Each Survivors Story Is Different

(The following is an account of what this survivor has survived. This is for an adult reader as it will be graphic. This is not for minors to read.)

My earliest memories of the first place I lived was in a small upstairs apartment in the town where I grew up. I remember my mother carrying me up the white rickety painted stairs with me almost hanging over the edge of the stairs. It was the winter time. I even remember thinking we were not well off to be living in such a place. Often times many people have told me they do not believe me and my memories as they go back to when I was in my mothers womb. There is no physical memory of sexual abuse there but I do remember my father and a man standing over my crib while the man was explaining that I would not remember anything that occurred. Even if there were no conscious memories, we as people still have "body memories".  We did not live there for very long.

The second place that my family lived was in house that was turned into a two apartments. We lived on the main floor of the house. I only have two memories of this place. One memory was that I was in the yard on a blanket and it was a very hot day. My mother went into the house for something as I rested on the blanket. I was the second born so I do not remember where my older sister was at the time. I woke from a little nap and because I was over heated I crawled to a bush and fell asleep under the shade of that bush. I woke up the sound of sirens of a police car as it pulled up. I was given a sound spanking by my mother as I had put her in a panic. I was angry that I was left in such an uncomfortable place and that I was over heated.

The other memory was of myself in my parents dining room. My father was to change my diaper. I was half asleep when my father was changing my diaper. I felt an incredible sensation to my anus. It was his tongue. He was rimming me. The sensation became more and more intense and then their was an explosion. Can you imagine an orgasm that an infant would have? From its place of origin it travels up the spine and explodes in the brain. It caused an immediate head ache that pounded and throbbed. My mother came into the dining room to find my father had stepped back in shock and she picked me up to comfort me. My father came near and I swung at him with my little fist. I knew he was the instigator of this pain. Being an animal we do have a sense of smell early on. There was no one else who could have done this.

So....two different houses were made unsafe at the hands of my father. I was from that point on lethargic and irritable. I existed and not much more. I was very sad as a child. Always.

When I was around two and a half my father brought me to a professional building in the downtown of the town I grew up at. This was to be quality father and son time. He took me into the basement of the building. It was more a garden level place. My father took me into a room and helped me undress. There was a camera on a tripod set up and my father went over to the man behind the camera and made sure there was to me no touching. After my father had this short talk he disappeared. The room was filled with many naked children. I would say around 15 children. We were to play with the many balls that were in the room as he took pictures. I didn't think this was right so after a short time I gathered up my clothes and left. I walked out the door and went to the right down a long hallway. At the end of the hall there were 3 or 4 steps and then a door with a square window on the upper part of the door. I went out that door and sat on the cement stoop there with my clothes folded on my lap. I waited there for what was maybe 5 minutes. There were bushes on either side of the stoop so no one saw me but I could hear a pretty busy road to my right with many cars passing by. My father came out of the building and grabbed me and took me to the left around the side of the building away from the traffic to help me put my clothes back on. We left and he was furious with me. I was happy to be just with him and I was looking forward to going someplace with just him so we could spend that father/son time together. That did not happen. He took me home. I do not remember if he left the family house to go back or not. Years later I put a word on this experience and it was Child Pornography.

*Another realization [February 2015] is that my father and the other fathers of all the children in the basement of the professional building were most likely in another room raping a small boy or girl.  I believe I dodged a bullet.   I am perplexed as to how to find others who remember being there with me. 

The third and final house where my family lived was in the same general area of the first two places. They bought this place and at first it was very exciting. It was a pretty large house. Three bedrooms upstairs, a living room that spanned the entire length of the main floor, a dining room, kitchen and bathroom also on that floor and a large front porch with many windows that would be put away and replaced with screens during the warmer months. I remember my parents had rented a steamer to get rid of the wallpaper covering the walls in the upstairs rooms. They would work at a section of the wall and instruct myself or my older sister to grab a corner of the wallpaper and pull as we gleefully ran across the room. Large sections of the paper would come off and I remember the echos of laughter in the empty room as we helped.

