can't believe you said that.

The outcasting I felt - this compounded the way I felt with my mom and sister, especially after the divorce, I was really alone, except when we visited him.

I have a secret that I can't talk about ever I don't remember anyone telling me this - I might have just known it wasn't smart to stir the pot.

Then there was a knock at the door. My neighbor had come to visit for a few minutes. I had to SHOVE all this emotion, that I knew must be all over my face- back before I answered the door. . Because she is married to the sex offender, and she declared the subject of my molestation unspeakable to her. But, I must have done ok- if she did notice anything, she did not comment. I like to think she didn't. Goddam I'm good.

She left after about an hour, and I sat on the couch sick and trembling for a couple more hours and just - stared.

This morning when I awakened, I had a couple of thoughts. My parents simply did not know how to deal with it.. It may have been too painful to deal with and I was quiet about it, so they never had to. Maybe.

Ten years ago, doing my detective/deduction work, in trying to piece together a mosaic of my family history as I knew it, I tentatively concluded my mom and her sisters were abused by their daddy. My molestation must have terrified her.

She was probably trying to impress her therapist, and the family pictures I drew and his comment on them made her angry - she has always tried to con the mental health professionals. She might have secrets she can't talk about ever.

No one talked about child abuse, physical, sexual - at least in my neck of the woods, in the 60s. Not to my knowledge. Not to me.

I haven't cried, and I cry alot. Last night it seemed enough not to fight the nausea acknowledge the fear and marvel at what I was experiencing physiologically.

I cry a lot, and sometimes I cry for no reason that I can fathom. I know that there are tears about this buried for 36 years. I wonder if those fathomless tears occasionally work their way up through all the buried crap, and the other crap piled on top of it. Poor little girl - buried alive under mountain of crap.

I am still queasy, and have a headache.

Thanks for listening.

Bevdee

February 14, 2007
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BevDee.

Thanks for your post. I appreciate it very much - especially the priviledge of sharing what must be very pain provoking thoughts and memories.

This is why I want to devote some time to responding. There's quite a bit that I need to re-read very carefully to see if I can get really close to where you are coming from.

I'm about to start my day's work now. While I'm doing the more mundane things that don't require much thought, I'll churn over what you have written.

If you bear with me, I'll post my response later.

(((BevDee)))

February 14, 2007
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Tez- I will. And I want you to know that even though I have not cried- another post of yours on another thread caused me to burst out laughing. I like to think as long as I have a sense of humor, I will be ok.

Thanks for feeling sick.

February 15, 2007
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Bevdee.

I read and re-read your posts several times. I decided to not focus on any aspect too closely lest I be unconsciously honing in trying to fulfil some need in me, especially the sexual bits.

From a wholistic perspective , I see your posts as you both honestly and desperately trying to come to terms with who it is that you think you are.

But is the person that you think you are really you? That is the million dollar question.

If I firstly deal with who it is that you think you are, then I feel compelled to focus on your intense nausea producing fear; fear that the person that you think you are is so despicable and disgusting that you are totally unlovable at your very core.

What is this 'image' that you hold of yourself that rates such a terrible devaluation that it makes you feel physically sick? Let's explore that for a start.

So as an eight year old, you let an older girl, who was little more than a child herself, explore your body, to tantalize you with her tongue and her fingers by carressing your intimate parts and you liked it. In fact this experience(s) was(were) your first sexual imprinting that has remained with you ever since. Is this so?

So inside your psyche you are still this 8 year old girl remembering letting this other girl do so-called 'disgusting' things to you. And deep down you greatly fear that you might still like it if it happened again. You even have tintillating fantasies about that time and those experiences that arouse you now, only to be quickly followed by self-disgust that invokes desperate needs to distract your thoughts onto something else. All the while that little voice is whispering painful verdicts of your unlovability and self-condemnation for being like this.

So you now see yourself in the same image of how you saw yourself when you unquestioningly took on board those very powerful parents messages, when you told them about your molestation as an 8 year old girl.

What was that image of yourself that you took on board?

Was it that your truth and your reality was not to be trusted? That 'you' were so unacceptable as you were that both the real you and your reality had to be recreated into that which was acceptable to your parents?

You had to deny the core of your being and your body as being something beautiful and in place of that accept that you were(are) dirty, soiled and unacceptable as you were(are)??? Did you hear the unspoken parental message: "The whole affair was your fault, now go away and shut your tiny mouth and 'don't be a goddam cry baby'"? Is that the message you took on board then as an 8 year old?

