If you, or someone you love and care about has been, as a child, sexually abused, raped, sodomized or molested, there’s one thing you’d have learned or know intimately and that is; you lose your ability to chose. Your world gets smaller and the ability to choose shrinks and narrows to the point where all you can decide on is which option best allows you to survive. No matter your intelligence or education these traumas beset upon you before you can even identify what the hell it is that was done to you – yet still knowing it was all wrong – these feelings and chaos and hell that pedophile rape, molestation and sodomy force you to experience are way beyond most peoples’ ability to process – yet alone having it done to you at 3 years old! What this does – oh and most of these sick fucks also give the child booze and drugs (as in my case) – what happens is akin to… the best image I’ve come up with… you ever see a tree that’s grown around a fence or power line? It looks painful but also like the tree has done the only thing it knows to do and that is to keep going. To keep on growing, grow past the trauma and incorporate it into its foundation, into the core of it’s being. The main problem here though is that trauma weakens the tree and in a storm, it will certainly snap at that weak point. A tree, although it’s alive, it’s not sentient and doesn’t think and can’t fear and plan or anticipate (lucky tree) because those feelings are at the very root of the problem of losing the ability to chose. You begin to operate – at the time the events occurs – in survivor mode. These pedophile rapist fucks destroy a young boys mind with the trauma of rape, sodomy and molestation because – as bizarre as this may sound – when it stops, when they stop being your friend and raping you and paying all this attention to you and giving you drugs and alcohol and toys, when it stops, you’re hurt and scared and worried and at 3 or 5 or 7 years old, you try to figure out what you did wrong? Why don’t they like you anymore? Are they going to kill your parents now? What’s wrong with you? Are they going to get you in trouble? Many times they threaten to kill your parents (that’s what Uncle Al told me he’d do if I told) or your pets or break your toys because they say you’ve done something that made them angry or as a way to show you what they’d do if you told but – with any of it and all of it – you don’t know why or understand what’s really happening but one thing is certain, the child’s outlook on life becomes skewed, twisted and very rudimental. Stay alive. Keep your parents alive. Make the abusing rapist happy and when they stop and/or go away, try and make them come back because you’re 3 or 5 or 7 and don’t understand any of it. If an adult tells you you’ve been bad, you believe them. That’s what you’re told to do. What else can a child and almost toddler do? In my case repeat this abuse scenario 20 to 30 more times from ages 3 to 11 (family friend / Biz partner “Uncle Al”, babysitting hippy couple, Priest, Janitor, and a few I don’t want to mention). With this childhood as my foundation – the core of my reasoning and thought process – how my brain is hardwired, when I reached the age of a teenager and later I’d find myself making choices and decisions that left me baffled and up to my chin in shit. Ten years of therapy in my 30’s has – at best – gotten it down to realizing I’m hurting myself (or my loved one) when just up to my knees in shit – knowing that I need to stop and get out of it – whatever it is – at that point, is real growth and progress. I’ve learned that you don’t get cured, it can get better (and then go right back to being worse – up to your chin – without warning or being able to figure out why) but all in all it takes a lot of work and a near constant vigilance. Until I read some books, attended a ‘survivor of rape and incest’ group and shared and learned that many others share the same childhood trauma and think and process things as an adult the same way I do, that I wasn’t alone – I thought there was something really really wrong with me (not that there’s not but I know I’m not as messed up as I thought – but am pretty broken.
I write all of this for a few reasons; One is I was recently accused of making my life turn out the way it did because I chose it to be this way and two, in hopes that someone else who is as hurt and confused as I was because of the trauma realizes that it’s not all their fault, they’re not alone, that there’s hope and someone cares.
The worst thing I can say to someone with children is that “I wish my childhood on them” and the worst thing I can say to my asshole family is “not only do I wish my childhood on your kids but that you treat them exactly the same way you treated me.” They treated me like shit for most of my life – when most families would lament the burden a troubled loved one brings to them ending most conversations with “but they’re family, what can you do?” there was no such talk in mine. I was thrown out of the house at 14. When an option for a state run reform school or private school was presented my father said something like “he’s your problem – educate him till he’s 18” when he could have easily afforded to send his gifted child (superior to genius on the tests) to a boarding school. Later, I was tried, convicted and kicked out – literally – the moment I turned 18 (with nowhere to go and no degree or no real ability to care for myself).
The ability to recall and talk about the still very foggy memories of the abuse and telling them what I remembered when these repressed memories surfaced at 26 years old DID ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO CHANGE THE HORRIBLE WAY THEY TREATED ME. Things were exactly the same as before – actually worse – because now we all knew what had happened to me yet for the next 24 years these right wing republican humps blamed me, the victim and although their types are the first to call psychology and therapy b.s. – suddenly they’ll put 100% faith in the idea that one can be cured and would be if “they only pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, do a little work, stop their whining and put a little skin in the game.”
OMG!!! I wanna puke.
I’ve had little choice in my life and have suffered because of many of the choices I’ve made only knowing I needed to make the ones that allowed me to feel better than the all encompassing 24 hour soul crushing despair that occupied my every waking moment. Not wanting to die is a huge relief and anything, be it a beer or a joint (or prayer and meditation – which is what I know now) bestowed that sweet relief from a near constant suicidal tendency, well hell, anyone – especially a 13 year old who knows nothing from nothing but the very basics of survival – would do (and I did) anything to make the hell stop. The rapist pedophile Priest saw to it that I had no faith or trust in God or the Church and my right-wing, beating the life out of me with a strap or yard stick until the child abuse board was in our living room parents – who didn’t do the most basic of basic parenting responsibilities, which is to keep me safe – made sure I had no ability to trust in anyone else (btw: my father got out of it because he was a law enforcement officer and called it a corporal punishment spanking – even though I was 13 and had black and blues all over my legs and body to the point that my gym teacher called the police). I had it coming at me from all angles. Sorry but if a little beer or weed did for you what nothing or anyone else was supposed to – make you feel safe and not wanting to die and gave you a little hope to continue on for a little while longer you’d be making the exact same choices I did. Actually, maybe not. Statistically, out of 10 abused men (9 + me), most of them would have become child rapists and be in prison for it. Statistically most abusers were abused themselves. Women, on the other hand, go into sex work to become empowered over the memories. Perpetrating is something I didn’t do. There was an incident when I was 12 and baby sitting for a 10 year old neighbor girl but that was it. Although mostly at a loss, I credit this to my heightened sense of empathy and morality. I did my fair share of stupid crap but when I became old enough to become a predator I knew the difference between right and wrong, knew the 10 commandments and knew how being hurt by others felt and had no desire to make another feel that way.
Being told that I chose this life was the most hurtful, ignorant thing I’ve ever heard from a family member. It not only showed me how little they care but that they’ve also never done any research into what I went through as well as never learning anything about what happened to me or someone who is sexually abused as a child. I should have expected it. Whenever they say and do incredibly insensitive shit I’m still hurt and surprised. I should know better, especially about this, being that I’ve never been asked about or shown sympathy over what happened to me as a child, by any of them. Not once, ever.