One of the things that, even today, even now, even when I know none of this was my fault, I have the hardest time with was that I kept going back.

At first, it was because he was my counselor and I didn't know any better. But imagine when you're 11, about to turn 12, and an adult starts stimulating you sexually this way. After I got over the initial "my-God-how-weird-is-THIS!" feeling, I realized that it felt good. The attention, yes, but the sensations and feelings that this brought on. Being fat, unattractive, and geeky is hard when you're a kid. It's harder when it's all you knew from your schoolmates. And even moreso when your father basically considers you a sissy and a faggot because you're studious and unathletic.

My counselor, on the other hand, called me handsome, beautiful, sexy. He'd tell me how good I was when he performed these acts on me. Pretty soon, I was going back to his office whenever I could. Was I endangering him? I don't think he really cared, at first. It was later that he felt he had to have even more emotional and physical control over me.

He didn't even have to threaten me at first. He just turned me into his little slut. His little sex-toy. And I didn't even realize what he was doing hurt me so much. I didn't know just how much of myself I was selling away in order to feel good about myself.

It's hard when you realize that you were fooled into becoming a slut in childhood. It's even worse when you realize all those wonderful things he told you, at first, was a fucking lie.

What came after just confirmed what kind of trash I really was.

Scot

YOu said:

What came after just confirmed what kind of trash I really was.

Scot you are not and never were trash. I sexualized you to early and lied to you and used you. Get mad my brother get mad. It was never your fault. Got that!!!

Scot,

What trash they left us with. They took boys who needed some praise and direction and they returned abuse and scaring.

How were we to know, Scot, our worlds were already upside down? What kind of parenting is that? Calling a kid anything but handsome and worthy, is abusive.

I heard the crying of a father from India who lost his son to this Tsunami, he was wailing, "My son, my King." Have you ever heard anything more beautiful. A man, a father calling his son, His King.

That's when I started to cry. I wish that my father thought that of me. I wish that your father thought that of you.

Do not dispair, my brother, there are those of us who remember what happened to us in much the same way that you do. We are here for one another. We are here for you, as you are, for us.

Work it through, Scot, you will have the peace that you so richly deserve.

David