I mentioned in the first part of my story that my abuse started at an orphanage. I think I was able to process that because while I now understand that it was sex abuse, it was on the extreme low end, if there is such a thing, of the abuse scale – just fondling and masturbation and with only one “Christian Brother” perp.
The next Sunday the horror story started. My sperm provider got me into a part of the church that I had never been allowed in before. How many 100's of boys and probably girls were abused in that room, I'll never know. When I got in and saw all those perverts inside, I knew it would NOT be good especially when he told me to strip and go sit on a counter until he could show me what a real man could do or words to that effect.
He then humiliated me because I had just started puberty, shamed me in front of the rest of the perverts, and forced me to do oral sex to them and them to me, anal intercourse with me both giving and receiving etc. I was scared, shamed, hateful, angry and fearful of what would happen, afraid of other people finding out, etc.
The only “good” thing during my abuse was that there was one single priest that tried his best to protect me from the abuse as good as he could during the 3 months or so I was abused.
The biggest block in reporting any sexual abuse back then, was that the cops wouldn’t believe you. Even if you did report it, you would be belittled, told to never mention it again, called a pervert, put on a blacklist and on and on. Because my sperm provider was one of the main perps. If the priest in charge couldn’t make it, my sperm provider would be in left in charge.
To make matters worse, where my sperm provider was involved, I wouldn’t even go to my mother. I was torn between wanting him in jail and having him out of jail to provide for my Mom and the family because I didn’t know what the consequences would be especially if the perps ended up in court and were found guilty.
For sure, we would have been blacklisted, no more friends, living on the dole “welfare,” etc. There would be a stigma against the whole family, both for not putting up with the abuse (nobody would never do that especially your own father or the priest), being on welfare and having the father of the house in jail for sex abuse. I have forgiven her because I honestly feel that they had something to hang over her head and she honestly felt she was trying to do what she thought was best for the family.
I will mourn the teenager I never was and strive to make that dot of light way out in the far reaches of the end of the tunnel turn into a bright sun.
WE ARE NOT VICTIMS. WE ARE THE SURVIVORS!!!