The power went out tonight and my wife was in another city.  I texted her about the outage and she made a fairly innocent joke.  The tests went like this:

Wife, “You could masturbate”

Actually ever since I woke up at camp with a teenage []

Never mind.

Ask me later. It’s not pretty. Suffice to say. Masturbation is not actually a good option for me.

Actually. I’m not going to remain silent. My camp counsellor tried to use my hand as a masturbation tool. I was nine. That was the second time my lines were crossed. The first time was when I was four. So yes. I still carry anger. And yes. Escaping from that anger is a good place to be. At least I don’t feel guilt or shame or fear anymore. Well I guess the fear is still there. Can you imagine being a grown man and being afraid of men. So the next time you decide to judge me, or anyone else for the matter just keep in mind that you have never walked a mile in their shoes. I don’t judge you.

By the way, the first person to assault me was 11 or 12 years old and the second person was somewhere between 14 and 17.  So trust me I don’t blame them or anyone but it doesn’t seem to make me feel any better. There are no perpetrators only victims. And I’m thankful that my anger has no imagined criminal. It’s just human imperfection. And I got to sample it early on. You should understand that.

Texting this to you only makes me feel worse. But alt least I tried.

Omg I’m sorry

It’s hard to keep perspective.

It’s hard to remain objective.

So I know first hand what feels like to be objectified. I’m uncomfortable with 50% of the men I meet. So don’t call me sexist. Call me ignorant but I’m not sexist. Maybe I chose my adjectives poorly but I draw no distinction between female strength or aptitude and that for men. The only difference is that women are more inclined to come forward and men are more inclined to beat the shit out of someone.

Or kill themselves. Of course I’m only talking about the statistics.

When you are a child you have no idea what’s going on but as you become older it becomes evident that it’s about power over a weaker person. Enforcing one’s will on another. It’s really that simple. Even if the assailant doesn’t know it or intend it, for the victim that’s what it’s about. For the victim it’s about the will of another being forced upon you.

^ power over a weaker person or a thing like an animal.

I think half of pet owners are like that. I don’t condone it. It’s distasteful.

“Look at me me I own this beautiful animal and it does what I tell it to”. It makes me sick.

The thing that was far worse than being assaulted was the energy or emotion of the whole thing, both times. It’s was like worms in my throat. It was a recurring feeling. I used to call it boogies feelings when I was little. It’s like you want to cry and vomit at the same time but you can’t explain why.

So after a decade of feeling terrible I found myself some counselling and she said nothing. Except that my fear and sadness was healthy. And that gave my an incredible amount of peace. The victim in me is a child that comes out when I’m weak. But most days I see the world through compassionate eyes.

The beauty of the human spirit lies somewhere between the sparkle in another’s eye, laughter, and a warm embrace. I am grateful.