Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #225: Unhealthy coping mechanisms
February 25, 2011, 4:27 pm
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In the not too distant future, the huz has to go on another business trip, so my mom will be staying with me when he goes away.  I am really really grateful that mom is coming to stay with me, since I am a complete panicked mess when alone at night.  This will be the first time Mom and I have seen each other since our together session.

My husband always tells me stories of how the other guys at work have these wives who are thrilled when they go on business trips.  I always tell him “Yeah.  You didn’t marry that kind of wife.  You married the kind that got fucked as a child, and now can’t stay by myself because I am all fucked up.”

Even though mom will be staying with me, I am stressed.  I am afraid.  And I am beating myself up for being afraid, even though the therapist told me not to.  This whole thing is so embarrassing, and even though Mom now knows some of the extent of it, I am always embarrassed when there are witnesses to my life of protracted panic.  Still though I would rather swallow my pride and have mom witness it than sit here alone and frightened for an extended period of time.

I had a bulimic episode last night, first time in a while.  I am sure it was stress related.  The force of it broke some blood vessels over my eye.  When I came to bed, the huz said “What happened to your eye!?!”  I looked at the floor and said “I threw up so hard it broke some blood vessels over my eye.”  I looked at him. He looked so scared about this news though.  I said “It’s okay, it’s happened before.”  But I couldn’t quite look him in the eye, because I was so embarrassed.  He put his arms around me, and hugged me for a long time. 

All of us fucked kids have some sort of coping mechanism for surviving abuse.  Mine happen to be panic and bulimia (and a whole host of other things, 224 other things so far, since this post is #225).  The truth is that there is no way a child can survive things that are antithetical to human survival – like abuse – without developing ways to live.  These are my ways.  This is how I am surviving child sexual abuse. That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #224: The babysitter in the room with me

I told the therapist that I have been trouble sleeping at night ever since that session with my mom.  I told her that it feels like the babysitter is in the room with us, constantly, and because of it, I am afraid.

The therapist said “Have you tried talking to her yet?”

My reaction to this question was almost violent, not to her, but within myself. I was suddenly terrified.  Petrified.  I started panicking, right there in the therapist’s office.  Tears started streaming down my cheeks, and I frantically looked around. (This right here is why you shouldn’t fuck kids, by the way.)

The therapist said “It’s okay, Butterfly, I’m right here.  It’s okay.”

I could hardly speak, and I finally got out these words ‘I – can’t talk to her.  She’s – she’s gonna hurt me.”

The therapist said “She’s been in the room with you now a month, ever since that session with your mom. If she wanted to hurt you, she would have done it already. ”

That brought me down from a panicked state into a thoughtful one.  And the more I thought about it, the more I felt she’s right.  The babysitter in the room with us – she’s been like a presence in the room with me.  But she hasn’t come near me, and she hasn’t tried to touch me or anything.

The therapist then said “What do you suppose she is hanging around for?  What would you say to her?  What do you think she wants to say to you?”

And G-d help me, my immediate thought was that she wants to apologize to me.  I’m not sure what to do with that, but the whole line of conversation was pretty helpful.  This therapist is all about embracing whatever’s happening.  Like how I’m so afraid to kiss my husband – she keeps telling me to embrace it, and hug the little girl inside for protecting me. 

If that babysitter is in the room with me, and she hasn’t hurt me  yet, then maybe she is there to help me figure some shit out.  I hate to use the word ‘help’ with this bitch, because honestly, all of my energy has gone into hating everything about her existence ever since I found out about her.  And if she is trying to apologize, then it’s hard to hate her.  It’s not that I forgive her, mind you, because I am certainly not there.  At all.  But an apology is certainly a different place than the one I am coming from, where I continue to ask myself if we were one of many children this woman molested.  If we were basically nameless fuck dolls that she used, if she even remembers us.  Or if we were a re-enactment of abuse she was experiencing at home. 

I wonder if she is trying to apologize, and I am open to at least hearing that apology, I wonder if I will continue to wonder about her and why/how/what she did to us on as regular a basis as I do now.



Reason #223: Senator Scott Brown
February 17, 2011, 1:51 pm
Filed under: fear, survivor | Tags: , , , ,

Senator Scott Brown (Republican Senator in Massachusetts) has gone public with his survival story.  I am sad that this happened to him, but I’m glad he went public with it.  As I have said many times, each time one of us goes public and tells our story, all of us win.  Each time one of us goes public, we all learn that we are not alone.   I think we will also learn that there are more of us survivors than there are perpetrators, and if we could ever form some sort of Universal Group of Survivors – maybe we could stop this shit from happening to other kids from now on.

