30 Years Later

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Testimony by Anonymous

I think in my 20’s and 30’s there was always a shadow of the memory in the back of my head.

You know, like a quick mental picture, then it sinks back down. In my 40’s I went through a really tough time (considered suicide actually), A REALLY ROUGH TIME. But that’s another confession. These stressful times caused this memory to violently surface. A therapist said this is a common age for things of this nature to surface.

I don’t remember my actual age, 9 to 11, perhaps. A man (I know who he is) is in a shower with me and washing my back. And then I am washing his back and then his front. I am using a wash cloth on his penis and he tells me to make sure it’s really clean.

Now I’m sitting on his bed as he rolls pantyhose up my legs. We are camping in his back yard and he says this will keeps us nice and warm. he stands me up and pulls them up to my waist and his hands linger on my ass. His fingers slip into the waist band and slides around to the front, pulling the band down and under my penis and balls, then he kisses my penis and takes it into his mouth and begins sucking. This has never happened and I’m scared and at the same time it feels good. I can’t move.

I don’t know what is happening but soon I am cumming in his mouth, it feels good and hurts at the same time. Now he stands up and turns us around so he is sitting on the edge of the bed.

I am still scared, but I let him pull me close and kiss me then push me to the floor as he opens his robe. He takes my hand and uses it to rub his cock to life. It’s right there in front of me and he tells me to kiss it and I do. Then he tells me to open my mouth and I do.

He still has my hand in his and is now squeezing his hand over mine to grip his penis harder and we begin to stroke it. He has one hand on top of my head and I am scared and its hard to breathe.

Something splashes into my mouth and I am scared, thinking that he’s peeing, but then it’s not like that. He tells me to suck it all down. He lets go of my head and hand, and he lays back

on the bed. I’m still kneeling there when he says to go get a drink and get dressed, we have to go put the tent up. I remember thinking, this has to be ok, mom just dropped me off a while ago. I cant call her and say come get me. Her and dad were going somewhere. I don’t have anywhere to go. He then says he bought me a new scouting flashlight, one I wanted but couldn’t afford. I like the flashlight and finish getting dressed and then we go set up the tent.

I went back, I don’t know why. That’s what hurts me more than anything. Why would you go back after the first time. It was another backyard campout. There were supposed to be other boys
there.

The shower again, washing my penis, then making me wash his. It seemed like a dream like I was watching me do it. My hands didn’t feel like they were attached to me.

Drying me off with a large towel, now I knew no one else was spending the night.

I was led to the bed were he again put pantyhose on me and had me stand up. His hands were moving up and down my legs, touching my butt.

Turning me to face him, he put something soft over my head. I didn’t know what is was, looking back, I realize it was a girls slip.

Again his hands roamed over me. And again he laid me back on
the bed and took my penis into his mouth. I was scared again because it felt good. I didn’t know.

I came soon and he pulled the hose back up, to cover me. I knew what was next. I could feel myself drop to my knees and his hands grabbed my head and forced my mouth onto his penis. I tried to think of anything else, but I could only feel his hands pulling my hair.

But then he stopped and stood up. I just knelt there. He came up behind me and pulled me up.

Hugged me from behind and then bent me over the bed. He pulled the hose down to my knees, and he stepped up and his hands grabbed my ass and I felt him stick a finger into me. It must have been well lubed because it went in before I could protest.

Then he was moving it in and out with his other arm on my back. I couldn’t move. Suddenly he was off me and I was empty, but just as quickly he put his penis inside me.

His hands grabbing my hips and pressing down on top of me. It was hurting my ass, but he didn’t stop. Grunting and breathing heavy, he came and lay on me for a moment. I cried that I couldn’t breath, and he finally got off, and told me to get those clothes off and get back in the shower.

He wasn’t nice like the first time. He was mad at me. I did something wrong. I showered. And then he made me sleep outside in the tent by myself. I don’t remember sleeping. I was worried why he was mad at me this time.

I remember 3 other times, I don’t want to tell anymore right now. I don’t know why I went back. I don’t remember any threats or blackmail type stuff. I don’t remember anything else that summer.

