I am not sure if I have told my whole story all in one piece. My reasons are to completely open my past to myself and to my brothers here. I do not think it will be triggering.
I was born and raised in Southern Alberta. My father lefte for oversaes 2 months before I was born in December 1940. My parents had been married for 3 months when I was born.
I spent the war years between living with my fathers family and my mothers.
I was a very hyper child. Just in the past six months I have been diagnosed as having atention deficit hyper disorder. In those days it was hyper. Now all my mother's brothers when they came home drunk, as far back as I can remember, would take me out to the woodshed and beat me badly. They told me I was the son of a bastard and that I was a real bastard. They said if it had not been for me their sister would not be stuck with my father. The beatings were violent and regular. Also my grandfather beat me. When I came back into the house the women, including my mother would accuse me of getting into trouble again and to go get washed up and to clean the blood off. In retrospect they were only practicing self preservation. When I was at my fathers family my grandmother told me that if it had not been for me my father would not be stuck with my mother. My uncles and grandfather there also beat me severly.
I had no friends my own age as they were afraid of the shit that was going on around me. I became the scapegoat for everything they did that was wrong. Everything was my fault.
I became bitter and a fighter and it was then that I started to build me the perfect hard body. I was only 5 amd remember exercising.
I could not wait for my father to come home. He was a bastard and so was I. I knew I was just like him and that we would get along. This lasted for one week after his return. After that, when he got drunk, he beat me also.
I dont know how many times I ran away; but I was always caught and brought back and that would set off another round of beatings. This went on until I was 14 when I ran away after getting into a physical fight with my father. I have to say I hurt him bad but not to the extent he did to me. I got a broken nose, 2 broken ribs and severe lacertions of my back.
By now I did not rrust anyone, Women ignored me and men only wanted to kick the shit out of me. I was totally alone and had no friends.
When I was 16 my father arranged to send me to militart college; to make a man out of me. Well it did not turn out that way. As a recruit I was subjected to all the hazing by upper classmen. One night in September when I was running back to my barrarcks I was stopped by an upperclassman with a flashlight. I had to yell out my name and what squadrom I belonged to. He then forced me down on his boot and ordered me to lick it. I refused. He hit me with the butt of his rifle in the middle of my shoulders and said that if I did not do it I would get much worse. Instead of licking it I used my teeth and scraped all the polish off the toe of his boot. Iwas released and ran back to my barracks terrified.
Two nights later he caught me again with two of his buddies. They marched me off to a vacant building and took me to a change room. I was forced to strip and lay face down on a bench. The guys whos boot I had ruined then stuck his boot under my face. While another one held me the third grabbed me by the balls. I was order to again lick the boot and if I did not they would crush my balls. I resisted and the pain became intense till finally i did kiss the boot. However my body reacted and I got an erection. The guy holding told the other guys that I must be a queer and that I was enjoying it. I was held down while each one took turns sodomizing me both anally and orally. They also took pictures with a flash camera.
I was released and told that they would be in touch. I was terrified. Three nights later they left me a note to meet them in the drill hall that nite. I did not go.
About a week later I got a letter with 2 pictures of me sucking them and a note telling me that if I did not agree to meet them they would send these pictures to the commandant and my parents.
I contined to meet them till the following May. Sometimes 4 times a week. Every conceivable method of humiliation was practiced on me. I have to admit that as it got worse I seemed to thrive on it more. I found that I was addicted to the pain and if I showed up drunk and unable to get excited they were more violent.
At the end of the year I picked my best subject and flunked it.
I returned to Ottawa but not living with my parents. I got a job and worked hard on my body. Iwas falling apart inside so finally I went to a counsellor at the YMCA. I poured out the whole story to him.
He told me to get over it. I was not the only kid that it had happened to and I would not be the last. He also told me that it was probably my fault as guys generally knew the kind of perverts they were looking for .
This is exactly what they had told me. I decided that if this was what I was I would become a prostitute and sell my body for money. I spent the next 3 1/2 years doing just that in Ottawa. There was nothing I would not do or be involved in. Group scenes of hanging torture rape. Scenes with animals and men. Being kept is a cage for a week . Being used as a slave. During the first part of this career I used to solicit in the park where I hung out. Unfortunately I solicited an undercover cop during a sweep of the park. He hustled me off the the police station in the back and there he and four of his friends spent the next 6 hours playing with me and forcing me into all their sick fantasies.
I became a car thief, mugger and break and enter thief for them. Finally one time when I was tied up and they were having their fun with me one of them injected me with heroin. From that second I was hooked. My body suffered from the effects of this drug and from the abuse I was subjecting it to. I would do absolutely anything for a fix.
The only safety I had was with other hustlers, male and female.
One of them, saw something in me , and one might locked me naked in a flop house for 7-8 days I cant remember. He dried me out cold turkedy. Held me while I screamed and begged and held me while I tried to kill him. But I cane out of it clean.
Unfortunately 6 months later he was murdered by a client and I have always hated myself for not being there for him.
I got off the street and married a wonderful woman.
My story does not end there but I am totally drained from taking you this far. I was all of 22 by this time. To this point I had had sex far to often to be able to count. Love I had never experienced except for belonging with the other street kids.
I did not know what love was.
When I feel better I will tell you about the constant re-enacting of my behaviours over the next 35 years etc etc.
I hope that this triggers no one. I am determined to heal and to help my brothers here but sometimes it is so hard for me because of my past.
Right now I am terribly worried about my little brother Alan who has put himself in harms way. I can relate to Al cause our paths are somewhat the same. I continue to pray for him.
IT REALLY IS OK TO STUMBLE. NONE OF US ARE PERFECT.