He had two abusers.  Both threatened him into silence.  Senator Brown actually said in the interview (which will air this Sunday (February 21st) on CBS) that this will be the first time his mother learns of what happened to him. 

I wonder if she will be surprised.  She was  married to a man that beat her and beat him.  This is of course how kids get fucked.  First, put them in a home where mom is beaten into submission, or mom doesn’t give a shit what happens to child.  Make child feel less than.  Set up the situation so that the child is alone.  A loner.  Make child feel like ‘the other’.  Place child in unsafe situations where predators are already on the lookout for ‘otherized’ children.  It really is that simple.

One of his sexual abusers was a camp counselor at a religious camp he went to.  This counselor told him he’d kill him if he told anyone.  His other abuser was an older boy who threatened him with a knife to perform sexual acts.  And so Senator Brown stayed silent.  Until now.

Senator Brown said, “There were, I knew now, no safe havens, no one I could truly trust, just my legs beneath me, running, riding as far as they could carry me, and the slow motion of my lips, offering up a silent prayer.” 

The first thing that all of us fucked kids implicitly understand with the very first improper moment with our perpetrator is that all of our safety is completely gone, and that it never really existed.  From the first time we see that look in our perpetrators’ eyes, we understand that ‘safe’ is not a real thing, the way Santa Claus is not real. And from that moment on, it starts us on a terrible trajectory of using fear as a means of trying to protect ourselves from the kinds of horrors we have already experienced.  Panic and fear become our constant companion on a terrible journey towards capturing the ever-elusive ‘safety’, which never comes because it’s not real.  That is of course why you shouldn’t fuck kids.

There were no safe havens for Senator Brown when he was a child, and for the rest of us victims of child sexual abuse.  May we all find our safety now.  May Senator Brown use the safety and power he has now to make it safe and powerful for all of us, and for future kids as well.  May he use his safety and power to make the abusers afraid, the way we have been afraid all this time.  And may that fear stop them from perpetrating evil anymore.



Reason #222: Against my will

I told the therapist that I don’t feel like I will ever heal from the babysitter’s abuse unless I actually remember it.  I mean, come on, how can you heal from what you don’t remember?

She said that somewhere inside me I do remember it, but it might not be the kind of memory that I am considering ‘real’.  She said my body obviously remembers the trauma, and I might remember it in some sort of pre-verbal stage.  This would explain why I’ve been afraid all these years, why I put the covers over my head at night years before my brother ever touched me.  Why the night terrifies me.

I told her I have to remember it.  I need to know the details.

She said “You don’t need to know the details in order to heal.  You know everything you need to know already.”

I said “How do you mean?”

She said “Here’s what you know.  Something bad happened to you against your will when you were a child.”

That gave me pause for thought.  In a way, she is right.  This quest for memory is not helping me heal, and if I could heal just knowing what I already know, then that would certainly be the *right* path, right?  The quest for memory may also be fruitless, as my memory may never return.  I may never feel safe enough to regain what has been lost, in terms of my memory of what she did to me, to us.

I might never feel safe either way. That is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  May we all find our safety and heal from our wounds.



Reason #221: Superman cries
February 9, 2011, 9:08 pm
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Were you guys ever fascinated by superheroes?  When I started my healing journey, I became fascinated with Superman and Batman.  Superman – he has all these powers, and yet he always chooses good.  And Batman – Batman had a totally tragic childhood, watching his parents get killed in front of him, and he used his trauma to help the world.

So I had one of my alone sessions with the marital therapist.  I of course started to cry, as per my usual with this therapist. I mean, with my other therapists, I maybe cried twice with each of them.  With this one, I have lost count how many times I have cried so far.  It’s happened in almost every alone session so far. It’s gotten to the point where when I first walk into the room, I look for the tissues to make sure they’re nearby.

I said to the therapist “Can we talk about this, the crying?  I feel like it’s a third person in the room with us.”

She said “Sure.  What would you like to talk about with it?”

I said “Well, frankly, it’s weird.  I mean, I have cried more with you than any of my other therapists combined.  And I think that’s weird.  I mean, this is by far NOT the most painful time in my life.  I used to want to die, and I used to cut myself, and I used to throw up three times a day.  I was in a lot more pain then, and yet I’m crying so much now.”

