Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Thank You

How about me not blaming you for everything
How about me enjoying the moment for once
How about how good it feels to finally forgive you
How about grieving it all one at a time

Thank you terror
Thank you disillusionment
Thank you frailty
Thank you consequence
Thank you thank you silence

The moment I let go of it was
The moment I got more than I could handle
The moment I jumped off of it was
The moment I touched down

I must say that I have been truely gratified and moved by the volume and quality of responses by many well meaning people. However, these entries have taken an emotional toll on me and I would like to take some time off to help clear my mind and soul. So I'm going to sign off for a little while.

The World I Know

So I walk upon high
And I step to the edge
To see my world below
And I laugh at myself
While the tears roll down'
Cause it's the world I know
It's the world I know


How does an abuser make sure his victim doesn’t talk? There are oh so many ways. Many abusers threaten the victim with words. The abuser will say something like “if you tell anyone then I am going to hurt you” OR “I will kill you if anybody finds out” OR “I will hurt a family member of yours if our little secret becomes public knowledge” etc…In my case my abuser was more a man of action than a man of words. Without having to utter a word it was made clear to me what the consequences would be if anyone would find out about our special relationship.

I would like to take you all with me on two trips. The first trip will be to New Hampshire. After that we will all go to the beautiful and majestic Niagara Falls.


One of the highlights of every summer was the camp trip. Camp would always arrange a two day; two night, trip. These trips were always to go to very fun and exciting places. One year we went to New Hampshire, another year to Niagara Falls, and another year to Lake Placid.

The staff would wake up the campers at about 1 am. All the campers who were half asleep would walk over to the gym and then we would be assigned which bus we were going to be on. Every bus had a Captain. The Captain was a responsible staff member who would be in charge of his bus. When it came to overnight trips and assigning people to buses, two things were for certain. One: my abuser was going to be a Captain of one of the buses. Two: my bunk would be assigned to his bus.

He always had the front seat. He was the man in charge and everybody did what he told them to. He always saved the seat next to him for me. Some people would make fun of me while others were strangely jealous of me. Trust me; there was nothing to be jealous of. He would put me on his lap and tell me that it was okay to fall asleep on him. I did – and the rest is history…You could all guess what happened next.


In New Hampshire the highlight of the trip was going mountain climbing. We were told that New Hampshire was known for its big, rocky mountains. The camp climbed up the mountains together. We had a tour guide who told us all about each mountain we climbed and how many feet off the ground it was from where we were standing. My abuser stuck in something about falling off the mountain...“Wow so many feet off the ground! I wonder what would happen if you fell wouldn’t be to pretty!

It was starting to get dark. We were getting toward the end of the tour. The camp was getting ready to turn around and start heading down the mountain and eat supper. My abuser pulled me aside. You know this mountain is one of the tallest mountains on the East Coast. The camp isn’t going to the top because a lot of campers would be scared; because it’s dangerous, and because its starting to get dark, but we can go together. Let’s go.

I did not want to go! Who knows what he had in store for me. I was hoping that maybe one of the staff members would notice that this man was sneaking off with me away from the group. But apparently no one noticed. No one ever notices. So he took me to the top of the mountain and started with his prepared speech again. “We are x-amount of feet off the ground. If you would fall not only would you die but your body would be beyond recognition. No one would ever find you. You wouldn’t ever be buried”…who cares? Why is he telling me this?

We are at the top of the mountain, alone. There is a sign that says…Danger: Do not cross this fence. It was a fence that fenced off the edge of the mountain. If you walked over the fence you were at risk of falling off the mountain. My abuser takes me by my hand and helps me over the fence. He tells me to look down. I look. Holy s***, we are really high up with only rocky mountains and big trees below. And now we don’t even have a fence to protect us.

