I have a feeling this is going to be a long post and I thank everyone who will bother to read it all, as I have no other outlet for this terrible pain and I can't hold it in anymore. And the struggle with p*rn and mast is made exponentially harder due to all this emotional pain. My home life growing up was very hard. I was the youngest in the family (there were only 2 children, but I was the youngest person in the home) and I thought the behaviors that happened in my house were normal. Maybe if one of my parents had been ok, they would have balanced out the other and counteracted the damage, but both my parents were mentally unhealthy (my mom was a narcissist, which I didn't really understand until I was in my 50s; and my dad was a weak man, chosen by my mother because of his weakness and manipulability, and he was often depressed. He may have actually been on the autism spectrum -- Asperger's? -- had they diagnosed those things back in the middle of the last century). My older sister was also mentally ill. When I was young, she had an eating disorder and, I later found out, she had Borderline Personality Disorder which made her not only sick, but mean, and I was a frequent target of her meanness. So basically, I had no protection at home and no one sane there to clue me in that the stuff going on in the house was not happening in all the other houses, as well.
So my mom was a very strong and manipulative person, but she was also very pretty and charming, and I loved her very much...so much that I never realized how she was setting me up to fail. My mother set both her children up to fail as she, unlike most parents, could not bear the idea of her children doing better in life than she did. Also, as a narcissist, she was grooming us to always circle her, vying for her attention and ready to serve her needs. She basically hobbled her children. And my dad was a frustrated angry man who did not know how to relate to me so he just didn't in any positive way. I got yelled at and stuff but not a lot of love from him (he didn't know how to express it) and no blueprint from him how to be a boy and grow into a healthy man. I'm sure that is how I ended up homosexual. The women in my life acted so superior to me (I truly believe my mother did not like men as people, and she and my sister treated my maleness as if it were some kind of disease. On top of that I was artistic and not athletic, so it was already hard for me in public school to fit in, but the dynamic in my home turned me into someone trying to be on the winning side (the females were the winners) and so I was pretty "faggy"* and was mercilessly teased. I was called faggot* long before I knew what it meant.
So I believed that women were both scary and way too good for the likes of me, and with my dad being who he is, I was starved for any kind of male bonding or affection, and I certainly did not have any male friends because I was such a misfit loser -- though I possessed extraordinary musical talent, which only made my hope for a normal childhood even dimmer. As a preteen, I began to sexualize my craving for male love, affection, protection, and acceptance and then, like I stated in my original post, I happened to look a little too hungrily at a man on the street (I was all of 14) and the next thing I knew I was in his bed. He was 33. Yes, it was his fault. Yes, it was statutory rape. But that said, I looked at HIM. I picked HIM. I wanted HIM. So how could it be his fault? He gave me alcohol and porn and sex and I was an addict for the next 40 years (see original post). My emotional connection to porn and masturbation as a self-medication is extremely strong and that is why I still struggle so hard today. I no longer have sex with men so porn and mast was my only outlet.
10 years ago. my 23-year-old daughter died suddenly. I'm pretty sure I have never actually dealt with her death, and I have just plodded along trying to cope with it. It haunts me. I'm positive I have PTSD from it. I sometimes get waves of nausea from the anxiety attacks when I think of her. All the memories make me sad. I could have been a better father. I was a mess much of the time, but I adored my children in a way my father never loved me and they knew it. My relationship with my parents in later years (once I finally realized the damage they had done) was strained. The atmosphere with them was toxic and I had to protect my own mental health...but I made sure my children had their grandparents. My sister and I have never been friends. She is still sick and mean and I cannot handle that. My mother died 5 months ago. and my only living child, a 40-year-old son, has not spoken to me since the day she died, because now my sister, his aunt, is all alone and I am a terrible person for not rushing in to fill the hole in her life now that her mother is gone. For 15 years, I have explained to him over and over how hard it is for me and how I had to protect myself mentally from them, and that is why I did what I was able to do but I couldn't do more...and he ALWAYS said he understood, and supported me. He got it. Until he didn't. And now, I have lost my other child to my mean sister. He has not contacted me, he has blocked my phone number so I cannot contact him.
This pain of all this loss is making my struggle with porn and masturbation so much harder. How many losses can I take? I lost my manhood to homosexuality. I lost my first marriage because I was still acting out with men and my first wife didn't like that (surprise, surprise, but I COULD NOT STOP). I lost my daughter to death, and I now lost my son to the darkest side of my own family. My mother and sister made me believe from very young childhood that women don't like men and especially not their private parts. So I turned to men who definitely liked my private part. But I still have this notion of women in my head and it makes it so emotionally scary to have relations with a woman that I don't even try. My wife knows all about my past and she does not push me but I know I am cheating her and I am cheating myself. I feel shame about my penis and I feel she must think it is disgusting (even though she says the opposite -- these paradigms die hard). I'm stuck and frustrated. I can't go to a non-frum therapist because they would tell me I'm gay and I should embrace it. That's how my first marriage ended. I can't tell a frum therapist because I'd be way too afraid somehow my horrible story would get into the community and my poor wife would be a laughingstock and we would have to move.
So this is why I struggle so much and feel so sad. I am trying to understand what Hashem wants from me with all this baggage. Thank you all for reading (if you bothered to, and if you didn't I certainly understand). P.S. If, somehow, anyone realizes who I am by the details here, please don't out me. I can't take any more trauma. I'm too old to start again. Thank you.
* This is not language I personally use. It is necessary to convey the truth of my history but I do not personally use this kind of derogatory language about other people of any kind.