******trigger warning, I talk about my sexual abuse in detail******
From 5th grade until the summer of graduating High School I carried a deep dark secret, one that as each day passed by it slowly chipped away at my soul… I was sexually abused by a male cousin of mine.
For seven years I had to pretend like nothing was wrong. I had to lie. I couldn’t let anyone know the bad thing that happened to me, all while my the person who did the bad thing lived down the street.
He lived with my grandmother who didn’t drive. That meant my mother had to drive him everywhere he wanted. I had to face him on a weekly basis and couldn’t say a word. I had to pretend like everything was hunky-dory when deep down inside I was dying.
I would cry myself to sleep at night feeling that my parents loved him more than they did me. I even questioned if they loved me. Which wasn’t that difficult to do when my father was around him. My father was the hunting type, so was my abuser. My father loved sports so did he. I desperately needed my father’s love and he seemed to give it to him so easily.
The whole family loved him. He could do no wrong. He was the golden boy. He was popular in school, he was captain of the basketball and football team. Even when it came out in the open what had happened many in the family still saw him in that light, especially my grandmother.
When you hide something so big and hurtful it has a way of seeping into everything you do. A secret is like a balloon the more air you breath into it the more it will expand, until eventually there is more more room to grow and it explodes.
I took the money from my graduation party and I bought a computer. The internet was the first time I could reach out to other survivors of sexual abuse. It was hope for me. I also started to come to terms with being gay as well. The computer was my connection to the outside world. My parents didn’t understand why I was always on the computer and they were about to take it away.
That was the last straw that broke my back. I went into this danger will robinson mode and burst out my two secrets in anger. I couldn’t lie anymore. It was destroying me and I wasn’t going to allow them to take away the one good thing in my life.
The summer of 1995 I came out of the closet and told my parents that I was molested when I was younger.
I don’t remember much about that day, other than my Mom cried a lot.
I do remember my father went hunting with my cousin the next day. When I confronted him about it he told me that you have to forgive and forget. I was devastated by this.
Though my parents finally knew about what had happened, no one else knew… At the time I didn’t realize how much it had affected me. I guess I still had a lot of shame over what had happened. In seven years you learn to hide very well.
I guess in a way I was still afraid of my cousin. I had to pretend like everything was normal. So much when I was asked to be the usher at his wedding I felt I had to say yes because saying no would make people suspicious. Looking back I wonder how I had the courage to do something like that. That is the thing about hiding a secret, you do whatever you have to make it not obvious…
Once I hit puberty, being a gay youth (that didn’t know it at the time) I attached myself to the only thing I knew and that being the sexual abuse. The painful became pleasurable, and then painful all over again… When boys have natural fantasies that boys do at that age, I was having them about the abuse. That is where the shame started to grow. It was a double whammy. Sex turned into pain, pain into love… I was groomed into that lifestyle because I didn’t know any better. I thought he did those things to me because he cared/loved me. So I found myself purposely trying to get in those situations again. I was desperate to feel that way again.
Not only was I dealing with feelings of being gay but they were towards my male cousin who had sexually abused me. I can remember praying to God after I was successful in getting him to have sex with me, promising to never do that again. I was full of shame but then that would wear off and I was back to trying to get that connection again. I didn’t know it was unhealthy.
Then there came a time where he was done with me. He made it very clear that he didn’t want me anymore by biting my penis so hard that he left cut marks, I still have the scars.
He took what he wanted and when he was done, he threw me away like a piece of garbage. It was then I learned I was just a sex object for men. He got me to love him and rejected me, leaving me with a million miles of wounds.
As an adult I took the blame because I enjoyed and initiated the second part of the abuse. I felt such shame. I also feared that if I told anyone this that they wouldn’t believe me that the first part was not mutual. Which I had already had people in the family take light over what happened. My one aunt made a comment like boys will be boys…
It took someone pointing out that I was just a child and that I had been groomed to realize that it wasn’t my fault.
I didn’t tell anyone about the second part of the abuse until 2000. That was when the shit hit the fan. That was also the year I confronted my cousin by phone who told me that I was drunk. Why would he do something like that he said?
After that everyone knew and I became an even bigger black sheep of the family. My Mom’s side of the family had a way of pushing that kind of stuff underneath the rug. Anyone that tried kick the dust out was looked down upon. Afterwards various family members still saw him in that holy light, including my grandmother.
From that day on I find it hard to hid my feelings. During therapy I recently realized that reason why. When I try to hide my feelings it reminds me of that horrible seven years where I had to hide.
I believe during those seven long years I was desperately needing someone to come rescue me and they never did. So when I go through something painful I feel like if I don’t lay down like I am dying no one will save me. I think in a way I am trying to save that boy in present day.
Hiding in my bed also became a survival skill both during the abuse, as well as during other traumatic times in my childhood. I would hide until my pillow until the scary thing was over. While I am no longer a boy, I still try to cope with my feelings in the same way but no matter how long I hide in my bed my problems never go away.
Everything is connected to how I feel about myself.
I have been hiding most of my life. The outside world is a scary place. Those 20 beautiful children who were so brutally gunned down in their prime has been a confirmation of that.
My Mama was my rock. She was always there, no matter what. She represented everything good in my life. When she died it felt like I had lost all of that. After my Mama died, I went back into hiding and I am still not sure I want to come out of my cave.
As much as I try, I still feel like I am stuck back in that time. I need to rescue my inner child from that time. I keep waiting for someone else to save me and I am the one who needs to rescue me. I guess all this time I haven’t been sure I deserve it.
I have been living on the edge of wanting and not wanting to be here for too long. I wish I could just break free and live my life the way I want. I just feel like something is holding me down. It is probably me…
Fake it until you make it. I struggle with faking it. I guess in a way I feel like by faking it means I have no reason to feel the way I do. Maybe I am trying to convince myself. By having various people in my life not give me the validation in my life, have I in returned felt I needed to show the world my pain???
The fact of the matter is these people will never give me the validation I need. They aren’t important and are no longer in my life. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone but myself.
It just takes time to let go of all the false things I learned during those seven years. I have to keep moving forward. Eventually the tide will turn and the parts of me that believe I deserve better will out way the parts that don’t. Now that I am finally unearthing all those horrible, unworthy feelings about myself it leaves me in a vulnerable place. So I have to ride out the storm and realize that I am in for a bumpy ride. If there is anything I have learned the past twenty years is that I just have to keep swimming, paddling through the rough seas. They say when you are going through hell, to keep going and that is what I am going to do. This time I am going to toss the untruths about myself in the sea. They no longer suit me and only cause me harm.
Eventually these bad feelings will go away and there will be nothing but blue skies and sunshine. I will have a firm foundation built on love so that the next time a storm arrives it will no longer knock me down. I will be safe and dry inside my home.
I once endured a hurricane of a storm and kept myself in that storm for way to long. It is time to step out of that storm, I deserve so much more…
I just have to hold on…