Holes in my socks - 100% Triggers on kid abuse

Hope you have a T ,,. memories of 5 yrs. old errrm revelation ??? I am confused now.

Bullies caught onto that trick >>> I must have missed something.
sorry.

the bullies ambushed me in the woods, away from the school, thatz what you missed.

You missed the ambush and i could barely walk home. crawled part of the way. and went back to face them the next day at school. You missed the ambush but if you worked at that school you heard about it. The morons told all the kids and the teachers knew, and no one did a thing. Except my favorite teacher who said i probably deserved it and maybe she'd give me an extra whack for sneaking into the woods. "I'll bet you liked what they did too."

Freddy Kruger's sister. Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
It's like she lived under my bed and went with me to school every day, but somehow she got there before I did and smiled when I came into the classroom and gave a little nod, like we had a secret. Stephen King can't even write horror stories like this.

And I dumped the grades and refused to make better than a "C" grade - average. I'd been making all "A" because it was so easy to learn that stuff.

The bullies always threw in comments about "you think you're smart, don't you"...so I quit getting A's even if I knew the stuff on the test, I would just put down the wrong answer. And, of course I knew it. They were teaching at moron level for those jerks.

I spent the days defending and hiding and causing trouble and I spent the time at home lying about why I was always so beat up and why I couldn't get good grades. Surviving was a full time job. I am sorry.

No need to apologize, THEY should have to apologize to YOU. I just find it disgusting that the teachers didn't do anything at all to protect you and that one teacher took it upon herself to treat you so poorly.
You, probably, just needed hugs and for someone to protect you. I am so sorry you had to endure all of that by yourself.


BJ

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Troy said:
the bullies ambushed me in the woods, away from the school, thatz what you missed.

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Studied on the postings ... Sorry I Missed it .

When I was ambushed in the woods, it took me a long time to find my clothes that they hid from me. They made fun of the holes in my underwear. They grabbed me. They called me teachers pet and pretty boy over and over. "Let's see how pretty you look tomorrow, pretty boy!" "Let's see how pretty you look going home naked, pretty boy!" "How would you like to go to class naked, pretty boy? The teacher would really like that wouldn't she?" They didn't know how close to the truth they were. I still have scars from that beating. Vicious, pre-pubescent mongrels, the sons of their fathers who set the example.

The next day I had to decide again between the play ground or the teacher. They didn't know the price of being the teacher's pet. They thought I was getting some advantage. Tacks in the chair just to guarantee detention, and it worked.

I was good at making spit balls and keeping secrets. What great achievements!

holes in my socks, holes in my shoes, holes in my jeans, holes in my underwear, holes in my heart -- let me see if i've got this straight -- it'z not .... my .... fault. *tears

Hi Troy,

I am so mortified over all the really horrible stuff you have suffered. Some of it brings back some of my memories too. But what caught my eye was your post on the mens forum. No, I am not a guy, but I am suffering from PTSD due to prior abuses that were triggered 35 years later.

You mentioned being a vet and PTSD, how long ago did you serve? What I do know about PTSD is that current effects can trigger the feelings of past abuses you suffered. Your body remembers the abuse, your fear, anger, and feeling trapped. Are you having flashbacks or nightmares about this? either current or past trauma?
If you are able to go to a good VA hospital, try to see if you can get EMDR treatment for you PTSD. It really works for a lot of people especially war veterans and those who have suffered multiple abuses. It seems like a bunch of voo doo stuff, but it works, I am using this in my therapy. Check out EMDR.com
Troy you are brave in so many ways, but you have overcome the first biggest hurdle in recovery, you are telling what happened, looking for some help. I applaud you and wish you the best of luck.

Arghhhhh... I just feel I should take down this post. Instead, I keep adding to it. It has become a little test of courage to keep the post and my separate replies up here and on another site. Recollection and telling are bringing threatening dreams. Awake every hour or so last night with dreams in between.

I'm beginning to see connection between the childhood abuse and combat where there was no fear, just rage when in contact with enemy. When they threatened me or my team, it was just anger and rage, and this time I had the tools to protect us and fight back.

