I am sorry Ceceil. I learned that loving an abuser is a change in mind brought by a need for attention. Children need attention even at an age where they can't tell the good kind from the bad kind. They will accept any kind to feel wanted. So it makes it harder to let go when you know they only used you, not because they cared but to feed their self ego.

It ain't easy to get there, but it is possible to learn to accept. Understand that the bad attention was a form of emotional brainwashing, to get their wants met.

It won't hurt to allow yourself to get angry at THEM, they had the control strings then, not you.
Until you get to that point visiting may be more confusing than helpful.

Hugs and prayers as you sort.
J.

You're not a freak. He's your brother and I'm sure at the time you just thought of what they were doing was love and that it was Ok at the time. It takes a while to get thru the sadness. They anger may be hidden under the sadness. ((hugs)) You didn't deserve that and it isn't your fault.

I am so glad I have DS and friends that I can come to. I have been struggling the past few months. The depression is wiping me out. I know all the things I should be doing to make myself better but I am not motivated. Managing to shower and get to work are huge accomplishments these days.

Cecil in the same way spices gel in soup before they develop a cohesive flavor, letting the confusion and new ideas set for a bit and gel may make it easier to define.

Hugs and enjoy today and look for and give smiles from the heart for strength.

Cecil, it's okay. I loved my dad and sister, who hurt me a *lot*. Cried over their deaths. But if I saw them now? I don't know. What would I do? Avoid them to avoid the issue? Hate them, rage at them, hide from them? I've no idea. You're not alone in the confusion.

Gentle support. It's a lot to sort, and just... let it "gel", as Jewlls said.

Just a few weeks ago I wanted to send him a text telling him how much he hurt me. I was so angry. Then I was so depressed. I get angry then I try to justify or minimize what happened. I still can't use the word incest. Incest is something that happens to other people, not me. I get angry and I'm sure but it seems to get turned back onto myself. The anger can be overwhelming and futile. I get so defeated. Fast forward to today.....I don't feel anger at all. I want to stay in my psychic cave and be numb.

Cecil, I think I cared about my alcoholic/? narcissist mother who hurt me alot, but love...No. I cried when she died, but the only bond I had with her was fear/anger....I am wondering if those emotions were my first emotions in life! It is very complicated to sort I agree. I read recently that growing up in trauma, if a positive bond was formed with someone who later became an abuser it is even more complicated to sort the emotions out....I even confuse myself...so I am still sorting too...letting it gel too...you are not alone! Gentle Hugs!

Cecil, I wish I had something constructive to say. My situation(s) were different. There is so much great advice and caring in these responses and I wanted to let you know I also care and you are not a freak.

Much love and support

I think something similar happened between me and my brother, but I don't have memories. I loved my brother a lot. We were fellow inmates in our childhood, and I looked up to him, and I felt his suffering, which was so much like my own suffering. I always thought we had a special connection, and that despite being abusive and contemptuous towards me, he really loved me and respected me. I thought he alone saw me for who I really was. Then I read about this thing called the fantasy bond, and it was a "eureka" moment. I don't honestly know what I feel now. I have a lot of work to do and I am terrified of the unremembered truth.

As I think this over and watch netflix (still haven't showered or dressed) It occurs to me that he was the one in my family that seemed to like me and even love me. My other siblings were busy with there own lives and my youngest brother hit, slapped and kicked me on an almost daily basis. If I reject J's(J = the one who molested me) love it would be like I was never really loved at all....by anyone.

My one alter loved my dad and missed him deeply. Finding her was disturbing.

You got no love from your parents, The closest thing you got to nurturing touch was sexual abuse. The ONLY way you could accept the touch that you needed and craved was to blame yourself for the wrongness of it, assume it was your fault.
It obviously was not.

...Your brother used the horrible state of neglect you were in against you, rather than comforting you. Yes, he probably got physical comfort from it? But the direction he took it was very exploitative and wrong.
And you know all that.

At any rate, it *does* make sense to me, because you were being abused AND comforted, simultaneously. If my dad had not lost interest in me after he lost sexual access to me? I'd probably feel the same way.

I also want to point out that during the time he was grooming you you did not know his ultimate goal and intention. So during that period you developed a bond of love, an attachment to him that was very precious to you. It's so sad to realize in the end what his intention was ...

I have complicated feelings towards my brother. I consider him my fellow victim in terms of so many things that we suffered in childhood, possibly including sexual abuse by my father. I also suspect that his life has been to some extent blighted by guilt. He did betray my trust and victimize me, but he was under the influence of our father, who practically coached him in seeing me as a worthless object. I don't know if any of this is relevant to you. But the fact is, we were kids - we were all kids. And what kind of upbringing leads a boy to abuse his sister? It doesn't absolve him, but it can give rise to some compassion or mixed feelings at least. No one is born bad.

I can't get my emotions to segregate worth a damn. I can be angry with people I love. I can hate people who have been good to me. I can crave things that are killing me. Etcetera, etceteri.

To make it even messier, human beings are walking contradictions. Good people can do bad things. Smart people can be really stupid. Etcetera, etceteri.

Then we get to ethics. One person's right is another person's wrong. . .

Okay. . . I have enough of a headache now. Think I will let the mystery be.

The heart goes where it goes?

You are not alone. Although, I my brother doesn't speak to me I love him even though he abused me as well as boys in the neighborhood. I can't hate him yet I have mixed feeling. I have mixed feeling about my father who abused me too. It's normal as everyone here has said. Talking about being angry at our abusers is easier than talking about our feelings of confusion. Myself I would rather admit to being angry than sad, hurt, or confused. Thanks for bringing up the topic. It is really good food for thought. blessings to you as you feel your way through every emotion that comes your way.

I was explaining this to a "civilian" offline at lunch today and I'm so glad everyone here's been so understanding. My example was with my mom, who went off the deep end when I was a teenager after my parents separated. She and my dad got back together, but out of fear, not love, and there was nonstop domestic violence after that, with her at its center. He put her in the ER once, and yet even there when he came by her bed she attacked him in front of doctors, nurses, and us kids. It was extreme.

And yet I remembered as a little boy snuggling up to my mom in church. She was young and pretty before her breakdown went untreated and she became violent. I used to hold her hand in mine. I loved my mom so much.

Last week a DS PTSD friend here spoke of "ambiguous grief" toward her mom, and I totally related.

My mom is still alive, but is a physically twisted body housing a mentally twisted, toxic woman now. It's so sad. She was once so pretty, like Ingrid Bergman, but she literally is a hunchback now with a crazed look in her eye. It's almost like how Gollum changed physically in Lord of the Rings. I miss who she once was, and grieve, even though now I keep my distance. I imagine deep down somewhere she grieves for who she once was, too.