I'm running out of ideas. I've kept some things to myself even with you guys but I'm trying one last attempt to help myself with any kind of support or therapy. If telling the absolute worst truths about my life, with my T and my only support group, does not work, then I'm not going to try anymore. I'm tired of nothing working! I bring this up for 2 main reasons:
1. I'm hoping, that by exposing this as the truth, that I will minimize it's power over me.
2. That others that come here trying to address the same issues will know that they're not alone.
So here I go................................
Demons are Real
I was sexually molested when I was 9 years old in the summer of 78’ between 3rd and 4th grade by my older brother’s “friend”. This story can be read here: http://www.malesurvivor.org/cgi-local/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic;f=1;t=006326
I have since come to realize that although the first time I was violated was a big deal, the one that happened later was a much more profound thing to have happened to me. (I was molested 2 different times, two different places, two different perps, and I was 9 and 11 respectively). My first perp was 25 at the time and my 2ond perp was 3 years older than me.
When I was 11, I was at my “friend’s” house, we were practicing throwing knives at a dart board in his basement and one of them bounced off and hit me but didn’t cut me. Dave suggested that I take my shirt off to see if I was hurt. I told him I was fine and I resumed throwing more knives and then after some minutes later Dave pushed me on his bed and I started giggling “what are you doing?” And he just had this blank look on his face then when I started to get up he pushed me down again and when I looked up at him had had his pants down and his penis sticking out like he was going to so something with it. I was like “I’m outa here” and I started to move but he, being much bigger and older, twisted my body around and pulled my pants down and started to try to penetrate me. I was like “great, not again” and all of a sudden I started, for the very first time in my life, having sexual arousal. I froze. I did not try to stop him. He noticed this as well, for he reached around feeling me and saying “See you like it”. His voice was all excited and pumped with adrenaline and excitement I suppose. I froze. I not only didn’t try to stop him I had a curiosity too I guess, although I didn’t like not being in control at all I guess. I was going to let him enter me but he got frustrated trying to do it and finished himself off as I got up and dressed myself. To this day, I CAN’T remember what happened for the rest of that day or even that time period, the summer between 5th and 6th grade.
As 6th grade had come around my grades starting going downhill and I was totally sexually confused. All of the boys were talking about girls and I was looking at boys. To this day I have NO idea if, were I to have been left alone and had a chance to grow up “normal”, I would not have any sexual identity issues. At this point I had not even learned how to masturbate yet.
When the following summer rolled around, I was becoming more sexually curious. A childhood friend named Jack would come around once in a while with his younger brother named Gordon who was 6 years old. Jack was 10, 2 years younger than me. We would play in our underground forts that we had built in a vacant lot behind my Dad’s house and I had talked Jack and his brother into exposing themselves in front of me. Jesus I asked Jack to “do something” to his younger brother, and Jack was like “ok” and then Gordon didn’t want to and Jack started pulling his younger brother’s clothes off and (I will never ever forget this look) then Gordon looked at me like “What is happening?” “Please make him stop”. I instantly said “Hey don’t make him do what he doesn’t want to do”. Jack stopped. And I pray that I didn’t fuck up their natural upbringing by what I started. I instigated that whole thing and I feel like shit for it. I was older and I had learned to manipulate.
When I started 7th grade. I remember sitting in the movie theatre with my Dad watching "Taps", a movie about a military school being closed down. Anyway, in the movie there is a shower scene. I remember for the first time being turned on by something visual. In 7th grade......Jesus. Well my main point is that it wasn't Sean Penn or the older guys I was looking at, it was the younger ones..........yes that's what I said. I remember sitting in that theatre with all these issues and choosing not to talk about it. Maybe, if the very first time that I had tried to talk about what happened to me to my brother and my “friend” Dave, that they didn’t LAUGH and MAKE FUN OF ME for having brought it up, that I might have had the courage to go to my Dad and tell him that I was having problems. But I chose the path of silence after being laughed at. That silence has led me to where I’m at today.
In the winter of 81’ – 82’, Jack and Gordon and his family moved away, and I made a new friend. His name was Greg, we were both in 7th grade. We were just friends. I would visit him at his house after school sometimes. He had a younger brother named Jeff that we would often come around our part of the house just because he had not made any friends yet since their family was new to the area. For whatever reason I started wrestling with Jeff and I started feeling curious/aroused and started feeling him and he IMMEDIATELY said “Don’t”. I froze. I mean, I acted like it was an “accident” or whatever but inside I was like, “What the fuck am I doing?” I mean, I wanted to do it but I also felt like it was very wrong. I was beginning to hate myself.
About this time the dreams started. I don’t have them all the time but they happen often enough. I’ve shared this fact with my T and a couple of trusted friends at MS, they say they’re nightmares and I just don’t know it. My problem with calling my dreams nightmares is that, well, in my dreams, I’m in control and I’m never afraid. All of the stories you may have heard of someone forcing himself on a younger/defensless person, well I’ve done it in my dreams. I don’t ask for them, but yes I do get off sexually when I do. The first wet dream I ever had was of having sex with a younger boy. These dreams have been with me since I was like 13.
