Molested

Repeatedly

That’s me as a young boy. You can see me now with Fearsome adorning my face as a shadow in the reflection. The small photo in the corner is my mother and brother during a happy moment of my childhood.

Dont get me wrong, my childhood wasn’t horrible. In fact it was pretty good.

But a pretty good childhood doesn’t erase the scars of sexual molestation and abuse that were endured during that childhood.

What is your earliest memory? I hope yours is a good one.

Unfortunately mine isn’t. Stop reading now if you are offended by violence or descriptions of child abuse or sexualization of the underaged.

Still here? If you are just be prepared.

I was crying, naked and hiding. I was scared. I was between the bed and the wall trying to not be found. I was holding a stuffed toy or a blanket. I felt terror.

I screamed as the faceless male pulled me from my hiding place. No one heard my scream except my attacker. I remember blood and pain from my rear end. I remember tears and I remember fear. I don’t remember anything else. I don’t remember who it was.

That is my earliest memory. I know now I was being molested, most likely raped.

The only thing I know about my abuser is it was a male. The rest is blacked out. I’ve never been able to picture his face.

Was this the first time I was sexually abused? I haven’t a clue.

It’s just my first memory. Memory was still spotty for a while after that.

Was it the last time I was sexually abused? No it was not.

During my teen years, starting about 13, I was repeatedly molested by three different males. Two of them were my teachers, one was a trusted neighbor. One I continued having sex with until I was about 17.

…..oh and all three were “straight men”….and one even gave me a constant supply of drugs to keep me coming back.

Oh, and each of these three convinced me I wanted and needed them. Two of them worked their way from suggestive petting to full blow sex.

The other just heavily petted, described what he wanted, told me what he thought I wanted, fondled me through my clothes. He seemed to get off on his verbal graphics and heavy petting without fully completing the act. He actually made me feel the dirtiest and most violated. Yes he repeated this behavior multiple, multiple times. He taught a class I needed to pass.

Why?

Why did it happen? Why is it affecting me now?

Yesterday I lost it. I broke apart. In front of a sister-in-law and in front of my mother-in-law I lost it. I threw a ham across the room after I opened the refrigerator and found it leaking all over. I then threw left over spaghetti sauce and a thawing turkey both onto the counter and against a wall,  then I blacked out into a crying heap on the floor.

I remember The Better Half getting me up and walking to get me to the bedroom. I remember tears and hyperventilating. I remember being numb.

I’m still numb this morning. The pain in my two injured shoulders is more than I can bear. I’m eating Motrin & Tylenol. I hurt all over.

I have, however, had an epiphany. I just saw the news and I suddenly remembered the news was on when I had my breakdown. I remember seeing the report that the current resident of the White House had just endorsed the senate candidate from Alabama who is accused of molesting underaged girls.

Could it be? Did I fall victim to my own experience upon hearing the news that the current White House resident endorsed a child molester? Endorsed a child molester just because he is republican?

Can anger come to full rage causing a full breakdown after news such as this?  I think so.

Abusing children is wrong. A big part of my life struggle is to make sense of why others would hurt me, or any child, to accomplish their own pleasure.

Did the leader of our country just endorse an accused abuser of children? He endorsed abuser accused by more than one? He endorsed a person who stole the innocence of children for his own pleasure,  just for political gain and party loyalty?

Yes, the acting leader of our country endorsed an accused, by more than one, child molester for political party gain. Yes, and I went into full breakdown. Yes my life experience and PTSD got the best of me and overcame my serenity and almost my sanity.

How do I recover? How do I get better after a full blown breakdown?

I start by writing this post.

Child molestation is wrong. It is wrong period.

The scars I have hurt. May they, from this day forward, only make me stronger. I was a victim. Today I’ll be a survivor.

Today I will speak out. I will speak up.

Today I will take a step out of the darkness.

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In a 1968 Black Chevy Pickup

Always in a rush to get out the door, I would run up the stairs from my  basement bedroom to quickly sit at the corner kitchen table and wolf down the two eggs with bacon and toast Mom had just cooked to order. Then I’d quickly grab a shower, spike the blonde hair, get dressed, grab my homework, finished or not, and run out to my pickup. I had to be on time as I usually had several friends to pick up on the way to school.

