It Happened…
I’ve looked at this description several times and backed away from trying to write it out. It’s too complicated—too many parts—too many abusers. The abuse went from age 4 to 20, 1952 to 1968 with a few isolated incidents up to 1973. So I’ll focus on one of the abusers to simplify things. My dad’s abuse started at age 5 and lasted about 7 or 8 years. Then in 1973 there was one other instance where he threatened my life for the last time.It’s hard to describe what my life was like then. Publicly, I was an excellent student, leader in the church youth groups and scouts. Internally, I was dirty, afraid of being found out—knowing I was disgusting and unworthy of love. I did really well at hiding.
It was…
Punishment at our house was a wide leather belt on a bare bottom, at least that’s what I received. My mother would send me to my room to await my dad to deliver the punishment. I was to take my pants and underwear down, bend over the bed and wait for the belt. He was a serial molester. There were at least 4 victims prior to me. One day when I was about 5, he decided on a punishment more to his liking and raped me instead of using the belt. Over time, there was also forced oral sex. I had no escape route. My mother had already been telling me for a year or more that I was going to be just like him and I knew she hated him. It was only in the last few years that I realized that her curse was made up of the sexual perversions she had experienced from him. He further ensured my silence by threatening to kill me with his .38 revolver if I ever told anybody what he was doing. All the while he was telling me, “This would be more fun if you were a girl.” I never figured out how he meant that.
It made me feel…
Because it started at such a young age, I really don’t know how it impacted me—changes in personality and the like. I don’t have many memories to compare to what’s available to my memory. There is one photo of me at age 1 year 5 months and one at age 4 that show a sort of freedom or joy that isn’t there in later photos or memories. Probably the most telling item is the recurring dream I had for several years. Even though I told myself it wasn’t anything significant, I kept having this dream where I was trapped and couldn’t escape being killed. I knew enough not to share that dream with my parents.
I told…
Nobody, I told nobody.
I didn’t tell until I was almost 50. I told my wife-to-be a very little about one of the other abusers but nothing about my dad or the other two. She accepted it at face value—that is I didn’t think (or believe) it was anything significant. So she didn’t think it was significant. But she accepted me. However, at age 43, I told a minister who was going to pray for me of the other abusers. As he started to pray, it felt like my body exploded. I didn’t know the body could feel such pain and survive. In fact, I blacked out from the pain and thought I’d died. It was probably the worst dissociation experience of my life. I don’t know how long I was out but when I came to, I was screaming and curled up in a ball on the floor. There were a few men kneeling around me praying for me so I must have been out for a few minutes. That was the beginning of the healing. Somehow I knew that experience was connected to the sexual abuse. But I still didn’t remember what my dad had done. Four years later, my dad’s abuse was surfaced in a surprise turn during a week-long counseling session—bringing with it similar dissociation events and fetal position pain. When I told my mother, I got nothing but silence for a few months. She then started to share what she knew about him and how he had victimized her. I suppose she believed me but I got no acknowledgement or support or even apology. In fact, she didn’t want me digging into all that. One brother said that he thought dad had always meant well. The other brother said that he was a pathetic old man. Neither felt like support or validation or even valuing my experiences. One friend told me a 6 year old couldn’t have an erection. Another told me an 8 year old couldn’t ejaculate. Yet another couldn’t understand why I was looking at that stuff now since it had happened so long ago.
I Survived…
As a child, I dissociated. I forgot. I hid. As an adult, I tried counseling but, in those days (early 1990s), there weren’t very many (read that as “zero”) counselors who knew much about sexual abuse — especially sexual abuse of males. The first counselor I went to was clueless. I had to give him a book (The Wounded Heart by Dr. Dan Allender). Almost all of my healing has come through journaling—writing it out, re-reading them, making connections, finding patterns. There were some books but very few who were aimed at men. Still I found the books for women were helpful, there are a lot of similarities. Journaling was the key, though. I wrote out the dreams, the nightmares, the flashbacks, the dissociation, the thoughts from the books —everything that touched me emotionally. Writing was another healing tool. I wrote (and still write) poetry or short stories, prose. That was a way of exploring the emotional content. One time when I was feeling stuck, I went to see a counselor hoping for some nudge or insight. I took my latest journal with me. She looked it over and said, “You’re doing fine. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” It left me feeling unfixable, like I was uniquely broken beyond repair. One of the most powerful healing elements has been telling the story and, in particular, as I’ve told the story in groups I lead for abuse survivors. Seeing my story and pain become hope for others makes it worth the effort.
