Randy's Story
My name is Randy Boyd and I am a 65 year old survivor of childhood emotional, physical, spiritual, and sexual abuse. My earliest memory of the emotional abuse is around the age of 5 or 6 when I was in the front yard with my mother in the garden wanting to help her. I went up to help her, and for reasons I still am unaware of today, she turned to me and asked, "What do you want you stupid little son-of-a-bitch". I can still see the anger and hate in her eyes and I remember how bad I felt, the shame I felt. I remember how scared I was of her when she would get upset with me. She was so full of anger, rage and hate. To this day I do not understand how a mother can do this to a child.
My parents divorced when I was 10 years old. I still remember the day. Myself, my mother & brother had returned home from a trip to Indiana to visit relatives while my father stayed at home to work, or so we were told. I remember how excited I was to get home and see my father, only to have him not be at home. I remember running around the house looking for him with excitement. When I asked my mother where he was, she told me he was not at home. When I asked when he was coming home, she said he wasn't. I remember how confused I was. I did not understand why he was not coming home and no one really explained it to my brother and I. My father was my hero and remains so today.
While no one ever explained to us what was going on, my father did come and get us every other weekend. I remember spending a lot of time with him between the ages of 10 & 12. In the meantime my mother had began dating other men. The man that was to eventually become my stepfather was a man named Jack who was a divorced man with three children of his own, however Jack would always treat us as his own. I do not remember any real emotional bond with Jack, although he was fun to be around and showed us more material affection rather than emotional affection. What Jack did was earn my mothers, brothers, my fathers and my trust.
At the age of 12 years old, my father passed away. He was 32 years old and cancer had taken him. Again, I was only told that my dad was very sick, I was never told that he was going to die, just that he was sick and trying to get better. So, as you can see by the age of twelve, I have experienced two huge abandonment issues and learned that secrets and lying was okay.
So here I am, a vulnerable twelve year old boy, his father just died, he is hurting, needs a father's love and a father figure in his life. What a better opportunity than now for a perpetrator to make his move. That is exactly what Jack did, preyed on a wounded and broken child. It started as petting and fondling me and him having me masturbate him, "Don't tell anyone, this is our little secret". Cool, I felt special, I had a secret pal. Remember I was 12 years old and needed a father's love and this is what I thought he was showing me, and what he was telling me he was giving me.
I remember when he had me go get my neighbor kid and have him come in my room while he hid in the closet. He wanted me and this neighbor boy to perform sexual acts so he could watch from the closet. I remember getting him in the bedroom and becoming confused, I turned to the closet and asked Jack what I should do. I still remember how mad he was to this day that I gave him away and the shame I felt after he got done yelling at me. I was so confused. You have to remember, while I knew something was not right, I was told early on this was to be our secret.
Then there was the violence. He verbally assassinated my mother and myself as well as physically beat her and I. More than once she would come home with black eyes. If the beatings took place at home, I was usually next to get it as I would usually smart off to Jack while he was beating her.
His way of punishment was with violence and beatings. He used the term, “With thy Rod and Staff” from the bible as his mantra. There was no discussing anything with Jack or my mother. What they said was all that mattered, my opinion or feelings did not matter. In fact when I would try to talk about how I felt, it usually resulted in a beating or restriction of some sort, my feelings were not valid and didn’t matter.
My mother had absolutely no parenting skills herself. If I would get in trouble after school, she would send me to my room and let Jack deal with me, which meant a brutal beating. I remember countless times laying on my bed all tucked into a ball trying to protect myself from either his fist or the belt. I even tried laughing at the belt lashing one time, only aggravating him and increasing his rage towards me.