No matter whether it was a sniper or in full battle, the adrenalin flowed and rage took the shape of bullets and grenades and bombs. Explosions. Fire. Smoke. and always, always, always, some blood.

Even then, with the world's most sophisticated war fighting tools, I could not protect them all. So the guilt of childhood becomes tangled with the guilt of war. *tears

Thanks for suggestions to explore T with VA, but probably won't engage VA in this. That might be good for me, but it would bring a train wreck for those ppl around me. I cannot cause more suffering. I am sorry.

No matter how many times ppl tell me that this isn't my fault or that I am not to blame, my emotions resist it. And I do feel so stupid and such a wimp no matter how often ppl point out the courage involved in surviving it and telling it and all the other stuff. Many of you tell me that my experiences are individual and cannot be compared to others experiences.

You are right. I know that. But how can I even ask for support when so many of you have been raped and beaten and treated severely ... winding up disabled entirely, blind, wheel chair bound...with constant, ongoing threats.

When I visit this memory I see that skinny 10 yr old boy and all the rest of you who have gone through trauma of all kinds. *tears for all of you

Hi Troy,

This is definitely a connection, I am glad you are beginning to see that. I respect your decision not to get treated for this, eventually though you might need to because those triggers don't go away on their own.

I mentioned the VA because they are experienced in this sort of treatment for PTSD. In EMDR, you don't even have to tell them what it is (the memory) that was traumatic for you. I am not sure who you will be hurting by getting treatment, but I assume you know what is best for you right now. Even treating your combat PTSD, will help your prior abuse since they are connected.

I just wish I could help you, I also have PTSD and it is horrible. Treatment is hard, but it offers relief from those symptoms. So please keep it in mind if your symptoms become worse. Take care Troy.

I appreciate your care, concern, and advice on this happysappy. I'm so new at all of this. Only found out about survivor sites a short while ago. Never thought I could chat about it. Never thought I could post about it. But, things are changing. We'll see. LOL, at least my palms don't sweat as I sign in now.
thank you

"You were an extremely brave, strong, and wise boy for dealing with everything the way that you did." Theresa

Your words and your concern mean a lot to me Theresa. It's very nice to know that others have a different perspective on this. My emotional reaction is still that i was chicken (not brave), wimpy (not strong), and stupid or stubborn (not wise). Maybe events like these turn our emotions upside down or inside out, making them just the reverse of what others see.

At the time of all this, however, not a single person saw me as you do. Not one friend (because there were none), not one teacher, not one parent or relative. They saw me as pretty much chicken, wimpy, and stubborn...and they told me so. It was not a perception on my part, they told me -- over and over.

skinny, impoverished, hungry, dirty kid -- surviving -- we don't even let ppl treat their animals like this...."Don't hang around here, kid. You attract trouble." "Hey, you're that Trent kid ... don't come in here. There's always a fight." "Move on boy, ur no good."

How in the world can anyone see the victim as the trouble maker...I think I should go visit these people. Some of them must still be around. They were the chickens, always in a gang. They were the wimps, always picking on the skinny kids. They were the stupid ones, ruining lives of others right along with their own. Maybe a little visit and a gentle conversation from a trained bad guy would change some minds.

Let's see who is saying "You really like this don't you?" Let's see who leaves in tears.

And maybe that tennis coach would like a visit from the pretty boy that he wanted so much to coach he'd do it for free. And the store clerk who always had a little something for the pretty boy.

By that time I was savvy enough to avoid their efforts, but I didn't tell -- and how many others suffered because of my secrets. I am sorry. (just saying these words is a trigger for me.

The teacher made me write thousands of times "I am sorry ..." every day, it was a different apology but page after page of legible writing must be turned in the next morning "if i knew what was good for me." She was right ... I am sorry ...

Everyone here knows the tough part in all of this ... the surviving.

I appreciate the support, but I don't like it that my words make others cry. Maybe it isn't my words at all, but your own experiences. Either way, it concerns me very much that my injuries make others cry as well. If I had simply let them control me and cry at their threats, I wouldn't have some of the scars I have now.

