After two crappy weeks of poor sleep and anxiety filled dreams, I finally got to dump this on my T.

I told her that I have been communicating with a fellow survivor of the same perp. I hadnt shared this before, so she was a bit shocked. I assured her I carefully considered it and didn't jump into it.

The other kid...well he is my age...We were at camp together and both experienced abuse from this guy. The thing is...we knew each other at camp, but didn't know for sure we both were victims---though we both had suspicions. The guy is legit, I've carefully allowed him to recount what happened that summer. What he has told me helps tremendously. It fills certain gaps in the timeline-but opens the possibility that the creep took more pictures than I realized. He volunteered to take camp pictures...and who knows what happened to them all...even those "innocent" pictures of shirtless kids in swimsuits? What about the "lost" items from camp? Did one of my swimsuits end up in the hands of this creep? My response to these anxieties...yawn. Well, I can do that now...instead of worrying about decades old unknowns.

The other kid...

We were rivals and a study in contrasts, but we both encountered the same perp and abuse. He was the quiet, compliant, lonely kid who needed adult male companionship. I was homesick and something of a mouthy challenger to an established order.

The perp saw this and groomed accordingly. He gave the other kid attention for sure. He gained my trust, but used it to conquer me and regain his control. After he did what he did, I was definitely more muted and passive.

I told my T that the perp performed a virtual castration and lobotomy on me to protect his own ego and control needs. She just about fell out of her chair and said it was a very Intersting and valid metaphor. She wanted to see where I went with it. She reminded me of the accomplishments I made afterward...that I recovered what he took that summer. She's right. I came back to conquer ADHD, sports, mountains, high school, college, career.

I hope the son of a bitch doesn't think that 13 year-old kid was out for the count. Then again, does it even fucking matter what he thinks?

I ask you to judge me by the enemies I have made. ---FDR


Cruel Summer
My Journal