It happened to me and my brother. I was five when it started. He was my Uncle. He said it was o.k, I knew it wasn’t right but it didn’t occur to me to think I could stop him. He used to fondle me and fool around. I was never raped, not then.
As a teenager I was very punky, and alternative. Real angry and it came out. By 18 I was psyching out on alcohol, drinking 5 days out of 7… aggro as hell… breaking stuff…hurting myself with razors and knives.
About this time and drunk out of my head, I was picked up by a couple of guys. They took me out of town, raped me, took me back into town and dumped me on the road – with my pants down.
That affected me more than the sexual abuse. I felt they’d wrecked my life. One night I couldn’t stand it anymore. I began trashing the place in which I was living. My sister arrived, tried to help and I ended up breaking down and telling her what had happened – all of it. It was the beginning of telling someone my awful secrets. It was the beginning of my healing.
I want young males to have the opportunity to heal sooner – it’s their right for that to happen. Life doesn’t have to be shit – no one knows how you’re feeling ’til you tell them.