I had a strong love of my siblings back then and it was fun to interact with them. When ever there was a picture taken I would glance at my siblings just as the picture was snapped. I was going to start a tradition. When a person looked back at the documentation of my family they were going to see that I was always looking at my siblings. That tradition was interrupted when I lost myself in the confusion of what I was experiencing. The actual experience was when I woke up with my fathers penis in my mouth. He was sitting on the toilet with his hand on the back of my head. I pushed with my right hand at where his left leg connects to his body and said, "No Daddy!" My heart sank and I began to cry. This home was no longer safe and no longer a home. It was a house. There is a belief in the pedophile community that children will not remember things that happen to them when they are asleep. This is not true. There are "body memories" and while you may not remember things consciously your body WILL remember. You may not ever remember as I do not remember but to this day I will never be aroused sexually when laying on my back. How could I remember what happened as I was asleep. There is no other explanation to why I will never be aroused sexually when laying on my back. What happened next was that I began to shut down. Emotionally and spiritually. I withdrew more and more from all my family. The relationships just forming with my siblings ceased to grow. Have you ever heard you should not disturb a nest as the mother and others will reject the bird or animal that was disturbed? Why do you think that is? I believe the same thing happens when you disturb a nest of a child. I can not communicate what has happened. I do not have the words. I would shy away from my father from that day on. If we were to cross the street he would want to hold my hand. I did not want to hold his hand. What would he do next. I would stay away from him in the family house. I remember him saying shortly after the bathroom incident when I again avoided him, "Oh, you don't want me." And no I didn't. My mother even took my aside and asked me, "Why don't like daddy?" "I like daddy." I lied. What else would I say? What else could I say? Each time something would happen to me.....and I believe to any child that was touched or molested that child would bury the experience. There is no possible way a child is equipped to deal with such things. I cried a great deal. I was experiencing my emotions shutting down. I was not to feel love from any of these people for years. I remember my little sister ( by then there were two more siblings) saying to my mother, "He's crying again!" It was said in such a way that you could tell she was sick of hearing me cry. This is where my siblings shied away from me more and more. I was forced to not cry. If I cried I would be punished and have to spend time on my own. My mother took us to a Disney movie and I told myself that I would not cry. I somehow knew that there would be scary things in the movie. But it wouldn't take much for me to cry anyway. I could not control myself and I cried horribly. I was taken out of the movie and I believe I was the reason we all had to leave the theatre. It wasn't until many years later that I realized that for many years my siblings were taken to movies and other events that I would not be involved in just because I could not control my tears. I missed out on much.

I do not recall how old I was when my family want to a farm on my father side for a gathering.

I was told to go out and find some of the other kids to play. I went outside and looked around and finally found a small group of kids but a trusted friend was doing some very adult things with the kids. He was getting oral sex from one of the kids. This trusted friend had two of the kids hold my hands and pull my arms outward as he stood and fed me his penis. I might have been four years old. I did not resist and he went to the next step and had me undo my pants and had me lay down on my stomach. I told him I was afraid but he said he would just put "it" up to the entrance. He lunged forward and shoved it in. I yelled in pain. He took his right hand and covered my mouth. I bit down. I bit down and would not let go until he got off me but in my terror I kept my mouth clamped to the middle of his palm. He continued to hit me with his other hand until I finally let his hand go. I lay there crying and in shock. A cousin was instructed to get a wash cloth and clean me up. He did. I was calmed down by my cousin and got my clothes back on and walked up to the house. When I was close to the door of the house I as a little child said, "I'm gonna tell!" He panicked and ran after me. I was dodging him as I ducked under the legs of the adults in the house and they intervened trying to find out what had happened. The trusted friend told them that I had bit him. I was asked why I had bit him and I told them that he hurt me. He explained that he had "spanked me". I was made to apologize to him. My heart sank again. Is this what life was all about? There was a definite pattern that I had experienced from an early age and it seemed to continue where ever I was. I guess that all children have these experiences and that's just how it was!

When I was in first grade I would go to each of the four rooms on the main floor of the school before classes began and have a little visit with each teacher. I enjoyed the morning routine and built some nice friendships with the elders I respected. During the summer after my first grade I and my brother were taken to the country to a relatives house for a weekend while my sisters were taken to another relatives house from my mothers side of the family. The parents of the relations my brother and I were at were not there. I am not sure where they were. A trusted family friend was there to babysit for the weekend. The family friend had a party. It was around time for bed time and this trusted friend told me I was going to be in the "Big Boys Room". It was a party with lots of young boys, late teens to mid twenty's. There was lots of beer and brandy shots and marijuana. At 6 years they got me drunk, high on marijuana and passed me around. I orally served many young men that night. I have no idea the number but it went on all night. When I was allowed to sleep I do remember the "trusted friend" speaking with someone and saying, "Watch this." The trusted friend put a finger to my mouth and they watched as my mouth formed an "O" ready for what they wanted to do to me next.

There were many games they played with me. I was blindfolded and was told to remember who's penis was in my mouth. Each guess I made was wrong and that meant I was to keep guessing and keep orally serving. When someone reached an orgasm and shot his sperm in my mouth I questioned what it was. The trusted friend told me,"It's good for you." I believe there was photography. More child pornography.

