The Next Step
My name is Steve
My father was a violent drunk who hit me with his fists and sticks and locked me in rooms, sometimes for up to a week. I guess that is a form of abuse but I have hardly ever mentioned it in my life. It was just a fact.
I was sexually abused at a boarding school by a member of staff for about two years, 2-3 times a week. So around 300 times. Nobody was counting but let’s say 300
Very thoroughly conditioned and controlled. Once sexualised, I was then abused by other boys who found me a compliant and very obedient sexual partner. A lot of boys. I tried to think of them I could account for 26 regular boys but there were more. They are more like shadows in my head.
My abuser took a lot of photographs of me. Which has always bothered me deeply but it seems pathetic compared with what people are subjected to now. So I rarely mention it.
At the age of 16 & 19 my abuser tracked me down and blackmailed me into returning. Aged 16 it was a large hotel suite for three days and nights. Aged 19 he kept me for a week in the original school until I escaped. He took many more explicit photographs.
When I was 40 I went to the police and made statements and they started an investigation. Their initial enquiries found 21+ boys had been abused by the same man and they had statements referencing other abusers. Due to information they had gathered they were concerned they were likely to uncover an extensive and large pedophile ring.
I was their prime witness and they started to worry about my safety. They asked if I could possibly disappear for a short period. Their comment that swung it for me was that it was easier for the abusers to kill me than it was for them to stand trial.
I had four very long intense therapy sessions. Really just to help me get to grips with a lot of feelings I was going through at the time.
Learnt a lot about abuse and myself and how it had damaged me. Then I went to live in Norway for 3 months, that wasn’t a random decision, I had some very good friends there and I walked in snow and drank coffee and talked to people and stayed safe.
Eventually the police found a boy who had never met me, at the school 8 years apart and abused by the same man. He could provide an almost identical statement, same language, same method, same abuse. They charged the abuser who had a terminal illness and died before he could be taken to court.
In the middle of all this my lawyer had started the process of claiming criminal compensation from a government scheme. The compensation was not a huge amount but we felt the principle should be applied. They stalled and claimed the incidents at aged 16 & 19 were consensual sex (they really weren’t). Resulting in us fighting that principle in court with a very expensive barrister as the concern was that if they won it would shift the law and make future compensation and recognition very difficult. We won and drank large amounts of vodka to celebrate.
I probably suffer from a bit of PTSD, okay maybe more than a bit, and most of the time I try to self-care and stay safe.
I have since spoken about abuse on TV/radio/press and participated in live debates onstage. I have no training or expertise whatsoever, and it makes me panic a bit every time I do it.
Someone on this site has a tag line that goes ‘just because he carries it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy’. The first time I saw that I just stared at it. It has haunted me for days. That describes my adult life well, I would add while walking into a spotlight.
I am currently supporting a boy who when I met him was 15 years old. He was abused at a very young age and has recently walked away from all the abuse. He had his 30th birthday last week. We have been doing this for 15 years.
He had a psychotic incident and ended up in a mental hospital and is currently starting therapy and treatment. He bravely had his first 90 minute therapy session the other day and I cried with relief.
He talks to me a lot about his abuse and what has happened to him. He trusts me and I think it is good practise for therapy so I let him. Feel a little bit out of my depth and at times find it quite harrowing. A few days ago while we were talking about some stuff I was triggered followed by a kind of dissociate lite and I experienced some stuff that I had no idea I remembered.
So I felt I was struggling a bit and that I should find somewhere like this to be with people who would understand. Hopefully.
Hyper-sexual & Hyper-vigilance are two things that have been mentioned and discussed already and I started to recognise and identify things that applied to me in those. Tried to listen and read and understand, struggling to apply it. No idea what I am doing.
I have nightmares about my abuse, more than usual at the moment, broken sleep and not able to get back to sleep for fear of ending up back in the dream. Then very tired because of only getting two hours sleep.
I talked facts to the police. I explained what he did to me using polite medical terms and acceptable language. The facts and a sanitised version of the story. Then I brushed that up and it is what I used until now. Until the week I came here. I came here because I realised I had never told anybody a single thing about the actual abuse.
No detail, no feelings, nothing about touch, feel, smell or taste. Nothing about what it did to me. Nothing about how he used me and trained me. Nothing about what others went on to do. Nothing about the years of dealing with it alone and trying to understand it.
Nothing about dealing with work that put me in front of audiences and all the inner turmoil that caused, Standing in the wings and trying not to dissociate while waiting to go on.
In one of my first deep conversations on this site it dawned on me that all I was doing was keeping the secret. Just what I had been doing since it happened. Staying silent. I don’t trust people but have a growing desire to say something.
I don’t know the words or the language, or where to start on this next bit, I am trying to be brave and every time so far I flounder and panic and stop. I know it’s my problem, nobody else can do it. Just no idea what to do so I am listening and learning and trying. I am trying I promise.