“So what?“, you might be asking. As I am writing this I realize this incident along with some of the others I have mentioned are the root of some of my character defects. You see I always felt less than, not enough, not worthy of love or the good things life had to offer. Anytime things started going right or everything was good in my life, I would self sabotage it. I felt like everything good that I had in my life had a high price tag attached to it, something negative. Starting with the love for my father, him leaving us when I was 10 years old, then he died and left for ever when I was 12. At Christmas our house would be full of gifts, more than any one person should get, yet it was all “MORDIDITA” gifts.
I talk about “Spiritual” abuse. At some point, I believe when I was around thirteen years old, my mother and Jack became “Born Again Christians” and used the bible and “GOD” as both a tool and a weapon against me. I literally had the “FEAR” of God instilled so deep into the fiber of my being, I eventually grew to hate and despise God. This is to say the God they were teaching me about. Remember we were all going to church, twice on Sunday, Wednesday nights, and one or two prayer meetings/bible studies as well as a youth group during the week. I was being told not to judge people, yet this congregation would tell me if you did not believe in there God, you would burn in hell, being very specific about other religions such as Buddhism, Jews, Catholics or any other religion. They talked about being loving and kind to each other, yet what I saw was a lot of people who, as I like to say, Love you on Sunday and F____d you on Monday. I remember not being able surf on Sunday as they thought I was worshiping “another” God, when in fact being in the ocean enjoying the natural beauty and energy provide by God for our enjoyment only drew me closer to God.
Here is one of the toppers for me. Jack and my mother were counseled on a weekly basis by the pastor of our church. He would come over once a week, and the three of them would sit out in his little Blue 1972 Maverick and have there “Counseling” session. Well this on particular evening when Dick walked in the house to greet us as he always did, as he turned to walk out, he asked myself and Jack to come out to the car instead of my mother and Jack. A wave of shame instantly washed over me.
I sat in the back seat and Jack and Dick were in the front seat. Dick turned to me and said, “Jack has told me what has been going on between the two of you sexually. I just want to tell you that it is all part of growing up and it does not mean your homosexual.” I remember how I sunk down in my seat and the overwhelming feeling of shame overtook me. I wanted to kill both of them, “Its part of growing up and I’m not homosexual”! I knew I was not homosexual and as far as part of growing up, what exactly did Jack tell him, or better yet, what did he “NOT” tell him. Now I have the pastor of the church condoning what Jack is doing.
You see I had absolutely no voice growing up. Every time I tried to talk about how I felt, every time I disagreed with my parents, it resulted in either a severe beating, restriction, or I was extremely discounted. It was made very clear to me that my feelings were not valid.
I remember clearly the day Jack had gone on a rampage and was tearing the house apart. I ran out of the house running up and down the street screaming and asking neighbors to help, only to be turned away and discounted. There was a couple of other incidences where I mentioned to people in the church how violent Jack was, only to have them tell me, no you can’t be right, Jack is to nice of a person, you must be mistaken.
So for those of you who are saying to yourself, “Why did he not tell someone what was going on and happening to him?” Well, I believe the answer is quite evident and if it is not let me make it clearer for you. Remember how I mentioned I was constantly being accused of things I was not doing, remember how if I would try to talk about how I felt or if I disagreed in any way with my parents said, I would get beat. Remember the minister telling me that the sexual abuse was “Just part of growing up”. Remember the people shutting the door on me and turning they’re backs on me as I asked for help when Jack was tearing the house a part. Remember when I would tell people about Jacks violent outburst and they would just discount me. Remember how my friends would just laugh at me when I would tell them about a trip I as supposed to go on, remember all those little messages of your voice means “NOTHING”! Well if they were not going to listen to or hear any of that, why would they believe me when I told them I was not only being beaten but sexually molested, raped as well. The facts are this, that there are thousands of cases of sexual abuse against boys, as well as girls, that are not ever talked about for fear of what would happen to the family if people were to find out. I say to bad, what about the child’s life that is being destroyed, what about them? Our parents are supposed to raise us, protect us, comfort us and guide us on a “Spiritual” path through life for a life of love and happiness, not a life of fear and despair. For many of you, you might just shrug a shoulder and think this is all nonsense and for a lot of others I know this all holds true. This is not just based on my experience of abuse, it is based on the other men and women I have talked with that have been abused.