I remember clearly that I died at that party, literally. I was being made to orally service a man who got very excited and was literally holding the back of my head as he stood there with his penis impaled in my mouth and down my throat. My legs were dangling and my feet were hitting his legs just below the knees. I was struggling to breath and push him away but to no avail. I remember myself choking and I just faded away. All went a light gray as I drifted off and left my body. I found myself in what appeared to be a room shaped like a capsule. It was a light whitish pink but had no solid form. There was someone there and I went to them and tried to hug them. This entity put a hand out and held be back. Another entity showed up very quickly and held me and told me that I had to make a decision whether I wanted to leave earth or to cross over. I told them I didn't know and needed time to make up my mind. I was told I had 15 minutes to decide and if I took any more time that if I went back any later that I would be mentally impaired. I was also told to look into three portholes that were on the side of this capsule shaped room to look at different scenes of my life to come to help me decide. I looked and I believe I only looked at some good things that I would do. I decided to come back. I knew in that state of limbo that I had chosen all the things that I was living through and that the challenges I faced were challenges I had placed before myself. I wanted to be strong and continue. I went back. I remember waking up with a big gasp air that I took in as I reentered my body. I was laying in the arms of the trusted friend and his heart was pounding so strongly that I could both feel and hear it. The room was empty. They had all cleared out. It was eerily quite. I was put to bed. The next day I could not get up as I felt horrible and had a splitting headache. It was my first hang over. I was forced to get out of bed and ended up cowering in the corner of the kitchen. The trusted friend would not let me have any food. I remember him saying, "Your just lucky you didn't die!" "I did die" I retorted. I do not remember much more about the weekend. I did ask to leave but I was not able to. When my parents showed up I had to thank him for the weekend.

I did very poorly in school especially from second grade on. I was consumed with emotions I could not understand especially when I had no actions that I remembered to tie then to those emotions. My grades were very bad. I was very antisocial and spent very little time with others. When it was time to go to the playground I would go and sit on the steps of the old high school that was on the edge of the grounds. I would sit and lean up against the round metal railing that was part of the stairs and tap on the railing or use a rubber band to make sounds that went directly into my ear. I thought of it as a kind of music and an escape. Different teachers were always after me to join in with the other kids but I was very resistant. It took months for me to do anything with them. The same thing would happen with the neighborhood kids and even with relatives at family gatherings. It was less difficult for me to join in on my mothers side of the family.

As I grew up I always had a plan of defense against my father even though I didn't know why I did. We had a rotisserie grill we used in the summer. I always took the long metal pole that went into the grill and put it in a hiding place in the basement. If I needed it I could retrieve it to defend myself. He did not give me a reason to use it.

When I was 13 years old my parents decided to remodel their house. The kitchen and living rooms were moved into the basement. We slept upstairs and spent the rest of the time in the basement as the remodeling was taking place. Right after the remodeling things changed. It was like a light switch was flicked and all seemed fine. The house was different and I no longer felt left out. I got along with my siblings and parents better. I felt loved for the first time at age 13. I didn't know why. I figured that out many years later. To feel loved for the first time was a huge thing. I cried and cried just because it was a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. My siblings could not understand but I would have to hide and just release tears. It was crying for joy! I finally felt that I belonged but it didn't help with building any long lasting relationships with my siblings. They were very distrusting of me from many years of irritability I showed them throughout the years. The good times were short lived. It lasted all of three years. I had begun experimenting sexually at the age of 4 or 5 with another neighbor boy my own age and when we went to different high schools it was a kind of breaking up. His family built a house in the country and it was a pretty clean and sudden break. I was very depressed. I could not speak with anyone about this. One day my father came to me and asked me if I wanted oral sex. I was confused and asked him from who from even asking him if it was from him. He said no but he could not tell me from whom it would be. I agreed as I always tried to please my father and I thought it was something he wanted to I went along with it. He had me lay on my parents bed with my legs over the edge of the bed. He took a comforter and folded it over my head and down to my waist. Someone literally came out of the closet and knelt down and began to orally stimulate me. I was excited for a few minutes but freaked out and lost my erection. The man on his knees tried to penetrate my anus with his finger and my father pulled his hand away. My father could tell I was not enjoying what was happening and stopped the man. He retreated back to the hiding place and helped me up. I was very confused. My father asked me if I was alright and I lied and said that I was. I left my parents bedroom.

Growing up Catholic I was involved in being an alter boy. One year a visiting priest was there who would always help us put our cassocks on. He would be feeling us up and it made me uncomfortable. I told him time and time again I did not need help. When the main priest was there for mass the next time I was an alter boy I looked him straight in the eye and asked, "Are you going to help us on with our cassocks too?" He looked at me and asked us how long has this been happening? I replied, "Two weeks." I'll have a talk with him! Was the main priests response. The visiting priest called me on the phone and asked me if religion was just a phase with me. I called the main priest and told him that as long as the visiting priest was there I was not going to step foot in that church.