I Dream…
As I’ve been public with my story, there have been a number of places where the story is available, some in more detail, others in more summary form. The local paper ran a story on me as part of an awareness month. There’s a YouTube video that the local sexual assault agency (SARC) produced where I’m exhibit A for talking about male sexual abuse (on YouTube). ListenConspiracy.com has a fairly detailed account. The Bristlecone Project has a summary along with a portrait. I tell my story in Journey Groups, the abuse survivor groups I lead using training and materials from Open Hearts Ministry in Kalamazoo, MI. The story is part of a new book called You Can Help by Rebecca Street. Her story plus 19 others including mine are aimed at helping friends and family understand how to respond well to a loved one who was sexually abused. And the Bristlecone Project has led to other things. The creator of the Project, Dr. David Lisak, uses the story summaries and photo to do exhibits in various areas around the country and world. My story has been part of an exhibit in Phnom Penh Cambodia where a suburb is famous for child sex tourism. And it has led to one other surprising result. When Dr. Lisak was a keynote speaker at an international conference on men’s health in Australia, he used my story in video form along with three other Bristlecone Project men to illustrate his points. Another speaker at the conference asked to use those videos to train his staff. The other speaker was the Honorable Justice Peter McClellan AM, chair of the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. The Royal Commission’s job is to examine how institutions of any nature have responded to child sexual abuse. Then they are designing law for the nation of Australia as to how institutions will be required to respond.
My Dream?
That the need for any of my story telling will cease to exist. Short of that, I would love to see a “royal commission” set up here in this country (and others) to really put some teeth behind laws on sexual abuse and assault. That the obsession we have with sex and pornography would get healthy. That survivors will be free to come out into the light and expose the perpetrators. That perpetrators will more and more be constrained by the fear of almost certain discovery and significant jail time. I don’t think we can eliminate it altogether. But where ever it exists, we will be able to bring healing.
I want…
I want you to know you are not alone. You have millions of companions.
I want you to know it is OK to tell your story—to people who have earned the right to hear it. It shatters shame and there are people who need to hear your story.
I want you to know that what was done to you does not make you worthless or unworthy.
I want you to know that what you’ve done in reaction to your abuse does not make you worthless or unworthy.
You are worthy of love and belonging. You don’t have to work for it and you cannot do anything to make you unworthy.
Whether or not you have experienced abuse, you know people who have and you can help them heal. You can learn to be a safe person with the courage to hear others’ stories of horror and brokenness.
This blog post is copyrighted and cannot be republished without the expressed written consent of the author and The Mama Bear Effect.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, you have no idea how much reading your story means right now. Thank you from the bottom of my broken heart.
Thank you. That is why I speak.
Thank you for sharing your story, especially your dreams. You not only stepped forward but you stepped up, you made me realize I can no longer stand on the sideline cheering for those doing the hard work, I have to get in the game. Thank you for your courage.
Do! Get it in the game! We need everybody we can get.
And thank you for listening.
Can I ask? Do you get overwhelmed? People are so supportive, complete strangers open their hearts… Sometimes I feel like thank you isn’t enough
It was a bit scary at first. But when I started seeing people getting free of their prisons (the ones that the abuse put them in), I found it worth whatever it cost me.
Healing can come by being public about it. You have to learn to ignore the detractors and critics. But that gets easier as you realize they are merely voicing their own insecurity.
For example: One person told me I was stupid to go digging around in “that stuff.” Later she told me, “I’m glad you’re doing this. I know you’re doing it to make your family stronger. I’ve never had the courage to look at my past.”
I’m glad that you have had supportive experiences. I treasure those I’ve seen in my life. Unfortunately, I’ve also had my fair share of those who would rather that I shut up about sexual abuse—Primarily because it awakened their history, I think. Or they just didn’t want to know such things happen.
I have learned not to shut down if I am receiving criticism or doubt. I don’t try to educate or contradict the critic unless there is some indication that they have a genuine question.