Growing up was not all bad. There were lots of good times and I never went without. Until I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb all the pain and shame I was feeling, I was a fun loving, happy go lucky kid. I was a good student with close to straight “A’s”, I loved playing baseball, playing the guitar and having fun in life. Because of the drugs and alcohol I lost myself and in doing so I lost my love for playing baseball and playing the guitar.
I did become very rebellious, however with good cause, living with this secret and the shame I was filled with along with the daily fear of what I was walking into at night and feeling that I did not matter anyway were all my reasons for doing what I did. I thank God that he watched over me for all these years and let me go down the road I had to go to get to where I am today, and I thank God I came out as normal as I have. God has been by my side all my life and for that I am grateful.
I said growing up I never went without. I grew up on the beach, roof over my head, food on the table, nice clothes, went places and did things a lot of kids will never do in there entire lifetime. What I did not have, was loving parents. I would have given it all up for the gift of kind, gentle, teaching and loving parents. I often have conversations with a good friend of mine, who unlike me grew up very poor, yet had very loving and kind parents and I always tell him, I would rather of had parents yours than all the “stuff” I had – but no loving parents. Both of us have grown up with problems of our own, however different they may seem, in a lot of ways they are the same and both of us have grown into successful men contributing to society the way we should. We both are loving husbands and fathers, we both are successful contractors, we both have achieved more than we ever imagined, yet we come from different sides of the railroad tracks and walked different paths and we are both recovering alcoholics. I am grateful to have friends like him in my life today.
If you have been abused in any way, please have the courage to speak up, you are not alone. As hard as it might be for you to do, I promise you, it will be the best thing you can do for you! Know that I, as well as group of other men are here for you to walk this healing path with. Rather you are an adult or adolescent male or female, it is never to late or to early to begin your healing journey. Join us please, you are not a lone.
Remember, YOU ARE ENOUGH, YOUR NOT ALONE, IT IS NOT A PART OF GROWING UP AND “IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT”
If no one tells you they love you today, Randy does, but more importantly - God Loves You
Thank you for reading.
Namaste
My parents divorced when I was 10 years old. I still remember the day. Myself, my mother & brother had returned home from a trip to Indiana to visit relatives while my father stayed at home to work, or so we were told. I remember how excited I was to get home and see my father, only to have him not be at home. I remember running around the house looking for him with excitement. When I asked my mother where he was, she told me he was not at home. When I asked when he was coming home, she said he wasn't. I remember how confused I was. I did not understand why he was not coming home and no one really explained it to my brother and I. My father was my hero and remains so today.
While no one ever explained to us what was going on, my father did come and get us every other weekend. I remember spending a lot of time with him between the ages of 10 & 12. In the meantime my mother had began dating other men. The man that was to eventually become my stepfather was a man named Jack who was a divorced man with three children of his own, however Jack would always treat us as his own. I do not remember any real emotional bond with Jack, although he was fun to be around and showed us more material affection rather than emotional affection. What Jack did was earn my mothers, brothers, my fathers and my trust.
At the age of 12 years old, my father passed away. He was 32 years old and cancer had taken him. Again, I was only told that my dad was very sick, I was never told that he was going to die, just that he was sick and trying to get better. So, as you can see by the age of twelve, I have experienced two huge abandonment issues and learned that secrets and lying was okay.
So here I am, a vulnerable twelve year old boy, his father just died, he is hurting, needs a father's love and a father figure in his life. What a better opportunity than now for a perpetrator to make his move. That is exactly what Jack did, preyed on a wounded and broken child. It started as petting and fondling me and him having me masturbate him, "Don't tell anyone, this is our little secret". Cool, I felt special, I had a secret pal. Remember I was 12 years old and needed a father's love and this is what I thought he was showing me, and what he was telling me he was giving me.