He grabs my body. Okay, its fine, he’s going to abuse me now. A little weird that he picked here to abuse me but whatever suits his fantasy best. But he doesn’t abuse me. Instead he grabs my 10 year-old body and holds me over the edge of the mountain. Somehow this is funny - because he is laughing. We are on one of the tallest, rockiest, dangerous mountains around. He is holding me over the edge of the mountain as it seems that he is getting ready to drop me…I look down but can’t see the ground. We are too high up. All I see are big trees, branches, rocks, and notice that my body is now off the ground I was standing on previously. Then he (pretends to) slips… “Oh no” he says as he (pretends to) loses grip of me…At the last second he grabs me tight and pulls me to safety…

No words were ever exchanged, but the message was clear. He had the power. Had he chose to do so - he could have thrown me off the mountain and my body would never have been found. This meant to me that if anybody finds out about our relationship, if I God-forbid betray him by telling someone, I’m going to be “thrown off the mountain”.


Niagara Falls was more or less the same idea but it was a few years later. He pulled me aside and once again we walked right passed a no entrance sign. None of the guards stopped us. He told me all about the history of Niagara Falls. He told me about all the people that went down the falls in barrels and how very few survived. He explained to me what would happen to my body if I was thrown into the furious falls. And then he took action. This time he grabbed me by my feet and held me upside down. I was as close as you can be to the falls. I think I was hanging over one of the Minnie-falls that are right next to the big one. As I was hanging, I felt the mist on my face. I was staring at the falls upside down… Ever since I almost drowned when I was a child I was always scared of water… So I wasn’t too thrilled about the situation that I was in now. I actually remember thinking that I rather have been pushed off the mountain in New Hampshire than getting crushed to death by the pressure of the falls…After what seemed like an eternity he picked me up and put me back on solid ground. He took me to a store and bought me a souvenir that said “I survived Niagara Falls”.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

The End Has Come

Took from me all that I had
Left my soul and spirit dead
Killing everything in me
What is one used to be three

Now to drive away the pain
I'll destroy all I disdain
I'll become what I despise
Living someone else’s lies…

Now obsession rules my mind
This commotion makes me blind
Searching out who ever runs
Or has stolen away my life…

You took my everything
I'll take your dying breath
I can't feel anything
ButI'll live to see you to your death…

Don't ever back down
Don't ever turn around
My end has come
So now I come for you

I'll drive you down
I'll beat you to the ground
My end has come
So now I come for you…


The Present:

Once again I would like to thank everyone who has visited this blog and contributed with their own thoughts and ideas. Hopefully something positive can come out of this…

I would like to summarize some of the questions that many bloggers have been asking over the past few days. Being that I don’t know the right answer to these questions I will throw these questions out to the public (if there is an issue that I missed please fill me in):

1. What do you do with an abuser? Do you try to put him in jail, or do you try to sue him – making the case public (which many survivors don’t want)?

2. What about if the abuser is a relative of yours? What if the abuser is one of your parents? What do you do then?

3. If you don’t want to put him in jail or sue him - because you don’t want to make the case public – what do you do to make sure that this person doesn’t abuse others in the future?

4. Is there really something gained by making the abusers name public? Will he abuse again even though people know about him?

5. What role does religion play in this all? Does Halacha have anything to say about these questions? Should a Jewish offender be treated any differently than a non-Jewish offender?

6. What about camps in general – is it a safe place to send our children too? Would you send your child off to a sleep away camp where things like this do happen? How do we protect our children when they away from home?

7. What is the proper way to educate the public about sexual abuse in the Jewish community? Do we send speakers to all schools? Is there such a thing? Are all Rabbis’ aware of the threats, and that there may be an offender davening in his Shul?


