infantile memories (sic)

So here i go again. The onion is being peeled, layer by layer more is being revealed.

As i sit in group, listing to the men speak, hearing the suggestions of the shrink and the thoughts and realizations keep coming. I ask the Shrink a questions that went something like this; does this ever get better? All I could hear were the thoughts in my head...no it will never get better, you will learn how to deal with it but it will never go away, you can learn to except it but it will never go away, you will always have the memories, you will always feel the pain.

I start to realize the truth of it all.

A baby is so defenseless, it can only observe and take what is given. It can only cry for food, cry for changing, sleep, poo, over and over again....hopefully it will be loved, nurtured, held, changed, fed, over and over again.

What happens to the infant that gets ignored? battered? Does it feel? Does it reach out somehow? What happens to an infant that gets smacked around? Does it feel fear? Does it shy away from people? Does it develop properly?

What happens to a child that is not loved? Does it feel lonely? Does it cry out for attention? Does it pull away from other people? Does it yearn for touch?

What happens to that child as it develops in to a toddler? Does it stare out into a scary world? Is it afraid to explore? Does it trust anyone? Does it care?

What happens to the same child as it grows into a boy? Does it develop socially? Does it ask for what it needs? Does it have hope? Does it love? Does it feel happy? Does it pray?

What happens to that boy as he becomes a man? Is he brave? Can he feel safe in the world? Does he act out? Does he yearn for acceptance? Does he feel?

What happens to that man when he lives his life? Does he meet his potential? Does he love unconditionally? Can he find happiness? Is he afraid on everyone and everything?

What happens? What happens? What happens? He falls down a lot, he isolates, he is angry, he yearns for simplicity, he hopes it will all dissappear, he won't let you in, he builds walls, he lies, he cheats, he is so fucked up you may not want to know him.

this is too hard....i have to stop, i can't stop crying....more later

trauma therapy

Update:

One of the most important things about suffering a tortured childhood is getting past it. There are so many road blocks I can't even begin list them. What I can say it that there are issues small to gigantic. They all have to be dealt with and soon.

The first one for me was changing my name. I was born Steven Frank Guevara. The name Steven, all american as it is, does not fit me. I am not a Steven, I can't be a Steven. Here is why. Every time that name was called to be, it was followed by some sort of pain, usually physical then emotional and then self imposed. I honestly can't remember a time that I did not recoil at the sound of it. When I was eighteen, and literally becoming sick to my stomach every time someone addressed me, I decided to change it. I immediately felt calmer, more secure and comfortable with myself. Just the decision to do the name change made the difference. Today I am called Steban. Similar yes but without the negative backlash. Today I can walk with my head held high, proud of who I am, excited of what I will become and happy to be alive and living today.

So that is where it starts, from the roots on up. I have had to put down ninety-nine percent of what I thought I knew. I am having to learn new living and life skills.

I have started trauma therapy, addressing the PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) that I have lived with for all of my forty-eight years. It has not been an easy road. The first day I had a panic attack. The idea of exposing my most private parts of myself scared the hell out of me. I wasn't sure what to expect. I thought I would have to be with a bunch of men that I didn't know and would be forced to expose my self in the most intimate way, that I would have to trust that I can trust another human being with my most private stuff. I thought that I would have to believe that there was a chance for me to me a regular man. I thought that maybe I would have to heal and be comfortable in my skin. The truth is that I would have to do these things. So I freaked out. I didn't know if I could do it. I was scared that if I showed anyone who I was that I would be judged harshly, not liked, wanted or loved. I thought they would treat me as my supposed mother and be really awful to me.

To be honest with you this is really a hard process. I am learning skills though. Skills that most folks learn early in life. Things you learn from growing up with good, wholesome parents. You learn how to live, love, process, progress in life. These are the things I am learning today. I will say beginning to learn today. I get scared, I panic, I become overwhelmed, I shake with fear of the unknown, I am sad, I feel lost, insecure, small, invisible.

What I know though and what I keep telling myself is this. I am a kind, loving, exceptional human being. I deserve all of the god given things that any life is entitled to, happiness, love, respect, kindness, success, bliss, peace, unconditional love and loving.

I will succeed.