I come from a family of victims turned abusers. I want to share my story because I think it's important that people understand the cycle.
Let’s start with my mom. She was 1 of 3 kids, the middle child. She was abused by a doctor, one of those small town everyone has the same doctor (and everyone loves him) type of situations. From as early as my mom can remember EVERY doctor’s visit he would penetrate her vaginally and anally with his fingers. She would tell her mom (my grandmother) and she would brush it off, claiming that it was probably necessary.
Her older brother forced himself on the youngest sister when he was 13. She was 10. (Supposedly only once).
My mother was also seduced by my stepdad at the age of 13, he was 18. They brush it off claiming that my mom was an early bloomer and looked at LEAST 16 if not older. Whatever.
When I was 3 or 4 I was experimenting/molested by another girl 3-4 years older. There was rubbing/touching, not much else. This peeked my interest in girls, and sex at a very early age. My mom would later catch me humping cabbage patch dolls in the closet.
During this time my mom would argue with her abusive boyfriend who would stomp on my mom’s feet in anger.
She broke up with him and moved in with another couple. I remember being left alone for hours, while multiple people were off having sex in the same room. Orgies/group sex. I was born in the 80s so lots of sex and drugs. During this time while being left alone with other kids I met another older girl and we played a game. She would lay naked on her bed, pretend she was asleep, and I would come touch her, and then I would run and hide and we would pretend it was a "ghost" then we'd take turns.
I also remember vividly going to the beach and a family next to us was making sand sculptures. They made one of my mom topless as a mermaid. My mom was flattered I guess? We went home with this family, and again 2 men, 2 women (1 my mom) went behind closed doors to have sex. While me and their 2 kids were left alone for hours.
My mom kind of bounced around from place to place until I was about 5. When she married my stepdad. When I started school I always had "crushes" on girls. I was interested in them in my opinion way too early, and those types of affections were not appreciated until much later, so I was kind of a weirdo.
In 2nd grade I made friends with a kid and we several times did this "game" in the bathroom where we bumped butts and genitalia. I don't ever actually recall becoming aroused by this, but I remember the thrill, that is was probably something we could get in trouble for, and it was exciting. I remember going to his house and going with his dad to a gym/public pool, the men were all naked in the showers, and everyone but me seemed very comfortable with it. I never went back to his house.
I also remember in 2nd grade that our much older (ready to retire) teacher used to get the kids in the class to massage her. 3-5 kids at a time. Now at the time it seemed innocent and appropriate. Today I'm not so sure. I vaguely remember getting a little touchy feely with a girl in the book corner during this time.
In 3rd grade I went over to a friend’s house, and made frequent trips to the bathroom while playing video games so I could lay on his sister’s bed with her. She was a year younger. I don't recall getting touchy feely with her. But I wanted to.
Between here and my teens I had a few experiences with my cousin (my mom's sister’s daughter) who was 3 years younger than me. We would skinny dip, "play doctor" seemingly innocent stuff I guess. As we got older we got caught one thanksgiving touching each other’s genitals, very similar to the game I played with the girl one the bed, many years earlier.
I of course found my stepdads playboy collection, and some porn videos, and then the internet, oh boy.
At 12 my last experience with abuse was while reading the REAL story of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, there's fair amount of sex, and at 12 it got me going. My youngest cousin was in the other room getting ready for bed. She was 3. She slept on a bunkbed and I went in to "help" her up with every intention of finding out what girl felt like on the inside. I picked her up in a way that allowed me to slip a finger inside. I hurt her. She cried. I said I was sorry and left the room. As far as abuse goes, that was pretty tame, but it was no less abuse. It haunts me to this day. The next morning my mom got a call from my aunt who was in tears and furious. She found blood spots in my cousin’s underwear and she suspected her boyfriend, but before getting the police involved wanted to know if it had been me. Initially I denied it, but when they started talking about taking her to the hospital, and then the hospital needing to report it, I confessed. At that moment my mother began to beat me. I was pretty big by 12, and I was crying. Her fists weren't really doing anything, so she stripped me bare and made me lay on my bed. She used a rubber piece of siding from our old truck and spanked me until I was bruised and bleeding. She pulled me off the baseball team and immediately enrolled me in counseling. I was surrounded by boys 13-17 who had been court ordered to be there for various sexual crimes, all of which were way worse (at least I told myself) than I had done. Their crimes had been multiple, and ACTUALLY involved sex, mine did not. I graduated the program a year later. The entire program basically was to help us channel urges (because sexual urges are normal) at girls more our own age.
I would say from 13 on my sex life is/was fairly typical even if I was typically ahead of the curve when compared to some of my classmates. I've never had sex with, or heavy petting, with anyone I haven't cared about. I don't think I was ever anything less than a gentleman when it came to girls my own age. But honestly I can't be sure. It was still uncharted area, I was uncomfortable, they were uncomfortable, but it was all consensual.
Before I got engaged to my wife, I told her this story. She had to know what she was getting into, full disclosure, no surprises. We have 2 boys now. I'm in my 30s. I find myself far less forgiving for abuse, than the grace I was shown from what I did to my cousin. My cousin died a few years ago from a heroin overdose. I never asked her if she remembered what I did. I didn't want to cause a rift if she couldn't even remember. I hadn't thought about any of this for years. But when she passed away, I've gone over this timeline/family tree of abuse every day. What do you think am I monster for what I did or should I forgive myself?