My abuser is currently a prominent member in his community. He gives a Halacha Shiur to the members of his shul every morning. His rabbi absolutely adores him... I recently confronted my abuser who admitted to me that he did abuse me for 7 years. He also admitted to abusing over 100 other children, and that’s only what he’s admitting too...He is married and has two children...His family now knows about him. His rabbi knows about him too. His community is not yet aware of him being a child predator. ACS – Child Services was contacted and they came to his house to assess if his children were ever abused or if they are at risk for ever being abused. They felt that his children were safe for now. When asked if he would ever abuse his children – my abuser answered that they are still too young for him to have a sexual appetite for them…

A few months ago I had a face-to-face confrontation with my abuser. I let him know how I felt about him and told him about how he ruined my life. He didn’t seem to care too much. A few weeks later my family came with me and we confronted him again, this time as a family. Once again; we as a family, shared our thoughts and feelings about him. The room was packed with so much emotion, yet he hardly even blinked. My mom cursed him out and spit in his face a few times. He just looked at her and let the saliva roll down his face. He never stopped to wipe it off. He just didn’t care.

I want to assure that he never abuses again. I don’t care so much about if he goes to jail or not. His life is unraveling slowly but surely. It bothers me to no end that this man was able to get married and have children. He had some years of happiness – which he is so fond of telling me. When we talked to him about the possibility of him going to jail he responded by saying, “Well, I have had many years of happiness so far. I enjoyed my teenage years and have been enjoying my marriage and children for the past x-amount of years, so it’ll be okay for me if it comes to an end now. Everything ends at some point. You do know that we are going to die at some point. So I guess that my time has come.” How come he had enjoyment in his life and I haven’t enjoyed one day of my life yet? How come he got married and had a family – something I may never have?


I met with many other people who were victimized by this man. Strangely enough these people weren’t affected that much by the abuse. They are living productive lives and aren’t haunted by their past. I guess it’s different when you are “his favorite”. In my case it was all part of a “relationship” but for others it was just abuse – no strings attached.

The camp that I attended is very successful today. It is one of the larger camps in the mountains today. I want to use this camp,along with all other camps, to help me with my mission. I want them to be the first camp to be part of the mission to stop sexual abuse. They will have to give lectures to the staff and do whatever else is needed to assure that abuse does not occur again. If this camp cooperates I’m sure all the other will follow…

“It's just the beginning it's not the end
Things will never be the same again”

P.S. If anybody would like to e-mail me and share their stories or their opinions on a personal level you can always e-mail me at

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Welcome to My Life

Do you ever feel like breaking down?
Do you ever feel out of place?
Like somehow you just don't belong
And no one understands you
Do you ever wanna run away?
Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on turned up so loud
That no one hears you screaming…

Do you wanna be somebody else?
Are you sick of feeling so left out?
Are you desperate to find something more?
Before your life is over
Are you stuck inside a world you hate?
Are you sick of everyone around?
With their big fake smiles and stupid lies
While deep inside you're bleeding…

No one ever lied straight to your face
And no one ever stabbed you in the back
You might think I'm happy but I'm not gonna be okay
Everybody always gave you what you wanted
You never had to work it was always there
You don't know what it's like, what it's like…

No you don't know what it's like
When nothing feels all right
You don't know what it's like
To be like me

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life...


I changed my mind. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t write about all these painful memories. It’s too hard and too emotional for me. I wanted to write about all the events that happened in my life as a camper. But I don’t want to anymore…


I shared with you about the time that my abuser took me for a drive in his car to the woods where he tied me up and did to me as he pleased. I told you about the time that I sat in the front seat of the car, next to him. But I didn’t tell you about the times when I wasn’t that fortunate.

I didn’t tell you about the times that he put me into the trunk of his car and drove off to never land. I can’t, it’s too painful. My hands are shaking as I write this. Do I need to write about this anymore? A young innocent 11-year-old boy being locked up in the trunk of a madman’s car being driven into the woods to be abused! I think not…


I told you about my doctor’s appointment and what it triggered in me. I didn’t specifically tell you all the details of what would occur on Friday nights when all the lights in camp were turned off. I can’t. I don’t want to remember.

