Here it is as I now remember it and understand it. From everything Iíve been through Iím guessing that my understanding of what happened will continue to change as time goes on. Even the details have changed as I've read other peoples stories and remember different things that happened to me.

I just recently posted in the Introduction forum if you want to know more about where I am now.

Have already heard from some and would love to hear from others. If thereís something here you relate to Private Message me or point me to your story/posts. Reading what you all have posted and interacting with a community that ďgets itĒ has been overwhelmingly positive at this point in my recovery. If you want to talk, so do I.
I was the youngest of three brothers Ė 10 and then 13 years difference. Basically an only child. My parents divorced when I was 4 or 5 and then my mom re-married a year or two later to my stepfather (perp). The abuse started shortly after puberty and having learned how to masturbate. It went on for a while Ė at least months (I donít think yearsÖ) before my stepfather ended it by announcing to my mom in an argument that I sucked his penis. I canít remember why he said it, but I do remember her asking why he would do something like that and him saying because she had stopped putting out for him. When people talk about disassociating I think of this moment in my life. I was on our steps going upstairs and they were in the kitchen. I was on the steps and I was also not on the steps. Iím pretty sure this is when I learned to completely separate my feelings from what Iím doing.

I donít think I have multiple personalities that Iím unaware of, but I do feel like one person when Iím ďtriggeredĒ and another person when I look back at what I did when I was triggered. Yikes, save me from myself!

My real father may have loved me, but you wouldnít know it from his actions. I can remember two times that he openly showed he must have cared. Once when he helped me fix my bike and then watched me ride it around. This was right before he moved out because of the divorce. The second time was when he felt like my stepfather was going to somehow get in the way of me having visitation rights (saw him every weekend for a while and then every other weekend when we moved further away). He dropped me off one time and came in to rip my stepfather a new one. That was a good day!
The only thing he ever seemed to consistently care about was the Redskins. I still like them to this dayÖRGIII, RGIIIÖsorry. I remember the day he died. He had been in a coma for a month and then one day came out of it. He had a tracheotomy and couldnít really talk. The hospital called and I basically got in the car and drove from Philly to DC with my oldest brother. I remember seeing him and for some reason telling him that I loved him, but I donít know if I really did. Regardless, Iím still happy that I told him that Ė he was a human being after all. He mouthed back ďI knowĒ. That was hugely expressive of him. You know, as I write this I donít think he ever said I love you to me that I can remember. My other brother got to see him too. He died that night. I remember him telling me once that I was born so much later because I was supposed to save the marriage. Nice, dad.

At this point Iím living with my mom and stepfather who I often referred to as the a**hole. I loved my mom and I know she loved me too. I hated my stepfather and I could do nothing right for himÖever. He was an alcoholic and verbally as well as physically abusive. I remember tying to call the police once and having him throw the phone at me after ripping it from the wall Ė still can see the scare on my forehead where I got my stitches. I forget what lie we told the hospital to not get him in trouble. Beer cans were thrown as well, but they usually missed. I think he worked hard to hurt but not leave evidence in case the law was involved. One time when the police were called he tried to convince them that I abused him. Parental Abuse he said. That one still cracks me up to this day.


- Triggers warning - graphic content -


So, between these two ďfathersĒ I am one really self-conscious, non-confident, with no self-esteem kid which is obvious to his small school/class and they take full advantage of the situation to make themselves feel better. The stage is set. Anyone who wants to love me can do anything they want to me or ask me to do anything for them. I wonder if my stepfather knew what he was doing at this point? Was this the grooming or just the set of circumstances that made me an obvious target? I do know that he stalked me for a while. Sneaking upstairs trying to catch me masturbating. Eventually one day he caught me and thatís when it all starts. I was pretty screwed up at this point, but I could have survived it Ė between Al-Ateen and Al-Anon I would have made it with only some hard work compared to what Iíve had to do so far. I canít do the suicide thing, but for those that do I wish they didnít, but I know why they did. In this last year of recovery I remember wishing that the cyst on my kidney were malignant so that I could die and not have to do all this work.

