Who am I? Why was I born? (cont)

This seems like the starting line of a badly written book; “it was a dark and stormy night” on the 27th of August, 1963. The location is the Stirling Hospital in the hills outside Adelaide Australia. It was sometime between 11pm on the 27th and 1am on the 28th, a bouncing baby boy was born. Nobody can really be sure of the time as the clocks had stopped because of a blackout caused by the storm. I was the second child born and had an older brother born in June, 1962.

My first how many hours of life were peaceful I guess, when I was born my father was home in bed asleep. Being named Christopher John lead to the first argument between my mother and father about me, this was to become a common theme throughout the first 16 years of my life. My father did not like that name and they eventually agreed on Stephen John which lead to another argument about spelling. My father insisted Stephen spelt with a “ph” was a new Australian name, new Australian meaning foreigner’s name, so the “ph” was changed to a “v”. Filling out my birth certificate caused another argument between my mother and the doctor over the date of my birth. My mother insisted I was born on the 27th, with the doctor insisting it was the 28th. After the argument the doctor walked away. So it was, Steven John was born on the 28th of August, 1963, weighing 6 lbs 9 ozs.

Most of my early growing I have a lot vague memories. I am sure very few people remember that part of their lives. I vaguely remember my sister coming home from the hospital, she was born January 1966. Another memory is of my grandfather (father's father) sitting in a chair in the garden. He is offering my brother a sweet, I do not remember my sister being there. Could been when she was a baby or before she was born, can not really say. Anyway he gave my brother a sweet and when I went to get one he wouldn't give me one, he tormented me until I cried then I remember he pushed me over, as my mother came out to see why I was crying he threw the sweet at me. Strange the things can remember. I told my mother about it many years later. From what she told me he was particularly cruel towards me, blaming me for innocent mishaps. Although I have very few memories of my father pre 1969, it seems its like father, like son. Only real memories are of fishing with him and of course the arguments between my parent which was a common occurrence. In 1969 we moved to government housing and from there my life was to change in many ways. I remember and heard many more arguments and it was about when I was about 6 I heard the most devastating thing which changed my life, but it answered many questions too. This night was a normal night, they were arguing then as always turned to be about me when I heard my father say "I was not his son!". What I felt after hearing that I just can not put into words, all I can say is it was when my world disappeared out from under me.

Unless it has happened for you then I am not sure you could understand. Many years later I asked my mother why he would think such a thing and it appears he believed my mother had an affair with a neighbour and I was a product of that affair. Seems stupid to me now, we share so much in common, especially medically and I even look a little like him.

I didn't know what suicide was at that age but believe that was the beginning of such thoughts. At night when going to bed at night praying to God not to let me wake up the next morning and of course I did and I would cry because I did. Me, my brother and sister attended what was called Sunday School, which is a type of church based thing. So I guess I had some faith that there was a master being watching over us. As time went on that belief faded and guess the ideas of that supreme being just seem like a fantasy to me. How can there be a person if he/she/it let people suffer in the world, guess that is naive now but to a kid it is hard to understand. Suicide is one of those things that would plague my life and even now its still my enemy.

In 1970, my father was in a serious accident coming home from work, well coming home from the pub after who knows how many drinks. It ended his working career where he was a fitter and turner. Anyway my mother dragged my brother, sister and me into town to the hospital. I do not remember how I was feeling or if I was feeling anything, just remember the event because it was to change many things for the future and was especially with the physical and verbal abuse which was to get worse. My father already had spinal problems where he had plastic discs placed between the vertebra in his lower spine. The result of the accident made those plastic discs move, completely damaging the spine. Anyway after recover he was forced to use a walking stick and as a family we were placed within the welfare system. Relying on government benefits to live but I do know my father did not give up trying to find work. He would take the bus every few days into town where he would visit the employment centre. As a result from the accident he was seeking compensation from insurance. His efforts to find a job best suited for him was basically impossible to find, that just increased the stress on him and increased the abuse I faced at home.

I attended Newton Primary School in 1970. I never really had a lot of friends growing up, sadly I was the little fat kid everyone bullied at school. I was beaten up, pushed around and tormented, then come home at night and face it at home by an abusive father.

Before reading further I must warn you what is to follow is a graphic account of an incident from my childhood, which you could find upsetting. So please proceed with caution.

Something in 1971 when I was 8 years old, even more so made me feel the depths of my worthlessness which was a more severe feeling than what was the common form of victimisation I faced in my early life. But this day was in a personal invasive way and is difficult to talk about especially in this type of forum, but here goes.

