I was never raped, but when I was 11, the son of a family friend copped a feel whenever we were…
Zelda Pinwheel

I was raped, but my great uncle as a very little boy. I pushed it so far inside that I didn’t even know until is my 30s.

In between those events, starting in elementary school, I would defecate in my pants. During class or whenever, wherever. I would just freeze up and crap my pants. I now know that is a classic side effect of sexual trauma. Imagine all kinds of horrible names and teasing and taunting for something that I couldn’t help. On top of already being damaged.

Then one day when I was 13 I realized I could use sex to escape from what I perceived to be a dark terrible world a few minutes at a time. That led to a vicious cycle of shame and guilt remorse and more acting out that has plagued me and my relationships for years.

I now realize that me using charm to manipulate people, to have my way with them, was just me trying to have someone connect with me and say I choose you, and because I choose you you’re OK.

The original post struck a cord in many ways, because I was that lingerer, that strange guy that forced that extra hug. I needed some assurance that I was OK. That act of someone physically connecting with me made me feel OK for a brief moment and made me feel chosen instead of outcast.

No it doesn’t make it any more comfortable when that person is lingering, more than likely it’s a damaged soul just needing to be affirmed.

Unfortunately it’s normally the abused that are the abusers.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.