I' m not sure how to start this. My T says that writing down my story will help me.So here goes:

My first memory of abuse is when I was 3years old. We were on vacation visiting my grand parents. My granpa was sick by then and I have little memories of him. There was a friend of the family who visited my grandparents all the time. This man was to become my granma's husband after my granpa passed away. He was a nasty man, an alcoholic and prompt to violence.
I don't know how I wound up alone with him but I remember sitting on the floor playing with a toy and he came and sat on a chair in front of me. I will never forget that look he gave me. He took his shoes off and stuck his big toe in my mouth and made me suck it. He started rubbing me all over. He took his dick out of his pants and jerked off over me. I was scared and confused. I did not understand what was going on but I did not like it. I think I was more scared by that malevolent look he gave me than what he made me do. I had never seen an adult looking at me like that. I guess once he was done he just left.

That was the begining of my nightmare and the end of my childhood.

When I was 4 , I was playing in the basement with some friends, and I remember we played doctor. My mom caught us, she sent my friends home and she got really angry, she really scared me. The terrifying part is that she pulled my pants down, called me a vicious little boy and grabbed my penis and took her cigarette and told me that the next time I did anything like that she would burn my penis. All the while she kept calling me a vicious little boy , disgusting , dirty. That event is printed in my head forever. I can replay it over and over. Unfortunately it created a perfect storm of events which would lead to more abuse. On that day I knew that I could never tell my parents anything that was going on and all subsequent abuse was kept a secret for me to hide.

That's enough for now

Look up and not down; look forward and not back; look out and not in; and lend a hand.
E. E. Hale