I went to therapy for a couple of months around my 40th birthday. She helped me see that even though it took 30 years to remember, it was still there, eating at me. I have never liked being in large groups. I don’t like to be touched and I hated holding my wife’s hand. I almost never initiated sex,

and would usually just tell her no, not tonight. I would masturbate regularly, but would often involve some aspect of pain. Such as clothes pins on my nipples or cord wrapped around
my testicles with slight weights.

I was, am married. For 17 years, lived together for over twenty. She never knew, heck I didn’t know. All she knew was that I didn’t want to have sex with her. I totally killed her self esteem. When she asked and I said no…I knew she would cry herself to sleep. I would lay there in the dark, wondering what was wrong with me, what kind of asshole doesn’t want to fuck his wife.

Eventually she found someone else. Someone who desired her. I found out, and some other things were happening in my life, so the stress was off the charts. Then my fleeting images of being in a shower evolved in to full fledged nightmares.

I can’t really blame her. I pushed her away for so long. It’s my fault. We are still together, but I don’t trust her. We have good days and bad days.

After Thanksgiving, 2012, we were talking on the phone while I was at work just before lunch.

I was happy and things were going ok. After lunch she just happened to call back and I was crying. In a complete reversal in less than 35 minutes, I was scared and panicking. I wanted to run and hide. I was literally under my desk crying and talking to her. She was scared and wanted to come get me, but it’s an hour drive to work. I told her I would sneak outside and let the cold air and sunshine work it out of me.

I was scared, but realized I had been having these little panic attacks for a long time. This one just the most severe and quickly forming. I went to the doctor, I had only told my therapist and wife what had happened. Now, I was about to tell a new male doctor, my previous doctor having been a woman, how I had been sexually abused. Telling a man what happened scared me very much, but my wife went with me to hold my hand, so to speak. He prescribed some anxiety medicine, and something for PTSD. These helped smooth out my moods swings. Bumpy sidewalks now, instead of roller coasters out of no where.

7 thoughts on “30 Years Later

  1. It breaks my heart that you went through, and are continuing to struggle with, all this. My childhood sexual abuse colored my entire adolescence and young adulthood, but it didn’t really catch up with me until I was 36 years old, and I could finally recognize and name what had happened to me. I was deeply depressed and intermittently suicidal, but at least my instinct steered me right, and I told my darling husband, who helped me survive the pain and self-hatred. He said something to me that I held onto like a magic talisman: “Now that you have named the beast, it no longer has any power over you. YOU NEVER DID ANYTHING WRONG.” It took a long time for that to feel true, but with his help, a trusted therapist’s help, appropriate medication, and the support of a few close friends whom I could tell, that beast finally DID lose all power over me.

    I’m so glad you’ve broken the silence and shared this with important people in your life. Hang in there and keep working on it. Someday the nightmare you suffered as a young boy will take its place in your life as just PART of your story, and it won’t define every moment of your existence. My thoughts and hopes for healing are with you.

  2. I am terribly sorry and very angry. But I am happy you are now getting help and wish you all the best.

  3. I am so very, very sorry. You were just a little boy.

    Perhaps you went back because you were hoping it would just not be real.

  4. I still don’t know why I would go back but what I do know is I wanted to feel loved an wanted. Mixed up for sure but just a little kid who couldn’t know there are those who take advantage of that. Just a kid, you and I deserved better, much better. And now we can give better to ourselves. Thanks for sharing. For some reason it was the most empowering of my reading. We can do that for the others as well as ourselves I guess. I am grateful.

  5. I just wanted to thank you for sharing. I was abused by a parent and I always used to wonder why I didn’t ever run away successfully or tell someone. But kids don’t think logically and aren’t emotionally mature enough to deal with trauma like that. As much as you can look back now and think, “obviously I shouldn’t have gone back,” your kid self can’t be held to the same standard as you hold your adult self. That’s a hard thing to accept, but I think it’s true. I hope that you are getting the help you deserve.

  6. I didn’t get my first memory until I was 36. It is so hard to understand how I lived so long without consciously knowing about my abuse. Once you realize what happened to you, it can get better though. Trust that it can get better.

    • @Elisabeth. Thank you for commenting, as children we think we are alone, but we are not. we don’t know they scope of abuse, so we keep it to ourselves and sometimes just bury it. I have a few questions if you don’t mind. Do you see any connections to your personality or behavior from your abuse, even though you didn’t remember it till you were 36? Like I mentioned, I never liked large groups, and intimacy was a problem.

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