This is my personal story of abuse and my journey to heal. Some of this page might be too intense for some to read, so if your not feeling too strong now, please come back another time......
Life started out normal enough, unfortunately normal didn't last too long. I was the middle boy out of three. When I was five my mother was my whole world. It was at this time she became sick, she would be gone alot going to the hospital and doctors offices and such. A few months later on February first she died at thirty years old, leaving behind my father thirty one, my older brother eleven, my younger brother two and myself five. My father was my hero up until then, but her death sent him over the edge for a few years at least.
My grandparents moved in to take care of us while he was off self medicating himself, it was during this period that we didn't see much of Dad. My grandparents did their best, I appreciate the sacrifices they made for us. But they were not overly affectionate people, and they were not my mother and father. My brothers and I were starved for love and affection and understanding of what was going on around us.
On most weekends we would stay at my aunt and uncles house in town, to give my grandmother a break. My aunt was my fathers sister, a strong willed woman who wore the pants in her family. Her husband was weak minded and a heavy drinker. They had two kids, a boy my age and a girl my older brothers age. It was at this time my uncle started to pay extra attention to me, he would sit me on his lap for long periods, hug me and kiss me while no one was close by. It didn't go any further than that, so I ate it up at the time, Hell, I was five- six and craving affection.
When I was seven, my father got remarried. We boys were finally happy again. We had a new mom to love, and she loved us. The bliss didn't last too long though, within a year he began to drink heavy and stay out all night. With that came the fighting, both verbal and physical. She too was a strong woman, she thought that if she left him, he'd straighten up and run back to her. Well she was half right, he did sober up but then he divorced her right away to punish her. She was even forbidden to have any contact with us kids. We lost another mother, We were devastated again!!!!
After the break up, an older aunt of my fathers came to take care of us. Again, weekends we spent at my aunts house in town. I was eight years old then and not a happy kid.
I remember the first time it happened, everyone went to the airport to pick up my cousin. They'd be gone for hours and somehow I was left behind at their house with my uncle. I remember him calling me into the bathroom where he was sitting on the toilet with his pants down. He then pulled me onto his lap and began kissing and groping me. I was stunned! While I was frozen in fear, he pulled down my pants and anally raped me, I remember the excruciating pain and humiliation, the silent tears that streamed down my face. After he came he said "SHIT", as if he just realised what he did. He then wiped my ass and pulled up my pants half assed. He probably said something like he loved me to pacify me, I was still in a daze. After I got my senses back, I got out of there and started the long walk home sobbing in pain leaking both blood and semen from my rectum. I remember thinking that I couldn't tell anyone, I blamed myself for letting it happen, I felt so bad and dirty. Besides I knew if I told my father would kill him, and then what would happen to me if everybody found out. I knew my aunt would call me a liar, her family came first weather they were right or wrong, so she would feed me to the wolfs just to protect them. So I thought it'd be best if I didn't say anything and just avoid my uncle. Hell of plan for an eight year old, no I guess it was really pathetic....
Time did march on and soon we had to sleep over again, this time I knew I had to hide. so I barricaded myself with pillows underneath the pull out sofa that my cousin and my little brother slept on. He got home from work in the early hours of the morning, I was then awoken by him molesting me while the other two slept in the bed above me. I hated him and what he was doing to me! It continued with him till I was twelve.
At around eleven I started puberty, my body started reacting to the unwanted stimulation like the machine that it is, I began to like it and it sickened me. I was so confused, I hated him and the things he was doing, but it started to feel good. After a whie it was me who went there looking for it, he created a monster that even I was afraid of. Lust entered my mind and never left. Around eleven, a friend my age, that I was playing with asked me "do you want to go naked" I said "ok". He got more than he bargained for. I soon introduced anal sex and the rest. It became a daily occurrence that lasted many years, beyond high school too. I had so much lust I couldn't control it, yet I hated it too. Every time I came, the feeling of shame and dread came over me. Much like my uncle when he'd say SHIT! after every time he came and realised what he did. I'd promise God and myself that I wouldn't do it again, only to break the promise soon after. I knew in my heart it was wrong but couldn't stop it, even the few times my friend told me he didn't want to do it anymore, I'd talk him into doing it again, for this I have so much guilt.
I was so consumed, that once my friend asked me, "Do you think God cries when we do these this stuf?", I said "no"....I lied to him at the time, even though I knew better, I knew God was crying. I was so messed up, I think we were both around fifteen years old at the time.
I never wanted to be gay, and I knew I wasn't "born gay", but I couldn't stop the desires. I always knew that the sexual abuse was to blame, but didn't know how it fit in. I did like girls, but I was such an introvert that I could never muster up the courage to ask one out, I also thought that no girl would ever like me, like I wasn't good enough, or that I was afraid that they'd see through my facade to all the shame. I did mess around with two girls I knew in high school once each, but that was it. All I knew was going all the way, and they just wanted to kiss and get felt up. It was too frustrating for me, especially when having sex was so easy with my friend.
Those confused sexual feelings lasted till last January fifth 99, when I started dealing with all the past mess. I learned that I wasn't alone and I wasn't gay, my body responded to stimulation like it was designed to. Deviant sex, masturbation and pornography ended up being broken like a bad habit that day. I was living two lives, the one everyone knew and the one filled with secrets and filthy memories.
On February 27th 99, I told my wife of the torture that held me bound like a prisoner. It was hard, but alot easier than keeping it in for twenty four years. I've since told the whole family and my close friends, all have been great and very supportive. It was hardest thing to tell my father, Its not easy for a son to tell his father what I had to, so I emailed my story to him. I knew he would take it hard and blame himself for some of it, but he had to be told. He's now ok knowing about all of it. He did have to resist the urge of going down and killing that uncle, like I had to myself!
Dad and I didn't always have a perfect relationship. I had blamed him for alot more than his fair share of my problems while I was in my late teens. Most of it he, or anyone else didn't have a clue of.I harbored alot of resentment towards him. I had since grown up and realised that he did the best he could do in that situation.
I have since tracked down my old friend and shared my story with him, I apologized for involving him in the deviant sex all those years and for changing the course of his life. He assured me that he had no ill feelings and that he was a willing partner. Yeah, it was what I wanted to hear, but I know better. I'll always feel guilt about it.
In May"99" I went down to the county prosecutors office to report my uncle for abusing me. Unfortunately, too much time had past, it was beyond the statute of limitations. At least they know he's a child molester now and where he lives. Even with that, It was a big step in my healing to make an official report of it.
Getting rid of all this baggage has allowed me to move on with my life, put things in the right order. In the past, my quest for self preservation at all costs, caused me to wreck some close family relationships of mine ten years ago. I have since repaired them & have a good relationship with them now.
At the time that I'm posting my story here 3/14/01, things are very good, and have been for a long time now. Healing is very possible!