"Sort of" abused
melliferal
Registrant
This is going to be a lot of reading; I hope I dont bore anyone Im real long-winded like this. I write as something of a hobby, so whenever I decide to post something I feel strongly about, it ends up reading like a novel. Ive been wanting to vent about this for some time; but until now Ive never had a place where it seemed right or safe. I belong to other forums, and have many friends, in many places, all over the world. I have a large extended family, whom I love, and who love me in return. I have many people to go to with my problems. And yet here I am, at a forum I just joined yesterday, about to tell a bunch of complete strangers a secret that none of my friends or family knows, and maybe never will. Maybe its the anonymity the fact that although Im telling you my most darkest, deepest secret, you have no idea who I really am. Theres no chance of any negative real-life consequences.
I was abused as a child abused in the most technical sense. Right now, thats all I can really hold on to I read and see stories here of people who have been brutalized, raped, violated in terrible ways; these things didnt happen to me, and theres some small, alien voice within me thats trying to convince me that I wasnt quite abused enough to be able to compare myself with the rest of you. In fact, my abuse seems so lightweight its practically trifling in comparison.
Well, lets get it over with. I grew up a military brat; my father was in the Air Force, and we lived on a couple of bases. I live near none of them now, but in the guidelines the mods suggested against giving any specific locations out, so I wont mention any names. In 1991, I was ten years old. In that year, not to long after the war ended, my father was assigned to Panama. It was an unaccompanied tour, meaning that my sister and I would be sent up north to live with our grandmother until he was done down there. But they didnt want to send us in the middle of the school year, so we were placed with a very close friend of my fathers for the remaining few months. He was in the military but lived off-base, and therefore his kids didnt go to the base school, and neither did any of the other kids in that neighborhood, so I didnt know anybody. Still, I made a few friends. There was a boy, my age, and his sister, a year older, whom I befriended. Latchkey kids. I was over their house after school quite often; their mother usually got home an hour or less after I got there; the father some time later. Spent the night nearly every other weekend. Those parents were the coolest people alive. Adults, but they didnt act like adults. I mean, they acted more like friends than authority figures. I always felt completely comfortable there. The only problem I had was on sleepover nights they (the parents) always had the three of us kids take a shower at the same time my sister was a few years older than me, so I was used to bathing alone. But I didnt really have a severe modesty problem so I tolerated it and eventually just became accustomed to it. The biggest mistake in my life thus far, as thats how it started.
Both of the parents occasionally saw us while we were getting ready for a shower. They had videotaped us playing at other times, and since getting ready for a shower translated as playing while getting ready for a shower, they videotaped us sometimes then, too. Maybe its something about nudity, maybe there were other factors I dont immediately recall, but our play eventually became somewhat sexual in nature. We were caught, but not punished; and so what we did became more and more and more- sexual Im not particularly interested in elaborating, Im sure you can understand that. And they continued to tape it. Over the course of I think three months, this happened more often until the showers just didnt happen and we essentially just had sex (inasmuch as people that age are capable), often for that damn camera, and not only on the weekend sleepovers. I did it and kept doing it because I liked- it, and didnt care; it was fun. I didnt tell anybody else about it, because I knew that it was wrong. But my friends mom and dad were cool and wouldnt tell anybody either. It makes me feel so sick to my stomach to write this garbage.
In July of 1991, my sister and I finally left my dads friends family and moved up to our grandmothers house. When I left, I still liked my friends and their parents. But as time went by I heard things and read things and learned things. I grew a little older and wiser and learned of the concept of child pornography and the actual reasons why someone would want to tape kids doing that shit, and it made me sick. I started hating them my friends and their parents both. And I was very afraid what happened to those tapes? Who would see them? I never actually got to watch any of themexactly what did they show? I felt ashamed and angry at myself why did I have to be so stupid? Why didnt I know better? When youre a kid everybody tells you how f*cking smart or bright you are it was all bullshit. I was a total moron. I mean, the self-hating became extreme. Not to the point of injury or worse but it was bad. I gained a lot of weight. I withdrew from people. Id hear kids talking about sex (as early teens do) in the cafeteria, and I would become physically ill. I was really screwed up.
I worked through it on my own, because I could never tell anybody. By the time I became an adult, I realized it wasnt the kids fault, it was solely their parents. But this rage was replaced with guilt, for not telling anybody. What ended up happening to those kids? Who knows how far it went with their parents and I couldve put a stop to it with a word. I continued to never tell anybody this time for fear of being judged an a**hole for not saying anything. When I started using the internet, I vented my rage and guilt into my own campaign against child abuse. Id debate in chat rooms and internet forums. That worked for a while.
About a year and a half ago, one proponent of adult-child sex with whom I was arguing posted a link to an advocate site. I clicked the link, expecting some paper or report, the same things they always link to. But this site was littered with photos photos in which things were obviously taking place, but which were cropped strategically, in order to make them no longer illegal. Look at these kids faces, the site said. Do they look like theyre being hurt, or doing something they dont like? Of course they didnt. It was a common argumentative fallacy, called appeal to emotion. Advocates use it a lot, and Ive argued it in text plenty of times. But the photos stopped me short. My brain misfired maybe that sort of thing is what is referred to as a trigger on this forum? I stared at the computer screen, long after the screensaver came on. I was shocked out of my mind. When I started moving again, I didnt go back and finish the debate. I havent debated or even approached this issue since, until now. I was scared, afraid of whose face I might one day see in one of those linked sites. Afraid that I might betray myself and my cause with my own ignorant smile from a time long gone. Im still messed up.
