| Subject: Re: Therapeutic thoughts over all |
Author:
AV
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Date Posted: Saturday, August 03, 2024, 10:24: pm
In reply to:
AV
's message, "Therapy" on Friday, June 07, 2024, 08:28: am
Wow! I have written so much the last few weeks/months and honestly I have been writing on my enema experiences for over 20 years on different forums sharing with others. To me, all of this is therapeutic being able to write about something that for me was so traumatic due to how my mom handled it. Yes, it was only an 8 to 10 ounce bulb she was using and I am so thankful she wasn’t using an enema bag like so many others have wrote about or even one of those retention nozzles. Mom didn’t take the time to teach or explain the enema. Her mind set was “if you refuse to sit on the toilet and go, I will make you sit and go.” And that was how it was. She introduced the enema at an early age, 5-6 years old. Now I was potty trained and all but I just hated the pain associated with having a BM so I became a holder. I would hold until I could not hold anymore and as a result I pooped in my pants. I think constipation was a favor as well, eating the wrong foods and all. Mom’s mind set was also that once the enema was made, it was going to be used. No amount of anything was going to stop that from happening. I shed many a tear, crying, pleading, begging, resisting, fighting, swinging my arms, kicking my feet, you name it, I was doing it. Didn’t do any good. As I have wrote so many times, my brothers, who were 7-8-9 years older than me, helped mom hold me. I looked at all of this as punishment. Amazing after so many years, 40 years you can say now, I can still remember laying over mom’s lap, reaching back to cover my bottom, or stop mom from putting the tip of the bulb in my bottom, or try to remove the bulb after it was inserted. I can remember kicking my feet wildly. Being popped on my bottom. Mom was old school. If I put up to much of a struggle, my brothers were called in. I cried. Crying was a part of my enema experience. “Get it out! Get it out! I gotta go! That’s enough!” was my cry. My brothers would later reenact and mock me and how I responded getting the enema. All I know is one day mom decided to give me an enema and start me on this weekly journey of if I didn’t sit and produce a BM, she was going to make me sit and produce a BM. Amazing how I imagined that bulb was smiling at me and I did believe the home for that bulb was not in that mason jar but its home was my bottom and it enjoyed every second and every opportunity it got to let me know it was in control and I wasn’t. It sit on that sink counter waiting and watching and smiling as I put up a struggle and it gleamed with joy once I was over mom’s lap and under control as it made its way inside of me releasing that warm soapy water into my bowels. I lost that battle everytime. For 7-8 years, weekly, I received an enema or enemas. I have read on other forms how some parents have taken control of their child’s bowel movements by cleaning them completely out by giving them daily enemas. The child starts his morning off with three enemas so the parents don’t have to worry about if the child had a BM, because they will be cleaned out for the day until the next morning starting the routine all over. I can only imagine what that child is going through. You know I write about my experience but I can honestly say this, I wasn’t sick like so many other children. Experts say keeping that colon clean and moving helps fight sicknesses. And I can say I wasn’t a sick child growing up.
I am thankful I am able to write about my experiences because I have learned from so many others that I am not alone. So many of us have similar experiences or stories to share.
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