I went to another Catholic Church about 2 miles away. The church my family went to was 2 blocks away. I was happy to walk the 2 miles to the other church. I joined the litergy comittee and volunteered in other things like surving the thanksgiving meal for people who had no place else to go. I felt I belonged. I was one of those people. Unforutnaltely that was short lived as the preist there tackled me in his living room and I ended up having a short sexual thing with him. I soon left there as well. I was through with the Catholic faith. I had refused to be confirmed when I was in eigth grade and I believe it was one of the best deceisions of my life.

The insodent that happened in my parents bedroom was as if the light switch was switched again. It was just as it was when I was an infant and young child. I had panick attacks and was again very irritable. My father had made sure that each and every house I lived in was unsafe and he did it twice in the last house I lived in!

Just before I went into my first year of high school I ran away. I didn't even know why I ran away. Not at the time anyway. Looking back I know the reason was that there was a flood of emotions that came to me. Emotions without memories. Emotions I could not connect with anything. I was very angry. Ragefull. I did not want anything to do with my father. I was jealous of my younger sister as she had a very close relationship with my father. I didn't understand it. I was not away from my family for very long. Only one night, or the better part of one night. When I did come home my older sister confronted me and berated me as to how I could do such a thing to my parents and family. I did everything to stay away from my family.

I asked my parents if I could have my bedroom in the basement. I could not. I never went to the farm were all the abuse happend. I did go to my mothers side of the family. They were safe.

When it came time for high school I joined everything I could just to be able to be away from my family. I excelled in most things I joined in. I was in choir, theater club and very active in the art department. My 2 siblings who were in high school at the same time as me were jealous as many people would tell them how talented I was in all those fields.

I wanted to move out of my parents house when I was in high school. I wanted to go to foster care. My parents told me that if I did that they would not help me with college. I had years ago wanted to go to public school and have my parents put the $400.00 dollars a year they spent on my Catholic grade school into a college fund. They would not allow me to do this. I relented once again and told my parents that, "I would take the bribe and stay." Years later there was little help with my short lived college experience.

When I did move away to the big city I did go to college and found work and community theatre to occupy my time. When I was 27 years old I had a confrontation with a former room mate who had moved out but broke into my apartment early in the morning by crawling into my kitchen window on the third floor of the building. He woke me from a sound sleep and I was tramatized. Shortly there after I had a flood of memories that filled my mind. I tried to speak with my parents about this and my fathers immediate responce was, "It didn't happen!" I was in shock! Why would you say that?

Why didn't you tell us when all this was happening? Why do you bring this up now? Why do you have to live in the past? You change your story every time you talk about it!

How is an infant or child going to explain this to you? If I am bringing it up now it is only because I am rembering it now! Dealing with the past and addressing it is NOT living in the past! I have never changed my story. My story grows when I have more and more memories of what I have survived as an infant and child.

In the first post of this blog I explained I tried to speak with the matriarch of the family. My fathers sister who WAS a sister aka Bride of Christ. She was also a teacher and I thought what better person to speak with than a strong woman who was very educated. Not gonna happen.

I wrote my father a long letter and outlined all my memories including what I remembered of his involvment. I called some of what happened "father/son outings" and didn't pull any punches. That is what I learned from him! I finished the letter with the same words he had said to me. And about you being my father? IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!

This was the begining of the end as far as my contact with my family/relatives. There are certain boundries that once you cross them you can not cross back. An example of that is when you are a virgin. Once you cross that boundry you are no longer a virgin. Once you cross the boundry and place your penis in your childs mouth you no longer get to have that label of Dad, Father, Papa or what ever your family calls the male half of your parents. You are called a pedophile, at least from the person you violated.



*It is October 9th 2012.

                     (Note Sent)

• • Hello *****, I have been reluctant to ask you about this but I feel I must. I wonder if you knew that (your former husband)  and my father knew each other. It was around the time that I had a very big crush on (your daughter) and I was speaking with my family in a kitchen conversation. My father stated that "I don't like that guy" about your former husband. I pressed my father for more information as to why and he refused to answer. I believe that I met your former husband when I was an infant.
    I have a blog that I have kept for 2 years. I don't want to interfere but I would like to know if you knew of their relationship. Thanks.
• 
  

            (Response from Note)

  • Sorry, I have no information whatsoever on that. I do know that Bob liked you, but nothing about your father ever came up. Love, *****

I recently sent this note  to a friend of mine.  This friend was the wife of a man who my father knew when I was an infant and I believe was active in molesting me with my father.  The woman in question is a very educated person with a college degree and "just for fun" she went back to college to finish yet another degree and she "Passed the Bar" to become a lawyer.  She was in her late 60's at the time.  My mother was largely uneducated.  She went to a Catholic High School only by working in the kitchen to pay some of the way.  She did not have very good grades and did not pursue further education after high school.  The point is that being the wife of a pedophile crosses all levels of socio educational and economical back rounds.