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Good Boy 
28th-May-2005 01:31 pm
"Be my good boy now, and I'll take you to get ice cream after..."
That's what he would tell me, he would take me to get ice cream if I didn't cry and if I never told anyone. Can you believe how lame that sounds to me now? That's what he told me when I was 10 years old and it started, to the best of my memory which is pock marked and moth eaten at best. I never got to pick my own flavor, he would always buy me a single scoop of strawberry in one of those nasty cake cup cones. To this day I will eat neither strawberry ice cream or cake cup cones. A few years ago I was offered strawberry ice cream, and it never occurred to me that I would have any adverse reaction to it. As soon as the spoon got in my mouth, I gagged and ran outside to vomit, which I did violently. I cried the whole time, realizing what that taste had come to represent to me. So no more strawberry ice cream for me, ever.

This post details more personal information than I think I have ever shared on LiveJournal before, and it will have graphic moments and might make you regret reading any further. I make this post public because I no longer care who knows about this kind of thing, keeping it to myself and the choice few who already know about it has always been part of the problem. Perhaps this might serve to help someone in the same struggle.

Here's the long and short of it. It was my Uncle on my mother's side of the family, married to her sister. I didn't ever say anything about it until I was around 17 or 18 years old, and I'm not exactly sure what I remember. I remember that he used to sneak up behind me and give me inappropriate hugs, which is why I freak out if anyone sneaks up behind me and I prefer that people never hug me from behind. He used to tickle me inappropriately, same goes for being tickled - just don't do it or I will punch you in the neck. He would creep into my room and wake me up to come with him into the living room or kitchen while the rest of the house slept - by touching my feet under the covers at the foot of the bed. Don't touch my feet. He had the worst breath in the free world and would make me kiss him and I would gag. Don't breathe near or get in my face. He once hurt me so badly that he tore my flesh, and I probably should have had stitches or something. I spent the next three or four days being terrified to go to the bathroom because it hurt too much, and sneaking off down the street on trash days to throw my bloodied underoos in a neighbor's trashcan so no one would know. I guess I've just carried the brunt of this by myself for too fucking long.

By the time my parents found out my secret, I was in a mental facility on the cusp of a 3 month stay, inpatient and out. My mother has never spoken to me about it, but when called out on it by my sister Shay she was heard to say "We can't say anything, it would just break Aunt Kathleen's heart." My father promised me he would "get down to the bottom of it", but nothing was ever said or done. Uncle Bill died when I was 20, having paid nor answering for any of his crimes. A few months later I tried heroin for the first time. It was better than cutting. About five years ago I decided to take a journey to the place where they buried him, I wanted to say a few things out loud and finally get it out of me. I tried but couldn't manage anything but angry tears. No words would come, no matter how hard I fought for them. Before leaving I pissed all over his grave and his headstone, laughing the entire time. Maybe one day I'll do it again.

Today I decided to start a new piece for my En Abstraktia series. This one actually does have a title, I have decided to call it "Good Boy". It was created in the spirit of a violently angry little boy that lives inside me, so betrayed and hurt and angry that I rarely ever see him. I never thought I could ever help him, but I decided to let him take over this particular piece. And he did. I'm much happier now that I let him do it, too.

So for anyone who has ever been hurt like this or ever felt betrayed or victimized, this is for you. Feel free to link to this entry and pass it around, post about it or whatever - I don't care. I make this post public because I think that art SHOULD imitate life and it should provoke and inspire on some level. I think it should be shared, and though I don't normally explain these pieces, this one was too personal not to. Thank salenelle for that.

Series: En Abstraktia
Title: "Good Boy"
28th-May-2005 05:55 pm (UTC) - One Survivor to another...
I am moved to tears by your words. My own brothers were the ones who abused me. The eldest brother began his assault on my innocence when I was six, my father caught him in the act, and I was sent to my room. Did anything happen? I'm not sure, but he still lived with us. I'm not sure if he ever touched me again. It took me YEARS to get used to the feeling of oral sex.

The brother closest to my age, took my viriginity at the age of 13, but I can't say I was unwilling, by then I suppose it was a common thing to me. To be used by men.

I've worked hard on myself. I know that's the reason that I shroud myself in the weight I carry, but yet I crave to be wanted by men. It's not rational, but it is what I do. I went to therapy for it, as my father's life ended, and the only thing it did was cause me to leave scars on my own body.