This attitude that I must win at least the battle of the minds caused me much grief. I should have let the tears flow and let them think they were winning. I saved a lot of tears, almost enough to drown in.

The bosses in the Army recognized my attitude right away, and their job was to break me down so they could put me together in the way they wanted. I wish I had known the rules of the game when I started. It would have been much easier.

During my training as one of the most elite of the elite warriors, I was captured by one of the "pretend" enemy, one of the cadre. The sucker was wearing his cadre uniform or we wouldn't have let him get close to us. As it was, he walked up to us in the wide open and when he was next to us, he said, "You're captured!" .... "What, how can that be? You're cadre."

He pulled a red arm band from his pocket and slid it on his upper arm. See ... I guess I was out of uniform. You're captured." We were so stupid we didn't even fight him. Six of us. We should have just beat the crap out of him and run away. But ... we were brought to a central point and moved by trucks to the POW camp. Stripped naked 100%. A number written on our backs.

Bags were put over our heads and taped shut so we couldn't see anything. Then we were harassed over and over as they tried to put fear into us. (it was a game. training. what's to fear -- I soon found out what's to fear).

They had us lean forward onto our toes, ankles tied and put our hands with wrists tied on a horizontal pole. In the 100 degree sun in a swamp. And stay there.

When fatigue made us fall, we were attacked by two cadre with electric cattle prods ... the precursor of today's Tazers. With ankles and wrists tied, and blindfolded with the sack, it was tough to even stand. Every time I tried to get onto my knees to get upright, shock. Fall back to the ground, shock. Yell out in pain, shock. The idea was to keep us from getting back on the pole even though they kept ordering us to stand up and lean in there.

We were on this pole all day. Of course we fell. Even the strongest fell. If they felt like you were falling too often, the shocks were redoubled and aimed between the legs. I couldn't see it, but I felt blood running down my side down my legs. At first I thought it was sweat, but the swarming flies helped me understand it.

Sometime that day, one of the cadre said to me or to someone else, "You really like this don't you." I tried to attack him even though I was tied and blindfolded. Big mistake.

Late in the afternoon we were removed from the pole one at a time and taken to an interrogation room. Blindfold removed. Untied. Water. And in a very friendly way, good cop bad cop, given an opportunity to talk, to tell about our training. about our unit. about ourselves.

And here's where the teacher's "training" paid off. I knew I could keep from talking, no matter what they did. After a few questions I said, "OK, can I have another canteen of water?" They asked if i would talk if they gave me water and I agreed. I drank the entire canteen in one chug a lug and handed it back.

Question. Silence. Question. Silence. Question - whack ... silence on the ground. Cattle prod brought in. And I tried to grab it to turn it on them. Shock. Shock. Shock. Another prod and another. Three of them shocking me all over and laughing at the way it made me jump. Always threatening between my legs and sometimes making contact there.

Question. Silence. "You little b*, you're probably too stupid to know anything anyway. If you want to pass this course, you'd better talk." Silence. (thank you teacher for the early training).

"You little s*, think you tricked us out of a canteen of water, don't you? Let's go back out here and see who tricked who." Back on the rack. And so it went for 24 hours or more. And the whole time I'm reliving the days in school with the teacher and the bullies.

I learned from my teacher to never go to battle with holes in my socks. I learned from the cadre to never get captured by enemy soldiers. And this is where I learned how NOT to treat the soldiers we captured. I knew from experience how the torture could turn into silence.

The trainees who did give answers in that little interrogation room flunked the course and were removed that day from the secret training base.

This story does not identify me because they did this to hundreds of soldiers, some on the way back to the ranks and the rest of us on the way into extreme warfare.

Somebody tell me if I'm wrong to post this here. I want to comply with rules of the site. If you're a moderator and decide to move this, please let me know where it goes. I'd rather have it deleted than posted in the male only forum.