1968 Chevy Pickup Truck (mine was a long bed with a white camper shell)

Upon turning the ignition, the under the dash slide in cassette player would start and the beats would pulse out the windows as I bolted out of the driveway. Cathy was almost always the first stop. I’d park on the gravel pull off beside her house and honk the horn like any self respecting rude to the neighbors teenager would at 7 am. If I was on top of my game her favorite morning tune would start playing as she crossed the threshold screaming back at her nagging mother on her way out to her daily ride.

From there it was usually off to grab Debbie, Adam, Eric and sometimes a couple others. There was laughter, singing, bitching, gossip and cigarettes. All of us smoked and we had to get those smokes in on the way. Thank god the back had a camper shell and padded shag carpet so there was pleanty of room.

Speeding into the parking lot we would come to a halt just out past the gym near the practice field. Brian would usually be right behind us in his 1972 Yellow Mach 1. Nearby the stoners would be getting their last toke in for the first period buzz. Debbie would grab one more cigarette. I’d lock up the truck and head over to the yearbook staff room to see what was up before first period geometry.

Today it all seems so simple. Then it seemed so big. I think of it and smile. I fill with gratitude.

Toe Tappin’ Tune

This’ll get our weekend started!

1984 Jocelyn Brown Somebody Else’s Guy

1984…I couldn’t even legally buy liquor. My friend Kiki kept asking me to shave off young Fearsome because she liked my chin. I could be found every Friday, Saturday and Sunday evening on the dance floor at my local gay disco, The Park. I was in an on and off again relationship with my first lover (usually off was with “somebody’s else’s” guy…sometimes the “somebody else” was another guy and sometimes a woman). I was an aerobics instructor and I made my first ever trip to Ft. Lauderdale Florida.

While criusing the A1A along the beach in Ft Lauderdale and listening to this very tune, in a black T-Top Trans Am mind you, I remember looking at the ocean front condo buildings thinking “My, those people must be rich”. Today we own a couple of those very condos.

Dreams, they really do come true.

The tune still makes me dance. Enjoy!

Somewhere in the southern Caribbean

Many a moon ago aboard Dolphin Cruise Line’s SS Sea Breeze we found ourselves anchored just off the coast of Aruba. Fearsome was in remission at the time as I had developed a bad habit called shaving, but he was there in spirit as he always is. It was an early morning under the searing southern Caribbean sun and not a good morning for the hangover from last evenings heavy drinking dance floor adventures.

We found ourselves amongst  many other bleary eyed hungover gay men searching for that perfect spot on deck of this RSVP cruise from which to observe that days total solar eclipse. We were anchored just off the coast of Aruba for a reason, we were in the path of totality in a spot calculated to have the longest time in actual totality, about 3 minutes 40 seconds to my recollection. That sun was hot and all I wanted was a place to sit down, drink my coffee and nurse this hangover. A friend handed me a Bloody Mary. Life was suddenly better.

A passenger affectionately known as The Chicken Lady passed by pouring creme in anyone’s coffee who needed it. She was carrying her trademark chicken purse and the creme flowed on demand into awaiting coffee cups out of an artificial breast that she wore under her bikini top. The Chicken Lady wasn’t known to be reserved nor inhibited in any way imaginable.

The ship’s crew worked feverishly to make sure all 800 passengers were well taken care of and comfortable. They made sure we all had our beverages of choice as well as our solar eclipse viewers. Morning cocktial music played, we laughed, the scent of sunscreen permeated the air and we waited.

The searing heat of the tropical sun started to diminish. A quick check with the solar eclipse glasses confirms that the moon has begun it’s journey between us and our sun. It seemed as if someone had found both the dimmer and the thermostat as not only was the light becoming more appropriate for a party, but the heat had been turned down a notch. We continued our wait laughing with our friends, checking the moon’s progress through the viewers and ordering more cocktails.

Suddenly it all changed.

I had experienced partial eclipses before. No. Big. Deal.

This was different.

In the distance it appears as if a very dark storm had formed. It was black out there. It was moving. It was moving fast and it was headed toward us. However there were no clouds but just darkness. Not just darker but black. This shadow was moving and there was no escaping it. That shadow of black was coming for us and fast. We adorned the viewers and looked up to find just a tiny pierce of the sun left and then it was gone. Nothing left but a faint corona and then a voice from the crowd, all on their feet at this moment, screamed “It’s safe now, take off your glasses!”