It’s difficult to receive support or praise for my courage. That touches a place in my heart that longs for connection.
Thank you
Thank you for validating me. I’m not a nice person at times right now as of lately because of my reactions to sexual abuse and especially the long term sexual abuse my own children suffered at the hands of immediate family…one of whom is a decorated combat veteran. I knew people would not support or believe us because the abusers had already alienated us from other non pedophile family members for years. So I just walked a way with my children and started a new life in a new place. We were isolated for a long while and that was pretty frightening at times but God sent me and my kids the kindest man who validates and heals us. Well, again, thank you for your wonderful healing words.💖
Thank you for sharing your story. That is one of the most powerful things we can do to help others. If you look at your story from a different perspective, you realize that it gives you power. Power to understand others who have been abused. And power to help. And also the power to continue to heal yourself. I’m proud of you for being brave and selfless in order to help human kind. Best wishes in your journey.
Nobody saved us! I use to think that we must first save the children to stop the abuse. Now I think we must not only do that but we need to educate people before they become parents. We must educate our teachers on trauma and how to spot the silent victims. I went to a grade school counselor and reported that a first grader told me that he didn’t come to school yesterday because his dad his dad couldn’t find the key to let him out of the dungeon. She laughed when I told her that and said, ” that boy has a wild imagination.” I asked her if she was going to document it and turn it in and she said, ” I know his parents and they are good people.”
I just retired from 36 years of teaching. I really didn’t want to retire yet but just feel like I’m beating my head against a brick wall. We are so worried about test scores that time doesn’t allow for trained trauma counselors (not just school counselors but trauma trained) to come into our grade schools, middle schools, high schools to educate students on how to survive , how to find a safe place to get help, and how to become a good parent.
I have been going into different classrooms this year substitute teaching and I am seeing students that are calling out for help but nobody is seeing them. There is nobody listening to their screams or to their silence.
“This blog post is copyrighted and cannot be republished without the expressed written consent of the author and The Mama Bear Effect.” Due to your copyright, can you please tell me how do I get permission to share some of your story with others?
Thank you for sharing your story. I am a survivor myself. I definitely relate to the recurring nightmares. Mine did not go away for many years following the abuse. As I grew into adulthood, I felt so much shame, unworthiness, the feeling of being unlovable, guilt and much more that I turned to alcohol and drugs to numb the pain but in doing that, it also kept the door open for decades of continued abuse. I am now involved, with others, in the pursuit of rescuing women and children from sex trafficking. I appreciate your time and again, thank you for sharing.
The copyright is in regard to other websites or publications that want to republish this, everyone is welcomed and encouraged to share these stories directly from this website.
As Adrianne said, the copyright applies to other things.
I would be honored to have you share my story.
You are an inspiration to all of us who have been sexually abused as children and have had to survive all the suffering of not being believed. It was a psychiatrist who told my mother that “I had a high imagination and probably made the whole story up because I did not like my new step-father.” That was in 1972 when I was nine years old. Today I am attending college and have a presentation due today. My subject? “Adults Sexually Abused in Childhood.” I have been waiting years to be able to speak about this horrible abuse and its after effects on the adult that it creates. We need to speak out and make it known how we have had to survive this and how it never leaves our mind, body, and soul. Male & Female. Thank-You Ted! From the bottom of my heart! Wish me luck!
I wish you success!
It is encouraging that you are taking your story and working for the good of others.
And, by the way, I am so sorry you got left alone by that psychiatrist. Things were so much harder that way.
I feel so deeply for the child that had to endure such horror. Thank you for sharing your powerful story. So much change has already come from you speaking out. I have no doubt it will continue to. I truly admire your strength and perseverance.
Thank you. You don’t have any idea what will happen when you go public with your story.
For example:
By a slightly curved route, my story ended up in video form in the hands of the Honorable Peter McClellan, Chair of the Royal Commission into Institutional Response to Child Sexual Abuse in Australia.
He is using/has used it to train his staff.
The Royal Commission is tasked with examining how institutions of any kind at all levels of society have responded to revelations of the sexual abuse of children in their ranks. The final phase is designing laws for the nation of Australia as to how all those institutions will be required to respond.
I feel blessed to be a part of that even if it was a horror to endure and survive.