I have a friend who told me his story and asked me to share it. Some of it is very hard to listen to, but his hope is that perhaps someone else reading it might be helped. He says he didnt really have anywhere to look for help.
He was, he says, almost always the smartest kid in his class. But he was, what was back then, called “backward.” He didnt have many really good friends. He was shy, painfully shy and did much better with books than people. And he had a secret he was terrified that someone might find out. At 12 years old he still wet the bed.
His mother took him to a pediatrician whom she had been told had a track record of helping kids with this problem. He was a naive kid and believed that adults were the good guys and went to the doctor willingly.
During the physical exam the doctor began to fondle his genitals. He told me. “You really dont understand how naive I was. I didnt understand what he was doing… I was very uncomfortable…very scared…. but I didnt know how to say no to an adult.” I watched his face as he talked and knew that now 25 years later the pain was still fresh.
By the 3rd visit the doctor had showed him his own genitals and asked the little boy to fondle them. By the 5th visit the little boy was removing his clothes and sitting in the doctors lap. The visits continued for about 6 months before the boy could convince his mom he didnt need to go anymore.
My friend recently met a woman he came to love and she was the first person he ever told what happened. For 25 years it was his most closely guarded secret. His mother died never knowing what happened to her son.
After the incidents his “shyness” devoured his life. He couldnt stand to be around people. He told me he felt stained and thought that if people looked close enough they could see what happened. He retreated further into his books and loneliness became his only companion.
He never really had a girlfriend although he wanted one. He envied the other boys he knew, but after a while he thought it would never really happen. People thought he was strange and after a while he didnt have to worry too much about people trying to be his friend.
He thought about what happened. He didnt want to . At several points he hoped he would die. He told me that he always wanted to have someone to talk to but just didnt know how and he thought he could never talk about that. As he got older his shame grew. He told me, “It was like I it didnt matter how old I got I could never leave that doctors office…”
Meeting his wife changed a lot for him. She was his miracle. And for the first time he took a chance on loving and being loved. And trust even though it was scary felt good. He says he is begining to heal, but knows he has a long way to go. He has told other people. I am honored he told me.
He has a son now and wonders what to say to him. His biggest regret is that both his parents died without knowing. And he wants his son to know that whatever happens in his life that he is there for him.
He is perhaps the most courageous person I know. He has helped me to see that courage and fear can live together for he is afraid almost every day. I know more clearly that courage is not a feeling, but a decision. And that decision is one that we can and hopefully will make each day.
Like many of you I have went through some very hard times. At times I neither feel confident or brave. I thanked my friend for talking to me and told him I would treasure his gifts forever. In seeing his courage I got a much needed reminder of the possibility of my own.
I have a friend who told me his story and asked me to share it. Some of it is very hard to listen to, but his hope is that perhaps someone else reading it might be helped. He says he didnt really have anywhere to look for help.
He was, he says, almost always the smartest kid in his class. But he was, what was back then, called “backward.” He didnt have many really good friends. He was shy, painfully shy and did much better with books than people. And he had a secret he was terrified that someone might find out. At 12 years old he still wet the bed.
His mother took him to a pediatrician whom she had been told had a track record of helping kids with this problem. He was a naive kid and believed that adults were the good guys and went to the doctor willingly.
During the physical exam the doctor began to fondle his genitals. He told me. “You really dont understand how naive I was. I didnt understand what he was doing… I was very uncomfortable…very scared…. but I didnt know how to say no to an adult.” I watched his face as he talked and knew that now 25 years later the pain was still fresh.
By the 3rd visit the doctor had showed him his own genitals and asked the little boy to fondle them. By the 5th visit the little boy was removing his clothes and sitting in the doctors lap. The visits continued for about 6 months before the boy could convince his mom he didnt need to go anymore.
My friend recently met a woman he came to love and she was the first person he ever told what happened. For 25 years it was his most closely guarded secret. His mother died never knowing what happened to her son.
After the incidents his “shyness” devoured his life. He couldnt stand to be around people. He told me he felt stained and thought that if people looked close enough they could see what happened. He retreated further into his books and loneliness became his only companion.
He never really had a girlfriend although he wanted one. He envied the other boys he knew, but after a while he thought it would never really happen. People thought he was strange and after a while he didnt have to worry too much about people trying to be his friend.
He thought about what happened. He didnt want to . At several points he hoped he would die. He told me that he always wanted to have someone to talk to but just didnt know how and he thought he could never talk about that. As he got older his shame grew. He told me, “It was like I it didnt matter how old I got I could never leave that doctors office…”
Meeting his wife changed a lot for him. She was his miracle. And for the first time he took a chance on loving and being loved. And trust even though it was scary felt good. He says he is begining to heal, but knows he has a long way to go. He has told other people. I am honored he told me.
He has a son now and wonders what to say to him. His biggest regret is that both his parents died without knowing. And he wants his son to know that whatever happens in his life that he is there for him.
He is perhaps the most courageous person I know. He has helped me to see that courage and fear can live together for he is afraid almost every day. I know more clearly that courage is not a feeling, but a decision. And that decision is one that we can and hopefully will make each day.
Like many of you I have went through some very hard times. At times I neither feel confident or brave. I thanked my friend for talking to me and told him I would treasure his gifts forever. In seeing his courage I got a much needed reminder of the possibility of my own.