I am writing this as maybe it will serve as a hope for someone else. It is a bit long winded, but I am going through counseling via Behavioral Health at the Veterans Hospital.

I grew up to awesome parents and the oldest of 5 kids. When I turned 10, my mom was diagnosed with Cancer. Back in the late 60ís, it was pretty much a death sentence. It was during this time that I had to step up and be dadís helper. I often took care of my younger siblings while Dad worked two and three jobs to keep the family afloat.

Now, it was the practice of our family that you did exactly what was told of you, no disrespect would be tolerated. My parents were very loving but fair and tough. While we were poor, we were rich with Love.

It was about this time that my Momís cousin/half brother came to stay with us from Texas. He and his wife had split up and it seemed to be a good fit. He could help with us kids and Mom & Dad didnít have to feel bad for asking me to take charge. I didnít mind, but it was kinda nice that I got to go horseback riding and swimming in the local swimming hole like my other friends.

So, out of respect for my elders I called him Uncle Denny. He was fun and made me feel safe. However, I made a baseball team and got a uniform. I rushed home to see my mom and show her my new uniform. She was really sick but got up and saw me run down the stairs to show her. She told me how proud she was and my uncle told me I look really nice. Mom went to lay back down and my uncle followed me up the stairs to my shared bedroom. My uncle stood in the doorway and talked to me but was staring at me. I was very self conscious because, we were to poor that we even had hand me down underwear and the leg holes were somewhat stretch. It was also about this time that I started to go through puberty and was made fun off by classmates.

I quickly got dressed and went to play, but not before my uncle had made some comments about me growing up.

I weekend or two later, I was out in the garden, weeding, when I finished I realized that my parents and siblings were gone and I was alone. I then saw my uncle who stated that they went to town and wouldnít be back for a while. Being sweaty I went to take a bath. It was there that my Uncle walked in and commented about my nakedness. I quickly covered up and waited til he left the bathroom.

When I came out of the bathroom my uncle was no where to be found so I went into the Living Room where my uncle was laying down and he started to complain about he shoulders and back being sore and ďwould I be a good kid and rub his back?Ē I was really unsure about it but did what was expected. He then told me to straddle his back so that I could put more pressure on his shoulder, ever demanding me to move further and further down to eventually I was sitting on his upper back leg and he was moving around on my crotch. I got embarrassed and asked him if I could stop, he stated no and that he wanted me to pull down his shorts and start to rub his butt. I started to cry, and to my horror, with his gyrations, I started to respond and beg him to let me stop. He yelled at me and stated that Iíd better do what he says. After the massaging, he turned over and told me to take off my shorts. I told him I couldnít because I didnít have any underwear on. He said that he thought that I hadnít and that he could feel my body respond and knew I wanted this. I told him I didnít but he started to yell and threaten me and my family. I obliged all the time crying. He called me a sissy for crying, but I couldnít be I was Dadís helper. Mom and Dad depended on me to be a responsible young man. Eventually and over the next year, the incidents became more abusive. I worried about my brothers and sister hoping that nothing would happen to them.

Eventually my Mom got better and we moved. So did my uncle, he moved out west.

I was about 13 when my uncle showed up at our home again and eventually married the woman across the street. She had a son and two girls, but I couldnít say anything because I would have to tell how I knew. But it started up again, only this time it included rape. Eventually I tried to tell my parents. Boy, that was the worse day of my life. My Dad was pretty calm but my Mom screamed, called me every name and word in the book. It was at this time I swallowed my guilt, shame and hurt and determined to do everything in my life to make my Mom and Dad love and accept me, this perverted queer, worthless son that they had. I felt soiled and word had gotten out at church, the crap I got from my peers, was even worse. I was no longer invited to sleepovers. I contemplated killing myself , even making a noose, but couldnít do it.

At age 19, I had accomplished a lot and believed that I had regained my parents love and respect. I never was a problem child, always willing to please. I eventually join the Navy. But had a severe guilt complex, because when they asked me if I had ever had a homosexual contact, I said no, because it was only my body, and not me, I kind of left my body when it started and when I did come back I would scrub my skin red, giving myself enemas anything to help me feel ďcleanĒ.

Well, off to Tech School and I and my girlfriend and some other shipmates went to the beach. I was now a man, someone that gave a blank check to the government to protect and defend the United States of America. (its soundís kind of lame, but thatís how I felt, my Dad, uncles and other cousins all served in the military.) Well, we all got a bit inebriated and walked back to the base. Most of my friends went their way back to their barracks and I and one of my shipmates, walked my girlfriend back to hers. My shipmate asked if he could crash in my room. I thought it wouldnít be a problem as both of my roommates were on leave. We both stripped down to our skivvies and I headed for my rack. My shipmate was going to use the one across the room.