I was not as badly abused as the majority of you. These adults did not rape me, or molest me. But I feel as if they may as well have. I wont pretend to know how it feels to go through what you went through, but I will say that if it is worse than what I went through (and it must be), then I am humbled by your collective courage. I have a well-balanced exterior, I guess, but nobody except you guys could even come close to understanding what I deal with inside, every day. I guess thats why Im posting this here.
Well, Ive spent so much time typing this stuff out that I suppose I HAVE to post it. Im feeling less sick, but the knots are still there. I hope I will end up feeling better for having told somebody.
I was abused as a child abused in the most technical sense. Right now, thats all I can really hold on to I read and see stories here of people who have been brutalized, raped, violated in terrible ways; these things didnt happen to me, and theres some small, alien voice within me thats trying to convince me that I wasnt quite abused enough to be able to compare myself with the rest of you. In fact, my abuse seems so lightweight its practically trifling in comparison.
Well, lets get it over with. I grew up a military brat; my father was in the Air Force, and we lived on a couple of bases. I live near none of them now, but in the guidelines the mods suggested against giving any specific locations out, so I wont mention any names. In 1991, I was ten years old. In that year, not to long after the war ended, my father was assigned to Panama. It was an unaccompanied tour, meaning that my sister and I would be sent up north to live with our grandmother until he was done down there. But they didnt want to send us in the middle of the school year, so we were placed with a very close friend of my fathers for the remaining few months. He was in the military but lived off-base, and therefore his kids didnt go to the base school, and neither did any of the other kids in that neighborhood, so I didnt know anybody. Still, I made a few friends. There was a boy, my age, and his sister, a year older, whom I befriended. Latchkey kids. I was over their house after school quite often; their mother usually got home an hour or less after I got there; the father some time later. Spent the night nearly every other weekend. Those parents were the coolest people alive. Adults, but they didnt act like adults. I mean, they acted more like friends than authority figures. I always felt completely comfortable there. The only problem I had was on sleepover nights they (the parents) always had the three of us kids take a shower at the same time my sister was a few years older than me, so I was used to bathing alone. But I didnt really have a severe modesty problem so I tolerated it and eventually just became accustomed to it. The biggest mistake in my life thus far, as thats how it started.
Both of the parents occasionally saw us while we were getting ready for a shower. They had videotaped us playing at other times, and since getting ready for a shower translated as playing while getting ready for a shower, they videotaped us sometimes then, too. Maybe its something about nudity, maybe there were other factors I dont immediately recall, but our play eventually became somewhat sexual in nature. We were caught, but not punished; and so what we did became more and more and more- sexual Im not particularly interested in elaborating, Im sure you can understand that. And they continued to tape it. Over the course of I think three months, this happened more often until the showers just didnt happen and we essentially just had sex (inasmuch as people that age are capable), often for that damn camera, and not only on the weekend sleepovers. I did it and kept doing it because I liked- it, and didnt care; it was fun. I didnt tell anybody else about it, because I knew that it was wrong. But my friends mom and dad were cool and wouldnt tell anybody either. It makes me feel so sick to my stomach to write this garbage.
In July of 1991, my sister and I finally left my dads friends family and moved up to our grandmothers house. When I left, I still liked my friends and their parents. But as time went by I heard things and read things and learned things. I grew a little older and wiser and learned of the concept of child pornography and the actual reasons why someone would want to tape kids doing that shit, and it made me sick. I started hating them my friends and their parents both. And I was very afraid what happened to those tapes? Who would see them? I never actually got to watch any of themexactly what did they show? I felt ashamed and angry at myself why did I have to be so stupid? Why didnt I know better? When youre a kid everybody tells you how f*cking smart or bright you are it was all bullshit. I was a total moron. I mean, the self-hating became extreme. Not to the point of injury or worse but it was bad. I gained a lot of weight. I withdrew from people. Id hear kids talking about sex (as early teens do) in the cafeteria, and I would become physically ill. I was really screwed up.
I worked through it on my own, because I could never tell anybody. By the time I became an adult, I realized it wasnt the kids fault, it was solely their parents. But this rage was replaced with guilt, for not telling anybody. What ended up happening to those kids? Who knows how far it went with their parents and I couldve put a stop to it with a word. I continued to never tell anybody this time for fear of being judged an a**hole for not saying anything. When I started using the internet, I vented my rage and guilt into my own campaign against child abuse. Id debate in chat rooms and internet forums. That worked for a while.
About a year and a half ago, one proponent of adult-child sex with whom I was arguing posted a link to an advocate site. I clicked the link, expecting some paper or report, the same things they always link to. But this site was littered with photos photos in which things were obviously taking place, but which were cropped strategically, in order to make them no longer illegal. Look at these kids faces, the site said. Do they look like theyre being hurt, or doing something they dont like? Of course they didnt. It was a common argumentative fallacy, called appeal to emotion. Advocates use it a lot, and Ive argued it in text plenty of times. But the photos stopped me short. My brain misfired maybe that sort of thing is what is referred to as a trigger on this forum? I stared at the computer screen, long after the screensaver came on. I was shocked out of my mind. When I started moving again, I didnt go back and finish the debate. I havent debated or even approached this issue since, until now. I was scared, afraid of whose face I might one day see in one of those linked sites. Afraid that I might betray myself and my cause with my own ignorant smile from a time long gone. Im still messed up.
I was not as badly abused as the majority of you. These adults did not rape me, or molest me. But I feel as if they may as well have. I wont pretend to know how it feels to go through what you went through, but I will say that if it is worse than what I went through (and it must be), then I am humbled by your collective courage. I have a well-balanced exterior, I guess, but nobody except you guys could even come close to understanding what I deal with inside, every day. I guess thats why Im posting this here.
Well, Ive spent so much time typing this stuff out that I suppose I HAVE to post it. Im feeling less sick, but the knots are still there. I hope I will end up feeling better for having told somebody.
