Probly some Triggers here...

Alright, so I'm not exactly sure how to "tell my story". But this is something I need to write about. I tried to do a timeline of my life starting with my earliest memory. Well I didn't get very far but here are a few things that pop into my mind. None of this is meant to be written well. Some parts I kind of went on auto pilot so please be patient if you attempt to read. lol.

It's the basement of my first house. I must have been 5 years old or younger because we moved after kindergarten...? I remember walking down the stairs very quietly or slowly the basement makes me think of a cement bunker with rough walls the inside looks like it was hollowed out of a solid mass I creep toward the back room of the damp dark place I peek inside. I can see myself looking in; itís so weird. But I donít know what I see I think itís my dad and maybe other people I think itís really bad I canít stop Iím gonna cry its bad and he sees me I run upstairs so fast but Iím naked and Iím so scared ...

Wow I just burst into tears writing this. Iím not naked when I went downstairs. What happened? Memories have been returning to me over the past six months or so. This particular one hit me last night. The basement in that house has always been the first thing I think of when attempting to recall my first 5 years of existence.


This one is at my second house... I'm looking in the basement window mom and dad are screaming but I canít see anything. Dad is threatening her and I see his arm go back. Thatís all I could see Ė this arm going back then flying forward. The big bang his fist made when he made contact with what I thought was my mom. I thought she was dead. It was so quiet after that bang. His fist went right through her head. He actually hit the wall; or so my mom tells me. My sister ran away from home that night. It wasn't the first time she did but it's the time that affected me the most. I have always remembered this and it has haunted me ever since.


This memory is from my third house. We moved there when I was about 8 or 9.
I think about my dad while lying in bed at night. Dad is walking up the stairs; I listen for him every night. He comes in my room. Heís behind me in my bed. Itís a waterbed, so he sinks down and it lifts me up on the mattress. The smell of beer and smoke just resonates off of him. I feel him rubbing up against me. He is warm against my back. No matter how hard I clench my legs while pretending to sleep, he managed to pry them apart; every time. Dad slides between my legs just a little bit while squeezing my penis between his fingers. His arm is around me like a hug. My body ďrespondsĒ because it feels good at first. In fact, itís kind of enjoyable. Maybe this is why I feel like I am a sick person.

When he gets an erection he starts pushing between my cheeks. He makes me hold my right leg up almost to my chest (I find myself in that positions many nights while trying to fall asleep. I just seem to automatically move into that position... even at 27 years old). Then I clench my teeth and my body goes ultra tense because he doesnít stay very gentle. It hurts very much. He pushes deeper into me and faster, too. The mattress rocks up and down. It seems like we are on the ocean. Why doesnít anyone hear? Itís so loud. I canít yell, but someone should just know.

Why isnít Mom stopping him? It hurts real bad. I cry a bit but it doesnít matter. So I close my eyes and pretend. Iím good at pretending so there is no way he can hurt me in here. This is my secret place that nobody knows about. He can hurt my body but he canít hurt me. Not while Iím in here. I can still feel him pushing and hear him grunting. But it doesnít hurt now. My body is numb. Finally he starts to slow down. He always does right before he pees. He always pees a little right before he leaves. I donít know why, but he does. Then he leaves. I use my underwear that he pulls off of one leg and wipe myself sort of dry. I fall asleep after that.

In the morning, I wake up and canít understand why Iím not wearing underwear. I must roll around in bed lots or something and they fall off. Also, I wet the bed again. Why canít I just wake up dry for once? I want to be good.

I felt so sad each morning. Waking up all wet is not the best way to start a new day. My mom would be so disappointed in me. She would try to bribe me with money and all sorts of other things. Of course, nothing worked. We went to see doctors that had experience with bed wetting at one point. Sadly, none of them had any idea. There was nothing wrong with me. I was just lazy.


Not exactly my whole story. However, it was enough to make me feel exhausted. I will try to write more, eventually.

by the way I'm scared to hit submit for some reason but it also feels really good because I'm gonna press that button right now...

"Trying is the first step to failure"
-Quote by Homer J. Simpson - World's greatest dad