Thank you for your website. I welcome the opportunity to tell my story, in the hopes that it will inspire others to tell theirs, and thus help end the cycle of abuse.

I am 52 years old, and only in the past 3 years, after a divorce from a marriage of 25 years, alienation of my own sons, a nervous breakdown resulting in a 5 day hospital admission, 6 months of counseling, and 3 years of prayer, study, reflection, and insight, have I been able to "put my life together" and realize why I've done what I've done.

All my life I've been troubled by a "Jekell and Hyde" personality. Most of the time, I'm easygoing, kind, helpful, and loving to those around me. But, for some unknown reason, I'd explode into an angry rage, scream, yell, break objects (I've never struck another human being, thank God) and terrify those closest to me, especially my wife. On other occasions, I'd drink too much, and try to sexually force myself on my wife. These occasions happened 3-4 times a year in the early years of our marriage; then faded away so that during the last 10 years, they never happened at all. But the damage had been done: she was terrified of me, and we had no sex --not even kisses--for the last 10 years of our "marriage." After I initiated a long-overdue divorce, I entered counseling, and the counselors ( there were 2) explored my childhood. I thought that was crazy; my adult life was screwed up. But through the efforts of the counselors, the memories came back, the flood gates opened, and the answers poured out in a torrent of misery.

Sometime when I was about 4 years old, I vividly remember waking up in the middle of the night having heard my mother crying and my father swearing at her downstairs in the living room. Being an alert, inquisitive and protective little boy, I ran down the stairs to see what was going on. I saw my mother tied naked to a chair, crying; while my father stood in front of her, trying to get her to perform oral sex on him. Yes, this really happened. My mother saw me first, and screamed out my name. My father turned around in a drunken rage and yelled at me "Get back to bed, you little bastard!!" He chased me up the stairs and beat me while cowered in my bed. Then he stumbled down the stairs and untied my mother; I guess they both went back to bed.

Right after this, I began to lose control of my bowels, which is understandable after witnessing the trauma I did. My mother had no time for this; I had 2 younger brothers and 1 older one, and she couldn't be bothered by one boy regressing in this area. Her answer was to beat me. Whenever I messed my pants, she would take me up to the bathroom, and beat me mercilessly, shoving bars of soap into my anus. She developed a pattern: beat me during my evening bath. She would take off her dress, so she wouldn't get it wet. So, she beat me wearing bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and high heeled wedge sandals. The beatings went on night after night, right after dinner. I lost my appetite; hated family dinners, and formed bizarre sexual fantasies. One of my brothers has corroborated my memories of the beatings, so I know I have not created these memories.

She also used to shove me into her closet, leaving me there for who knows how long, alone, crying, in the dark, surrounded by her clothes and shoes.

Then, at bedtime, came the seduction. She'd take me into her bed, wearing nylon nightgowns and perfume. She'd read me stories, kiss me, and m*sturb*te me to make me feel better. All of this to a 4 year old!! She'd expose her breasts to me, and let me touch them. Often, she'd walk around the house topless; letting me see her. To top of all this confusion, she dressed me up for Halloween as a girl and took me around to the neighbors to beg for candy!! (She had six boys and no girls, I guess she thought she'd turn me into one.) There is more crap that came out of my childhood when she sisters, my aunts came around, but I won't bore everyone with that. This being dressed as a girl ended about age 7; and so did the overt seduction. I was getting to big and smart for her to get away with any more of it.

By the time I was 7, I was having "temper fits", and angry rages. My chums used to tease me and torment me to make me fly into a rage; they all loved the show. When my mother heard about me "losing my temper in public", she'd beat me some more. She was a psychotic carzy woman. I spent my nights fantasizing how to put my mother and her sisters in jail and never let them out. These rages and beatings continued right up until I was twelve. The final beating came when I got angry at a school teacher, exploded into a rage, and threw a blackboard eraser at her. She called my mother, who was waiting for me with a leather belt when I got home. But this beating was different. As hard as she tried, she couldn't make me cry. My buttocks were bleeding when she was done, but I did NOT cry. I stared her down.

She never touched me again. I never cried again until after I was divorced, 38 years later. I never cried at any funerals, not even my brother's. I never cried when my wife demanded a divorce, or my children (2 boys) tearfully begged me not to get a divorce.

Well, I've bored you enough. The only way I've been helped is through: 1) a deep spirituality and faith in God, followed by lots of prayer and reading 2) association with people who actually believe my story, and avoidance of those --including some of my brothers -who don't. 3) getting good counseling from people who believe mothers and aunts do this evil to their male children 4) reading information from this website.

Don't ever give up !! You can heal -- the effort is worth it!!

Bob