Hi. I should clarify the context of what was going on with this incident. I wanted to early, but frankly, I was up late Friday night, got up really early and did a long ride this morning, about 50 miles, and fell asleep earlier at the computer --I kind of struggled to get that much down in between nodding off.

The context of my encounter was this -- the discussion in group therapy that day was about abusive relationships, and especially about parent/child relationships. And, let me tell you, I have been there/done that in spades. Grew up with a sexually deviant father with a serious mean streak, hatred and rage towards me since he believed, wrongly, I was the product of serial infidelity, and who had a love of guns and knives and a serious, longstanding untreated mental illness. Pretty much a recipe for me growing up in Hell.

So, I remember listening to another one of the patients speaking about how her mother physically abused her as a little girl, and the effects it had on her, and I started to cry and lose it. And, that was big for me, because one thing I had promised myself was that I absolutely wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me cry, being in my "I'm a POW in the hands of the enemy" mode at that time. Which was ironic, because actually by that time I had really enjoyed the group therapy and thought it was pretty helpful, even though I did more listening than talking. But I still wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction. Until I got to the point I wasn't just silently shedding a few tears, but openly sobbing to the point of near hysteria and hyperventilation.

At which time Mr. Therapist kind of decided that the remaining hour of the session needed to be all about me. And, he dug really deep, asked me a lot of questions about my childhood. Which were really painful to answer. I had to sit in a room with a lot of other people, about 12-14 total, and spill out all of the crap that I had worked hard to conceal over the years -- I didn't want people to know my father was a cross dresser, or that he had held me at gunpoint a couple of times as a kid, that sort of thing, because I was afraid it would somehow reflect on me, on my family, make me look bad. I mostly just wished it away since he had died and tried to forget it. Except, that never works, it just pushes it on the back burner until such time as it bubbles over and explodes.

I was literally a broken man at that point, I felt like the scum of the earth and that I had no reason to live. What this therapist did was strange, and shocking, and it did really drain me. But, after thinking it over, because believe me, that Friday night and Saturday morning were all about thinking it over, I came to the conclusion that the guy was acting like a drill sargent in the military, being tough to make me want to fight. Which is what happened, I had a big epiphany the next morning while riding around in cold rain on a brisk, breezy Michigan late September morning. I suddenly understood emotionally, as I had intellectually for a long time, that it was NOT ok what happened to me as a kid.

And, I will NEVER ever forget what the man said to me, in front of all of these people, the language he used was shocking, too. His exact words to me about how I was abused as a kid, and how I continued to let myself be treated like dirt, were "You're pissed as Hell. You have every right to be. You need to tell the world to go **** off."

I can think about this now, and get a big smile on my face.