Many different times I “looked” for someone else that I found attractive in high school, but it was not to be. I’m as alone now as when I was a boy looking for the attentions of an older male.
As 8th grade came around I was the only “gay” person in school, although not openly. I never once hooked up with anyone in High School or had a healthy intimate relationship with anyone. I dated a few times. I love the touch and smell and feel of a woman, but they don’t do anything for me visually.
As 11th grade rolled around, I started hanging out with the stoners, some of which I was extremely attracted to. But none of them were gay so I just hung out with them and didn’t try anything, although I REALLY wanted to. Once of them was named Chris. I would used any excuse to hang out with him. He was a passionate hunter, and so I picked up on hunting too. One day, Chris became another statistic when I accidentally discharged 20-gage birdshot towards him, grazing his head. He suffered a loss of a patch of hair and minor paralysis in his lower left leg. If I did not have ulterior motives for being his “friend”, he never would have been hurt. I started to believe that I was a bad person.
When I turned 20 I was working dead-end pizza jobs. I would frequent an arcade to play pinball with one of my stoner friends or by myself. At this arcade I met a 15yo named Dennis. I was attracted to him. He lived with his grandparents who doubled as his foster parents because his parents were killed in an airplane some years back. He was lonely and vulnerable. I did have a lot in common with him except for one important difference, namely, I was thinking about trying something with him. I remember one day making a choice, and it was the right one but I still don’t feel good about it, there is nothing to feel good about anything in my life, but I digress. I simply stopped coming over. Cold. I could not see him anymore. The temptation was too great and I just wasn’t gonna go there. At this point I’m really feeling like shit about myself and my sexual “proclivities”. I remember Dennis coming into the arcade some days later after I stopped coming over and asking “what’s up?” “Why don’t you stop over anymore?” I replied “Oh I’ve been really busy and stuff”. I blew him off on the outside, but inside I was afraid of myself and what I might try to do.
About this same time I dated the only girl in my life that lasted more than a month. Her name was Kelly. She was the very first person that I disclosed to about my past, and it wasn’t easy, but she wanted to know why I was so distant from her, even though I was always “there”. She had a Major in Psychology and stressed that it was important that I see Therapist to resolve many of my issues. I didn’t believe her. I’m now guessing that maybe she was right. One night, when she and I were on a little vacation and staying in a hotel room for the night, we discussed the abuse some more. In our discussions, she expressed anger at the persons that violated me when I was younger and asked me why I didn’t do the same. I remember responding in so many words like “Well I know why he did it, I know what drove him”. She froze. Then she stared at me sternly and said, “Are you saying that you’re looking at boys”? Then I IMMEDIATELY got scared, didn’t trust her, and said no. I just tried to live my life and hope for the best. I just now remember that whenever Kelly and I had sex that I would fanaticize about being with someone that I had dreams about instead, talk about disassociation, geez.
When I turned 28, a neighborhood boy started coming around to talk to me when I was walking my dog or outside cleaning my car etc. His name was Travis, he was 11 I think. He came from a terrible home, drug abusing parents on disability and public assistance and he was lonely and looking for a friend. I let him join me for my walks and I would talk to him a lot. I felt sorry for him and really liked him too. He was a troubled kid though and I would try to counsel him on how to handle his older brother picking on him etc. My dog liked him to, he would play with a ball or frisbee with him while we talked on the bike path alot. I hate to say it, but thoughts started to come into play again and I had to make another choice. God!!!! I hade to choose NOT to do it. I was ACTUALLY THINKING about it. God!!!
The next time he stopped over while I was in the yard I brushed him off and pretended that he was annoying me, I strongly hinted that I didn't want him around anymore. He didn't understand why I was all of a sudden being rude to him. I had to do it. He had to be away from me.
I have recently befriended a guy that has three young kids and I’ve watched them for some periods of time that any perp would have taken advantage of. But I, once again, made the right decision not to do it. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I making choices like this in the first place? It’s TAINTED everything. Unnhhhhggg I don’t like to say this but when his kids are climbing/playing all over me I get hard, not aroused, I’m not thinking like that with them, well sort of, shit, see what I mean? They never fucking LEAVE!!!! Would I be like this if I were “normal”? NO!!!
Hating the past and present:
I have recently come across my High School year book, it’s the only one I have, I took a good look at it one last time, then I threw it into a huge garbage compactor. I hate my past and my present. Every picture I look at reminds me of the past, and how I have so far failed to change my future.
I have had other incidences but these stand out the most in my mind. The thoughts never go away and they’ve been with me ever since I was 11 or 12. This is why I hate me. This is why I’ve never succeeded in anything in my life. I’m too busy hating who I am.
How many times do I have to prove to myself that I’m not evil or bad? How many times is enough? How can I ever feel good about who I am if I have to deal with these kinds of attractions?
I now wish that I was violently attacked and raped when I was little, instead of being manipulated and groomed. It led me to believe, for too long, that I am something I am NOT.