My most difficult post yet!

I feel sick at the thought of writing this post. I’m not even sure that it will get posted; this is the third attempt!

The events I am going to relay stretch back over a three year period and began over 40 years ago, 45 to be precise. I was 13, a child, not a particularly happy child after all my childhood had been marred by the bullying of my older brother, (shant talk about that here that’s for a later post), but a child none the less. Not only a child but also a child whose body was full of pubescent hormones rushing to get out. I think we as adults tend to forget just how vulnerable a pubescent child is, particularly a child of 13.

At that age, I am obviously only speaking from a male point of view, so please do not accuse me of being sexist, I can’t begin to know what puberty is like for a female. I digress, sorry.

At that age you have the mind of a child, but your body is becoming that of an adult and your body behaves in a manner that you just don’t understand, and cannot control.

So when someone who is considerably older than you, is a person whom you have high respect for, namely because of the position he holds, starts paying you attention, as a 13 year old child/mini adult, you respond to it and dare I say it, you enjoy it, initially!

But when that attention turns to abuse, then the respect turns to loathing.

Forgive me if I don’t go into details, but let me just say that that it was as bad as it could be.

This has always been at the back of my mind, the far back true, but I have never forgotten it. I chose to bury it and throughout my entire life have tried not to think about it.

All that changed 4 weeks ago when I was at a Little Steps support meeting when I just said it. I was shocked, it was one of those ‘did I say that out loud’ moments. The group were unbelievable, I have never felt so much support from a group of relative strangers. For that I sincerely thank them.

From then it has snowballed, I spoke of it during a therapy session the next day, again my therapist was just simply amazing. I cried about it for the first time in 45 years. She advised that I contact an organization called Yellow Door who provide support and help for victims of sexual abuse, I have done. I have to wait until the New Year for a telephone assessment and then perhaps a further year on top of that.

I also have opened up to my dearest friends, and with my permission, they have reported the matter to the relevant authorities. I will say here and now that it is not the police. I choose not to say what authority, as that will identify him and this I do not wish to do so for various reasons, one of which is backlash from people who would choose not to believe me and trust me there will be those people.

I have an interview with this person on Friday morning. I am hoping that this will be the end of the matter.

So how has this left me feeling? Now there’s a question. Here it comes.

• Confused
• Sick and nauseous
• Angry
• Ashamed
• Tearful
• Frightened
• Suicidal!

I have not eaten a decent meal since I spoke to my friends. I have done what I always do when depression takes hold of me: stop taking my meds! I have, though taken my night times as sleep is hard enough at the best of time let alone now!

If I am honest, if I could wind the clock back to that Little Steps meeting, I would make sure that I would not have said anything. I feel so awful, my stomach is either liquid or the opposite, I am that close to tears all the time. I am presently living in one of the darkest places that I have ever been. When I was the only one that knew, I was not in the pain that I am now, I could cope. All I can say is that I hope to goodness that this pain stops and stops soon, because I am not coping, not coping at all.

Finally I am not not going to proof read this, if I did I probably won’t publish, so I apologise now for any glaring mistakes.