The Consequences of Confession
When involved in recovery, we are encouraged to be open and honest about the causes and conditions of our drinking. Unfortunately, the natural result of that tactic is open disclosure about the things we resented during our childhood among other things. And chief among them was owning my own shame.
Because we were exposed to extreem sex in our household as a result of our time in the Islands, I was paranoid of my new Step-Father's place in our home, and when my Mother gave birth to another baby, he was perceived as a threat too, not for who he was, but for who he might become, like his Father. While he was taking us away from the threat in the Islands, I had reservations as a ring bearer in their wedding, though I realize now that I too was part of the problem.
We were taught to clean, feed and dress the child in addition to our normal household chores, and I grew fond and protective of him. I naturally had concerns about the soft spot in his head, and the way he was tossed up into the air by his proud Father, but I taught him to walk and talk, and learned to be a parent in my own way at the age of 10.
When I confessed my fears and made efforts to overcome my own feelings of inadequacy by asking my Mother about the facts of life, I was introduced to morbid fascinations. Questions like: "How long do you think someone would live if they had cement in their colon?" And: "How long do you thing it would take for someone hanging by piano wire to die?"
So I was on my own until it became a crisis in my early adult life as a manifestation of alcoholism.
Please see: Self Examination
I was encouraged to make amends for my behavior, and I believed the best thing I could do was to confess my sin to the people I feared the most (my parents), but I did not have sound guidance in the matter when I began in the 1980's and I believe my confession to my Step Father lead to a paranoid ideologue bent upon my destruction.
My shame was used as a scapegoat for their behavior, a vehicle for their exoneration, and perhaps even motivation for the theft of my own children.
While I was under the influence of medications my Step Father sold to Doctors I could only see once a season, events such as a colonic I was told to administer, discipline I had to use to enforce obedience to Mother's orders, and even the use of training gear like a jumper to help my little brother to learn to walk may have been exploited to their advantage. He was diagnosed hyperactive as a toddler and by the time he was 5, the diagnosis had morphed to distended colon (treated by colonics).
My Own Efforts
When we were confronted by the suspicion of authorities in our lives, I saw that the innocent activities I was involved in: learning to use my chemistry set, my microscope, and my camera, and even my writing projects, were sabotaged by envy and theft, and that the guidance I received may have been intentionally misdirected. As a result of the loss of my camera, and microscope among other things, my writing projects became more focused on activism. Things like environmentalism, off grid living, and alternative religions lead to exposure to fringe and underground activities. And when a 'good' friend showed up to turn that behavior around, he got hit by a car, and compromised with a head injury.
As I went over my childhood to root out the motivation for my sex conduct, and covered old memories like a rare moment of experimentation with my Panda Bear as a sex toy, I realized that some people might not even believe that to be true. Under the circumstances, it's quite likely that others might have thought I was just using a 'story' of the Teddy Bear as a cover-up for what I really did with my brother, among other 'likely stories', and I could see the growing contempt in my circle of friends as I did the work of recovery.
Even my some of my favorite pets, like the Terrapin Turtle fell into disfavor due to germs like Salmonella, that spread all over our farms and villages in the Country. My Step Father was famous for warning us of Trichomonas in Pork, something I worried about for many years later. A fear that lead me into the study of Paramecium and Amoeba that I obtained from pond water wherever I could find it. Even bugs we found in our bed ended up under the microscope, and some at the University where we determined we had an infestation of "Pigeon Mites" from the birds in our eaves in the City.