She replied “Well, maybe that is because you feel safe enough to cry now.  When you were going through the trauma, you weren’t safe to cry because you didn’t have the luxury of crying.  All energy went towards survival, and it sure wasn’t safe to cry.  Maybe we should talk about what is upsetting you about the tears?”

I said “Well, it’s vulnerable and embarrassing.  It’s like a weakness.  I am showing you my insides, and it makes me feel vulnerable.”

She said “Well, I don’t see tears as a weakness.  Tears are a sign of strength, of someone who is facing some tough things and is ready to feel emotion about it. It’s about someone who is not in denial about what’s happening for them.”

I said “I guess.  You don’t ever see Superman crying.”

Then she said “Oh come on, that’s just because they don’t have cameras on Superman late at night in his bedroom.”

That made me think.  I mean, it’s true, just because they don’t show Superman crying doesn’t mean that he doesn’t actually cry.  Does the Man of Steel cry?  Before this session with the therapist, I would have said no, but now I think yes.  I bet he too gets upset by what humans are willing to do to each other.  I bet he cries just like I do.  That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.



Reason #220: Powerless, but not helpless
February 6, 2011, 8:27 pm
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I was talking to my mom today, and we both said that we thought that perhaps a greater good could come from my abuse. We both believe that perhaps good could come from bad.

Then our conversation turned to my panic, and she asked me if I had thought about trying some anti-anxiety medicine.  I told her I had already tried some, and it didn’t work.  Then I said “The truth is though, no matter what happens, I think I will always be afraid like this, and I have come to terms with that.” And when I say “afraid”, she knows exactly what I mean. Panic when I am alone or at night, always feeling something with me in the bedroom, etc.

She said “Sweetie – you feel powerless over these fears, but you are not helpless. You are seeking treatment for your fears. They are doing such great research on the brain now, always finding out new things that could help you. Who knows what they’ll discover? You feel powerless, but you are not helpless.”

It was such a beautiful thing to say, so filled with hope.  And I needed to be reminded that hope exists.  And really she is right.  We may feel powerless, but we aren’t.  We have found some way to survive the terrible things that happened to us.  We were powerless over the things that happened to us.  We were powerless then, we are not now, but we still feel powerless.  We were helpless then, but we are not now, and we are learning that. 

May all of us survivors of child sexual abuse find our power and use it for good.



Reason #219: I don’t want to do that
February 2, 2011, 9:44 pm
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Last night, the huz and I got into bed, and he moved his face near mine to kiss me.  I said loudly “I don’t want to do that.”  I heard myself say it, and I sounded like a little girl.  A panicked little girl.  I was immediately embarrassed at how I sounded.  The huz said “It’s okay, baby.  No one has to do anything they don’t want to do.” 

I’ve been fucked up ever since that session with my mom.  No interest in sex or kissing or anything.  This is what happens when you fuck kids, truly.  All our ‘normality’ around sex is completely gone.  Shattered.  How could we possibly be normal around sex when all of our formative experiences around sex were against our will??

This is where the pedophiles really have skewed logic.  They think kids are sexual, and so they’re helping them be sexual.  The thing is though, if kids are sexual, they are sexual with other kids, not creepy old men.  Would these pedophiles want some man older than themselves being sexual with them??

I have no idea what kind of sexual person I would have been had these people not molested me when I was a child.  I wonder if I would have been promiscuous.  I wonder if I still would have been a virgin when I got married?  I dated my husband for 2 years before I lost my virginity to him. 

My husband is a really sweet, generous, kind man, and I am grateful every day to have met and married him.  However, I wonder if without my history of sex abuse, if I would have still married my husband.  The thing is, this year of marital therapy has taught me that I married the safest man on the planet, one who has almost no interest in sex.  I married a nice safe man that would never push me into having sex with him.  The flip side of that, of course, is that when I am interested in sex, I am shit out of luck.  Lucky for both of us, that session with my mom stirred up the trauma for me again, so I have no interest again either.  For now, our libidos match.

The ‘Praise G-d’ side of me says that maybe this did happen to me so that I would meet my soulmate and recognize him for the beautiful man that he is.  Maybe being abused led me to someone who is a rescuer, in the best sense of the word.  Maybe marrying a rescuer will help me become a rescuer too.

I am grateful to have met him.  Of course I am grateful.  But this is the reality of living with the miracle of love in my life.  I don’t know what normal sexuality looks like, and I sure as fuck don’t know what it feels like.  That’s why you shouldn’t fuck kids.




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