Re: To those who've never been molested - does it ever creep you out?


"Bill Shroyer" <BillShroyer@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:oh1b54hgnk437ca42jrtg134ms8q9o61p2@xxxxxxxxxx
I don't know if there are all that many people in the world who
haven't been in one way or another "diddled with" when they were
children. Seems to be an almost common, ordinary thing, at least where
I came from and where a lot of other posters seem to come from.

I just wonder sometimes what goes through the minds of people who have
never been messed with in any way, when they hear all these stories of
use and abuse from a not-small-number of us who've been messed with,
tinkered with, diddled with and any other kind of "with" you could
care to slap on the label. It's only speculation on my part, but if
I'd never been messed with, I think all these stories would really
creep me out.

Having never been molested, I don't get creeped out, I try to see the
beautiful survivability of the human race that performs here every day. I
hear td's stories and feel sad for the girl *she was* but she's clearly not
that girl anymore. Same with everyone else in here who has shared.


Not just out of fear for what kids must be going through
that you never hear about, but also the thought of all those adults
from my own childhood who might or might not have secretly "wanted" me
in my innocent, vulnerable state.

I can't imagine that kind of hindsight, what impact it would have, for
an adult to think back and realize that while they never were
molested, there was someone in their life who most likely -wanted- to.
Would it color the memory differently for them? I'd imagine it would
have to. I don't see how it couldn't.

But yes, boys & girls of every age, the chances are that at some point
between birth and puberty, some perv somewhere probably got their
rocks off thinking about "diddling" with you. If they never actually
did it, you can thank your lucky stars (or perhaps vigilant
parents/relatives?) for that.

My problem is kind of opposite. My whole childhood was colored by this
disease, this wretched filth. My problem is that I don't know if
anyone wanted to be with me out of genuine love, or if they were just
looking for an opportunity to get away with something when nobody else
was looking. Oh, there are plenty of people who never did anything to
me sexually - in a sexual context, my parents most of all, I most
emphatically must state, did not touch one inch of my body. Not that I
ever was aware of, and I think I'd have known it given all the freaks
who -did- have their way. They did make their mistakes, things which
the modern enlightened world would most certainly consider abusive,
but they learned from them and lived to regret and apologize for them.
Fortunately, they were not sexual deviants towards my sister and me,
or towards any other relative that I can ever recollect hearing about.

That would have to make it worse - having it be your own mother or
father. That's one part of the sickening talk I hear bantered around
here from time to time that I can't imagine. Though I suppose a
grandfather is fairly close, but I never thought of him as kin, just
as some hateful old *** who grandma was unfortunate enough to be
charmed by in a weak moment during her lost youth. To see a face in
the darkness twisted with depraved lust as it hovers above you - which
I've experienced - and know that it's your own father or mother -
which I've _not_ experienced - it makes me want to puke just thinking
about it.

So I guess I shouldn't complain. I haven't had the worst of the worst,
no matter how bad it was, what I had. No matter how bad you have it,
there will always be someone out there who has it worse than you - and
that's the truth, because the -ultimate- worst has got to be someone
whom we will never hear of, their untold story being all the more
tragic because it will forever remain unknown.

Oy, I'm babbling. Sorry. Something tripped a trigger this afternoon, I
don't know for sure what it was. I felt stirrings of the old Uriah,
the bad one, and it took me by surprise. He actually came out strong
enough to change my stride, as I was walking with Ginger when it
happened. Everything changed, from my breathing rate to my stride to
the focus of my eyes - it was like my body just reconfigured itself on
the spot into some totally different "thing". It's a phenomenon I'd
experienced before, though, but not for quite a long time.

In any event, sorry for babbling but thanks for listening. If you
don't have to deal with crap like this, be grateful. If there were
trusted adults in your life who never did you harm, take the next
available opportunity to hug and thank them for it. Even the slightest
of offenses can cause lifelong damage if done in just the "right"
(wrong) way.

What makes me nervous is that my issues stem from biological disease. One
of the triggers of the onset of this is child molestation. I never in my
life have been molested. I loved my dad and all my relatives and never
remember anything but good times with them.

My disease came to a head when I made my f-i-l my *new daddy* after my
father killed himself. Then my new daddy let me down. (long story short, I
realized my new daddy didn't see me as his daughter)

But I've had a shrink or two insist that *maybe* there's something in my
head so terrible I suppress it. For a while I would sit and think and try
to remember this terrible molestation, but nope, nothing. I'm not going to
believe them now. And thank Christ, I second guessed them when they first
brought it up.

But how many of people like me, "remember" terrible things that happened to
them - that didn't. ::shudder::

I see some people in here that have survived their terrible childhoods and
not only think, thank god it wasn't me, but also can see survival in the
most unbelievable ways. Now if we had a 12 year old posting that was saying
it was *currently* happening, I suppose I'd be all fucked up about it and
thinking about it a different way.

Mo Diddley


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