It awoke a depression inside me so deep, that I wanted to die. Thankfully, I was able to conquer that desire and I am still here today. I'm not extraordinary, I'm a survivor... Just like you.

You know you are not alone. you know that you are loved. NEVER forget that,and never forget your value as a human being.

Thank you for sharing your story.

28th-May-2005 09:44 pm (UTC) - Re: One Survivor to another...
Sooner or later it becomes a part of you, something you can actually live with. You own it or it owns you, as I like to say.

Because he died and I'll never have an opportunity to see justice, I've had to live with my internal raging. I've had to find a way to do that or let it eat me alive - and I flat out refuse to have that happen to me. You can only sublimate anger for so long before it gets too much, trust me - I know.

I've never had to be alone, I have love to spare - most importantly, love for myself. With that, you can accomplish anything and your only limits are those you set for yourself.

Thank you for reading and for replying.
28th-May-2005 06:00 pm (UTC)
For sharing, thank you.
28th-May-2005 09:44 pm (UTC)
You're welcome, thank you for reading.
28th-May-2005 06:05 pm (UTC)
As difficult as it was for me to read, I am sure others wil find it as difficult if not more. But it's my fervent hope that anyone who might have been put through a similar horrid ordeal reads this and is moved to conquer their internalized fear and also bring their attacker out of hiding and into the glaring light of justice.
28th-May-2005 09:47 pm (UTC)
Consider that what I've written here is probably as mild as I can stand to be on this subject matter, there is no way I could bring myself to ever speak of what really happened. At least what I can remember, anyway.

I have no choice, all of my choices were made for me or taken away down into his grave - so I've found a way to live with it and I'm cool with that now. I've made peace with myself and decided that I'm not allowing this to be bigger than me.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
28th-May-2005 06:06 pm (UTC)
thank you for the honesty.

i too held on to child molestation for over 12 years. i told my parents of my dads friend and what happened when i was 7 in february of 2003. on june third 2003 i was nearly raped by the father of the children i nannied. this time, i was 18. i feel your pain jude. it never gets easier. we went to court, he paid $500,000 in attorney's fees and court cost and walked free...after a recorded confession and proven DNA.

if you ever feel like ranting, i will listen and if you ever need any support at all, i will give it.

im sorry jude. nobody should live with memories as such. from the day i stumbled upon your journal, i knew you were a bit like me. however, i had no idea we had this in common. i admire your strength and your wit.

thinking of you as my two year mark rolls around next friday, thanks for making me smile.
28th-May-2005 09:50 pm (UTC)
There is little pain for me now, I've learned over time how to burn that up. The ranting offer is completely mutual, and thank you for offering first.

It is a part of me now, I've learned how to live with it. Sooner or later so shall you.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
28th-May-2005 06:14 pm (UTC)
I really hadn't expected that this was something else that I found I shared in common with you. Mine happened with a neighbor (who was an FBI agent, by the way, with kids of his own) who lived across the street from us while I was growing up.

My experiences were different, but, like you, they shaped me into the person I am today, and in a way, maybe I'm the better for having risen above them and dealt with them.

Thanks for sharing this with us.
28th-May-2005 09:52 pm (UTC)
Unfortunately, finding this as a commonality with others has ceased to shock me anymore, it has only illuminated what an epidemic it is.

I agree, and while I don't embrace this part of my history, I've learned to live with it.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
28th-May-2005 06:14 pm (UTC)
thank you. know that you are brave and not alone
28th-May-2005 09:53 pm (UTC)
Thank you for taking the time to read this, and you're right - I'm not alone and never have been, thankfully.
28th-May-2005 06:21 pm (UTC)
I'm crying that you've shared this. I was abused by my sister's husband (he's 19 years older than me), and hardly a day has gone by that it hasn't affected my life to some degree. It still does. I have rages, I can't manage healthy relationships, I break things (mostly friendships), and I fight PTSS and BPD because of the abuse. Two years ago when I 'came out' to the family about this after a blow up at a family dinner, nobody but my mother would believe me. The rest of the family turned against me and blamed me for it--they thought I was lying for attention. I hid the secret for 35 years. He still hasn't answered my charges, and my biggest fear is that he's also beat up my sister throughout their 40 year marriage. She has all the battered spouse symptoms.