Troy, you certainly don't need me to tell you how incredibly strong a person you are! I commend you for your strength, at the same time and saddened by what has happened to you.
I am saddened that the boy in you was stolen. I am saddened at the horrific treatment you received just so you could be "hardened" by those soldiers and government.
My step-father was in Vietnam and he has really bad PTSD, but he refuses the help given by the VA...well, other than the mandated therapy to get his money from them.
He lost most of the men that fought beside him and even got a purple heart for saving one of the men in his unit. He got shot in the back while saving him. I will never know the extent of his PTSD nor will I ever know the nightmares that he awakes from, but what I do know is that no matter how he tries to hide it...I see it in his eyes.
I want you to know that although I cannot see your eyes, your words speak loud and clear!
I wish I could give you a big hug (if it's ok) and just tell you that you are an amazing person who has been through so much in your life. I am not minimizing anyone else's experiences, but we are talking about YOU and I think YOU are AMAZING....

Please keep talking to us if it helps and remember that I am just a PM away.

TROY

BJ

onlymedid...combat veterans carry the secrets of war behind their eyes and just beneath their skin. I don't know of anyone who tells the secrets. There is some kind of guilt mixed with our loyalty to the cause. We all feel like we are letting down the whole system if we talk. I did the best I could with the equipment and the team I had. I took care of my troops first. And still, it wasn't enough. Thanks for telling me about your dad... go give him a hug or call and tell him how much you love him. *tears ... These wounds last long after the physical wounds are healed. You don't even have to mention ptsd or the war, just love him. *tears. *hypervent. .... And look the other way if you see tears start to form in his eyes.

Thank you onlyme...
Troy

(((TROY))). I am glad to see that you are posting and getting some support that you need at this time. PM anytime. Soidhonia

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{Troy}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

How courageous you are! I applaud you for having the courage to get it out in the open. Those abuses cause us shame, that's true, but the shame and guilt lies with those who perpetrated the torment on an innocent child. They will pay for their sins. If not in this life, then in the next.

I sense a "rebel" inside you. Thank God that these people didn't break you, Hon! There's purpose for what you've been through. It may not be known to you at the moment, but all the suffering and shame can be turned into something beautiful. I think you know it.

You've got my deepest admiration.

SetemberMorn ... one other time I commended you on your ability to see beyond the words and I must again let you know that you've hit right on the spot -- the spot that has increased the amount of grief that I've incurred. Being a rebel isn't easy. It's not by choice. I think it is common in a lot of the people we see here (and elsewhere).

When it appears that someone is trying to control us, we resist. We go way overboard in showing that we won't be controlled. When it appears that someone is being treated unjustly, we go way overboard in protecting them or at least making a point of our disagreement.

If the rebel in me caused my childhood trouble and lured me into the realm of warriors, maybe that rebel nature isn't all it's cracked up to be.

On the other hand, that rebel attitude has created a lot of good in this world. It has protected people who have no voice. It has protected untold number of children. It has protected thousands who have no hope. In that sense, thank God that the teacher and others didn't smother the rebellious attitude.

I think I detect that same rebel attitude in others I've met here. Any idea who i mean?

Ha ... a post with no tears !!!! -- Is that called making progress?

You wouldn't... nah... would you? ...mean ME??

You're also very intuitive, my dearest young man! But then, you would be, wouldn't you?

That teacher helped build that "rebel's" strength and resolve, Troy. I had a teacher like that in third grade that found every oportunity to shame me before the class and to keep me after school... ONLY on days that I was in a hurry to leave for my piano lessons. So, I wouldn't only get in trouble with her, but I'd get in trouble with my mom, too.

Whatever... it helped make me who I am today. Because of that, I wouldn't change a thing that happened to me as I grew up. Challenges like that will break some and it will... MAKE some. You and I were made stronger by it and our faith in God is what helps us use it to the good.

You're a beautiful soul, Troy! Never doubt that.



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When it appears that someone is trying to control us, we resist. We go way overboard in showing that we won't be controlled. When it appears that someone is being treated unjustly, we go way overboard in protecting them or at least making a point of our disagreement.

