Wow, where do I start.

My life until the age of 5 was spent in Boston. My mother was a raging alcoholic and her family, concerned about my well-being, often had me at their home. I have absolutely no memories of this period.

My mother's drinking escalated and her family was working on getting me taken away (I think). So she phoned a friend she knew in Chicago and flew there.

We stayed with this woman for 6 months until my mother's drinking once again became overwhelming. This is where memories get cloudy, but here goes.

We jumped from shelter to shelter, living with friends, or babysitters, or whomever. All of the situations were bad, one of the worst was when I spent the year with Sam and his family.

We had moved into the home of my babysitter and I was told that I would be sleeping with Sam in his room in a bunk bed setup. Sam was a sixth grader. I don't remember much about him, except to this day I know he was evil.

I remember bits and pieces only. Him continually coming into the bathroom when I was in it. His mother's bedroom, and what the room looked like. And of course, the closet.

I was probably 8 and I don't know exactly what happened, maybe it was kid stuff, maybe not. I remember being tied by my hands to the bar that the clothes were hung on and left there for a long time. I feel that sexual things occurred, but I just don't remember.

When my mom's drinking caused her to again be asked to leave,Sam's mother told my mother that Sam really liked having a little brother and that I could stay if I wanted. She (my mother) actually asked if I wanted to stay. She knew how horrible he had been to me and never protected me, but she asked if I was ok with being left there. Too much.

At this point, I believe, my mother and I were still sharing a bed, she was very touchy-feely, and always walked around topless or completely naked. Often she would lay my head on her naked breast. I didn't get my own bed until about the age of ten. I don't know how much else happened if any. I just know when she hugged me, I went stiff, and it took me about 15 years to be able to hug properly.

Ok, so to continue. I was at another shelter, and a man named Mark, took to me immediately. He showed me how to make paper airplanes, and talked to me. I remember him, I feel creepy when I do, and then I have an image of a bathroom in the shelter, with light coming through the crack at the bottom of the door.

Now we moved again to a place called JH, I was probably 10 or 11. While I am there we lived in a very small room (maybe 15x10) with a shared bathroom between our room and the next door neighbor. His name was Derek and he was very friendly. I remember as clear as day that one day I had something that felt wierd in my groin area. Derek asked to take a look. He had me pull down my pants and underwear and examined me, touching around the scrotum, and holding my penis, touching me and asking if it hurt.

When he was done he told me that to get women that I could put a drop of urine behind my ear. He touched his finger to the top of my penis, and put a drop behind my ear.

On another occasion, my mother was passed-out drunk. Derek knocked and I ended up going over to his room. I don't know how the discussion started, but I got to talking about my huge fear of being kidnapped that I had since age five. (I think). It was a fear that if i thought about it, I would have a kid-style panic attack.

I don't know where the conversation went, or ended. But I think he either said, "let's talk about what you are afraid of so you won't be", or "Let's do what your afraid of so you won't be. I remember sitting on the edge of the bed with him. I next remember being so (scared) that I threw up into the sink). I remember him telling me to stay in his bed so I wouldn't wake my mom. I remember making myself stiff as a board and pressing into the cinder block wall and feeling the coldness on my face. I remember him behind me, pressuring me about something, and I remember leaving. I wish I knew more. A lot of stuff came out in EMDR, but I thought I made it up. Started crying through the EMDR session and bolted out.

There was also a janitor for a building I lived in that had me work for him doing odd jobs. I know I was in his apartment alone a few times. When he died his belongings were thrown away. Books on bestiality, many dildos and sex toys, a self-created crucifix, and a lot of other fucked up shit was in the trash.

It was around his death that I started masturbating compulsively. My goal was to get the feeling as many times as possible. My record was 40 in one day. I had to stop sometimes as I would start bleeding. I was 12.

There is so much I don't know. Was I sexually abused by my mother, did she let me go off with men so that they would help her with rent, etc. Was I raped by Derek? Was I molested by Sam and tortured? Or did none of it happen?

This part is the worst and most difficult for me. Although I stopped my behaviors cold, the thoughts have plagued me for all my life since. Even though I know that I will never hurt anyone like I was hurt, I don't feel I will ever be "normal" again.

If anyone has thoughts they would be extremely appreciated.