It's been two years since I last posted on this blog. Two long years.
But lately, I've felt compelled to do so.
But I'm hesitant.
Not because I have little to say... but because what I DO have to say isn't something very pretty.
It's something only two people close to me know anything about.
*deep breath*
I've been sexually assaulted three times in my Life.
The first time was when I was 16. Mom had passed away from cervix cancer three years prior, and I was still dealing with the grief of it. My brother and sister had moved out of the house by then. Dad was trying to deal with the loss of Mom in his own way. Mostly by working.
At the time, he worked in the Supply Section at Canadian Forces Station Kamloops- Mount Lolo to us locals. There was a young Air Force Corporal that needed a place to crash for the night, so Dad had offered him the guest room.
Dad had gone to bed when it happened. I mentioned to the Corporal that I wrote poetry, and did artwork, and was showing him some of my work. That's when he started to slide a finger up and down the front of my jeans. As he did so, he slide across the arm of the easy chair closer to me.
I felt trapped, and confused, and uncertain what to do. I remember him looming over me as his finger moved up and down. I did the only thing I could think of: I said I had to get to bed because of school the next day, and fled to my bedroom. I locked my bedroom door, and just curled up under the covers wondering what I'd done to have him do that.
I just wanted to share my artwork...
The second time was when I was in my mid 20's, while doing a summer tasking at the Royal Canadian Horse Artillery School in Shilo, Manitoba. This was while they still had the German Army Training Establishment Shilo. On the Base is a golf course, and a bar called "The Country Club". It was all ranks, and both Canadian and German soldiers could drink there.
I was standing in line waiting to get a beer, when someone grabbed my rear and squeezed. I jerked around and saw one of the German soldiers eyeing me up. My mind flashed back to when I was 16, and I wanted to just get out of there. The guys in my group just teased me about it, and I felt I had to laugh it off along with them.
My fight or flight instinct was pushing me towards flight, but I couldn't let it show that I was bothered by the incident... it wouldn't be "manly" to express discomfort about it. So, I faked a smile, tamped down on my anxiety, and stayed in an environment I no longer felt safe in.
I was already twitchy when I was again standing in line for a beer. I felt my rear being grabbed again. I spun around with a snarl on my lips to see a different German soldier smirking at me. He must've seen that I was on edge, and ready to start something even if it meant my winding up in the Stockade for the night. He threw his hands up, and apologized. I remember huffing and puffing like I was the Big Bad Wolf ready to blow a house down. I felt such an uncontrollable rage in that moment. It scared me, so I left and returned to my quarters. I lay there all night shaking.
I just wanted to have a beer...
The final time was in my late 20's. I was doing a tasking at Western Area Training Centre Wainwright in Alberta. I was on leave in Edmonton. I was staying at a real dive of a hotel. The sort where the water comes out of the tap looking like iced tea. There was a night club called the Thunder Dome that I wanted to check out.
It was two levels. The main bar on the main level, and the pool tables up on the upper one. It was Ladies Night, so while the male dancers were doing their thing, us male customers had to go upstairs. The noise coming from the women watching the dancers was insane- thunderous and almost Earth shattering.
After the male dancers had finished, the bouncer came up and told us guys that we could come down to the main level. I'm wishing I'd stayed up there.
It was like stepping into a lake of hungry piranha... and I was the cow they were going to strip to the bone in 30 seconds. I don't do well with close proximity to people to begin with, and I was thrust into a crowd that pressed against me from all sides. I remember there were so many hands pulling at me from all directions.
Hands squeezed my rear, my crotch, my chest. Fingers clenched and pulled at my shirt. Some were tugging at my pants. I was disoriented from the lights, the noise, the hands jostling me. Women were screaming for me to "take it off!", or calling me "fresh meat". I remember starting to hyperventilate, and my vision going black.
I found myself suddenly outside shaking and trembling. I was afraid that I was going to have a seizure on the pavement outside the main doors. I'd left my jacket inside, but I wasn't going back in there. I grabbed the closest taxi, and just fled to my dark hovel of a hotel room.
Stripping for bed, I discovered that my shirt had been torn, my belt stolen, and that someone had actually bit me on the shoulder. I felt dirty, and ashamed. I showered and scrubbed until I was red and the water ran cold.
I just wanted to go out and relax...
To this day, I can't stand the thought of going to a night club... even parties with my friends are difficult. I can't tolerate crowds at all. I've avoided in person relationship in favor of online ones because I was afraid that a woman wouldn't want a man damaged in this way.
Fuck, I'm shaking just reading what I've written, and remembering it.
I'm 48 years old, and I've carried these toxic memories with me for over 20 years.
I hope that by putting this out there, I can start to exorcise some of the toxicity of these experiences, and move forward from them. I hope that by putting this out there, other men who've had similar things happen to them can draw some Hope, and Comfort that they aren't alone in bearing weight like this.