Suffice it to say that I had a halachic problem every Shabbos morning when I awoke. I felt that I needed to brush my teeth. My mouth felt very dirty. (The past few years I also have the compulsion to take a lot of showers – I feel dirty). So every Shabbos morning I would brush my teeth. My friends would tell me that you are not allowed to brush your teeth on Shabbos. What are you doing? You are being Mechallel Shabbos. I agreed with them. I was violating the Shabbos! But what was I supposed to do. I couldn’t go the entire Shabbos with that bitter taste in my mouth…Shabbos is something that I struggle with today… I have an urge to be Mechallel Shabbos every week...Shabbos for me is the lonliest day of the week. I am filled with intense feelings of pain and lonliess on the holiest and most special day of the week.


I didn’t tell you about the time that he took me to the janitor’s bungalow…The janitor had a nice big television. “You want to watch a movie with me”, he asked? Once again it sounded like it might just be a night off for me. But I got very scared when I saw the movie that he put on for us to watch together. Two beautiful women in a bathtub…touching each other…kissing…naked…having sex…doing things I never knew even existed. I couldn’t comprehend what was going on and what kind of movie this was. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I actually realized what he was doing to me. He was forcing me to watch pornography, another form of sexual abuse. I don’t want to talk about this anymore, I can’t. Once again it’s just too painful.


I went to camp and was abused; summer after summer, for 7 years by this sick monster. Don’t ask me why I kept going back every summer if I knew what was going to happen, because that is a question that bothers me every day of my life. Why did I keep going back? Why didn’t I have the courage to actually tell someone what was going on? I don’t know. That’s abuse for you. I was just too scared to tell anyone. Would anyone believe me anyway? Besides, it was all my fault, not his!

I have 7 years worth of stories to share, but I don’t know how many more I want to write about. I don’t have the strength. It’s not healthy for me. There are; however, a few more things that I do want to get off my chest.

How does an abuser make sure his victim doesn’t talk? Every abuser has his/her own ways to make sure that the victim remains silent. I want to talk about some of the things that he did to me (non-sexual) to scare me – so that I wouldn’t tell anyone. I also plan to continue writing more about how my life progressed after being abused by this man. I want to show how one tragedy leads to another. They say "aveira goreres aveira", one sin leads to another. The same is true, in many cases, of abuse. Once you are abused - the likelihood of it happening again, and again, and again etc. - by different people - increases greatly. I would like to share that part of my life too, if i have the strength to write about it in the future...

To everyone reading, Welcome to My Life.
And until next time,
Carpe Diem

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Haunting Me

Everywhere I go I see your face
Every sound I hear is the sound of your voice
Why are you haunting me?
Why can't I let you go
Why are you haunting me?

What does it matter?
What's done is done and I should get on with my life
Why are you haunting me?

Well, I don't know what it means
But I can't seem to make myself forget
Why are you haunting me?



It was my bi-yearly visit to my family Doctor. I was coughing a lot and was complaining from a sore throat. My Doctor suggested that I take a throat culture. “I guess that would be okay if it will make me feel better, but what exactly is throat culture”, I asked? “Oh, it’s nothing. I will take a little stick and put it in your mouth. The stick will be put in your mouth until it gets to your throat. At that point you will feel a little uncomfortable and will feel the need to cough a few times. I will then take the stick out of your mouth and the test will be over before you know it. No big deal.” he replied.

I started to sweat. My body started twitching. Please no! I changed my mind. I don’t want a throat culture. “I know some kids are a little bit scared at first, but I promise that it will be uncomfortable for only a few seconds”, he said…The doctor told me to open my mouth, but I refused. This was something new to him. No child had ever refused to open his mouth before a throat culture. How odd...He forced my mouth open, and I began to scream. I guess he felt that I was scared because I was only an 11 year old kid. He didn’t realize that there was a lot more behind my reaction.

“It’ll be okay, it’ll be over in two minutes”, he said. But my body was shaking furiously. My Doctor held me down. But I wasn’t going to allow him to put that stick in my mouth. So I started kicking. He called his wife; the nurse, into the room. She held down my legs so that I wouldn’t be able to kick. The Doctor called the secretary in to hold down my hands (hey, this sounds a little familiar). My mother, who brought me to the Doctor, held the rest of my body down while the Doctor stuck the stick in my mouth. I was screaming on the top of my lungs. I was gagging. After I coughed a few times I threw up and started to cry.


