Trigger warning and all that... I wrote this up because someone told me it might help to write it up. So here it is. I'm scared to post this. Really scared. I feel kinda sick just thinking about it. I dont want anyone to think less of me... but it'll probably happen. I'm disgusted with myself.

ANYWAYS.... Yes, TRIGGER WARNING.

Okay, it’s time I did this.

I’m going to try to get through it without crying or completely freaking out … we’ll see how that goes.

It happened back when I was in highschool. I can’t remember which grade, and I can’t remember how old I was … but I’m leaning towards grade 10 or 11. I was watching a movie on the TV with my stepdad in the basement of the family home. I think my stepdad had been drinking. Basically classified as a binge-drinker. He’s not very nice to deal with when he’s sober, let alone when he’s intoxicated. It was late, late enough that my two younger sisters and my mother had all gone to bed. I don’t even remember what the movie was about. One of either my sisters or my mother had just gone to bed because the movie wasn’t something they liked. So that basically narrows it down to just about anything horror or with blood or action. I don’t remember how it happened… my stepdad usually gave massages and we’d sit side-by-side on the couch. He was pretty decent in the massage department. Stupid knots in my neck.

I don’t remember how it happened next… all I remember is that he had his hand under my shirt. Massaging. I remember thinking that it didn’t seem right that he was doing it. But I didn’t say anything. I remember how my body reacted. How bad I feel now in retrospect, but I was aroused. Sick, but true. I didn’t tell him to stop. He kept touching me. Maybe some part of me enjoyed it. He kept rubbing. Fondling. His hands were so warm. Strong. Weathered.

I did nothing to stop him. I don’t remember how I felt, I don’t remember what I was thinking. Then it was over. I don’t know why he stopped, he just did. Maybe he got the reaction out of me that he wanted. Maybe he got bored of me. Then he tells me something along the lines of “if I ever wanted him to do it again to let him know”. Then he went upstairs and I remember sitting on the couch alone for a while and then I went to bed. And I never really thought about it again. I never asked him to do it again.

I never told anyone, not until my appointment with my current T. I don’t even know why I told him then, I think I was dropping hints and he just asked me to go through it. And I did.

Now when my stepdad touches me, or any guy touches me on my stomach or any body part in the general vicinity… I have to stop myself from flinching. I’ve tried to make it clear that I don’t want to be touched in certain areas… like my legs for example. I don’t remember being touched there… but maybe it was bad too. My stepdad tries to give me a neck massage nowadays, and I have to struggle not to completely freak out.

The really sick part… I almost wish he’d do it again. Hell, I deserve it. It was my fault. I wish he’d do it again because then I’d be able to re-experience it, I’d maybe remember more of what happened. I’m trying so hard to remember, but the details fail me.

I never did tell anyone. Nobody in the family knows. Nobody will ever know. I can’t hurt my family like that.

Some part of me wonders why he chose me. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe it just happened. Did I bring it upon myself? Was it my fault? Did I have more control than I thought I did, should I have done something? My body reacted in a bad way and now I’m scared to feel that way again. Never get close to another guy like that. But I deserved it, and if it happens again it’ll be my fault again. All I can be thankful for is that he wouldn’t hurt my sisters. He’s not some dangerous predator. He’s a sick, controlling old man. He wouldn’t hurt either of them in that way because they’d never allow it. My sisters are perfect and do almost anything to make him happy and get him to leave them alone, but they would have never allowed this to happen. I’m weak and pathetic and I deserved it.

He's mean in other ways, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t know if it’s really him or the booze that’s responsible. But I know I am. He’s controlling to an insane degree and nothing will ever make him really happy.

And all I want right now is to die. I need someone to touch me, to hug me and tell me that I’m not entirely insane. But that’s not going to happen.

I think this hurt a lot more than I wanted it to. I want to be over it. I want to forget. Please just let me forget. I just told it in more detail than even my T knows.

Was it my fault? Am I bad? Did I deserve it?

What happens now? How do I just get over it? How can I forget?

Am I screwed up because of what I’ve written here? Is what I’ve written bad? Has this one little incident completely messed me up? Did it help screw me up? Is it my fault for taking what happened so badly? Should I just shrug it off and just let it lie?

Should I be mad about what happened? I don’t think I am. I hate being mad anyways. Mad is bad. Anger is destructive. It hurts people. It hurts me. Makes me cry. Don’t be mad at me, I couldn’t bear it.

Should I be sad about what happened? I don’t know… I think what happened, happened and that’s the end of it. It’s not sad, it’s not that bad – I’ve heard really bad stories of bad stuff happening to good people (I can’t call it abuse, because I don’t know if it was – because maybe I did ask for it. Maybe I don’t remember) … my story is so trivial, my concerns and what happened is unimportant. I am not important. I am not worthy of love, attention or anything good. Because I am bad.

What should I be feeling? What should I be saying? What should I be thinking?

Please don't tell me to tell my family. Please don't tell me to involve the law. I won't. I prize respecting my family and loving them no matter what, over everything. Even myself.