New to the site. Figured that telling my story would be a good place to start as any. My childhood was not exactly the most stable. My parents were young and inexperienced. My mom was only 16 and my father was only 21 when they had me. The stress of keeping a roof over our heads and food on our table made them very distant from me. My father espicially. I barely if ever saw him. He would work from early in the morning until late in the evening trying to provide for us. Because of this stress they had little patience with me. Almost any infraction was dealt with either a slap or a full out beating with a belt. I had tremendous anger issues because of the resentments that came form the beatings at the hands of my parents. As such, I was classified as weird by the kids at the apartment complex where I lived and they kept their distance from me. I was rather lonely. And that's when my molester and his brother came into the picture. There are two particular instances of abuse that come to mind. First and foremost was the one that stands vividly in my mind. One day the younger brother behind the apartment complex and said he wanted to show me something. I cannot remember what words were exchanged, but afterwards I remember he took off my overalls, took of his pants and rubbed his penis aganist me in a sexual manner, although he didn't penetrate me. I remember that I had this unnerving sense that something was wrong, and right then and there I developed my ability to compartmentalize and push traumatic events out of my mind that continues to this day. The next instance occured at a sleep over at my aunt's house. This time the older brother was the culprit. We shared a bed that night and again I cannot remember what words were exchanged. I remember then that pulled away the covers, pulled down his pants and underware, and pushed my face towards his penis and directed me to put my mouth on it. I did. He then hugged me and kissed me as he rubbed his penis aganist me as his younger brother. Again, I was hit with the unnverving sense that something was not right. That this was not right. But at the time I simply was unable to logically come to the conclusion that I should call for help and tell an adult. The physical abuse from my parents had taught me that it was better to keep quiet about things that upset you, speaking out only caused trouble. As sick as it my sound, I look upon both experiences very erotically and get aroused at thinking about them. As wrong as it felt I enjoyed it because it was the first time that anyone was tender with me. Logically I know this is disgusting, but emotionally it was honestly the first time that I felt loved. The weight of the abuse was evident. My behavior only got worse after it. Food became my new best friend. How I ate seemed to be the only thing that I could control in my life and I took advantage of it in a very unhealthy way. I became even more isolated when my two abusers no longer paid attention to me and I lost much of my trust in others as the years went by. To this day there is a rage inside of me that I have been ordered and coaxed to supress by society and school consuloars. I am a college student at the prime of my life. Even so, my past continues to catch up with me. I'm tired of feeling isolated. I hope joining this group is one step in the right direction.