My Doctor said that he had never before seen such a reaction from a patient. I mean what can be so traumatizing about an innocent throat culture. What was the big commotion all about?

I guess he never had a large penis shoved down his throat. He never experienced being an 11 year old boy choking and gagging on a penis that was forced down his throat, when there’s no air left in the world for you to breathe from. And he doesn’t know what it feels like to know that the only thing my abuser would tell me to give me any hope was that “it would be over in two minutes”...My doctor gave me a lolly pop and told me to cheer up.

(Note: A "flashback" is a common phenomenon among survivors of sexual abuse. It can happen at any time and in any place. It is especially frequent when an event that is happening to you in your life, triggers you , and reminds you of similar situations that you experienced in your past. There was really nothing to be scared of at the Doctor's office, but it flashed me back to similar situations that were painful to me in my past [i.e. sexual abuse revolving around the mouth]...Many times flashbacks and exact memories of traumatic events arent 100% accurate, and very often survivors of sexual abuse may not be 100% clear and accurate as to the exact details of the abuse - which is normal and understandable. Needless to add that abuse is still abuse regardless of the exact details).


I speak to Rabbi’s and different religious figures about my life. I ask them for advice as to what I can do to improve my life. How can I heal? How can I make peace with God and religion? How could God have aloud this to happen to me? Why did he screw up my life?

I usually get the same type of responses. “Learn Torah (even if you don’t want to). Davening is crucial and important. Even when you don’t want to – pray , and pray with a lot of Kavanah. Make sure to make brachos before and after you eat…This usually gets me angry…Hey Rabbi; I have a question for you… “I recently went to Eichlers and bought that new Brachos book. It tells you what Brachos to make on what foods etc… But there was something missing that I wanted to know about. What Bracha do you make on an older mans dick? And do you make a “Borei Nifashos” or an “Al Hamichya” afterward”?