My stepfather likes me. I CAN do something right. He will spend time with me and heís showing me everything I need to know about sex. The fact that it feels really good is awesome too. He was hung and I wasnít, but at least he was honest and told me that it probably wouldnít get much bigger. I donít remember everything and the memories are more like snapshots. I remember we did pretty much everything you could do to each other Ė watch each other, masturbate each other, oral and then finally anal. He didnít like that too much because he said it made his ass hurt the next day (good, maybe I wasnít that small). He was too big for me and that made me feel like I wasnít good enough for him. I had to fix this problem so I worked hard to get myself more ďreadyĒ for him. I would find objects that matched or bettered his size and I would use them to make myself ready for him. I was getting the attention that I so needed and it felt good. I had to make sure it didnít stop because I wasnít good enough. I started seeking out the sexual encounters.

I wish he had just beaten me to death or to almost death. That would be easier to deal with than this stuff. I know he took advantage of the fact that I needed a father figure and I needed that figure to love me. My wanting it and what I did to myself are some of the hardest things Iíve had to deal with in my recovery. The shame I feel is so awful sometimes.


- end of triggers warning -

He ends the abuse at some point, but while my perp and mom know what happened it is never talked about and at the time Iím very OK with this.

I canít believe that I wasnít abused by someone else. I was still ripe for the taking. Looking back with what I know now I desperately wanted some type of male role model who loved me in my life. Father, brother, anythingÖstill looking. That makes me still vulnerable, but I would rather take my chances than do nothing.

I go on with my life as best I could. I have some girlfriends that I do stuff with sexually and one that I go all the way with to prove Iím not gay. I then go away to boarding school and make some close guy friends, but the friendships all end badly and at the time I canít figure out why. I get along with girls well, but that makes me mad because I keep thinking I must be gay. By the time that I get into college I canít figure out why my friendships with guys are so important to me, but stress me out at the same time and they all end badly. Iím ready to kill myself.
Ironically my parents see my downward spiral and get me counseling. I do talk about the abuse and even write a letter to my parents. I donít remember the letter at all. I think Iím fixed.

I donít try to kill myself and learn how to setup barriers and self defense mechanisms to live the appearance of a normal life, but I donít really feel anything and I donít have any real friendships. Everything is fake, emotionless. I masturbate a lot. Counselor says itís how I relieve stress. I think it reminds me of when I was getting the attention that I so wanted.

Somehow I manage to open myself up to a woman who Iím still married to now for 22 years. Weíve had 4 girls and Iím glad they were girls even though I fake that I really wanted a boy and am disappointed. I wouldnít know how to raise a boy. I never had too many positive experiences with other guys and thanks to my stepfather everything about the male body was sexualized for me. I still masturbate a lot and thanks to the ease of access with the Internet I can now watch what happened to me (yes, gay pornÖugh!) as often as I want and think Iím getting what I want.

I work hard to limit the porn and the effort to add variety to a very lonely event. Iím pretty successful and the last several years have only masturbated without all the ďextrasĒ. I make it fairly quick and donít feel guilty about it. I feel like I donít know much about being a guy, but Iím guessing that Iím not the only one that masturbates.

Iím 44 now and a year ago I realized that I donít make connections with others. Even with my kids I couldnít tell them I loved them at a certain point when they got older. I have a connection with my wife and I love her, but I canít make connections with other guys and donít with other women because Iím married. In fact I am afraid of other guys. I try to change this and after it causes intense fear, sadness and a panic attack I go to get counseling Ė over 20 years after the first round of therapy.

I wish I could have healed sooner and lived a more full life. I do wish I could have had a son to raise now. Maybe my daughterís will produce some grandsons, but Iím not rushing anything. I am doing much better now, but still have a long ways to go Iím guessing. I hope others read this and maybe they wonít have to wait as long as I did to get help.

Thank you everyone here for helping me have the courage to tell my story.


Edited by ModTeam (07/22/13 12:12 PM)
Edit Reason: added trigger warning