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#240657 - 07/28/08 09:16 AM My Story - May Trigger
Syntaxed Offline

Registered: 07/12/06
Posts: 54
Loc: St Louis, MO
Please forgive the rambling nature of what follows. I feel a need tonight to pour it all out, although all of it won't make it, I'm sure.

I never knew my father. He left around the time I was born and died in a car wreck six years later. My older brother (by seven years) was horribly abused by my mother as we grew up (I escaped her wrath - I'm not sure why). She never remarried, so I didn't have to deal with "uncles" or "step-dads," and, while that was a good thing in a lot of ways, it was also a bad thing in that as I approached my pre-teens, I found myself in need of an older male role model, but by that time my brother had joined the army. My grandfather never had time for me, and when I would go to him, seeking to bond, he would say things like, "why don't you go inside, with the women?"

In 1977, we lived in Charleston, West Virginia, where we attended a rural Nazarene church. In the church there was an older couple who lived near us, and the man took an active interest in me and started inviting me along on errands. He was never inappropriate with me in any way and acted as a surrogate father should, teaching me to drive and to fish, talking to me, uncomfortably, about the "birds and the bees." He was a good man. Unfortunately, I think he unknowingly set me up for what was to come.

In 1978, we moved to Florida. The first place my mom rented was a trailer in an adult's only trailer park. She convinced them that I'd be quiet, so they let her rent there. This was out in the country, so there were no kids for miles and I spent my first year in Florida alone.

Then we moved to another trailer, further out, but on its own land. It was still miles from any other kids so my mother bought me a dirt bike so that I could fit in with the surrounding kids, who all seemed to have motorcycles. I made a few friends, who introduced me to the man who would abuse me first and then pass me around to his friends.

He was kind and giving at first. He took us places as a group - the local swimming hole, the movies, ice cream, etc. On a few occasions, I asked him for advice on something or other, and he slipped nicely into the father figure role. Then, he began to single me out from the herd and I found myself at his house waiting for my friends to go somewhere, only they never came. So he'd offer me beer and cigarettes, and I was 12 and wanted to be cool, so I took them. He also had a music room - a "den" I guess - and he would let me go in there to listen to his music collection.

In gym class I'd noticed something that caused me to panic. My penis was much larger than other boys'. Of course, if I'd known then what I know now, I'd have been strutting through the locker room like a peacock. But I didn't know that then and I was embarrassed and ashamed. One day, when I was at his house, listening to music, he came into the den to join me. He gave me a beer, and then another, and I got comfortable. I remember feeling nervous, but safe to ask him about my "gym problem." So, I did, and that decision has haunted me ever since.

I asked him what size penises were supposed to be, and he said they were different sizes. I told him about what I'd seen in gym, and that I thought I was too big and he gave me this look, it seemed to me like a fatherly look, and asked me to show it to him. I reluctantly did, and he took it in his hands to "inspect" it, it started to grow, and he had me. The grooming was done and the abuse began.

I was sick afterward and convinced myself that I'd never go back, but eventually I missed the "father figure" part that was him, and I returned. I desperately wanted the father figure back. And he gave it me, with a price. Always with a price.

Later, when I told him I'd had enough of this part of the relationship, he anally raped me while shaming me with his words. Soon after that, he introduced me to a friend of his who abused me with him, filming our sessions. Other kids were brought in to participate with me, and I cannot get the blank looks on their faces out of my mind. The perps told me I was bisexual, like them, and gave me both boys and girls to play with. It makes me sick to think that there may be film of this out there somewhere being used to masturbate with. Eventually, he introduced me to a couple and their teenage son who abused me as well.

Through all of this, I was raped, rewarded, tortured, coddled, shamed, shown affection. And my life has never been the same. The child I was before the abuse - outgoing, creative with good grades and great disposition - he was gone and replaced by a sullen, angry, self-destructive child who failed the sixth grade and barely made it out of every grade thereafter.

The abuse finally ended when I was fifteen and recorded a phone call with the first perp. I invited him over, played the tape for him and pulled a gun on him, telling him I'd report him to the police. He pointed his finger at me and said, "Well, remember this, I'm not the one who whipped his dick out first." I stood there, frozen, as he stormed out of my house. He had shamed me one final time. A very large part of me wonders to this day why I didn't shoot him then and there. Then, of course, I wonder if it would have made any difference. I'd likely still be fucked up and he'd be dead, and of course there would have been fallout from that.

Today, my life is always hovering above calamity. I've been diagnosed with PTSD, of course, but mine is so severe that I am on disability for it. I am married with four kids, and most of the time I am a ghost in my house, until something sets me off, and then I'm angry and sullen again, and usually a flashback will occur thereafter. I take mood stabilizers, antidepressants and sleeping pills, but I have nightmares and flashbacks all the time. I have a psychiatrist that I see weekly, but frankly, I don't think we're getting anywhere.

I apologize for the rambling nature of this. It was really just stream of consciousness, and I may update it a few more times. I just felt the need to tell my story.

Thank you for "listening" (reading)


At present: 1 step forward, 3 steps back.

#240663 - 07/28/08 11:43 AM Re: My Story - May Trigger [Re: Syntaxed]
Sans Logos Offline

Registered: 05/31/03
Posts: 5796
Loc: in my own world in pittsburgh,...
hi christopher, wow what a story. i may be wrong, but it seems you are very conflicted because you think the abuse was your fault. but it was not! you just picked the wrong person to confide in. and this person was so sick that he could not remain focused on the subject at hand, and then made you the object at hand. he is a disgusting man. then once he opened pandora's box he just yielded completely to his own salacious impulses. you became his new sex toy. no wonder we get stuck in so many patterns of self destructive behavior.....i mean look what these frikin 'adults' did to us as children! what are we supposed to do? just turn the other cheek? breached trust does not mend quite that easily. just reading your story makes me understand a lot of why i isolate so much of myself from myself and others.

my abuse was, from what i remember was only by an older brother who tricked me into being sexual with him. he did the same to 4 other siblings, all younger than me. my parents claimed they knew nothing of it. i rest my case.

all the silence is stifling.

your brother in recovery,


Ron Schulz, MSPC, NCC

#240665 - 07/28/08 12:08 PM Re: My Story - May Trigger [Re: Sans Logos]
hogan_dawg Offline

Registered: 03/26/08
Posts: 492
Hi Christopher,

Heck of a story. I can only echo Ron's remarks.

I do wish to comment on the last big paragraph:

I am married with four kids, and most of the time I am a ghost in my house, until something sets me off, and then I'm angry and sullen again, and usually a flashback will occur thereafter. I take mood stabilizers, antidepressants and sleeping pills, but I have nightmares and flashbacks all the time. I have a psychiatrist that I see weekly, but frankly, I don't think we're getting anywhere.

Maybe now is the time to say to your PDoc "Look, what is the next hurdle for me to get over?" - I think you need to start feeling like you are making progress. After all, you have a family there and you want to be 'available' for them, as a Dad and a husband.

PM me if you ever wish to chat.

Best, Dawg

I can say unequivocally that the lie of "To truly heal you must first forgive" has derailed more victims than the abusers themselves.
Andrew Vachs, 2003


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