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You took that page right out of my book, Troy! Aaah! Someone who not only understands but KNOWS!

100% triggers - combat, hospitals, injuries

I don't know if I can repeat this here. I was just typing a PM to an AfterSilence friend, and this memory just popped out of my finger tips. It isn't about sexual abuse or rape, but somehow it is tangled with all the stuff that happened in my childhood.

In our PM exchange, my friend mentioned the harassment soldiers sometimes get when returning from war. I told her that I didn't encounter too much of that since I spent so much time in hospitals recovering from wounds. But there was an incident that occurred even in the hospital ...

In telling her, I even started to add an "lol", seeing the irony in the fact that the antiwar feeling permeated even the hospitals. But then I started typing, and you'll see the effect the telling had on me. Afterward, I just felt I had to post this no matter how hard it was or how scary because people need to know what goes on...this is not about today's wars but a time in the past.

***
After I was wounded and spent a long time in the hospital while they tried to stabilize me for the life saving surgery I needed, the day came for us to try it. If I didn't have the surgery right away, there would be another empty bed on the ward and another playing of taps in the cemetery.

I was on a gurney being pushed down a long, long hallway. Just the two of us in this brightly lit hallway.

Along the way I was awake and I responded to some remark of his with the word "friend" in my comment. Something like "It's ok friend, I know I might not make it through the surgery."

Whoa.... the guy went ballistic. He slammed the gurney against the wall. I almost fell off the bed. He jammed it against the wall again just to make his point. He yelled at me, "YOU'RE NO FRIEND OF MINE. DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT AGAIN. YOU STUPID F*. YOU GOT YOURSELF SHOT AND YOU COME IN HERE WANTING ME TO BE YOUR FRIEND. SHUT THE F* UP." And he slammed the gurney on the wall again.

And we went in silence down that long hall with me holding onto the sides of the gurney because I didn't know if he would shove me against the wall again. No sound other than the squeeking of his boots on the polished tile floor. To the operating room where I saw all the saws and hatchets and tools hanging on the walls.

And people in white gowns and masks. Walking around with their hands in the air like zombies while others laid out sheets and tools. And a masked man came close to my head and whispered about anesthesia. And asked if I was right with God. And echoing in my mind was "YOU'RE NO FRIEND OF MINE!"

I said, "let's go" and that is all I knew until waking up later, alone in a room, sobbing, wondering if life would ever be the same. And holding onto the sides of the gurney so I wouldn't fall off.

*tears *panic *choking ... ... I can't believe the effect telling this has on me. I didn't even remember it until I was typing. It just kind of came out my finger tips. And now tears are running down my cheeks and down my neck.

I am sorry.

no reason to be sorry...
WOW what an &&&hole..

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Let the tears come, Hon. Don't hold them back. Believe it or not, they are cleansing and healing.

I heard a song in church once. The title has stuck with me for all these years. The name is "Tell Your Daddy Where it Hurts." It's talking about our Heavenly Father. Keep telling those of us who care, about it. Putting it out in the light will make the pain much lighter... in time. In the meantime, speaking only for myself, I'm here to hold your hand and to help you pray. You've got a friend.

(((troy))) hon I am so sorry you guys were treated so badly. there are some real winners in this old world of ours. I agree with september. please don't feel bad about the tears. we all do it and yes it is very healing. also you talking about those times heals as well. never feel bad or guilty hon.

Since I "forgot" about the teacher and cousin abuse for all those years, could it be that this is not a real memory? Could it be that my brain has just come up with this?

Sounds weird, but "forgetting" about it all those years is just as weird. Have you ever heard of such a thing?

<font color="purple">Well, I believe reading somewhere that it's impossible for your brain to just make things up. especialy memories. The best your brain can to as far as originality goes is to take something it has already sen and remembers, and then combine it with omething else that it remembers.

It wouldn't suprise me that you "forgot" theese memories for a long period of time. It doesn't sound strange if you think about it- why remember something you don't want to if nothing is triggering it? </font>

none of that was your fault.
none of it.