The Naked Truth: How to Grab Life by the Balls So You Can Turn Your Fears into Powers

By Harry Trotter

This butt-naked memoir tells the story of a young man who ‘trottered’ across the globe – from Belgium to Australia, Vanuatu to Canada, Thailand to Nepal – to escape his toxic upper-class family and discover the freedom he needed to find his true sexual, spiritual, and emotional identity.

It is the story of ho

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atmosphere Press
• Release date: Dec 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781647647179

Book preview

THE NAKED TRUTH

HOW TO GRAB LIFE BY THE BALLS

SO YOU CAN TURN YOUR FEARS

INTO POWERS

HARRY TROTTER

Copyright © 2019 Harry Trotter

Published by Atmosphere Press

No part of this book may be reproduced

without permission from the author

except in brief quotations and in reviews.

The Naked Truth

2019, Harry Trotter

atmospherepress.com

Trent Goertzen Testimonial 

This book helped give me courage to stop living a lie, but more importantly, it helped me break down the boxes I had placed myself in. It helped me realise I didn't have to fit into any one stereotype, prejudice or box that society, family, or religion had manufactured to keep themselves comfortable. It helped open my eyes that I was free to be me, whatever that looked like. 

Preface

You have been kicked in the balls long enough and your moment has come. It is time to grab life by the balls. Be the person you truly are inside and live the truthful life that you deserve.

This book is in honour of those who became eternal souls because there wasn’t any other way out. I also dedicate this book to anyone still suffering in silence and struggling to break the endless cycles they are in at this very moment.

I hope that, by showing myself in a fully naked, vulnerable and transparent way, you will identify with my journey. Here, I share my own experiences with a single purpose: so you can start taking steps to improve your own quality of life.

By purchasing this book, you have made a donation to C.A.L.M. The Campaign Against Living Miserably is a movement against male suicide, currently the biggest killer of men under forty-five in the United Kingdom. It is also a major killer in Belgium and other countries across Europe and the world.

Be the person you needed when you were younger.

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Sharing this journey is of capital importance,

in order to support others in the future.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1: When the Tree Sees the Light

Chapter 2: Childhood Memories

Chapter 3: Being an Actor

Chapter 4: Slowly Dying Inside

Chapter 5: Leaving for Oxygen

Chapter 6: Breaking Free

Chapter 7: Back to ‘Reality’

Chapter 8: Creating Your Own 'Comfort Zone'

Chapter 9: Letter of a New Life

Chapter 10: A Leap of Faith

Chapter 11: In Search of Quietness

Chapter 12: ‘Reality’ Check

Chapter 13: Going Down

Chapter 14: Slowly but Surely Getting Up

Chapter 15: A Needed Push

Chapter 16: Time for a Change

Chapter 17: Taking Action

Chapter 18: Knowing Your Own Energy and Yourself

Chapter 19: Trusting Your Gut and Getting Inspired

Chapter 20: Being Butt Naked

Chapter 21: Breaking Cycles

Chapter 22: Living Truth

Chapter 23: The Hardest Part in Terms of Being into Men

Acknowledgments

Letter

Introduction

How to Turn your Fears into Powers.

Finally, I have grabbed life by the balls. As a life enthusiast, free spirit, explorer and, above all, a caring human being, I have the need to support others who question themselves. Questions about relation- ships, sexuality, identity and ‘being yourself’, have always intrigued me during my journey. Today, I am here to share my journey with you.

I wasn’t living, I was surviving. I used to pretend to be someone I wasn’t and it suffocated me for almost my entire life. I was a prisoner with self-made bars and had no way of escaping the lie I was living. Due to childhood traumas, an unstable family situation, and the constant questioning of myself, I was choking. This endless self-torture couldn’t go on forever and I ended up taking action by running away and leaving everything behind. I fled with just one thought in mind:  I would never come back ‘home’ again. I fled so I could save my own skin but more importantly, my own values and beliefs. Most of all, I was wondering how it felt to be a free man in this big world.

