No Longer A Victim

This site contains some very disturbing information. This is your only warning.

I have set this site up so the oldest entry is at the top of the page.

This is a retelling of my experiences. My timelines are not always correct. I do not always remember the years correctly.

As I can no longer edit the dates to make this post go in reverse chronological order I will no longer be adding posts here. Please check my other blog for any further postings.

Name:
Location: Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada

I have been walking a long and winding path. This is my healing path. I must say there were some points on the path where the end could not be imagined. I hurt all over and wanted to just stop and rest. I have not stopped. I have learned to rest while moving forward. I can not imagine the end of my path now. I do not want to imagine it anymore. The end of my path will be the end of my existence on this planet. I have learned to smile and I am enjoying life more now. The struggle pays off eventually.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

No Longer A Victim


This recalling of my life is from multiple sources. The most reliable being my own personal experiences. It was a sweet sixteen birthday present and the condom broke. Now there are stories that say that it was perforated by my father prior to being used. This however has never been verified by myself. Happy birthday! Now you are expecting me to say 9 months later the joyous day arrived. 9 months past and I was not ready to come out. In the 11th month doctors induced labor in the morning. It was early evening before I came into the light of day. To hear my mother tell the story you would listen to how she missed breakfast and lunch and dinner. The nurses allowed her to eat a late dinner that day. No stories about how joyous a day it was or how great an event. Only how she suffered through not eating.


Well after that I had many visits to the hospital. I am allergic to many different foods. Cattle dairy being one of those allergies. At three months of age I was covered in a rash that would not go away. They also discovered that I was allergic to detergents. So to say the least I needed special attention. I was put on a formula that was not as cheap as milk. My sheets and clothes had to be washed then boiled. It must have been a lot of work.


My grandparents took care of me for most of my first 5 years. This I have been told by many friends of the family. Not to say that I did not live with my parents. I did. My parents were given the chance to finish school by my grandparents. That is why they took care of me for the most part. Well if you talk to my mother and ask her about what happened, she will tell you how I ruined her chance of finishing school and how she never became the ballerina that she could have been because she had to take care of me.


Taking care of me. This is what she blames me for. Yes it was my fault that the condom broke or that they choose to have me. These things I choose for them. Well as life goes on so did I. I have only heard the words “I Love You” once in my life from my parents. It was from my mother. I was ten years old and the family was at a friends home. The friend mentioned that maybe my misbehavior was due to the fact that I did not feel loved. If only they knew how right they were. She was relentless on my mother. She convinced her to say it to me. I remember this vividly. I cried and told her that I loved her as well. This is the only time in my life that that exchange has ever happened.


I did all I could to get attention. Good or bad attention it did not matter. I was never hugged, told I love you, we are proud of you. My father owns a business. He worked long hours. The only times I can remember seeing him in my early years was one of three places. He was passed out on the couch in front of the television with a beer in his hand, he was in the driveway working on setting up shelving units for a vehicle he was going to use for business, or he needed help with work and could find no one to help him, then he would come home and ask if we could assist him. He told me about how his father was a mean old man who treated all his kids badly. He said that he would never be like that. Congratulations Dad you succeeded. You were never there for us, so you never did treat us badly. You did provide a roof over our heads and food for our bellies. Those things I thank you for.


I tried to gain acceptance from my family. I wanted them to be proud of me. I was 27 years old when my father told me he was proud of me. Never once before that and never since. I had just graduated from DeVry Institute of Technology. I had taken the two year electronics course. I did this because my father told me that his business was becoming more electronic and he was not sure if he could stay in business. So I put myself through college and into deep debt for his cause. This never panned out. I worked for 3 months in the roll of electronics technician. Not once did my college education help my father or his business. To be honest I was not interested in electronics. I much would have preffered to have gone to university and studied many different topics. I got bored with the electronics easily. There was not a lot of a challenge there.


I was physically beaten until I was eleven years of age. That was when I started to swing back. I am not proud of fighting with my mother. I did it in self defense. That day tore me up. I was being smacked for no reason other than she needed a release and I was handy. Like always. I just started swinging back. It took one of my uncles to pull me off of her. I do not remember anything of the fight. I only remember my uncle holding my in the air telling me to calm down. It was over. She never laid another finger on any of us kids. The beatings were carried out with a leather strap that was one and a half inches wide by half and inch thick by about four feet long. This device was folded in half and snapped together to produce a very loud snapping sound. This was done to give warning that a beating was coming. There was the hand on the bare bottom beatings as well. Those ones were the least painful. Then there was the kitchen impliments. Any wooden spoon was considered fair game. It did not matter if it was just out of hot water or the drawer, it was used if it was handy.


The verbal and emotional abuse did not stop until many years later. I can not tell you when exactly but I was in my twenties. Now in my thirties she uses guilt trips instead. The whole of my youth I was wrong. It did not matter what I did or did not do it was wrong. If I got out of bed I was wrong and if I stayed in bed. You guessed it. I was wrong. This gets to be a self demoralizing thing. I did not realize that I could be right until I was in my thirties. I also had no self esteem or positive self image until my thirties. Even now its difficult to look in the mirror sometimes. I am afraid I am going to see the monster my parents saw.


