Am I three months old?



I’ve awoke to something horrible about three months ago, that happened 39 years ago. It’s incredibly difficult to write about, let alone think about. The trauma it induces has no boundaries, it’ll impact my mind at any time it pleases. No, I can’t bring myself to state it publicly yet, to me, this is public.

The fall is a fear, fear that those who are aware, take it less seriously than  I desire. Those who perpetrate may get away with it, and those who survive wait silent years or decades, packing pain tightly away, but the trauma refuses to recognize its fate. It’s a Pandora’s Box opened.

When this trauma is opened, my mind races. The old hamster wheel analogy, or mind storm no longer fits. There’s an urgency, so much needs to be done. There’s anger, even rage, and to those who know it…. I want to relate that rage, let me try. It’s different, and tempered, you wont believe the rage is tempered, but dear reader, my soul cries from an emptiness you don’t know, the survivor knows, but dear kind soul, please try.

My rage at bullies, at those who take, who push and want their way with me, those bullies without boundaries, inflicting harsh words, punches, assaults, power deeds and molesting or rape… My hate for you is unmeasurable, adrenaline filled rage, heated by a thousand suns. I shake with tears, holding in a power that wills you terror.

That dear reader, I wish to be left alone, it’s an homage to the work ahead of me. To assuage that horrific adrenaline will take time. Three months or so in to seeing what I am, was I anyone, will I be anyone, and that’s top on my list. It’s got to be dealt with. And I write, I read, I discuss, and hope. I’m no pillar of strength, if this writing projects it, wait, my insides are tight, the tears barely held. I’m not with a lot of people, few know and those who could be close are long years away and no contact to make. People leave, it’s life, and some pass away. So, in time, maybe there will be a new me? Aging with new steps, new hope.

I don’t want to be alone, but I am in some ways. I’m so needy, I want someone around all the time, not anyone, someone who knows, who gets it, who can be there when that far away look comes. Someone to hold, to care, to love. Oh, that last, such pain, so much pain. Hope is what there is, survivor hope.


Note: This is my first ever public writing about this. It makes me sad.



3 thoughts on “Am I three months old?

  1. Rick,
    Those are powerful and brave words that really struck me. I believe it must have been hard to publish them. Thank you for doing it.
    It’s been awhile since you wrote that, what has it been like for you since you made it public?
    Thank you,

    Liked by 1 person

    1. My computer broke around 2 months ago, so my posts are down here. Thanks for understanding the post. I’ve had good responses on the 4 forums that I’ve expressed being raped. I was 16.


      1. Rick,
        You are strong. You said it here, in public! I’m sorry you have those words to say, but saying it out loud is powerful. Congratulations on moving forward.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s