Are you currently living in a constant lie called

‘The Truman Show’?

I had no one to talk to about my thoughts when I was younger. I took a conscious decision to put on my own Truman Show and to live a constant lie. Why? Because I was afraid of being judged by the people within the social class I was part of. From observing others, I knew what was seen as ‘well’ or ‘appropriate’ in this world and how to behave according to the expectations of my entourage back then. So, I pretended to be a confident, happy, ‘straight’ guy. I was often called a ladies’ man which was of course seen as ‘well’ by my ‘mates’. And the girls? Well, they fell for it too.

You might be afraid of the reactions of others, just as I was. Many people feel constantly pressured and trapped inside. They can be paranoid about the outside world, feeling tired, alone and misunder- stood. This can sometimes lead to suicide.

While it doesn’t define me, sexuality is important in my story. Some people just don’t identify with what the general public perceives as LGBTQQ people (Lesbian, Gay, Bi, Transgender, Questioning and Queer). For example, gay guys are ‘supposed’ to be flamboyant and effeminate, whereas lesbians are often put in the box of tomboy, e.g. looking and behaving like a ‘boy’. A bisexual man is often labelled as gay, indecisive and not 100% ‘out of it’ yet. These are all labels society

sticks on us, although they don’t define us as individuals, nor are they even relevant. These labels can alienate people, shaming them into never telling anyone that they have a connection with someone of the same gender, be it romantically or sexually (or both). Sexuality is such a broad term and is composed of so much more than labels like LGBTQQ, which describe sexual ‘orientation’. It is all about being you, and whoever you connect with. Labels are for jam jars, and closets are for clothes.

Do you also believe sexuality doesn’t define you? Guess what? You’re not alone.

I have been through trials and (t)errors so I took charge and found the key to living my own truth. By expressing myself in a ‘butt naked’ way, exposing my vulnerabilities and discarding my mask, many people have opened up to me. My life really started from that moment onwards and it gave me a huge feeling of satisfaction. Now I’m ready to make a change in the lives of others and help you in whatever way I can.

I strongly believe that my experience in human relations between all genders can make a real difference in someone's life. By putting my knowledge, personal experience and self-developed tools out there, I am confident that people will be able to open up and invest in themselves. My own experience with coming to terms with ‘who you are’ and where you ‘fit’ can help protect you or your loved ones from a lonely, pressured, and miserable life. I hope that the multiple interactions I have had with people from all over the world, with their various backgrounds, religions and spiritual beliefs, can help make a significant change in your journey. It is time to stand up and to give yourself the happy life you deserve.

To you who is reading this: I didn't know anyone in a similar position and didn't have someone to look up to when I was younger. I hope I can be some sort of inspiration to you. It is all about how to find honesty and transparency and to show people that there is nothing greater in life than being yourself, without putting a label on it. From this moment on, if I am able to support at least one individual, this book is worth existing and is, therefore, already a success. Together, let's start your new journey. I might not change the world, but I might have the key to support you in unlocking your own world.

Do not live in doubt, fear or pain anymore.

Realise that the key towards a healthier, happier

and more constructive life is already within you.

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"You have to write the book that wants to be written.

And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups,

then you write it for children."

Madeleine L’Engle

Before we take off on our journey to grab those balls…

It is by giving a wide variety of personal anecdotes that someone is capable of understanding and appreciating a story to its fullest and purest meaning. By opening up myself, I realise I put myself at risk. Constructive or not, criticism is inevitable no matter what you decide to do in life. It is also important to not take yourself too seriously. When expressing a personal story, a healthy dose of self-mockery is essential.

By exploring different experiences in family and relationship contexts throughout my journey, I want to get to the core of difficult life topics that you might face. Yes, these topics might be taboo to many people, but I strongly believe it is time to break the silence and the different cycles you might be stuck in.

