Too Young

I had to become a man. Between 6 years old and 12, I was sexually abused and being lashed. At the age of 12 I had to go to work at my father’s warehouse. At that age humping truckloads of 50 pound sacks of cocoa powder was a bit much. But I did it. Childhood? Never really had one. It lasted so little time. It ended much too quickly.

At young ages, when serious beatings combine with sexual abuse, there’s a moment. Just a second, really, when a child’s natural development is arrested. Nothing is ever “normal” after that exact moment and growth is warped and twisted from that day forward.

I did not ask to be brought up by monsters. No one ever does. My life has been drawn out, with misery and tragedy strewn in my footprints. I’ve hurt others and been hurt myself.

Losing my children was the worst thing I have ever endured. No past betrayal by my parents, no amount of abuse, ever broke my heart as much as getting the phone calls that they were gone. But the horrors don’t end there. They never end. I had to become an adult before I was prepared to. It wasn’t fair, but what ever is?

Please don’t hurt children. They never recover.

Never.