This is just one story of sexual abuse to go along with my own. I pray that our stories will help young people to make the right decisions. This is happening everyday, every hour to some young person out there. They are grooming your young people and stealing their innocence.
Abuse – My Story
Writing is a hard as talking, and with those that love to encourage us to talk get it out, we who have been through so much feel as though the incident is happening. When I was younger through actions I was not aware of I was often asked “Were you abused” ? The worse of them made me even more a victim as if opening up was not enough!
What was my victimization? Was it the rape at 15? Was it the time at 10years of age my step father tied a belt around my wrist and strung me from the door? Maybe you mean that my first crib memory was being in a dark room crying and no one coming . Rejection of a mother that was supposed to bond with you, the lies or being referred to as moms “dirty little secret”?
I was asked to speak to my rape, so for the first time I am writing , rather than talking, maybe some victim reading this will be encouraged to tell their story. Or perhaps the way things are handled will change.
1968 – we had been just settled into a house in Lincoln New Brunswick right across from the airport. I Thought how neat it was to watch planes coming in and out. But the romance of newness quickly wore off as our ” family” settled into the routines. Belts, wooden spoons later I would remark “I thank God there was not a knife handy ,dad might have been tempted to use it. Some of the torture I endured would be closer to a prison internment in a Nazi camp minus the ovens!
One day I had enough and thought I could handle life by my self and ran away. I had saved money in my bank account doing chores but not having a grip on finances I could not have known it would not be enough. My first meal a day and a half later would be fries with gravey and a coke, well if you have not eaten that would be a bad choice and it took maybe 10 minutes and I was throwing up. I slept out side in a park in Fredericton, wandering around no one seemed to notice, but soon my money ran out and I did not know what to do.
I lay down in the park debating in my mind a return home or what to do, when a man approached me. ” you look hungry ” he said . I was in quick agreement, He invited me along and too me to a restaurant and ordered bacon and eggs I obligingly accepted them and finished them as though I was some sort of vacuum .
After he asked where I lived I became reluctant to tell him fearing he would take me to mom and dad and I would be punished for running away, but part of me wondered if they even missed me or cared.
During the time I was out in the open and slept under the stars several patrols of police were noticed yet not one ever came over to investigate a lone 15 year old. He invited me to his place as he said “until I could decide where I came from” All I could think of at that moment was food , and agreed, when I got to His place he lived not far from where I was, and he poured me a bath and I was happy to get in. By the time I was finished it was late for me so he told me he only had the one bed and I would have to share it , not having street sense I agreed after all this was a nice man to take a child and feed him and allow me to stay in a warm home and have a bath! Besides I had not been beaten nor sent to bed hungry how beautiful was that !
I crawled in a snug warm bed and buried my head under blankets, I was in light sleep when I felt him come into the same bed, my mind was focused on a deep sleep, and did not pick up as the back of my underpants went down ,nor did any alerts go off when some moist gel was on my butt cheeks, sleep on precious no cool night under stars . But the pain of him trying to enter me jarred tonfull awake! I cried out,he pulled back
“I was nice to you ” he stated . A quote I would later hear from other victims – ” A price tag for niceness”
Indeed much of this life I have lived recognized those price tags . I asked him what I was supposed to do
Having learned the price of anger I did not wish him to hit me . He asked me to suck him ,he could not have known my sheltered life had not taught the meaning of those words to myself. He pushed my head down over his penis, I gagged , he continued until his release . I puked !
I continued to cry, I think he could not bear it that noise of this ungrateful brat ! He drove me close to my home and dropped me off I cried all the way in. I never thought about this much in that he seemed to know where I lived . Looking back I wonder how he knew.
Many times people ask me for my story . I am hesitant to tell it as my experience is lived over and over each time in my mind , like being rapped over and over for the rest of ones life. If not that feeling then you have those that use what you say against you a rape of a different experience.
When I do share and there are sympathetic ears who choke out ” Oh you poor boy, that must have been horrible to live through.” Are shocked when I say “as hard as that was or even speak of I would live it again a thousand times rather than what came after”
Remember I came home, mom asked not where I had been , no words of missed you son where were you no just a cold what is the matter with you … I was raped ! After telling this mother of mine my ordeal , she went to the bathroom ran a scalding hot tub ripped the clothes off me and after forcing
me into this water that stung my body and turned it red, scrubbed this dirty dirty boy with a wire brush !
For those that took me into the safety of that sweet farming community I do no think you knew why a 14 year old boy played with dolls and acted more like a 7 . My mind had slipped into a time before this and a lie that a family and mother cared about me ! No it was each of you that rescued me and dear patient grammie ! I know God is holding you now for all you did