***upon reading this after having wrote it seems a conflagration of first person testimony and detached recollection. And though I am feeling a mixture of suppressed feelings there remains a weirdness to it as if it truly somehow must have been another who went through this not me. This denial and detachment are two of my defense mechanisms which I am trying to in measured steps address through sharing my experiences. I know that they are ‘normal ‘and expected symptoms of my CSA it just feels as if I am the only one in the world struggling with them. Illogical, I know this is , however the feelings of aloneness are strong. I think a big part of this is that I wish I was the only one who has this struggle as I would wish it on no other.***



I was a small lonely lad, a tyke really when this happened to me. I have an especially difficult time confronting the early abuse. I avoid those things that will trigger the earliest memories of my childhood. I can't for instance deal with looking at the few pictures of me then and the smallest of things a color, a smell, a texture or sound even a similarity with regards to a season, event or place all these years later snaps me away and I am him again that scared, confused, vulnerable little kid and the terror once again consumes me.

A remembered event: Part 1

I was around 5 when this event occurred. I was new to my elementary school in rural Colorado. I was living with an uncle at this time after the divorce of my birth parents. He was is a captain in the army at the time. We had housing off base and the school was public however it seemed to be run more like a military or private school. Discipline was very harsh there was a lot of fear of teachers and authority and it seemed at the time that punishments were brutal even for the slightest of offenses. I was a good boy, I really tried hard but it did not seem to matter I seemed always to be in trouble and usually ended up embarrassed, humiliated naked and being spanked or punished in some other way. And what was worse is that if I got a punishment from a teacher my uncle had arranged that I was to without exception always be sent to the principle's office to receive further punishment. This also always meant a terribly harsh follow up with my uncle at home.

It was shortly after the school day began, it was at the start of the school year, perhaps a few weeks into it. Mr. C. my teacher having supposedly caught myself and another boy talking for the third time in class- I do remember the injustice of this as I clearly recall having not disrupted or talked to this boy or he to me not once or at all. At any rate Mr. C angrily informed us that we would be staying in at recess with him and he would be ensuring that the only sounds coming out of our mouths were anguished cries and sobbing. I recall starting to protest and being immediately screamed at and told "Don't you dare say another G.D. word boy, you hear me." The look of rage in this man eyes effectively silenced, and terrified me.

I sat fearfully watching a corner of my desk which had a small chip out of it that someone had defaced with a crude drawing of stick figure made to resemble Mr. C. With arrow and a caption stating he (Mr. C ) was a monster. I did not draw this and have no idea as to how it ended up on my desk. I remember trying always to erase it or cover it afraid that my teacher would see it and think I had done this very bad thing.

Every now and then I would look up towards my teacher at his desk. And he would be scowling at me and I would hunker down a bit further in my chair diminished in fear.

Naturally the other thing that occupied my thoughts at the time was the clock and the dreaded inescapable passage of time drawing me painfully and agonizingly slow yet to fast for my liking at the same time to recess and the wrath of Mr. C.

THEN IT WAS TIME. RECESS. Class was dismissed and I and this boy Alex and I were told to come to Mr. C.

I remember bumping into the edge of a desk painfully hitting my hip bone as I was so fearful my eyes were downcast to the floor in front of me that I did not see the desk before me.

Alex and I were standing in front of our very angry teacher who proceeded to lecture us on how he would not tolerate disrespect ful little smart mouthed n his class and that we would learn to respect him and his rules or we would find ourselves miserable little brats indeed.

Having concluded this statement he reached a hand out to each of us unbuttoned our shirts removed them and then proceeded to unbuckle our belt buckles unsnap our pants and pull them and our underwear down to our ankles.

Mortified and stricken in fear I remember standing there before my teacher near naked with my little classmate, I say classmate; for I had no friends. I think I was scarred from my parents divorce and recent loss of my family. Which resulted in my moving away from them and in with my uncle. I remember though wondering why "are we standing here this long with Mr. C just looking at us not doing anything but staring at us with this look which I did not like but also could not understand why I felt so."

After what seemed a very long time he then opened his draw and removed a yard stick and reached for me and placed me sitting on his lap facing my classmate away from him he then removed my shoes and socks and pulling me back against his chest he reached down and pulled my legs down a bit then spread them and pulled them up till they were resting each a leg on his shoulders he then proceeded to rub my bottom for awhile and kept rubbing that dirty place. And I remember my other dirty part becoming stiff and feeling very disgraced and upset and afraid he would see it. He then proceeded to spank me at first it was not so bad his hands stung but were not that painful but this soon changed as he repeatedly slapped my bum and increased the number and strength of his blows. I was soon crying and sobbing most vocally my misery. Then it stopped and with great relief I recall thinking " Oh my gosh, I survived its over it was very, very bad and oh do I hurt, but its over." Except that it wasn't for he picked up his yard stick and then proceeded to beat me hard with it. The pain was very harsh and I cannot recall when the blows stopped but at one point they must have. For I next remember him rubbing my bottom and squeezing my bruised flesh most cruelly. And he was rubbing the spot again that dirty place and this time he was rubbing my other bad place. Mr C., "telling me that I was a very sorry bad little boy now wasn't I a very bad, a very, very bad little boy." Letting my legs drop back down he pressed me my back up against his chest my legs down to either side of him and continued to run his hands up and down my heaving and pain wracked body. Finally he stood me up and stood me facing him and cupped my chin in his hand and asked me while looking intently into my eyes , "now are you going to be a very good little boy for me from now on
S....." I nodded my head yes. Still not knowing what I had done wrong but absolutely sure I wanted to never anger this man ever, ever again.

