Living Without a Smile

Living Without a Smile

I was sexually molested multiple times by my dentist in the early 70s and only just recently told my wife about what happened to me. I was born in Ohio in 1964 and contracted viral meningitis as an infant. Because of the massive doses of tetracycline, I incurred side effects resulting in soft enamel of my teeth and discoloration, which created the necessity to visit a dentist more often than a normal child 7-10 years of age. I am not ready to state exactly what happened to me at this time, other than to clarify that when I was able to become aware of the fact that I was molested, I remember the dentist telling me that if I said anything he would kill me and my little brother. Essentially, from that point on my life began to spiral out of control. Since then, I have been a drug addict and a criminal, without really wanting to be but not having the ability to understand why I was doing the things I was doing. What has me to share my story at this time is that I’m suffering from serious problems with my teeth because I have been unable to endure getting the necessary dental care I’ve needed for the last 25-30 years. Until now I’ve been able to avoid thinking about what happened to me by using drugs and engaging in criminal behavior resulting in my life beginning a steady descent into a nightmare. I am no longer able to block out what happened to me. Every night I am unable to sleep. I sit on the side of my bed crying. I cannot bring myself to move forward in any way in my life. I have so much to offer if I could just find some help. I would like to talk to William Lynch about my situation because there are serious legal issues involved, as well as personal motivations to help others. I hope that one day soon I will be able to reveal what happened to me, and that this all has a happy ending. I also hope that this is the beginning of a new life for me — one without shame, fear, loss, punishment and failure. I would be willing to talk to others once I am able to discuss these things with a professional and have made the first step towards dealing with these issues, changing my life, so that I am in a position to help others. Michael, San Francisco,...

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Every Storm Ends, Yet the Toll Mounts

Every Storm Ends, Yet the Toll Mounts

The weather was warm and the sun was bright on this late spring day in 1979. AJ, a 7-year-old girl with big brown eyes, and brown hair so curly that people often likened her to a brown-haired Shirley Temple. She has a sweet and innocent smile that proudly displays the recent loss of yet another baby tooth. She is dressed in her favorite dress with teddy bear print, and patent leather shoes, holding the hand of her big sister just two years older than she. Her birthday just passed a week ago on Easter Sunday and now she stands in the doorway of an enormous unfamiliar house, unfamiliar people, and with hopes of something else unfamiliar to her…. a happy family with a Mom and Dad that will love her and never hurt her. AJ is starting over, again, with another family in Foster Care. Wait, lets go back a bit first, and take a brief look at AJ’s journey in life up to this spring day. It was mid-April and very early in the morning when AJ’s Mom awoke in tremendous pain. The pain was not from the beating or punch to the stomach she received from her husband the night before, nor from the meal she made of onions she often ate due to lack of food in the home, but instead she was in labor. AJ’s Mom made it to the hospital but ended up giving birth to little AJ in the elevator.  She weighed approximately 4 pounds, a result of being born a few months early, and needed to spend quite a lengthy time in the nursery at the hospital. Unfortunately, she spent most of that time alone as Mom had to return to her husband. Finally, social services contacted AJ’s parents and let them know that their baby was ready to go home to be with her family. No one knew AJ’s struggle being born and getting home were the easy part and that her biggest challenge, for the next 4 decades, would be to simply survive. Between birth and the age of seven, this little girl endured several forms of abuse, witnessed many horrors, and suffered tragic losses. Between birth and the age of seven she was physically abused, emotionally abused, witnessed severe domestic violence, observed her mother attempt suicide multiple times, was hidden in the trunk of her mother’s car, was dropped off at social services by her parents several times, was used by her mother as a shoplifting mule to steal meats from grocery stores, and witnessed the death of her baby sister at the hands of her mother. AJ survived. Not only did she survive, but also she managed to...

