I have started my healing journey last September, after I first disclosed my CSA to my then, girl friend. It is now some 10 months later and I feel up to putting my entire story into words. The main reason for telling my entire story now is I am planning on confronting my brother next month who sexually abused me, yes; my brother, my perpetrator.

I was born into a family of 7 siblings. My dad built a rather large 2 story home out in a farming community on an acre of land in Wisconsin. At the time the closest town was 3 miles away. We were surrounded my farms and vacant land, corn fields, lots of woods and always a scent of manure was in the air.

I had my own bedroom upstairs over the stairwell that led upstairs from the main level. My 3 other brothers all had their own rooms upstairs also. And my sisters had their private rooms downstairs. I always remember a house full of family members. We had a large kitchen and living room and also a full finished basement with a family room. That is where the only TV was and being Wisconsin with no air conditioning, we pretty muched lived in the basement. The humidity was almost unbearable in summer.

When I was around 7 years old is when I believe the sexual abuse started. My repressed memories that have returned to me now some 40 plus years later, point to the first sexual encounter being in the bath tub. My brother, 5 years older than me, started using my body as his sex object while I was in the bath tub. He came in to take a bath, took off his cloths and started to play with his dick. I remember him standing by the bath tub and forcing me to masterbate him till he climaxed. I just remember it to be all sticky and remember him making all kinds of weird sounds. He made me rub the cum over his belly and to lick my fingers. I went back to my bedroom and remember crying myself to sleep.

I believe this to be the first time he sexually abused me. After the initial encounter the sex became an ongoing nightmare. I would go to bed and when I heard foot steps coming up the stairs I would cringe. Oh, please God, don't let my bedroom door open. I don't want to be sexually abused again. But most of the time the door would open. It would be him, my perp. brother ready for another round of sex with his little brother, the sex object. He proceeded to force me to give him blow jobs, swallow his cum, gag and gasp for air as he forced my head on his dick. He would make me lick him clean and then he would leave. I would cry myself to sleep once again.

The abuse continued to get more violent until he would fuck me over and over, forcing his dick inside my then little body. I remember haveing blood stains on my bed and the water in the toilet bowl being red in color. I would cry myself to sleep once again.

The abuse did not always happen in my bedroom. He would force me to blow him on the school bus, in the corn fields that surrounded our home, in the attic above the garage also.

The two sexual encounters that bother me the most today and that cause my nightmares are very hard to tell. But I will do my best. We, my brother and a neighbor boy and me built a tree house along a fence line just behind our home. It was really neat. Our very own place to hang out, so I thought. It turned out to be my brothers sex house where he would fuck me over and over. There, being away from everyone, when I cried and screamed, no one heard me. He could fuck me anytime he wanted and didn't have to worry about getting caught. As I got older, I tried to get away and that is when he pushed me out of the tree house. I FELL TO THE GROUND NAKED, SCREAMING FOR MY LIFE.
The second sexual encounter that I have nightmares today is when we were on vacation and my brother forced my head under water in the motel swimming pool to give him a blow job. I REMEMBER GASPING FOR AIR AND THINKING FOR SURE I WAS GOING TO DROWN. I surely thought I was going to die. These are the two nightmares that I relive between 3 and 4 times a week. Just today I woke up once again screaming for my life.

The sexual abuse ended when I was around 12 or 13 years old. My brother got drafted into the army. I remember the day he left for military service. I remember telling myself I will never again be sexually molested. This I BELIVED TO BE THE FIRST DAY OF MY LIFE. I told myself when I turn 18 I am leaving Wisconsin and never returning to this state ever agaian.

When I graduated from High School I did just that, I left for college in Flagstaff Arizona. I never returned to live in my home state where the horrible sexual abuse by my brother happened. I left my home, my family, my friends and my memories of my sexual abuse behind to start my new life. I left everything I had. I knew I had to start over.

The next 39 years of my life I lived with my secret. The secret that no one was ever going to know. Oh, I thought about what happened but I always was able to dismiss the abuse and move on with my life. I managed to marry, have 2 wonderfull kids and what I thought was live a normal life. Oh, yea, I got divorced, had many relationships over the years. My life was what I called "normal" life of shit that just comes with the territory.

On March 1st. 2005 My sister called me to inform me that my perp. brother had a very bad heart attack. He was not suppose to live through the night. That night I had my first NIGHTMARE that continue to haunt me to this very day. I woke up screaming as he was pushing me out of our tree house. I was going to die!
I remember saying to myself out load that night. THAT SON OF A BITH IS GOING TO DIE BEFORE I TELL HIM WHAT HE DID TO ME.
I cried for the first time since I was 12 years old.

My repressed memories started returning to me. Since then, now over 3 years have passed and the nightmares continued to get worse. On September 18th 2007 is when I finally disclosed to my girl friend that I was SEXUALLY ABUSED. I need to stop for a bit, this is getting to ovwerwhelming.

I could no longer continue to live this memory alone. I had to get professional help. I was on the verge of suicide. My life was all but over. I had no reason to continue. I had it. I was at my witts end. My brother had won and I was the victim. He finally got what he wanted. Me to give up my life so his secret could remain just that, his secret. Now he knew no one would ever know what he did to his little brother. He ruined my life, his little brother was nothing but his sex object for over 5 years.

The last 10 months I am, with the help of Male Survivors, My Therapist, My Psychiatrist, My Tuesday night Group, my Pastor and my close friends, learning to become a VICTOR and no longer a VICTOM of childhood sexual abuse. As all my friends here on Male Survivor know the road to recovery is not paved with gold. My posts over the past 10 months tell that story all to well. But I am healing, I am getting better, I am seeing the forest through the trees, I am a better person. I have determination. I pray to God that he never takes away from me.

My life has changed. I no longer have continueous thoughts of suicide. I have two great kids that need their dad. I have a purpose in life to make my life and those around me better. I have come to a full understanding of my sexuality. I am a gay man in a present loving relationship with my partner. I have a reason to live.

My present nightmares do continue. With the help of my med's for anxiety and nightmares, I am learning to cope. My hope is that after I confront my brother next month, the nightmares will cease or at least become less bothering and triggering.

WELL BROTHER, you are not going to be the victor after next month. I am going to be in control of my life for the first time. I am going to win. I am going to be the victor and you the victim.

My road to recovery is not going to be over. But the road to recovery is going to in my complete control.

I want to end MY STORY by saying I could not have gotton to this point in my life without all the help, support, prayers and good thoughts of all my friends, family and Doctors who have helped me.

My Inner Child, my "little guy" has given me my childhood back. I still cannot look at pictures of me during the years of my sexual abuse. But I carry with me in my wallet a picture of me at 6 years old. The abuse had not yet started. I am/was a cute kid. I did have a childhood that needs to be revisited and remembered. I am learning to love that "little guy". He was a fighter and a warrier. He survived all that abuse. I have to for his sake learn to stay in touch with him. He needs me as much as I need him. I have to win this battle for him. I have a real purpose to live. That "little guy" needs his life back. I am so proud of him. I have to do this for him.



I would welcome any words of encouragement through PM if you so desire to respond.


From the Movie: Antwone Fisher