All I remember was he went to the head and I crashed. The next thing I feel is an excruciating pain in my butt, I was on my stomach and my hands and feet were pinned. I was trying to scream but he all sounded muffled. My shipmate eventually finished and got off of me. I was stunned and sick to my stomach; I couldnít believe that it happened to me. How could I have let this happened, what did I do to deserve this. My shipmate then got dressed and I heard him leave. I eventually got up off my rack and went the bathroom, when I expelled what was in my stomach; I saw that there was blood. I instantly felt shame, confusion, and guilt, suicidal.

I saw my shipmate the next day and he acted like nothing ever happened. I couldnít say anything because I was afraid that Iíd lose my security clearance and be kicked out of the Navy. I again would be a shame to my parents.

Over the next four years, I dated a number of girls, but could never get close to them. When they would want to have foreplay, I became shameful and couldnít perform. I eventually gave up on ever getting married or having a family. I made a number of suicide attempts. I worked in a very high intense, stressed Command that had seen itís share of suicides and drug and alcohol abuse and felt that I could do it there and no one would ever be the wiser. But I couldnít. I eventually left the navy to attend college and it is there that I met my wife to be and married 6 months after graduating from college.

I told my wife about the childhood stuff and she was very very supportive. I thought that I had everything under control, I was married and a year later, my wife told me that we were expecting. My panic set in as to how was I going to protect this child when I couldnít even protect me self. Again, I buried my shame, guilt and hate and moved on.

About this time, my motherís mother passed away and I was sitting with a number of aunt and uncles and other cousins, I hadnít seen for a while, when one of them said, she canít protect him any more. I was confused, but it was then that I found out that my motherís mother would protect her brother who had molested virtually every niece/nephew and even his own children. My teen mother and aunt, being victimized and my motherís mother making them prostitute themselves to make money to pay the utilities and groceries that my motherís mother had spent entertaining men when my grandfather and step grandfather were not at home. I was shocked, broke down and left. It had become apparent to me that I was not alone anymore and that it just wasnít me. But never said anything.

I was working at that time in Human Services when my boss told me that I would be developing and heading up a community based mental retardation sex offender program. I quickly declined and the discussion became more of an argument over the next month, before my boss asked why I was so vehemently against it. Here was the time of reckoning. I begged him not to say anything for which he promised. I then told him about what happened as a child. Rather than understanding, he stated that that is why I needed to do it, that I had a compassionate soul and would be fair but strict. He eventually sent to to a sex offender management program offered by the State of Pennsylvania. I met many therapists, attorneys, professors, pastors, probation officers. 90% of those there admitted in groups that they had been victimized.

I eventually became empowered, but didnít know that I had just put a clear glass bowl over it. It could be seen if I wanted it to, but that was that.

In 2008, a day after my daughter birthday, after 4 years of chemotherapy. Knowing that God was punishing me for my sins. I came home from my job that I had just lost and said to God, if he are really there and really really care, he was going to have to intervene because I had peacefully come to the conclusion I and my family would be much better off if I was dead. I even told God I didnít care if I went to heaven or hell; I just wanted it to stop. I got home and poured out all my bottles of medication on the coffee table and started taking them by the handful. About Ĺ hr later, a city cop, who I had been friends with, came to my door and asked to come in. He stepped into the living room and saw the pill bottles and pills and told me that he had a warranted for my arrest should I not got with him to the hospital. I quickly broke down and my wife ran in from work. She had gotten a call from my employer asking her to see if I was home and that I was in despair. We both sat on the couch and I agreed to go. I was told that the state police had been searching for me in two counties before they found me.

It was at that time, I knew that God did exist and he did care for me. Thinking that I was okay, the following year I started having seizures and thought that they were due to hitting my head the Christmas prior. After being hospitalize at the VA Hospital and several test, it was determined that I was suffering from a number of disorders but the seizures were brought on by the Rape I experienced when in Tech School. I was suffering from Non-Epileptic Seizure Disorder. At first I was horrified and complained it was ďall in my head?Ē For which the VA quickly and supportively pointed out that my seizures are real. I ended up spending two month in the hospital and am doing much better now.

I have started therapy and I donít think about suicide on a near constant basis. My wife and kids are happy that I am around and we do many things together. My son and I work out at the YMCA. My daughter and I talked about her dreams. Her Boyfriend, I good young man, has asked me for her hand in marriage and my wife and I are working on time together. Sheís so understanding and intimacy it getting better and more trusting. I am learning to trust with discernment and I am able to forgive.

Forgiving does not always mean everything goes back to the way it was. There are still natural consequences for what was done.