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

My Immortal

Your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. It was only lanyard!!! It’s not like it was a rope or something. I could’ve broken free and ran if I really wanted to. Lanyard is real easy to rip, especially when you are afraid for your life. But I didn’t. I gave in. I let this man do as he pleased. Why? I must have really wanted it. It wasn’t against my will. I must be a bad person. Let me explain…
He had the coolest car. He would drive it around camp to impress all the young campers. As Rainman would say, he was an “excellent driver”. He had two special talents when it came to driving. One was that he knew how to drive really really fast. Just like me, he was known for his speed. I used to be able to run really fast (I guess you can say that I needed too) and he used to be able to drive really fast. It was a common practice of his to drive well over 100 mph on the curvy and dangerous country roads. After all he was the coolest guy to ever walk this planet. Nothing could stop him, and no one was able to get in his way (I will discuss his second talent later).
Hey, you want to go for a ride with me in my car, he asked? It’ll be a lot of fun. We’ll go to this special area in the country that I found, that no one else knows about. There will be no cars around. That way we will be able to go over 100 mph down a really curvy and dark road. It’ll be a real thrill! I can’t say that I agreed, but somehow he understood that I was too afraid to tell him no.
So he and I snuck out of camp one night after curfew. I got to sit next to him in the front seat. What an honor! He was driving really fast. With the windows open he put on some really loud music too. He was singing together with the music. He was singing to me..."And here's to you Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know" ...The car was hopping...What a thrill for a 19 -year-old who is still excited about the newness of driving, especially in the country where the roads are more dangerous. But for a 10 year old camper?
As he was driving me around, impressing me with his knowledge of all roads and all the shortcuts etc…I realized that he had another special talent when it came to driving. He was able to drive with only one hand on the steering wheel. His other hand was down my pants...
I was sort of used to this behavior by now. It was a common occurrence for the past two summers. It was what happened next that made “this night different than all the other nights of the year.”
He stopped the car. He had a serious look on his face. It was scary. What was going to happen next? He already molested me. He had his fun for the night, so what else could he want from me. Apparently I was wrong again.
We walked together into the woods (“va’yelchu sh’nayhem yachduv"). Abuser and I were in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the woods. All I could hear was the howling of all the wild animals that lived where we were. It wouldn’t have surprised me; at the time, if he told me that he was going to feed me to the wolves. I may have actually preferred that. I guess I was relieved when he told me that we were just going to play an innocent little game.
He picked a tree for me to stand near. He told me to close my eyes...I guess we were going to play hide and seek, I thought. That could be a little fun to lighten up my living nightmare. But that thought quickly ended when he took out the lanyard that he had in his pocket...Lanyard, huh? What was that for ("ayeh ha’sea le’olah")? My question was answered when he started tying my feet together. My hands were next. Apparently, I was going to be the sacrifice. He took out his red Swiss army knife and cut the lanyard and made a few tight knots. Whatever was about to happen i didnt know, but it seemd obvious that he knew i might not like it. So he tied my feet and hands real good so i could'nt escape the inevitable. My soul had already been killed last summer, but now I felt my heart die too. I thought that somehow at the end of this night I was going to literally die. I completely shut down. My mind turned off and my body went numb…
I can’t remember what happened after that. My next memory was being woken up by my counselor (and hearing all the annoncemnets being made over the loudspeaker)...Good Morning! It’s time for Cocoa Club...Don’t forget to say Modeh Ani...We all have to thank God for giving us another day of life…But I’m a little tired, I had a long night, I said… C’mon, hurry up get out of bed you lazy bum – davening is in 25 minutes…I watch everyone get out of bed. Some go to cocoa club and others sleep a few minutes later. My friends wake up with smiles looking forward to another fun and exciting day of camp activities, while I think about how ironic it is that today is Rosh Chodesh Av, the beginning of the nine days. I watch some of my fellow campers get out of bed and start to put on their yarmulkas and tzitzits over their t-shirts.
Hmmm…makes you think about God.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Summer of 69'

Oh when I look back now
That summer seemed to last forever
And if I had the choice
Yeah, I'd “never” wanna be there
Those were the “worst” days of my life

I was in fourth grade. I was 9 years old. I was a young, cute, and innocent boy. I had curly red hair with a face that was full of freckles (I call then sprinkles). I was full of energy and life. I loved to laugh, smile, and have fun. I liked to make people laugh and smile as well. My soul was free, uninhibited, and innocent...Oh, how I wish that I could still feel the same way today.
I loved sports. Watching sports is fun and all, but there’s nothing like playing sports, especially when you’re really good at it. One of the keys to being a popular kid in Yeshiva is to be good at sports. Everyone likes the guy that excells at sports. If you are good at sports than you are considered cool. For me, my favorite sport was, and always will be, football. I also enjoyed playing baseball, basketball, and hockey etc…
One Shabbos afternoon I was sitting in the living room with my parents when they showed me an advertisement in the Jewish Press. The advertisement was about a new sleep away camp that was opening up that summer. My parents asked me if I would be interested in going away for a month to this new exciting sleep away camp. I had never been away from home. I was scared. I told them that I would talk it over with my friends in school.
That week a few of my friends and I decided that we would be brave and go to sleep away camp. We would all be in the same bunk in this new camp. For me, although I was scared to leave home, the ability to play sports all day was a dream come true. It was an opportunity that I just couldn’t pass up. I was very excited...I’m sure many of you can relate to that feeling of excitement that you feel when you’re about to go to summer camp – where it’s all about fun and games – for the very first time !!! Little did I know that my decision to go to camp would change my life forever!

I was only 9 years old. In June, I graduated the fourth grade and went on the bus to sleep away camp. Looking back at my first summer of camp – I don’t remember much. But what I do remember was that my athletic abilities and charm caught the eye of one “strange” counselor.