I can remember not feeling comfortable in my skin. I had no reason to. I was not loved, not nurtured in a healthy way, not cared for other than food and shelter, nor shown any compassion. Just as puberty was hitting me I was interested in things that were femme. I loved the look of stockings and pantyhose. I loved the feel of them. It excited me. So I got my hands on them when ever I could. I use to wear them and pretend I was someone else. I used them to try and fulfill fantasies that I was someone else someone who was loved. I also used them as a way to try and get attention. I would leave them in places that they would be found. My parents found them and thought I was gay. So for the summer of my thirteenth or fourteenth birthday I was sent to an uncles place.


He lived in the middle of nowhere. Him and his partner owned 200 acres of land. It was trees as far as you could see. This uncle was gay. He also had a thing for boys. I was just becoming a young man. I was in for some rude awakenings. I shared my obsession of stockings with this man not knowing what I was in store for. Now things never got dangerous in a life and death kind of way. However this uncle used me for his pleasures and allowed some of his friends to share to do the same.


This uncle sodomized me with a carrot wrapped in plastic wrap. He had me perform oral sex and hand jobs on him and his friends. My parents came for a visit two weeks into my visit. I begged and pleaded with them to take me home. I did not mention at that time what was happening to me. They refused to take me with them. So after they left I decided that I had to do what ever it took to end this. I tried to escape this by walking into the forest one day. I had nothing on my except a pair of shorts a t-shirt and a knife. I walked for hours. In circles. I did not know how to navigate at that time. I was a city kid in the forest. I walked and walked and walked on and on I went. I thought for sure I was going to die out there. I layed down on a fallen over tree. This thing was huge. I could not wrap my arms around it mid way up. As I lay there feeling sorry for myself and crying I heard a noise and thought I was dead. I listened for a second and noticed that the birds had stopped chirping and the forest was silent except for the noise I had heard. I slowly opened my eyes. I was laying on my back on a log, the first thing I see is the sky. It was a beautiful powder blue with light wispy clouds in it. I slowly lifted my head to look around. I did not have to. Just beyond my foots reach on the log was a lynx. It was just looking at me. When it saw me looking back it walked off. I later found out that I had layed down on its den. That tree was part of the den. I do not know why the lynx did not attack me or try to scare me off. I do know that I gained a profound respect for nature at that point.


I picked my scared self up and started to walk again. This is about eight hours after I started my trek. I thought I must be miles from where I started. This is when I hear something that does not fit. I hear a voice, faint and distant. I start to yell and scream and figure I am saved. I head in the direction of the voice and it gets louder telling me to stay put and to keep talking so they can find me. It was my uncles lover. I had walked in circles for eight hours. I was found.


Almost two weeks later I was on my way home. I was in the back of an ambulance with a major head concussion. What happened you ask. I wish I could tell you. What I have been told is that I tried to go up the stairs and lost my balance on the second stair up. I fell backwards and landed on the back of my head on a concrete floor. I do remember waking up when this uncles lover tried to lift my head and had to put it back down because the back of my head formed to his hand. I also remember waking up upstairs a bit later and stumbling into the bathroom where I threw up blood. I woke up twice more once was in the car on the way back into civilization. The next was in an ambulance on my way to the children's hospital almost 200 kilometers away. I was informed that the doctor called my parents to tell them that I was on my way to the hospital when the ambulance arrived to pick me up. The ambulance arrived at the hospital before my parents did. The hospital is less than 30 kilometers away from my parents house.


A couple of weeks after I woke up from my concussion I was asked by another uncle if anything had happened to me while I was up north. I was afraid and did not know what to say. He told me that if it did it was ok he would not think anything bad of me. I told him that things had happened without getting into detail. He told others in the family. My father comes from a large family. He has three sisters and four brothers. Well the other uncle denied it. My mother called me a liar. My father did not comment on this for years. It was about three or four years later when my father finally did comment on what happened. He told me that he knew what happened to me. He had it happen to him when he was about the same age as I was. His words to me were “I know what happened to you up there. He did it to me when I was about that age as well. I chalked it up as experience and moved on with my life. You should do the same.” Thanks for the advice dad. I just could not do that.


The next summer was even better for me. I stayed home and was as usual grounded for some reason or other. My brother younger than I am came home from flying his kite and said that he had gotten it caught in a tree. So I went to retrieve it for him. Now in these days my parents put a time limit on my free time. This was part of a program to try and control my movements. Well I climbed this tree that was at the top of a hill. It had grown at an angle out over the valley below. So I am twenty five to thirty feet up this tree and about fifty feet from the ground. I reach for the kite and can not reach it. So I grab a thick branch and lean on another so I can reach out further. The branch I am leaning on breaks about two inches out from the tree. I am still holding the other branch so I do not fall. I swing inwards towards the tree and catch the stump of what I was leaning on in the right side of my ribs. This knocks the wind out of me and brings tears to my eyes. I forget about the kite and manage to make my way down from where I am without falling. When I finally get home I mention that I think I broke some ribs and that I need to go to a hospital. My father is busy working on his vehicle and can not stop what he is doing to take me. My mother does not drive and tells me that if I think its bad enough then I should walk.


