This will be interesting to see how much I can get down in one place. My story starts, well, from the beginning. My mother was always a happy person in public but at home was always depressed. I never felt the love and reassurance that I would make it in life. This part of my life was the key for Vince to open the door, the door to my compliance. The first time I was violated I can not recall, not because it is blocked but because it was so common. The abuse was as common as watching a tv show, playing a particular game or getting a card. I was about 6 years old and he was about 15. There are plenty times I can remember, anal sex in his shed, in the woods or in our houses. Once I was forced to do oral sex in his pool in the middle of the yard. The worst part was the actual pain of my rectum, walking around with the slime afterwards and the loneliness and fear.
By the time I was 12, it got to be quite regular. It usually began with him calling and waiting for me to pick up or hang up on anyone else, "do you want to meet?" It was like a code word for hypnotized spies. I turned into a machine. I would say yes, he would say where and I would walk directly there. By then it didn't hurt anymore, my rectum or my spirit, I was blank. This went on for many more years, through my teens. I had my first kiss with him, first arousal and first orgasm with him. He taught me all about sex, masturbation too. I remember trying to get away once when I was maybe 13, right before sex, but he had a good hold of me. I cried out and then just sobbed. I almost told once, but couldn't say the words. I was broken, destroyed. Finally, age 18, I actually said no. I don't know how or why or what but I did. He tried to call again but I stood my ground.
There wasn't a real sense of trust, just that I wouldn't tell on him and he wouldn't tell on me. I didn't like him either, maybe a little in the beginning, but nothing like having someone to talk to or go to movies with or get gifts from, I was just vulnerable. At the age of 22, The first time I told someone that I use to know in school and worked with and maybe liked a little. I think the combination of knowing her a little and yet being a little anonymous helped. Then at the age of 25 I finally told my mom, dad and sister. That was emotionally the HARDEST thing I ever had to do. The words just wouldnt come out, The more I tried to say it the more I cried. I finally said it. I told them the basics, that was enough. My dad still wants to kill him to this day. I've ignored him, hated him and forgiven him. I could not live my life with hate plus I had to start working on me.
For me, telling others was the first step. I then tried counseling, first time was a little help, I at least got to go a little deeper than I had with others. I then read a book or two to understand better, books were never my thing. I then tried counseling again after having a mini meltdown. That was more helpful, I got to deal with the root cause and how the abuse changed me. What caused the meltdown was I began to tell people at work a little about what happened to me. This was a result of me feeling comfortable and loved to a small degree, any bit was a lot for me. They didn't know how to deal with it and neither did I. I then came to find this site, a very helpful step. I was able to take in more, vs books, and talk to guys that went through and feel the same things. I had wanted to go to an abuse group before but wasnt strong enough yet.
There's more but that is the basic outline of my survivor story.