Monday, September 10, 2007

Late Spring...a boy discovers

Unless you've felt alone in a crowd of people, I really don't think a person can truly understand what it means to be lonely. I grew up with two brothers and an older sister. We lived out in the country and we didn't really have other friends our age that lived nearby. As kids, we are kind of spread out. My sister is the oldest and she is 5 years older than I am. One of my brothers is two years older and I am 13 months older than my younger brother. And while we played together, particularly when we were younger, I still felt different and alone, even in their midst. As psychologist looks at family dynamics, I am often what is considered the lost child. I was shy in many ways and as I got near the age of 10, I discovered books and reading and found an escape and adventure there. I would find myself inside of the stories that I would read, fantasizing about being a part of the adventure...perhaps even the hero. It seemed like it was the one place in my life where I had some kind of control.

That is, until I was thirteen. On a cold and rainy spring day, I discovered a new way to be in control in my life. It has haunted me and controlled me in many ways every since. The spring day was a school day, but I wasn't feeling well, so my mom let me stay home. All of the other kids went to school and mom and dad went into town to work at the hardware store that they owned. I slept in for awhile and then discovered that I was hungry, so I went out into the kitchen to fix myself something to eat.

At the age of thirteen, I was entering puberty and parts of my body were changing. For a long time now (relatively speaking), I had been exploring and touching my body. Like many boys that age, touching felt good. I had started to sleep in the nude, although I would keep my underwear nearby in case mom came in and she wanted me to get up, I'd slip my underwear back on. But on this particular morning, I had on only an extra large t-shirt which draped down my body like a mumu, practically covering my knees. I was hungry for french fries, so I got out the shortning can and the pan and started to heat up the grease. As I stood there waiting for the grease to get hot, I realized that I had some Crisco on my fingertips and for some reason, I reached down to my privates and rubbed it there. Before I knew what it, I was stroking myself and the pleasure that built-up was like nothing I had ever felt before. The next few minutes are a blur, but the next thing I remember, I had ejaculated on the floor of the kitchen and I nearly fainted from the pleasure. It was my first orgasm ever and it was nothing like I could ever describe. I can only describe it as jolts of electricity passing through every inch of my body...every part of my being. As I sat there at the table, recovering and trying to understand what happened, I realized what I had done and how I had done it. I had tried to masturbate at other times, but had never accomplished it because it was too painful. This time, however, it was nothing but pleasure as the greasy fingers slid over my penis and another hook was planted in my soul. I went on to masturbate four more times that day, and stayed home the next day and did it five more times. For many months, it became a daily occurrence, a release. I was hooked, literally.

Since those first times as a thirteen year old, I discovered that I could control some measure of pleasure in my life. Sadly, I have used that method too many times to count. It became my way of dealing with depression, sadness, anger, frustration...and stress. Even once I became sexually active and even when I was married, masturbation was my escape. But it wasn't only the masturbation but also the fantasies that went along with the physical act. At first the fantasies were similar to the images that I would see in the pornography that I would look at, but that soon changed to the only sex acts I had ever been involved in...and those were with other males. A hidden desire was planted in my mind to be with other boys sexually. In my consciousness, I knew it was wrong and sinful. I'm not sure why I knew that, I just did.

I remember my dad telling a story about when he was in the army and he was on the troop transport headed to Germany for the post-war occupation. He was sitting in the dining room and another soldier was sitting next to him and they were visiting. My dad said that soon, the other man placed his hand on my dad's thigh. My dad didn't say anything, he just picked up a cigarette and lit it. When the tip was burning bright red, he reached down with the cigarette and pressed it against the hand that was resting on his thigh. The other man got the message...but so did I. To desire another male sexually was wrong and if people knew that you even thought that way, you deserved to be hurt. So, I kept my secret to myself. It was a secret that I kept far to long, and never allowed those who could have helped me deal with pain and guilt from my childhood from helping me in my greatest time of need and personal crisis.

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