the hubbub

The hubbub

*****WARNING COULD BE TRIGGERING*******

Not sure if anyone of you remember the TV show (US) ER. The actor that played Dr. Green, Anthony Edwards is one of my favorite actors. When he left the show, I kind of stopped watching it because the story lines stunk. Anyways, today he wrote an article on Medium.com about his sexual abuse by a pedophile. He wasn’t the only boy affected by this. His best friend was raped by the guy. He wrote about how pedophiles prey on their victims and often use the word “love” as a way of controlling the victims and their emotions.
It hit a deep nerve, something I have never talked about on here before. I was molested by a family member. Other family members knew this one did this. They warned me about them but they seemed like a nice person so I didn’t heed the warning. Even after they were jailed, I was blamed for the abuse because I was warned and that I should have known better. I was 12 when it started and didn’t end till I was 14, when the advances were more advanced (for lack of a better word). They were 12 years older than me. One day we were on their couch, and somehow we ended up on the floor. They pinned me down and I couldn’t break free. Their genitals were over mine. The only way for me to be free was by saying I loved this person and had to kiss them multiple times and to say it over again. I was really scared because they were at least 250 or more pounds and I was a mere 125. When I was free, we just sat on the couch but they sat close to me and they put their arm around me so it would touch my breast. I kept moving their hand but it didn’t matter.

Another time, we were in their pool and the pool’s ladder had injured their genitals but being a pre-pubescent kid, I didn’t know that. I just knew their groin hurt. After the pool, it was the same deal. They would lock their front door as we “watched” TV, careful to put the chain lock on so there wouldn’t be any interruptions. This time, I was messaging the area. I don’t know how they got me to do it but I did. Turns out after a little while I was messaging their privates while they were in their underwear. My hand was not on the underwear part. I refused to see what I was doing as it felt wrong. When I stopped the message, they continued and when I looked over at them, their privates were out in plain view. This asshole then asked me if I wanted that kind of message on me. I said no but had a few breast strokes and kisses, not intimate. I felt sick once I realized what I had done.

Years later when I accused this person of abuse, they denied it and even their partner denied it because they would have seen the “signs”. Yea, right. It all boiled down that the perpetrator loved me and that was why they did what they did, out of love. I was so sick by this. My mother blamed me because I went to the pedophile’s house a lot of the time. I couldn’t help it. It was better than my home life where I had an abusive father, though I would much rather have my father’s abuse over the pedophile’s. I am glad my father was never told what this pedophile did or they might not be alive today or worse, my father might have said that I deserved it in his narcissistic mind because the pedophile wronged him by “destroying his family”. My father would always blame someone else for his wrongdoings. But that is another issue for another day.

With all the sexual abuse accusations coming at high standing men, whether in politics or Hollywood, it has me triggered into remembering my abuse by the various people that abused me. It wasn’t only the pedophile. I don’t feel free to say who the other family member was, I probably will in therapy but not on this media. I was also raped and abused by an ex-girlfriend. Since then, I have not had a relationship, mostly because of my nerve injury but also because I am afraid of flashbacks.

Lots to talk to my therapist on Monday. I know a lot of women and men are coming out with their story of abuse, which they should. It’s important because it gives others the chance to come forward as well. I am not saying it is easy because when I told one of my therapists about an abuser, that abuser slapped me when I was near them as it was a “false” accusation. I have kept quiet about this for a long time and it’s being stirred up. Abusers don’t like confrontation or being exposed. They will deny it to their dying breath. There is no remorse with them. My ex was kind of remorseful when I talked to her about it but she also played it off. We never became friends as it was impossible. I was hurt too much, though she did reach out a few times. She had more problems than I ever had. But Karma will get these bastards, one way or another. I firmly believe that.

About G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about. also writing about my daily struggle with chronic pain and how it affects my suicidality
This entry was posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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