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Fighting the Secret

Fighting the Secret

As a five year old, losing her father two years prior, I didn’t know that what was happening to me was a bad thing. I thought him touching me was something that was “supposed” to happen. It started off as molestation, then rape, then attempted murder. He said that if I told ANYONE, he would hurt my family. I shut down. I didn’t tell very many people what had happened to me. I didn’t tell one person the full truth. I chugged along through life just saying I was molested — not raped. It let me cope in a strange way, even though it wasn’t the truth. I’m now 19 and I just came clean about what exactly happened. Looking back now, I wish more than anything I would have spoken up about the truth, not just a small part of the bigger picture. I hid the truth for years and years. I was afraid of what could happen. To be completely honest, I was terrified when I told my mom the truth for the first time. I wasn’t exactly afraid for myself, I was afraid for her and my brother. I didn’t want them getting hurt because I finally “broke.” I realize now, I didn’t break. I finally built up the courage to stand up. Although too many years have passed and there is nothing the law can do, I can share my story in hopes of helping anyone who has gone through the same or similar event. Everything happens for a reason, but if I HAD to go back in time, I would have told the police right when it was happening so something could have been done. Instead, the “man” who abused me is still living in the same city as me. I’m not afraid anymore though. I know now what he did to me was wrong and I will stand up for not just myself, but for everyone in my family. This isn’t the only thing I’ve had to deal with while going through my life. I’ve experienced loss of a parent by death and the “mental” loss of a parent from alcoholism. There have been a lot of struggles that I’ve had to face in my life thus far. However, I will not let it destroy who I am meant to be. I refuse to indulge myself in drugs and alcohol to help with the pain. To get to the point; I will overcome everything I have gone through, and I will prove to everyone that although bad things happen, I can still do great things in my life. I am studying psychology in college and hoping and praying that I can make a...

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Childhood Lost

Childhood Lost

My name isn’t important to you or anyone else. My story is what matters. I was born in 1999. My mother is a piece of crap and my father has never been around. I am 14 as I write this. I’m 5’2″ with brown eyes and red hair with blond highlights and I weigh 120 lbs. I was 6 years old when it started, 9 when I told someone, and 10 when I got a new family. My uncle molested me at the age of 6. Then my brother molested me at the age of 10. I cried when I was taken from my mother into child protective services in 2010. It took my first caseworker all night to find a place that would take me. The new family already had two children, which they later adopted. The father was white, the mother Hispanic, the two girls were Asian-Hispanic. They hated me and I never knew why. A month and a half later I moved to another home and then another. I went through six foster homes, two RTC’s and was almost admitted to a mental hospital four times. In addition, a stranger raped me at the age of 13, all within the four years in CPS custody. My family has been torn apart by these events. I am scared of the entire male population, except my brother-in-law and my only human friend from when I was little. I’m starting to trust people again. It’s painful to start over. I know I’m never going to forget. You can’t forget what you can’t...

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Why Was This Happening to Me?

Why Was This Happening to Me?

I was so young when it all happened. When it all started. When I lost my innocence. Before anyone get’s confused, three different men sexually abused me throughout my childhood. The first was all new to me. He was my cousin (we will refer to him as S). He was in his late teens and I was maybe 7 or 8. He told me that he was trying to make me feel good, but it really hurt and I didn’t understand what was happening. Over the course of months, it came to the point where my privates hurt and had tearing. I tried to distance myself as far from him as I could, which worked to prevent any more abuse for a few years. The second abuser was S’s best friend (whom I will call D). I was 11 years old and he was 19. D was very nice at first, seemed very quiet, and spoke softly to me. After receiving my IM address and phone, I asked him to help me download songs into my iPod, he had the chance to get to know me. Over the course of time, he made me believe that I was worthless without him and couldn’t do any better. He was the reason my depression started. D sexually abused me for 2.5 years. He took my first kiss, made me touch his privates, took naked photos of me and threatened to release them in public if I were to ever leave him, pressured me to give him oral sex, threatened to punish me if I didn’t listen, held me down, made me swear that I’d give him my virginity at age 14, and kept tabs on me throughout my day. After any physical abuse occurred, D would take me to see a movie. Maybe he felt like he had to rid himself of the guilt. Those 2.5 years made me feel like I was dying inside. I hoped for my death everyday, often questioning God as to why something like this was happening to me. Before I went onto 8th grade, I finally built the courage to leave D and avoid him entirely. I had tried on several occasions before but he often persuaded me not to. I thought nothing as horrible could happen to me ever again. I was wrong. The third abuser was a distant relative I was staying with during vacation. While I was sleeping on the couch, he slid his hand through my pants and tried to touch me. When I woke up to find his hands touching my privates, I kicked him off of me and he ran out the door. He didn’t return home until he...

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