Instead of being valued and shown how valuable you were to them by your parents taking you seriously and listening to what you said, then implementing measures to protect you and to remove all sense that this affair was your fault, you got the exact opposite. Even at 8 years of age you sensed that your parents cared more about their church and neighbourhood image than they did about you and your welfare. Is any or all of the above on the mark or wide of it?

Lurking deep in your psyche is the terrible fear that your above self-image is the real you and that no man or woman could really love you if they really saw 'that' real you. So a front, a phoney 'you' had(has) to be constructed and maintained at all costs.

If the 'you' that is screaming to be recognized, is unacceptable to Tez, Seeker, OMW, WD, Mr. Right and those that matter to you then this will be unbearable, a fate worse than death, a prospect too horrible to contemplate. Unlike a snake you cannot step out of your skin. Yet BevDee yearns to know if at her core she is truly lovable. Is this the terrible position you find yourself in? Frightened to expose yourself yet at the same time compelled to do so?

Am I barking up the wrong tree completely here? Am I seeing the beautiful butterfly who is BevDee struggling to free herself from the imprisonment of her '8 year old's' crystallis yet solidly fearing that she is only that 'grub' her parents made her out to be after all? Is this terrible doubt based raw fear of being a low down 'good-for-nothing' the cause of your nausea, and other physiological symptoms during your re-reading of your exposure to the world on the world wide web?

Who is the real you? Are you just a collection of your memories and past conditioning? Or are you much more? Since you know that I am not into the God thing at all, I'm not about to give you that peurile crap about being a 'child of God' - as if any loving God would allow your mind to be conditioned to cause such unconscious self-torture. Such a God would be pure evil - if He were to exist. No!

What I am about to say is that you are that wonderful mind that co-created that beautiful body of yours that allows you to partake in the co-creation of the drama of life in the theatre of the universe in which you find yourself. Who or what can be more magnificent than that???? You are not just your past memories but far more - you are the potential of the whole universe untruncated! It is only that you haven't discovered this yet. And the Christians would confine you to just the space containing your perishable everchanging body, brain and its supposedly permanent, unchanging interloper - that imaginary 'soul'.

Allelluia Tez is a bum. Allelluia, rum-tee-tum - what a wonderful, awe struck universe is the mind! 🙂

Luv yah, BevDee.

February 15, 2007
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Tez,

Thanks for your post. This is gonna be short, because I just wanted to tell you this-- Because I want to automatically deny almost half of the things in your post? I know now that I am going to have to think pretty hard on those questions before I respond.

Of course I agree with all the wonderful stuff you said about me!!

Oh yeah- I - well.. I cried for a while last night. I cried so hard I got the hiccups, just like I did when I was a little girl.

I'll be back.

I love you too.

February 15, 2007
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BevDee.

"Thanks for your post. This is gonna be short, because I just wanted to tell you this-- Because I want to automatically deny almost half of the things in your post?"

I presume that this is because I got a lot wrong. I often do. Or is it because I am touching on very tender spots in your psyche? That's why I had to place so many question marks. I am very unsure as to what is your exact situation. I am trying to build a picture in my mind of how it is for you.

Tell me to rack off, if I push to 'hard' or push too many buttons.

I am very aware that this is not exactly private and confidential - is it. Even the anonymity is not a complete elixir for the shame and guilt we tend to feel over some things in our past. It hasn't the secrecy guaranteed by the confessional.

On the other hand or secrets are what separates us from the rest of humanity and guarantees our loneliness. I guess it is a case of picking the right time the right place and the right person with whom to share them. That is for you to judge.

I'll respect whatever you decide to reveal or otherwise. I only hope that you are not guilty of the worst crime of all - that of being a closet born again Christian. 🙂

Catch yuh later.

February 16, 2007
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Tez

"Tell me to rack off, if I push to 'hard' or push too many buttons."

OK- you have to know that I don't do that- tell anyone to rack off. I simply...fade away. I'm an avoider and I'm trying to change that. You deserve my honesty, so if I feel you are pushing too hard, I will tell you.

I don't know if you are wrong or not. I was uncomfortable with this statement- "...you are still this 8 year old girl remembering letting this other girl do so-called 'disgusting' things to you."

because,/i> I did not let her. There was force. She overtook me, and in doing so, with what she did afterward, there was arousal. Maybe I'm splitting a hair, but that one I will refute. I did not invite the advance.

The shame I felt later was the pleasure I remembered when I felt (at an unacknowledged level) that I should have only been outraged. So that may be where the shame comes in. I am still thinking about that.

Gotta go for now - not fading away, though- I have to go to work.

Bevdee

February 16, 2007
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I keep messing up those stupid italics.

