According to the FAQ, the sharing of stories is acceptable here. I want to say that I would like to, but I don't - but this is something that I have to get out anyway. So this is how I came to the MRM.

I've been staring at this screen off and on for a couple of days now, debating on how to put into words something that I have never told anyone before, ever. I have kept this in my heart for over twenty years now.

I will keep it simple: I was raped by my older brother.

He's a good bit older than me, more than ten years, so I'm not sure exactly what made him crack. Maybe he couldn't handle the abuse another of my brothers heaped on him (us, really). Maybe it was some kind of chemical cocktail in his body from all the drugs he was doing. Maybe he's just a dick. I don't know. All I know is that he hated everything, and does to this day.

I won't bore you with a long monologue about him, but here's a highlight reel to help you understand what kind of person he is:

  1. He would cut himself in front of me to try to teach me that "life is meaningless."
  2. He would pass me around to his friends for sex - perhaps mercifully, I actually don't remember much of that. I don't want to go into detail anyway.
  3. He often sneered at anyone who wanted to be good at anything. I remember, once, we were at a mall - I was maybe nine - and there was an ice skating rink there. It was empty except for a girl practicing something or other, fancy spins and things like that. She was quite beautiful, gliding across the ice. He kept getting more and more visibly pissed off until she finally missed something and fell, at which point all of the tension went out of him and he laughed, satisfied that something beautiful had been defaced (to him, at least - I don't think he understands the notion of practice).
  4. Likewise, he often conveniently lost his shit when I would be studying or practicing for pretty much anything, an interruption which necessitated hiding, though to be fair my entire family was like that. I learned to walk on eggshells.

He enjoyed thinking that he degraded me, that by hurting me he made me worthless. He made sure to tell me that, too. "You are worthless. Your life is meaningless. I could end it right now and nothing would happen." He was kind of like if Neil DeGrasse-Tyson looked out at the universe, saw all of its coldness and nothing of its beauty. (And was stupid.)

I never had any support through this. I never brought up the rape with anybody, but everyone just kept telling me that I was too sensitive. I recognize now that I showed every sign of "something going on at home," but no one cared. No one ever tried to help me. I was just a broken piece of shit that annoyed people when I had the utter fucking gall to act like a human being instead of a robot.

My parents were champion enablers, too. "Oh, that's just the way your brother is." "You just need to stop being so sensitive." Between them all, I was groomed to accept abuse as normal. All of my relationships have been with dysfunctional, horrible people, because I didn't know any better. That string ended spectacularly when I found myself in a relationship with someone with BPD. She would do horrible things to me and no one would listen - because who would believe that a cute little Asian girl could hurt a big strong man like me?

My hackles used to always go up when people were kind to me. Now, it just makes me want to cry, not that I can anymore. For the longest time, I was worried that I could never have a normal relationship. At this point, I can barely handle kind words - I used to scare people because when they complimented me, and I realized that they meant it, I would freeze up. The only thing I know is fighting of one kind or another.

Those things have led me to being exposed to the MRM off and on over the years. At this point, having realized what happened to me, I have decided to actually do something about it. I do not want someone else to go through what I went through, alone and without support.

Thank you for listening to my rambling. It's appreciated.

P.S. Just for the record, it's not all bad - I'm actually on my way to recovery thanks to my best friend, an ex-Marine (though I get the feeling nobody's ever an "ex" Marine). If any of you are reading this, I dunno what they teach you guys, but he has a gift for cutting across bullshit without minimizing the fact that I suffered child rape for several years.