I remember when he had me go get my neighbor kid and have him come in my room while he hid in the closet. He wanted me and this neighbor boy to perform sexual acts so he could watch from the closet. I remember getting him in the bedroom and becoming confused, I turned to the closet and asked Jack what I should do. I still remember how mad he was to this day that I gave him away and the shame I felt after he got done yelling at me. I was so confused. You have to remember, while I knew something was not right, I was told early on this was to be our secret.
Then there was the violence. He verbally assassinated my mother and myself as well as physically beat her and I. More than once she would come home with black eyes. If the beatings took place at home, I was usually next to get it as I would usually smart off to Jack while he was beating her.
His way of punishment was with violence and beatings. He used the term, “With thy Rod and Staff” from the bible as his mantra. There was no discussing anything with Jack or my mother. What they said was all that mattered, my opinion or feelings did not matter. In fact when I would try to talk about how I felt, it usually resulted in a beating or restriction of some sort, my feelings were not valid and didn’t matter.
My mother had absolutely no parenting skills herself. If I would get in trouble after school, she would send me to my room and let Jack deal with me, which meant a brutal beating. I remember countless times laying on my bed all tucked into a ball trying to protect myself from either his fist or the belt. I even tried laughing at the belt lashing one time, only aggravating him and increasing his rage towards me.
“So what?“, you might be asking. As I am writing this I realize this incident along with some of the others I have mentioned are the root of some of my character defects. You see I always felt less than, not enough, not worthy of love or the good things life had to offer. Anytime things started going right or everything was good in my life, I would self sabotage it. I felt like everything good that I had in my life had a high price tag attached to it, something negative. Starting with the love for my father, him leaving us when I was 10 years old, then he died and left for ever when I was 12. At Christmas our house would be full of gifts, more than any one person should get, yet it was all “MORDIDITA” gifts.
I talk about “Spiritual” abuse. At some point, I believe when I was around thirteen years old, my mother and Jack became “Born Again Christians” and used the bible and “GOD” as both a tool and a weapon against me. I literally had the “FEAR” of God instilled so deep into the fiber of my being, I eventually grew to hate and despise God. This is to say the God they were teaching me about. Remember we were all going to church, twice on Sunday, Wednesday nights, and one or two prayer meetings/bible studies as well as a youth group during the week. I was being told not to judge people, yet this congregation would tell me if you did not believe in there God, you would burn in hell, being very specific about other religions such as Buddhism, Jews, Catholics or any other religion. They talked about being loving and kind to each other, yet what I saw was a lot of people who, as I like to say, Love you on Sunday and F____d you on Monday. I remember not being able surf on Sunday as they thought I was worshiping “another” God, when in fact being in the ocean enjoying the natural beauty and energy provide by God for our enjoyment only drew me closer to God.
Here is one of the toppers for me. Jack and my mother were counseled on a weekly basis by the pastor of our church. He would come over once a week, and the three of them would sit out in his little Blue 1972 Maverick and have there “Counseling” session. Well this on particular evening when Dick walked in the house to greet us as he always did, as he turned to walk out, he asked myself and Jack to come out to the car instead of my mother and Jack. A wave of shame instantly washed over me.
I sat in the back seat and Jack and Dick were in the front seat. Dick turned to me and said, “Jack has told me what has been going on between the two of you sexually. I just want to tell you that it is all part of growing up and it does not mean your homosexual.” I remember how I sunk down in my seat and the overwhelming feeling of shame overtook me. I wanted to kill both of them, “Its part of growing up and I’m not homosexual”! I knew I was not homosexual and as far as part of growing up, what exactly did Jack tell him, or better yet, what did he “NOT” tell him. Now I have the pastor of the church condoning what Jack is doing.