My father was a violent drunk who hit me with his fists and sticks and locked me in rooms, sometimes for up to a week. I guess that is a form of abuse but I have hardly ever mentioned it in my life. It was just a fact.
I was sexually abused at a boarding school by a member of staff for about two years, 2-3 times a week. So around 300 times. Nobody was counting but let’s say 300
Very thoroughly conditioned and controlled. Once sexualised, I was then abused by other boys who found me a compliant and very obedient sexual partner. A lot of boys. I tried to think of them I could account for 26 regular boys but there were more. They are more like shadows in my head.
My abuser took a lot of photographs of me. Which has always bothered me deeply but it seems pathetic compared with what people are subjected to now. So I rarely mention it.
At the age of 16 & 19 my abuser tracked me down and blackmailed me into returning. Aged 16 it was a large hotel suite for three days and nights. Aged 19 he kept me for a week in the original school until I escaped. He took many more explicit photographs.
When I was 40 I went to the police and made statements and they started an investigation. Their initial enquiries found 21+ boys had been abused by the same man and they had statements referencing other abusers. Due to information they had gathered they were concerned they were likely to uncover an extensive and large pedophile ring.
I was their prime witness and they started to worry about my safety. They asked if I could possibly disappear for a short period. Their comment that swung it for me was that it was easier for the abusers to kill me than it was for them to stand trial.
I had four very long intense therapy sessions. Really just to help me get to grips with a lot of feelings I was going through at the time.
Learnt a lot about abuse and myself and how it had damaged me. Then I went to live in Norway for 3 months, that wasn’t a random decision, I had some very good friends there and I walked in snow and drank coffee and talked to people and stayed safe.
Eventually the police found a boy who had never met me, at the school 8 years apart and abused by the same man. He could provide an almost identical statement, same language, same method, same abuse. They charged the abuser who had a terminal illness and died before he could be taken to court.
In the middle of all this my lawyer had started the process of claiming criminal compensation from a government scheme. The compensation was not a huge amount but we felt the principle should be applied. They stalled and claimed the incidents at aged 16 & 19 were consensual sex (they really weren’t). Resulting in us fighting that principle in court with a very expensive barrister as the concern was that if they won it would shift the law and make future compensation and recognition very difficult. We won and drank large amounts of vodka to celebrate.
I probably suffer from a bit of PTSD, okay maybe more than a bit, and most of the time I try to self-care and stay safe.
I have since spoken about abuse on TV/radio/press and participated in live debates onstage. I have no training or expertise whatsoever, and it makes me panic a bit every time I do it.
Someone on this site has a tag line that goes ‘just because he carries it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy’. The first time I saw that I just stared at it. It has haunted me for days. That describes my adult life well, I would add while walking into a spotlight.
I am currently supporting a boy who when I met him was 15 years old. He was abused at a very young age and has recently walked away from all the abuse. He had his 30th birthday last week. We have been doing this for 15 years.
He had a psychotic incident and ended up in a mental hospital and is currently starting therapy and treatment. He bravely had his first 90 minute therapy session the other day and I cried with relief.
He talks to me a lot about his abuse and what has happened to him. He trusts me and I think it is good practise for therapy so I let him. Feel a little bit out of my depth and at times find it quite harrowing. A few days ago while we were talking about some stuff I was triggered followed by a kind of dissociate lite and I experienced some stuff that I had no idea I remembered.
So I felt I was struggling a bit and that I should find somewhere like this to be with people who would understand. Hopefully.
Hyper-sexual & Hyper-vigilance are two things that have been mentioned and discussed already and I started to recognise and identify things that applied to me in those. Tried to listen and read and understand, struggling to apply it. No idea what I am doing.
I have nightmares about my abuse, more than usual at the moment, broken sleep and not able to get back to sleep for fear of ending up back in the dream. Then very tired because of only getting two hours sleep.
I talked facts to the police. I explained what he did to me using polite medical terms and acceptable language. The facts and a sanitised version of the story. Then I brushed that up and it is what I used until now. Until the week I came here. I came here because I realised I had never told anybody a single thing about the actual abuse.
No detail, no feelings, nothing about touch, feel, smell or taste. Nothing about what it did to me. Nothing about how he used me and trained me. Nothing about what others went on to do. Nothing about the years of dealing with it alone and trying to understand it.
Nothing about dealing with work that put me in front of audiences and all the inner turmoil that caused, Standing in the wings and trying not to dissociate while waiting to go on.
In one of my first deep conversations on this site it dawned on me that all I was doing was keeping the secret. Just what I had been doing since it happened. Staying silent. I don’t trust people but have a growing desire to say something.
I don’t know the words or the language, or where to start on this next bit, I am trying to be brave and every time so far I flounder and panic and stop. I know it’s my problem, nobody else can do it. Just no idea what to do so I am listening and learning and trying. I am trying I promise.