February 16, 2007
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Tez

I have been thinking about a couple of things today. (I'm not leaving)

"But is the person that you think you are really you? That is the million dollar question." I think my perception of myself is entirely subjective, I don't think anyone can see themselves objectively, do you?

"If I firstly deal with who it is that you think you are, then I feel compelled to focus on your intense nausea producing fear; fear that the person that you think you are is so despicable and disgusting that you are totally unlovable at your very core."

I have to think about this one - a lot. This goes back further - to the mothering I didn"t get.

I have been wondering at the nausea. I can't remember if homosexuality had ever been discussed in my family, but I thought what happened to me was wrong, because it was same-sex. So, I must have had some idea of the more.

I also wondered if my nausea was because of the fear I felt at the force she used to hold me down. I stayed quiet because my sister was on the other side of the door. I kept this info to myself for 2 weeks, because I was scared of the older girl. I have kept all this to myself for many years. Do you think that might be what is producing the nausea?

I am not avoiding your question. I admit to self-loathing. I'm pretty sure it was there before the molestation, and that just compounded it.

"If the 'you' that is screaming to be recognized, is unacceptable to Tez,Seeker, OMW, WD, Mr. Right and those that matter to you"

You have to remember that was a little whisper in my head. That is what goes on with me. This is the fear that keeps me from revealing my true self so much of the time. It takes such an effort for me to step forward - away from that whisper.

I don't believe this is true- it doesn't happen - "You even have tintillating fantasies about that time and those experiences that arouse you now, only to be quickly followed by self-disgust that invokes desperate needs to distract your thoughts onto something else." I don't have fantasies about it. I have REFUSED to think about it.

I don't get aroused at the thought of sex with a woman. It really makes me sick. I am quick to stifle any arousal at what I consider not normal sex. There- I said that.

I have a question for you. Since I have a memory like an elephant, I remembered that you posted something to Free2choose on that porn thread. You said that you are a homophobe and it was due to some unwanted advances from homosexuals in your teens. You said something to the effect of thinking of 2 men together makes YOU want to vomit. That's how I feel. I will defend anyone's right to do what they want, but my gut? Wants to vomit. Did that expereince contain anything more than fear for you?

And from a later post!! "I only hope that you are not guilty of the worst crime of all - that of being a closet born again Christian. :-)" Oh puhleeze.

I will post more later, I have to think some more.

February 18, 2007
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BevDee.

Thanks for sorting out a few of my misunderstandings.

You said:

"I think my perception of myself is entirely subjective, ..."

As is most people's perceptions of their self, I'm afraid. However it is possible to attain a state of mind wherein there is no reference to a self of any kind. I have attained this state usually in formal meditation, but not always. This is not to imply that I can maintain that state for any great length of time. If I could then I would probably be the next Buddha.

"... I don't think anyone can see themselves objectively, do you?"

Yes I do. When the mind attains this state of 'no-self' even if only for short periods all 'judging', estimating, demarcating, differentiating ceases. The mind is pristine and unclouded in these states of consciousness. Retaining these states is the difficulty. The brain quickly reasserts its demands upon consciousness for its attention and its enslavement.

You wrote:

"I also wondered if my nausea was because of the fear I felt at the force she used to hold me down. I stayed quiet because my sister was on the other side of the door. I kept this info to myself for 2 weeks, because I was scared of the older girl. I have kept all this to myself for many years. Do you think that might be what is producing the nausea?"

Great fear will produce nausea. One can ask any WW2 aircrew for confirmation of that.

The very recent discovery of the effects of propanolol on the neural receptors has been hailed as a breakthrough in the treatment of PTSD. Apparently this drug, propanolol(I'm not stuttering) occludes the neural receptors in the synapses in the efferent pathways between that part of the brain that is associated with the painful memories and the amygdala, that fires off the painful emotions. Apparently the psychiatrists get you into a full state of recall and arousal and then administer the drug. This inhibits the synaptic receptors in the neural pathways that are triggering the amygdala and thus producing the painful emotions. The recall still occurs but without the emotional response. Patients describe their experience as being 'freed' by this drug. They no longer fear the fear upon having a recall of the once very painful events.

Since your condition though not as debilitating as the shell shocked soldier is none the less a milder form of that condition, in my opinion.

The way I see it, one now has two choices: one can seek the 'quick and dirty' solution through medication. The side effects of using this drug, though thought to be nil, are really unknown - as I understand it.

The long term and far more health enhancing way IMHO is to find the exact nature beliefs about the past events that are triggering off the amygdala and thus the painful emotions. These beliefs will then be seen to be the cause of the pain not the events recalled themselves. Once the beliefs are seen to be flawed and based upon false premises the painful emotions are not retriggered even though the memories of the once painful events are recalled.