You see I had absolutely no voice growing up. Every time I tried to talk about how I felt, every time I disagreed with my parents, it resulted in either a severe beating, restriction, or I was extremely discounted. It was made very clear to me that my feelings were not valid.
I remember clearly the day Jack had gone on a rampage and was tearing the house apart. I ran out of the house running up and down the street screaming and asking neighbors to help, only to be turned away and discounted. There was a couple of other incidences where I mentioned to people in the church how violent Jack was, only to have them tell me, no you can’t be right, Jack is to nice of a person, you must be mistaken.
So for those of you who are saying to yourself, “Why did he not tell someone what was going on and happening to him?” Well, I believe the answer is quite evident and if it is not let me make it clearer for you. Remember how I mentioned I was constantly being accused of things I was not doing, remember how if I would try to talk about how I felt or if I disagreed in any way with my parents said, I would get beat. Remember the minister telling me that the sexual abuse was “Just part of growing up”. Remember the people shutting the door on me and turning they’re backs on me as I asked for help when Jack was tearing the house a part. Remember when I would tell people about Jacks violent outburst and they would just discount me. Remember how my friends would just laugh at me when I would tell them about a trip I as supposed to go on, remember all those little messages of your voice means “NOTHING”! Well if they were not going to listen to or hear any of that, why would they believe me when I told them I was not only being beaten but sexually molested, raped as well. The facts are this, that there are thousands of cases of sexual abuse against boys, as well as girls, that are not ever talked about for fear of what would happen to the family if people were to find out. I say to bad, what about the child’s life that is being destroyed, what about them? Our parents are supposed to raise us, protect us, comfort us and guide us on a “Spiritual” path through life for a life of love and happiness, not a life of fear and despair. For many of you, you might just shrug a shoulder and think this is all nonsense and for a lot of others I know this all holds true. This is not just based on my experience of abuse, it is based on the other men and women I have talked with that have been abused.
Growing up was not all bad. There were lots of good times and I never went without. Until I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb all the pain and shame I was feeling, I was a fun loving, happy go lucky kid. I was a good student with close to straight “A’s”, I loved playing baseball, playing the guitar and having fun in life. Because of the drugs and alcohol I lost myself and in doing so I lost my love for playing baseball and playing the guitar.
I did become very rebellious, however with good cause, living with this secret and the shame I was filled with along with the daily fear of what I was walking into at night and feeling that I did not matter anyway were all my reasons for doing what I did. I thank God that he watched over me for all these years and let me go down the road I had to go to get to where I am today, and I thank God I came out as normal as I have. God has been by my side all my life and for that I am grateful.
I said growing up I never went without. I grew up on the beach, roof over my head, food on the table, nice clothes, went places and did things a lot of kids will never do in there entire lifetime. What I did not have, was loving parents. I would have given it all up for the gift of kind, gentle, teaching and loving parents. I often have conversations with a good friend of mine, who unlike me grew up very poor, yet had very loving and kind parents and I always tell him, I would rather of had parents yours than all the “stuff” I had – but no loving parents. Both of us have grown up with problems of our own, however different they may seem, in a lot of ways they are the same and both of us have grown into successful men contributing to society the way we should. We both are loving husbands and fathers, we both are successful contractors, we both have achieved more than we ever imagined, yet we come from different sides of the railroad tracks and walked different paths and we are both recovering alcoholics. I am grateful to have friends like him in my life today.
If you have been abused in any way, please have the courage to speak up, you are not alone. As hard as it might be for you to do, I promise you, it will be the best thing you can do for you! Know that I, as well as group of other men are here for you to walk this healing path with. Rather you are an adult or adolescent male or female, it is never to late or to early to begin your healing journey. Join us please, you are not a lone.
Remember, YOU ARE ENOUGH, YOUR NOT ALONE, IT IS NOT A PART OF GROWING UP AND “IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT”
If no one tells you they love you today, Randy does, but more importantly - God Loves You
Thank you for reading.
Namaste