I'm so so so so so glad you posted that. Dear God I'm glad. !!!
28th-May-2005 09:56 pm (UTC)
I think more and more that we're designed to be either eaten alive by this stuff, or we find our own ways of learning to live with it and reclaim ourselves in some way. I know that I'll never get justice for what I've endured and suffered, so I focus my energy now on learning to live with that. The alternative is too big a price to pay.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
(Deleted comment)
28th-May-2005 10:00 pm (UTC)
Thank you - I'm not sure about all of that, you make me wince a little with the compliments, because I think we're all amazing in one respect or another, but I thank you all the same.

Both, I take inspiration from both. I'll see a piece of glass lying on a sidewalk and have to photograph it, because I know that sooner or later it can be incorporated somehow into a composition. There is beauty in almost all things if you have the right eyes for it.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
28th-May-2005 07:01 pm (UTC)
I think I'm actually going to email this to my sister. She's never been able to work through any of her trauma. My hope is that she'll find hope and comfort in your story.
28th-May-2005 10:02 pm (UTC)
In time we all do, because in order to survive this shit you have no choice. You have to be bigger than it rather than letting it be bigger than you. I hope she reads it and gets set on a path towards reclamation, for her own sake.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
(Deleted comment)
28th-May-2005 10:10 pm (UTC)
No one in my family took notice, though I know for a fact that I tried in many ways to get them to - albeit in self destructive and reckless ways.

I got that once, the whole "You're gay because..." thing - and I made it clear that I knew I was gay long before this even happened. I've always known I was gay, even before I knew there was a word for it and how people felt about that word. Once I came to realize that people associated it with something bad or wrong, I figured that they were ignorant and/or stupid and I don't take anything those people think seriously anyway, so it was always a moot point.

I don't believe in shame, I don't believe in guilt, and I don't believe in taking other people's shit and internalizing it for one single second. Because it is theirs, not mine. So fuck them. They can project all they want to, but I'll throw it right back in their faces as soon as they try and dare them to do it again. I know I'm better than and worth more than that, even though such knowledge came at a very high price.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
28th-May-2005 08:23 pm (UTC)
Mine was an uncle, and I have some similar reactions - don't hug me from behind, that sort of thing. Thought I was over and done with it, able to cope with the uncle, until he ended up in my home accidentally and I nearly lost it afterwards.
Worst was a dearly beloved grandmother who apparently was a multiple - her whole personality would change. I have aversions to lemons and yellow crayons as a result, and ended up a cutter for a few years. Somehow the cutting made it hurt less. I was the only one who saw that side of her.
Even to this day there are landmines that trip me up.
Dear gods, how many of us are there?
Thank you. More than you know.
28th-May-2005 10:13 pm (UTC)
Don't get me wrong, while I'm leaps and bounds better than I ever have been before with this, I still have very low periods and depression as a result of thinking too much on it. I accept that now, I'm a realist and I know that it passes just like it always does. I also feel those triggers, sometimes more than others.

How many of us are there? Too goddamned many - and that's too many too much.

You're welcome. Thank you for taking the time to read this.
(Deleted comment)
28th-May-2005 10:13 pm (UTC)
And that has always been more than enough, sweetie. Again, that's why I chose you.
(Deleted comment)
28th-May-2005 10:15 pm (UTC)
Be proud for yourself, too. I purposefully left this post relatively mild, I have never told anyone more than about 30% of what really happened - and I never will. I'm finally at a point of being able to live with all of this, and I'm all good.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
28th-May-2005 09:22 pm (UTC)
Thank you. You know why.
28th-May-2005 10:16 pm (UTC)
Thank you for taking the time to read this.
28th-May-2005 09:43 pm (UTC)
I'm absolutely useless with words for situations like this, but wow. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. And I'm proud of you for getting to a stage where you can speak openly about it.

Reading something like this, and then seeing so many others say that they've gone through similar ordeals... I've always heard this sort of thing happened a lot, and I knew that it was damaging, but I now have a human face (well, many human faces) to put on it. It makes it much more real and painful somehow, actually knowing a victim, even if I only know you through LJ.

Well, enough blabbing from me. Hope you're okay.
28th-May-2005 10:18 pm (UTC)
I've talked about it before, but only in bits and pieces and only with a select few. There are more people like me than you could bear to imagine, probably a lot of your own friends who would never speak about it.

My life is very different now. I own this, it doesn't own me.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.
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