Before I start, I would like to thank my parents for giving me life. They probably will not understand the journey I’m about to put into words. Perhaps they think they always did everything right. They also might not (be willing to) remember the words they have said and the actions they have taken in the past. We live in different worlds and that is fine. I would also like to thank them for my earliest memories. There were good moments and life was uncomplicated in those days. My parents were able to appreciate the small things in life at that time and I think those little things are the essence of being appreciative towards life and your loved ones. I don’t know if they’ve ever experienced happiness in the deepest parts of themselves, but they should be proud because today I am a happy person. Most of all, I sincerely wish them a peaceful life.

Freedom of speech is a right we all have. In the spirit of being honest, I wrote every experience lived, perceived and sensed, in as much detail as possible. I didn’t do this to intentionally put anyone in a bad light. I did this to help you to feel lighter, and to make you realise you are not alone out there. No names are used during this journey except my own, and the names of the people who inspired me.

The detailed information provided might be the spark needed to light up the flame when you’re in a moment of darkness. I sincerely hope that this flame may guide you to the eternal daylight of living life to the fullest. A life which should be lived and celebrated in all its beauty and colour, each and every day, over and over again. These words might be the words you have been waiting to read for a long time.

Your time has come to grab life by the balls,

so you can turn your fears into powers!

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Chapter 1: When the Tree Sees the Light

You were born out of love, the saying goes. As far as I can remember, I always had the feeling I didn’t belong in the family I was born in.

Have you ever thought that you didn’t

belong in your family?

Not only did I feel vastly different from my parents, but also from my sister and twin brother. I felt better and more valued on my own, rather than in their company.

How can this be explained?

Is it possibly the lack of tenderness given by my mum from the moment I was born?

Maybe this is due to the fact that my parents had a hard time having children and not meant to have any?

Is it because I was born as a twin, and we were constantly compared?

Perhaps, she might never have experienced tenderness from her own mother, explaining why she did the same to her children?

I’ll probably never know why I had that feeling even in my earliest memories. However, what I do know is that even then, the foundations of my family were already damaged. These foundations were my mum and dad. Without a doubt, they both experienced things in their childhood that they have never spoken of. Those unspoken subjects left a scar on their lives. Even today, they might not realise how much they suffered themselves and its consequences within their own lives, but also in the lives that they conceived. They transmitted silence without realising how much their silence hurt(s).

My twin brother and I were born prematurely at around six and a half months. He weighed 1.7 kilograms whereas I was around 1.8 kilograms. My brother had a slim chance of surviving and my parents were preparing themselves for the worst. Fortunately, he made it. Today he means a lot to me, even though we are night and day and have not always been on good terms.

A newborn has the chance to embrace life, which is a true gift you seldom realise or understand during your journey. Throughout your life, the past of your ancestors is literally passed on to you. Never (under)estimate the trauma and pain that previous generations can pass on to you.

I think we’re all like trees. We all have fingerprints which are very similar to the rings of a tree trunk. We all have roots spreading down into past generations. A tree should grow towards the light. A tree should also clean the air. A tree should feel happy in the habitat it grows in. We are also part of that bigger picture, the family tree.

To you who is reading this, keep in mind that you should not be an unhappy tree. Think of happy trees, as Bob Ross would say. If you do not speak the same language as your surroundings, remember the following: a tree doesn’t need to be rooted for its entire lifetime in the same situation or place.

Ask yourself:

Am I a happy tree?

Would I move to save myself?

Would I clean up the poisonous air from the ones above me?

Would I break through the silence the previous generations transmitted?

