A Tale Worth Telling

Warning to all my dear followers This Blog Will Contain Triggers!

I’m A Survivor

Edward L. Tatro, Jr.

Where to begin with this sad tale…Any tale worth telling starts at the beginning.  I grew up in a mostly Italian and Polish neighborhood, where almost all the neighbors where in one branch of law enforcement or another, except for one.  This house belonged to a member of our City Council.

Let’s go back at least a few decades. 

I lived on a no outlet or dead end road, with plenty of woods to walk in, a very pretty neighborhood when I think of it. Well it was the summer of my eighth year of life and we got an important neighbor moved in with a small family.  The newest member of the city council had taken up residence in my little area of the world and would shatter my life as I knew it!

They had a son, five years my senior (thirteen), and at that time, in my innocent self I made friends with him; little did I know then how big of a mistake it was going to be.  We will just refer to this person by Z.

At first Z and I did normal things that most boys do, played football and what have you…than one day in July something changed in Z.  He became more aggressive and started talking what as an adult now I would say was perversion, he touched me and not in a playful way.  When I got home that night I didn’t know what to say, I was frightened, scared out of my skin.

This little game of his went on all summer where he touched me, grabbed me.  Until one weekend prior to going back to school…he started a new game.  Cops and Robbers, sounded innocent to me until he handcuffed me to a chair and he made me perform fellatio on him.  This happened almost three times a week!

I tried telling my grandparents and mother, but they thought I was telling tails, wouldn’t believe me, because of who Z’s father was.  So this continued and continued, and I grew more reserved around everyone, more secluded and was having stomach issues (mainly Acid Reflux).  My grades dropped but not by much or I’d get a whooping at home no matter where my “head” was.

Around my 12th year is when Z became more aggressive, he had started using drugs and drinking.  That is when I started getting burses, choked and being fully anally rapped by him nearly every other day.  It was utter torture.  This lasted another year until my torment ended due to his death.

Z hung himself shortly after he turned 18, that forgive (please Abba) me was a joyous Good Friday.  It was in his death that I was finally believed, and that the other victims of X where believed.  Yes he had other victim’s, male and female alike, a total of ten of us.  We all, Lord forgive us, took a bit of joy in his death.  We all took comfort in each other and our mutual suffering.

This has taken a toll on my life, but after many years of therapy I’ve stopped being a victim and I am now a survivor.  I’m a survivor of sexual abuse; I’m here for all to take example from.  I didn’t know better at that young age because sex wasn’t discussed in that age, I should have spoke louder and have been heard.  Take a lesson in that.  If anyone touches you that is inappropriate report it and keep reporting it until someone listens!  Don’t suffer in silence make yourself heard!

I am a Survivor of Sexual Abuse; And That’s Who I Am!