Our photos from Aruba’s total eclipse

Nighttime. Nighttime with all the stars out yet a faint light of dawn 360 degrees around us just at the lip of horizon. The birds, the songs of the birds as if it were daybreak. The lights, all the streetlights and lighted signs on the tiny island of Aruba had lit up. It was nighttime but it wasn’t. The horizon was beautiful. The colors of sunrise 360 degrees around us with all the stars out and this black circle above us. Tiny black, very black circle with a moving light shimmering around it.

Surreal.

Ouch! The light! Someone screams”Glasses on!”

The moon had moved on and the first pierce of intense light had broken through. The sun was back, although just a tiny corner. We looked down to realize that we were no longer in the dark shadow as a faint light of sun had encompassed us. The shadow was moving again. The darkness had left us and it was moving again, moving away from us. Moving away fast. We could see it’s circular edge moving across the sea as the light replaced the darkness in the water. The great storm of darkness moved on and so fast that we couldn’t follow it.

We watched as the wonderment of that total eclipse moved on for others to experience that day.

Then we danced.

Today I sit in awe and gratitude for all the gifts I have been blessed with thus far in my wonderful life. Thus far!

Happy Eclipse!

Happy Pride!

It’s officially Pride weekend in here in beautiful sunny San Diego California!

Given we live in a state with three major cities, Los Angeles, San Diego and San Francisco, Pride celebrations are spread out in order to allow celebrants the options to be able to celebrate more than once and not have to choose between. There are also celebrations on other weekends in various smaller, yet just as important, locations such as Long Beach and Palm Springs. Having our many California celebrations over numerous weekends also allows tourists from to catch a Pride celebration while traveling through California if they so desire.

My first ever Pride experience was in Seattle back in 1990. The city where I grew up didn’t have such a thing and my travels through east coast cities back in the 1980s never seemed to coincide with one. I haven’t missed a Pride since that first one in Seattle and my official relocation to the West coast.

For me Pride has so many more meanings that just being gay. Pride is love. Pride is joy. Pride is acceptance. Pride is understanding, forgiving, righteous, brotherhood, sisterhood, humanhood, sexuality, sexual identity, identity, political, non-political, peace, justice, black, white, brown, yellow, red, giving, gratitude, sharing, respect, service, caring…Pride is a place to just simply be yourself. Just be.

A tune from my dance floor days before that first ever Pride celebration surprised me on Sirius XM Studio 54 today. A tune that I had probably not heard since seeing Pamela Stanley perform it live during RSVP Cruise Lines 10th anniversary party in Puerto Vallarta back in 1996, which was probably about the 10th anniversary of the tune itself. A tune that seems perfectly appropriate to kick off another absolutely fabulous Pride 2017 weekend in lovely San Diego.

Happy Pride Y’all!

Fireflies

Summer childhood memories.

Punching holes in a metal lid for the glass relish jar that in which I would later imprison several unlucky ones.

Lightning bugs, as I called them, were always a summer highlight. Little did I realize the depth of their striking beauty.

We don’t have fireflies here in Southern California. While I do prefer my SoCal summer weather over the sweltering humidity of my native southeast, I sure do miss my mesmerizing little friends.

Whats one of your favorite summertime childhood memories?

…oh and Happy Summer Solstice 2017!

Firsts

🎶 The best part of breakin’ up, is when we’re makin’ up 🎵

It’s funny how music sparks memories. This tune was pulsing the dance floor one night back in 1982 as I was shakin’ my little tushy dancing with my friend Mike.

I hadn’t heard nor thought of it in like ages. A couple a days ago there it was pulsing outta the speakers of my Ford Fusion Energi Titanium as I was a drivin’ along listening to Sirius XM Studio 54.

Rush!

Memories rush. Suddenly Mike was in front of me on that smokey disco dance floor as we pulsed to the beats. Vivid is the memory. Suddenly there was a body behind me pulsing behind me holding me at the waist. I asked Mike who it was and he said he’d never seen the guy. I then asked Mike if he was cute. Mike said “fuck yeah”. I then pushed my tush back into him and turned my head. I got the first glimpse of my first lover.

Wow. What a vivid memory. Our relationship would last for 6 years and has much to do with the man I am today. I was young. So was he. I wondered often. He was patient, loving and forgiving. I’ll never forget him. I’ll always be grateful for his inspiration. He has his life. I have mine. We don’t talk. I hope that I gave him even a 10th of what he gave me.

Funny how this tune became the theme of our years together. I didn’t realize it was so on target of a theme, until I heard it this week. No worries as there is no “makin’ up” a happening. That was a first lover and a first relationship that started the first time I ever heard this song the very first moment we met.