The hospital is two to three kilometers away. I start walking. When I get there I find out that yes I have fractured three ribs and there is nothing that they can do for it. Also because I am there without a parent or guardian they will not give me a prescription for pain killers. I walk back home. When I get there I am in a foul mood and hurting from all the walking. I ask if I can go out. I am told that I used all my free time for the week walking to the hospital. I lost it. I yelled and screamed and called my mother every evil nasty thing I could think of. I then stormed out of the house. I slept on the streets for the next two weeks. I spent a year and a half with a cousin and his mother before I was kicked out for a theft that I never committed. The item I was accused of stealing was found a couple of years later in some luggage. I lived with an the uncle that asked me if things happened for a couple of years. He was an alcoholic at the time and had no issues sharing his beer with me. I did not sober up until I left there. I spent two full years in a tent while I lived with him. Winter, spring, summer, and fall. I spent many a year on the streets.


I survived all this. In my early twenties I decided that I did not want to be on the streets anymore. I got a job as a bouncer in a bar. I stayed at that bar until it closed up for good about six months after I started. I then took a job as a bouncer in an after hours club. I worked there for over three years. I had the best track record of all the bouncers there. I have worked my through all of it. I did not have the chance to work on a lot of my social skills when I was younger. I am working on those now.


There are dreams that I have had that I have fulfilled. There are still some that I have not. I would like to be debt free. I am working on that one slowly but surely. I would like to go to university. I do not know if that will happen for a long time. I would like to learn how to play piano and learn yoga. I would also like many other things. However I like to start small.


Thanks for listening my life so far. It has a happy ending in the process thanks to my loving wife and stepdaughter. They gave me the tools needed to get to where I am today.


Thank you to both of you for all you have given me.


Love you both.


Cheers

9 Comments:

Blogger Leah said...

Hi. Thanks for sharing your story. I'm sorry that all of that happened to you. It wasn't your fault.
I appluad all your work on your healing journey and I wish you strength and courage along the path.

11:38 p.m.  
Blogger DeborahJane said...

I appreciate reading your story too.
and appeciate your writing style.

Please keep the writing up : people need to hear yours and all of our stories.

peace,
debbie.
www.second-handsmoke@blogspot.com

9:32 p.m.  
Blogger Andrea C said...

I want to send you a big, big hug just for being as brave has you have been. For the people like us, who have experienced so many dark situations on such early stages of our lives, it is always better to know that there are a lot of people who understand in the most deep ways what does it feel to be abused. I want you to know that i'm with you on spirit and that I know we deserve to be happy for all the sadness we had to go through.
We will continue to fight, never give up , and may each and everyone of the abusers go to hell and never die, but suffer forever for what they did. And I mean this with ALL my heart.

Love
Andrea

1:26 a.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I can relate to alot of things you went to.. and big HUGS to you for what you have endured.. you are a wonderful man, your wife is a wonderful person, and I am sad to know that this has happened to you. Take care of yourself, and you and your wife will always be in my heart, because you did fight back, I fought back, and we're not going to let it bring us down anymore! We are survivors, and will make it through this alright.

Love,
Angel_Kitty

1:16 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

As someone that has been sexually harassed and abused as a child for a good majority of my life, I can relate to you in most parts. That path you walk to healing is never complete. And if it is, then something is wrong. Your spirit is strong for going through this, and you will throw that spirit unto others.

You might have gone through pure hell in life, but through your words and your ability to share, you have made the process of healing easier for others. To that I thank you.

2:39 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

HI THERE BRAVE MAN
THANKS SO MUCH FOR SHARING YOUR STORY IT MAKES IT SO MUCH EASIER FOR ME AND I AM SURE OTHERS TO DEAL WITH OUR ISSUES WHEN WE KNOW SOMEBODY ELSE IS THERE DEALING THE SAME STUFF I TOO LOVE YOUR WRITING STYLE AND I APPLAUDE YOUR COURAGE TO GO DOWN THE HEALING PATH I TOO AM ATTEMPTING THIS AND I KNOW HOW DIFFICULT IT IS.
GOOD LUCK AND REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOU.
MICHELLE

5:51 p.m.  
Blogger maica said...

..Hello,
..I'm surfing in the internet and came across your blog.
..I'm quite impressed , with how it makes such good reading.

*_* jampot *_*
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11:45 p.m.  
Blogger Mike Trupiano said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

12:35 p.m.  
Blogger Slantedenchanted said...

Just found you. Thanks so much for this. Great to hear a man talking about this subject. Inspiring!

12:39 p.m.  

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