10-23-2019, 03:54 PM
I guess I will start out this forum. When I was in the 4th grade, I was raped by one of the boy's I wrote about in "The games we played." The boy I identified as "Randy" was about 3-4 years older than me. (He had been held back in school a couple of times, so I'm not exactly sure of his age.)
While we weren't the best of friends, he would still occasionally hang out with me and my friends. He started doing this when he saw us playing knives. (I guess it was a turn-on for him.)
Hanging around with an older kid was kinda cool. It made me feel safe because there was someone who could protect me. One day, it was just him and I alone in my basement. At first we were playing, but apparently, he got too excited and (to make a long story short), raped me on the floor. I can't even explain how much it hurt and how much I cried, but this just seemed to get him more excited until he "finished".
I never felt so hurt, betrayed, ashamed. I wanted so bad for him to go away, but yet, I didn't want to lose his friendship. As a young boy, I never understood exactly what I was feeling. I had never really been "attracted" to boys up until this point. I had always like girls (You know, the whole boobs thing.) Sure, I was "excited" with playing knives with the other boys, but I didn't see it as anything sexual. I just saw the erections as normal when you get excited about things. I was very confused.
A few days later, Randy and I were alone again. He wanted to talk about what had happened. We went into his garage. He had noticed that I had been avoiding him. He told me he didn't mean to hurt me and wanted to "make it up" to me. He then jerked me off. I honestly didn't particularly like this, as I saw it as him still not respecting my personal boundaries (though I didn't know how to explain it at the time.) But at least this time, he wasn't hurting me.
He did make me promise not to tell. (Not that it mattered, I was too ashamed to tell anyone. Plus, I was afraid others would label me as "gay" and I didn't want that.
Long and short, he molested me off-and-on for the next few years until I moved out of town. I began to question a lot. I asked him if this made us "gay". He told me it didn't because we were just "fooling around." I kinda accepted that. It was the summer after my seventh grade year when It was finally over.
I'll be honest, I hated him so bad. I had once seen him as a friend and that seemed to hurt more than anything. I had difficulty making friends at my new school. I was more isolated, depressed and kept to myself. I even came extremely close to suicide at one point.
I struggled with my sexuality afterwards and saw myself as having somehow been responsible for what happened. I had even convinced myself that I had wanted it. It was until my adult life, studying psychology and learning about therapy that I actually understood what was going on.
I was finally able to accept what had happened to me and that it wasn't my fault. I understood that I didn't need to apply a label. I wasn't gay. I wasn't bi. I wasn't straight. I was just me. I quit seeing myself as a victim of what had happened and started seeing myself as a survivor of what happened and that made a world of difference in my life.
But the most difficult thing I had to do was to forgive Randy. It took me quite some time. It wasn't until I got a job working with juvenile sex offenders that I finally understood that world from Randy's point of view. I finally understood that he was just a "dumb kid" when it happened. He didn't know what he was doing any better than I.
I realized that he didn't purposely mean to hurt me or cause me this life-long trauma. He didn't know there were any long-term consequences. I was just acting on his emotions at the time. I also started thinking about his family. Odds were, he was probably being molested as well. He had very few friends, he was held back a few times in school, so there were some learning issues. I began to feel sorry for him.
The honest truth is, we can all overcome past trauma. Randy is now a productive adult (and not some serial rapist). He matured and grew up to contain his emotions. He is now married and has kids (though we don't keep in touch at all, I have occasionally seen him around.)
As for me, I turned my weakness into a strength and now work helping troubled teens overcome their traumatic experiences. While I would wish no one else to have to experience what I went through, particularly the mental anguish, I am inwardly glad it happened. From a religious perspective, you can say that God allowed me to pass through the fire so that I could come out stronger on the other end.
For those who have gone through the same fire, I wish you all God-speed in your recovery and can assure you that you, too, can overcome.
While we weren't the best of friends, he would still occasionally hang out with me and my friends. He started doing this when he saw us playing knives. (I guess it was a turn-on for him.)
Hanging around with an older kid was kinda cool. It made me feel safe because there was someone who could protect me. One day, it was just him and I alone in my basement. At first we were playing, but apparently, he got too excited and (to make a long story short), raped me on the floor. I can't even explain how much it hurt and how much I cried, but this just seemed to get him more excited until he "finished".
I never felt so hurt, betrayed, ashamed. I wanted so bad for him to go away, but yet, I didn't want to lose his friendship. As a young boy, I never understood exactly what I was feeling. I had never really been "attracted" to boys up until this point. I had always like girls (You know, the whole boobs thing.) Sure, I was "excited" with playing knives with the other boys, but I didn't see it as anything sexual. I just saw the erections as normal when you get excited about things. I was very confused.
A few days later, Randy and I were alone again. He wanted to talk about what had happened. We went into his garage. He had noticed that I had been avoiding him. He told me he didn't mean to hurt me and wanted to "make it up" to me. He then jerked me off. I honestly didn't particularly like this, as I saw it as him still not respecting my personal boundaries (though I didn't know how to explain it at the time.) But at least this time, he wasn't hurting me.
He did make me promise not to tell. (Not that it mattered, I was too ashamed to tell anyone. Plus, I was afraid others would label me as "gay" and I didn't want that.
Long and short, he molested me off-and-on for the next few years until I moved out of town. I began to question a lot. I asked him if this made us "gay". He told me it didn't because we were just "fooling around." I kinda accepted that. It was the summer after my seventh grade year when It was finally over.
I'll be honest, I hated him so bad. I had once seen him as a friend and that seemed to hurt more than anything. I had difficulty making friends at my new school. I was more isolated, depressed and kept to myself. I even came extremely close to suicide at one point.
I struggled with my sexuality afterwards and saw myself as having somehow been responsible for what happened. I had even convinced myself that I had wanted it. It was until my adult life, studying psychology and learning about therapy that I actually understood what was going on.
I was finally able to accept what had happened to me and that it wasn't my fault. I understood that I didn't need to apply a label. I wasn't gay. I wasn't bi. I wasn't straight. I was just me. I quit seeing myself as a victim of what had happened and started seeing myself as a survivor of what happened and that made a world of difference in my life.
But the most difficult thing I had to do was to forgive Randy. It took me quite some time. It wasn't until I got a job working with juvenile sex offenders that I finally understood that world from Randy's point of view. I finally understood that he was just a "dumb kid" when it happened. He didn't know what he was doing any better than I.
I realized that he didn't purposely mean to hurt me or cause me this life-long trauma. He didn't know there were any long-term consequences. I was just acting on his emotions at the time. I also started thinking about his family. Odds were, he was probably being molested as well. He had very few friends, he was held back a few times in school, so there were some learning issues. I began to feel sorry for him.
The honest truth is, we can all overcome past trauma. Randy is now a productive adult (and not some serial rapist). He matured and grew up to contain his emotions. He is now married and has kids (though we don't keep in touch at all, I have occasionally seen him around.)
As for me, I turned my weakness into a strength and now work helping troubled teens overcome their traumatic experiences. While I would wish no one else to have to experience what I went through, particularly the mental anguish, I am inwardly glad it happened. From a religious perspective, you can say that God allowed me to pass through the fire so that I could come out stronger on the other end.
For those who have gone through the same fire, I wish you all God-speed in your recovery and can assure you that you, too, can overcome.