Well then thank me for your punishment and give me a hug and stand aside....no you will face me and watch as Alex gets his well deserved punishment now. "YOU HAD BEST PAY CLOSE ATTENTION AND I BEST NOT SEE YOU LOOK AWAY UNLESS YOU WANT SOME MORE CHASTISEMENT YOU HEAR, Mr. C firmly admonished me."

And so I looked on in horror and sympathy as little blond haired blue eyed four ˝ year old Alex underwent an equally harsh treatment. We were then told to place our clothes upon our desks and would wait out the remainder of our recess with our noses pressed to our classroom chalk board.

The only other memorable part of this punishment was that there was dead silence as the other 26 kindergarten boys filed back into class it seemed very odd to me that there was not the expected snickering and laughing I feared I would be facing but total absolute silence as they took their desks. I remember wondering what was worse this dreadful silence or the expected torment of my peers. It was most dreadful. After everyone settled Mr. C informed me and Alex we could return to our desks pick up our clothes and proceed to the gymnasium locker-room to redress and to return here immediately once we had made ourselves decent. If we did not want another punishment we had best be quick about it. Alex and I painfully walked back to our desks and even though my eyes were downcast I just knew, knew that every eye was upon us seeing us in our complete and utter shame. We hurriedly left and clutching our clothes rushed off to the changing room I remember we did not say a thing to one another and could not look one another in the eye but we did look at each other as we dressed with a measure of shame, respect and shared sympathy.

After school and the trip to the principals office:

In an all too short time we were now in the principle office who was red faced and angry so very angry at Alex and I. He frightened me all over again by yelling at us. We didn't know what to do so we just listened to the rage and waited for our punishments, this seemed cruel the waiting I remember.

Then came the shouted command. Get your f%^&*() clothes off your bratty little butts NOW!!! No you idiots, he screamed at us, naughty boys like you get punished ii this way. It is the only way for you io learn to respect authority and I demand respect.
And saying this as we hurriedly and trembling with fear yet again undressed he took a leather strap that was hanging in his closet.
The principle told me that I was the first.
-Get your body on that desk. Butt-checks well apart boy, I said cheeks spread. He raised this strap real high over his shoulder and brought it down right across my bottom hard The sound of a noisy loud SMACK, and an even greater agonized scream from me seems to echo through the room and then again and again and again.
It was finished, my brutalized bottom burning on fire, I was crying loudly, I could not for the longest time recover enough to stop until I was hit harder than ever and told if I did not stop acting like sissy and did not stop my ungodly crying he would really give me something to cry about. It was the worst pain. However his threat looming over me I managed to contain myself to quiet sobs and grunts of pain. I was told to get up and face the windows looking out of his office. He then told me to get up and to put my hands on my head.

After that the principle called Alex. . When I looked at him briefly again in sympathy, I noticed that he had become naughty down there, then to my horror I realized that I too was in this way and that I had to get it to stop or I would be punished for being naughty all over again. But it would not go away no matter how much I wished it too I was so afraid to be caught like this and could not understand what was happening and why was I being bad when I was trying so hard to be good. ‘ oh please, please don't let him see, go away, stop it, stop it, I hate it, I wish I did not have this thing which makes me bad...' these thoughts repeat themselves until my attention once again was riveted on Alex as his punishment for being a bad little boy like me began. The principle saw it too!!! Alex I mean for the moment I was turned away from his gaze.

"What the Hell is that boy!, " thundered the principal, across the room startling myself and Alex and we both jumped in fright. So you like to see people getting spank, asked the principal, Alex?
No sir my class mate said. I am amazed he could find the voice to say anything at all for myself I was mute with terror.
So why do you have hard-on?
I remember wondering what the principal was talking about not understanding his references. I could see Alex as confused as I.
"Sir"he started to say...
The principle didn't like this answer and angrily interrupted, Oh I see, it's not a hard on then, so what is it, your always stiff like this?

Suddenly it became frighteningly clear to me what the context of the conversation was I trembled in even more abject fear knowing I too was being bad and had... a stiff... hard naughty part, and fearfully was wondering how I would endure any more chastisement yet dreadful with the knowledge that I had yet to face my uncle and his wrath when I got home.
Alex didn't know what to say, I think, I remember thinking is there anywhere anyway out just get us gone from here. However before Alex could have answer our principal to defend himself, or give him any answer to his questions the angry man grab my classmate and he was across the principal's knee, receiving a severe strapping that appeared to me to be even harder than mine. I remember at the time feeling so sorry for Alex that I almost wished it was me then him he was smaller and younger than me by a whole ˝ a year. It just seemed so unfair and I remember feeling angry that he was being so mean to Alex did he have to be so hard. I of course however remained a silent horrified witness to the brutality before me.
"Whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack whack the sharp reports echo in my head now as they did of the walls of that horrible place that day.
The principle took is breath and then looked at Alex' naughty parts. He still had a you know... a hard or whatever the principal called it. Suddenly I remember wishing more for Alex' naughty thing to go away than my own. Wanting to see the punishment of my classmate end.
As I see, the enraged principal screamed at the openly terrified boy you also seem to like to get like to be strapped. If you like it that much I am more than happy to give you more continue to give you more., he shouted.
"No please sir stop please," wailed Alex. I was saying the same thing, silently, no I was shouting in my head, every much as Alex , no sir, please stop, enough please oh please stop it."
The principal was not concerned about our wants or needs though and he decided that Alex had not had enough and that he needed a little punishment to my horrified self and so the principal he starts the whacking again. And the sounds reverberate off the walls and haunt my thoughts rebounding sickeningly within my head.

I am confused as to why my memories seem to be flooding me with more (at least it feels this way) of my classmates ordeal than my own, though my own pain and horror is here too. At points in rereading this telling, it is as if I am speaking through his experience, not me witnessing and telling of it. I am wondering what this means and where does this fit in my recovery?

friend in need.