When you’re a newborn, you don’t question which values and beliefs your life should be based upon and neither do you know how life really feels. You just accept the ‘energy’ of the family you were born into. It is only around the age of three or four that you have a real understanding of what is happening around you. In those early years, it is of utmost importance to be surrounded by kind-hearted people and good energies. Human beings (and children especially) feel things very easily. When the child is in its full development, small things will determine the rest of their life. At that age already, I felt something was not right. There was pain and not much love. I felt the bad energies my parents were transmitting; they were blinded by their own experiences; blinded by how they got treated by their own parents. Because if you don’t know of anything else, and don’t know yourself, why would you question how you treat your own children?

Those energies didn’t feel good, but I told myself this must be how life feels. I convinced myself that this pain must be a pain everyone feels as a human being. As a child, I also believed that this discomfort was needed to be in touch with my family, thinking it was part of some game.

As a grown-up man today, I still feel that familiar discomfort when I see anyone from my family. When I spend too much time with them, the pain grows. Even though I would like to be closer to my siblings, I have learned to distance myself from them. Distance in the sense of not living close to them, but also not touching them in a physical way. When I am too close to them I feel the misery getting stronger and I feel shitty about myself.

Why do I still feel this way?

We are all made out of love, even though some parents should not have children. My dad admitted to me that he never really felt in love with my mum. He always wondered why her parents wanted them to get engaged as soon as possible. He had many girlfriends before meeting Mum and he was this experienced man, whereas she had never experienced anything with anyone else apart from him. This man was the only man she had really known in her life. Perhaps, as a result, the word sex or anything related to it was not often spoken of in my family. It was taboo. They had never been very tactile towards each other and we, as children, never even learned how to properly hug. When we hugged or kissed a person on the cheek, we actually barely touched the other person.

Dad once explained to me that he already knew during his honey- moon that Mum was not the one. He even contacted his previous love, three months before the wedding, to make sure she didn’t want to get back with him. How can you marry someone if you know that they’re not the one?

And to think that this was my foundation… These are the people my whole existence was based on. I will never regret being alive and I am thankful that my parents gave me life, even though I don’t think Mum was really meant to be a mother. She had suffered so much during her own childhood. She could barely stand on her own feet, even though she was always told to pretend to be strong.

Was he aware of her pain at that moment?

Why would you have children with someone if there is no fit? Silence won’t resolve the discomfort, it will only make things worse.

Back in the ‘old days’, it was the norm to get married and to have children. Based on how my parents were educated, having children was more about prestige. The question of being suitable enough to be a good parent was never raised.

Even though my parents had a hard time conceiving, they persisted and ended up having three children with the help of medical science and several doctors. In this, I believe they had a strong desire to have children. Mum did all she could to raise her children as a ‘good mother’ according to the rules she has been taught by her parents. But it was because of those guidelines that the pain I felt as a child became even stronger during my childhood.

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Chapter 2: Childhood Memories

I can remember the first years of my life, where my family lived in a small house in the centre of Ghent, Belgium. As twins, my brother and I were often compared by others and subsequently, I compared myself to him too. For a start, I felt Mum treated my brother differently. Throughout our childhood, our mother was much harsher on my sister and me. My brother could count on more patience, love and support.

Did she give him more attention because I was

born in better health and had a stronger

chance of surviving?

My brother was seen as the smart one. The one who would ‘make it’ later in life. Mum didn’t get angry with him easily, but she got so angry when she was doing any household tasks such as cooking and cleaning. She never took the time to relax, not even for two minutes. Her brain seemed pre-programmed, and everything had to happen at a quick pace. She smiled sometimes but it would never be sincere, always forced. However, she did all her duties to be a ‘good’ mum, which included picking up the kids from school, taking us to tennis practice, dance school, singing class, scouts, private tutor and so on… It was all oh-so-stressful, unhealthy and unnatural for her already back then, not to mention for us. It was overwhelming being dragged from left to right. For Mum, it was too much because at the end of the day she was exhausted and then we would be punished as a result of her frustration and anger. I firmly believe that for her, out-of-school activities were very important for our development, but we were missing out on the biggest development tool of them all: having a healthy environment and a stable family.