He was the most popular counselor in camp. When color war time came around, it was only natural that he was one of the Generals. He was always the referee of all the sporting games too. He was the guy who was in control, and to get to know him, and be friends with him, was the greatest honor a camper could ever wish for. So when he introduced himself to me – I was ecstatic. The cool counselor likes me. Not only that but he gives me free candy. He also promised me that if I hang out with him he’ll start giving me piggy-back rides and start taking me on trips to places where no one else goes. But, there was one condition. It had to be a secret. No one can know about our private, special, intimate relationship.

He made me one more promise. He knew how competitive I was on the sports field. He knew how much winning meant to me. He told me that he would referee my league games and that if I was in trouble, and my team was losing (on those rear occasions) he would cheat for me and make sure my team would win. An offer that I just couldn’t refuse. So, we became friends. We had a relationship. A relationship that would destroy every future relationship that I would have for the rest of my life, to date.

Even as a nine year old, I sensed that there was something very wrong. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but something just didn’t feel right. It felt very weird whenever he would give me a piggy-back ride. Piggy-back rides are supposed to be fun. I can remember on Simchas Torah my father putting me on his shoulders and dancing with me and the Torah. That was so much fun. But somehow with this man, it just wasn’t the same. He seemed to be doing it for himself. He seemed to be getting more pleasure out of it than me. Why was his body positioned in a way that he could feel certain parts of my body that were supposed to be private? Why do I feel like I am being violated?
The answer, to me, was obvious. I am a little kid and he is a mature adult – so obviously he knows what’s right and I don’t. If I think what’s going on is somehow wrong that’s because I’m only a kid and am unable to understand the true good that this adult is bestowing upon me. He is right, I am wrong.
But this still made no sense to me. What is going on, I don’t understand? Somebody please help me? I’m really scared now. Where’s my Mommy and Daddy? Why did they send me away to sleep away camp? Why is this cool counselor making me feel so uncomfortable and embarrassed? Why does our relationship have to be a secret?
My life was beginning to change. Light was beginning to turn into darkness. My childhood was ending, even though I was only 9. Confusion began to creep into my young soul. Something is wrong and there’s no one to help me…

Monday, January 23, 2006

Who am I?

I have trouble with my words
They don't seem to come out clear
but I want you all to know me
So I'll try
The time has come for me to start writing about my life. I have been reading various different blogs over the past few months and I feel like I am ready to start my own. Better yet, I need to start my own blog. It will be therapeutic for me. I am not a good writer by nature, but I will try my best.

A little background about myself: I am a frum Orthodox male in my mid-20’s. I have lived in Brooklyn my whole life. I went to regular main stream Yeshiva’s for elementary school and high-school and spent 3 years learning in a prestigious Yeshiva in Israel. So I’m your regular frum yeshiva guy...Or am I?

I graduated from Touro College a number of years ago, and I am continuing my secular studies, while working at the same time. So in addition to all the learning that I have done and continue to do, I’m also someone who has a career and indulges in everyday life. So I’m your regular learner/earner that looks so good on paper...Or am I?

I also have a good personality (at least people tell me that). When you see me, you will always be greeted with a smile. I have a good sense of humor. I am intellegent. I am good looking. I have good middos etc...I work, go to school, learn and daven daily, and always seem to be in a good mood...So I’m just a great overall guy...Or am I?


What is this blog going to be about? I will tell you. This blog will be about something that haunts me everyday. It will be about something that stripped me of my humanity. This blog will be about something that because of it I feel like I am a bad person and unworthy of any goodness in this world. Because of it I hate God and I hate myself. It makes me want to rebel and go "off-the derech". Becuase of it I am filled with a tremendous about of anger and rage. It almost caused my death. It causes me to feel a tremendous amount of guilt and shame on a daily basis. It’s something that isn’t talked about much in the Jewish Community, even though 1 in every 4 children are victims of it. I need to unload. Now is the time...
This blog will be about sexual abuse. I will share my stories and struggles with you – for my sake.