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Going Back To Where It Happened...

When I was a kid my best friend raped me. Over the last couple years I've finally been able to start dealing with it. It took 18 years for me to admit it to anyone. Even now only my wife, my best buddy and my counselor know about it. I've tried a few times to write about it on here and I really just can't do it. After a few sentences I freeze up, log out and try and find something to occupy my mind. But I finally took a step toward dealing with it that I've been thinking about for years.

I grew up in a small town and lived in a little trailer park that was... well... a ****** little trailer park. My friend lived in a house just through the woods and across the street from where I lived. Neither of our lives were good, physical abuse was common place for both of us and we were surrounded by everything you never wish your children to be around. My brother had been molested a couple years prior by a baby sitter, but other than that there wasn't any sexual abuse in my home. I have no evidence of this, but I have long assumed there was in his house, where else would he have learned that behavior. A lot of really awful things happened to my brother, my friend and myself in that small little area.

A few years ago the trailer park and the woods were destroyed and now there is a large shopping center in it's place. I can go get my tires changed where I first saw a man beat his wife, and I can get a DVD where I first witnessed racism and heroin addicts. His house was torn down at the same time but has never been built on. It's just sat there for years, a partially cleared lot and a rubble pile where the foundation stood. It has haunted me the entire time. While I have since moved away my mom still lives in the area and I've had to drive by that damn place so many times.

On Christmas day I had had enough. My wife and I were making a last minute trip to one of the stores before heading to my mom's and I asked her to stop. I had been thinking about walking around that place for years and finally I did. It got to me quite a bit but it was good in the end. Actually it's quite surprising how it ended up making me feel. I walked first over the area that used to be the garage and remember getting beat up and having vodka poured over me by his older brother. Then back to the trees where we had so much fun and where we used to hide from his mom when she was drunk. Then finally I stood on that rubble pile and walked along the old crumbling foundation walls. I still wish it was just gone like I wish I could just wipe it from my memory, but it was oddly good to see it all crumbled and rotting. In the end I think the most beneficial thing was that I had enough guts to get out of the car.
crowseye crowseye 26-30, M 1 Response Feb 29, 2012

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It takes a lot of guts to admit something like that. You're an inspiration to me -- and I mean that. Maybe I'll be able to tell my story sometime soon.

PS sorry about reviving an old post

Glad it has inspired you. It's taken a long time to deal with this stuff but once I got the ball rolling I feel like it's gotten better. I think the biggest thing is that I've let (select) people know what happened and now it's not this awful secret I'm ashamed of.

There is a bit of release that comes with posting on here. It's nice to be able to say these things without judgement of those we know.