Mum has always been slim and being slim was and is extremely important to her. She never seemed to enjoy sitting down around a table. She never had any appetite and I wonder today how she is still surviving because she just doesn’t seem to eat. When she does eat, she has the habit of leaving the table in the middle of dinner and heading to the bathroom where she can put her fingers down her throat and throw up. It reminds me of when I was a toddler and she would spoon-feed me. Her fingers must feel like that spoon from back in the day. Instead of pretending the spoon was an aeroplane or something fun, she would just ram it straight down my throat. She had no patience and I knew already then that she was unfit to mother me. Again, she was always in constant stress-mode: always afraid of doing something badly or not being good enough. It is a habit I’ve definitely taken over from her. We wouldn’t even have finished our dinner and she would start clearing the table to wash the dishes. As children, we wouldn’t say anything and were afraid of being at the mercy of her anger. I think she was afraid too. Afraid of the silence in our family. Keeping busy was her way to break the quietness and to survive.

We were punished verbally and she would scream her lungs out. She would scream while fixing you with that look you only see in the worst horror movies. A look that I will never forget. A look that holds severe anger, hate or even death. I would see and feel her saliva raining on my head while she stood over me. I would be on my knees saying, Sorry, Mother, while she ordered what she said so often in her waves of pure anger: Say sorry to your mother! I was scared of her and her behaviour. For many years, I made myself believe her behaviour was normal and that all mothers behaved like this. I couldn’t understand why Dad didn’t react to her outbursts or aggressive attitude. I wondered if all women and girls were like this? What did I do wrong? Sorry for what? Why did I have to be on my knees all the time? I was in doubt and I felt so miserable and confused. This is why I still say sorry every two minutes or say thank you every four. It became a mechanism in my head with which I have lived with ever since. And these mechanisms are not easy to break down.

Mum might look a bit fragile but behind that fragile exterior, there was that ‘strong’ person she was told to be by her parents. A ‘strong’ woman who never hesitated to slap her children. She wasn’t aware she was punishing us physically. She wasn’t aware of her own power. She certainly wasn’t aware of the monster she became every time she lost it. She punished us, not only with her hand or fist but often with her favourite broomstick or vacuum cleaner, two of her tools of power. Believe me, she loved and still loves an overly neat house. Which is normal, right? Because a ‘good’ mother cleans the house 24/7. It was so clean, you would not dare to touch the walls.

We had moved out of the city at that point, to a big house in the picturesque village of Le-Bon-Samaritain, in the Belgian province of East Flanders. The house was beautiful, but with each passing year it became colder and colder as the family situation got worse. It was fully decorated and furnished, yet felt empty. It was like a museum and there wasn’t much life there. The only occasions life entered the house, lovely from the outside but poisonous on the inside, were in two different circumstances. The first was when there was a visitor coming over: my parents’ friends or a colleague from Dad’s work. When that happened, my sister, my twin and I would be waiting at the front door to welcome that person with a big smile. We would politely say hello and pretend everything was fine, while just a few moments before the whole house was shaking because Mum was losing it again. The second occasion was when Dad came back from work late at night. We would usually wait for him to get back before we ate dinner, no matter what time it was. Even though I was tired and empty in every single sense of the word, I always looked forward to that moment. Not only to see him, but mostly because Mum would cool down for a few minutes.

Even though Dad didn’t act against her inhumane behaviour, I felt less in danger when he was in the house. Perhaps because she could finally focus her attention on someone else. I always hoped he would see what I saw or would feel what I felt. He never got beaten up by her, despite my desire for it to happen so he would finally realise what was going on.

The worst day of the week was often Sunday, even though it was one of the few days that Dad might be home. Sunday is normally a resting day for most families, but the stress and pressure she unleashed made the whole family feel uncomfortable. God said, On Sunday you may rest. I always believe he said that on Sunday you go to hell. As often, Mum was already clearing the table when we were not finished