This is what I practice with some success in regard to many once painful past events.

You wrote:

"You said something to the effect of thinking of 2 men together makes YOU want to vomit. That's how I feel. I will defend anyone's right to do what they want, but my gut? Wants to vomit. Did that expereince contain anything more than fear for you?"

I am very unsure how my homophobia originated. I have never had a homosexual experience nor do I ever intend or want to have one. I was severely but luckily unsuccessfully predated upon in my youth on several occasions.

I think in my case my nausea is largely fear driven. Fear of being in a powerless state and having my arse reamed by one of those predatory poofters - not a very pleasant thought at all. I do hope that such an occurrence is beyond the domain of both our experiences!!

When I was in the horrors and strapped down to the bed in a mental hospital at 21 years of age in the DTs from alcoholism, I was horrified by these naked, rampaging poofters running around the ward trying to insert their erect, rigid penises into my mouth, ears and any other orifice that they could find, mine or otherwise. When the light of day dawned and the male nurses/wardsmen returned to unstrap me, I asked them where all these naked guys had gone. They said:"What guys? You've been in here all night alone in the ward, mate - screaming your bloody head off!"

That very real experience was produced in my head by my homophobia combining with the effects of my alcoholism to provide me with my very own personal horrors. Other alchies see spiders, snakes etc. Not me, I saw rampant poofters having their way with a totally disempowered me in any way they chose. I guess that from your babysitter experience you know the feeling.

I have never really dealt with this homophobic issue simply because it is not a problem for me in my life. This is because I am never confronted with blatant homosexuality these days. The worst that I see is the Gay Mardigras on TV. I get feelings of revulsion bordering on nausea when I see on the TV the 'faggotts' waggling their arses provocatively at other 'poofters'. I recognize the undesirability of having this negative emotional response to homosexuals flaunting their homosexuality in my face on the TV. But I am free to change the channel and to not empower them to manipulate my feelings. But as I said earlier in this post it is not a pressing problem for me in my everyday life. There are many homosexuals just as there are heterosexuals living a quiet life with their partners disturbing nobody and flaunting nothing. I have other more pressing issues within me with which to deal than my much less than troublesome homophobia.

I doubt that the above post has been of any help to you - but it is the best that I can do in my present frame of mind.

Luv yuh - I'll catch up with yuh later.

February 18, 2007
7:39 pm
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"propanolol(I'm not stuttering" You're c-c-c-cute!

"The way I see it, one now has two choices: one can seek the 'quick and dirty' solution through medication. The side effects of using this drug, though thought to be nil, are really unknown - as I understand it."

ANy medication - not for me! I believe that blunts and masks my emotion. I occasionally take neurontin, originally prescribed for numbmess in my feet and hands, to sleep, but I prefer herbs or melatonin to ease me into sleep. I prefer nothing. I am very mistrustful of scrips. I resent having to take oral meds for my diabetes.

Anyway, this homophobia has never been uppermost in my mind. But it was buried, and I brought it up, and I'm glad. I'm so appreciative that you were able to give me some perspective on it. Maybe I will be able to talk freely to the therapist in a couple of weeks.

"I doubt that the above post has been of any help to you - but it is the best that I can do in my present frame of mind. "

Your posts always make me think- hard. So that in itself is helpful. Thank you again.

Your present frame of mind? Tell me if I'm being too nosy, but are you doing ok?

Bevdee

February 22, 2007
6:19 pm
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BevDee

You wrote:

"Your present frame of mind? Tell me if I'm being too nosy, but are you doing ok?"

Yep! I'm going well just now.

Sometimes when beseiged from all sides, I can start to feel threatened. When this happens, I sometimes slip back into my old paradigm of thinking.

When this happens I then loose all insights into the 'nature of things'. I then become 'self-centered' and start mounting the parapets surveying mye surrounds looking for the 'enemy' in trying to foresee coming attacks.

Luckily these days such sojourns don't last long. I then 'step out of the ring' and see this highly interdependent process called Tez here, processing away being who he thinks he is. My consciousness then becomes the detached observer of that which is! Then the insights start to come again. That is a whole different mindset.

I hope this clarifies what I meant by "but it is the best that I can do in my present frame of mind."

I had realized that I was in the old mindset to which I had temporarily regressed. But I gave my response my best shot from that mindset. That's why I doubted its usefulness.

February 22, 2007
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Tez,

We are on at the same time!! Good to see you.

I have actually been sitting here looking at your next to next to last post. I am hoping I am being honest with myself. In this instance, it is very difficult. This is a real tender subject to me.

The codependent in me worried that I had somehow offended!!

I'll have the rest of my post in a little bit.

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