There was a woman up the street I use to go to often to get away from my father and the house. She was a lovely lady who treated me like I was worth something, talked to me, gave me sweets, was a really nice lady. She had an older son, Jim who was about 17 years old at the time. It was a normal day I went over there to see her but this day she was not home. In those days the occult and what was known as devil music hit the scene. Singers like Alice Cooper, Deep Purple, etc. Jim was home with another friend around the same age called Taylor. Maybe can call it naive but I was only 8 years old, they asked me if I would be a sacrifice, I thought it would be fun so I said yes. I walked into his bedroom, it was dark and there were lit candles around the room. I do not remember the music being played, was something I never heard before. It was like it was playing backwards, can not really explain but it sound like very heavy metal sound. They stripped me naked, put a blind fold on and place me on a desk. It was not overly big desk my lower legs hanged over the edge. As I lied there one of them tied my hand, my elbows bent over my head. I couldn't move my arms up or back towards my head very much. Jim was talking to me, saying things I can even remember now, I couldn't see anything because of the blind fold. Then one of them tied my legs at the ankles and my legs hung up and I couldn't move them down and just hung in the air. I could hear Jim and Taylor talking in the back ground and the music went up. I could feel something wet being drawn on my chest and stomach, big shapes in a wet liquid with one of their fingers. They seemed to be talking some funny language. I remember it was funny because I giggled. One of them was at my head and the other at my side. They drew large shapes on my chest and stomach as they made the funny sounds. After it stopped I could hear them whispering and then I felt something soft start at my forehead working its way down the centre of my body. It felt like a feather and it moved down between my legs and tickled my bottom. I was giggling through this and I could hear them giggling as well. I felt one of them place their hands on my shoulders and then felt something very pointy as they started talking funny again. It was cold as it touched my forehead and felt it move down my face on to my chest and down my body. It was very pointy and it hurt as it pressed on my stomach as it moved down it touch my penis and went over my testicles down to my anus. I started sobbing because I could feel the now sharp point into my anus and it was starting to hurt. The music went louder and I could feel something hot hitting my body but was hot for a couple of seconds. It felt like candle wax as it hit your skin then cools again. It was sprinkled over my body, on to my penis and testicle which hurt and I started crying more. I felt one of them move between my hanging legs, then could feel something very smooth and thick press onto my anus. I started calling my my mother as it pushed inside me, it moved in a bit then out and then I felt it go in deeper, I was crying so much one of them turned my head to the side so I wouldn't choke on my own saliva. My whole body was shaking and I tried to move my arms and legs but I couldn't move them then it stopped. I could feel my whole body shaking and was sweating. My head was pounding and I couldn't breath. I could feel liquid coming from my anus, still crying I felt something hard again enter inside me but it wasn't like before, was smooth but not as thick, they were making loud sounds in the their funny language and my head was still being held to the side by one of them. As the object was moving in and out of me I could feel something touching my legs on either side, it was not as painful as before but still really hurt, then it stopped and I felt a warm liquid covering my penis and testicles. I felt my head release and I tried to moved then my head was being held again. I was still sobbing wildly when I felt someone move between my legs again. They started chanting as I felt something thicker but still soft push into my anus and I started crying again, it moved in and out fast then slow. My saliva was flowing from my mouth as it was held to the side. It went on for what felt an eternity and then it came out my anus and I felt this hot wet stuff spray on too my body. Everything stopped after that and I felt something wiping me, still crying I could hear them whispering in the background. I could hear and feel them to the side of me as they spoke their language again. It sounded like chanting like someone was praying, something about the Lord Satan, not even sure it what was said. After a while I felt my legs and arms get in tied and one of them carried me to a chair. My body shaking and still crying they removed the blind fold. Jim got a wet cloth and wiped me down, I felt so weak and sick, my body hot and wet as they both started wiping me down. I tired to stand up but could hardly move. The room was still dark with candles still burning sweet smell in the room like incense. When they finished wiping me down and they redressed me. Jim kneeled down in front of me and told me that I had been sacrifice to the devil, that I belonged to him now and if I was to tell anyone he would come take me away to hell forever. It was a couple of hours before they let me go home, gave me a drink and some sweets before letting me go home. I lived only a few houses away but felt like it was miles away. When I got home mum and dad were asleep on their chairs, my brother sitting there watching television and I went straight to the toilet. My anus was so sore that it made me cry and when I wiped could see red on the paper, it was red sore for weeks after. For years I had nightmares and was afraid of dark places, thinking the devil was there waiting for me. My dreams were of things under my bed and under the table and if I looked I would be attacked by the monster hiding there.

As time went on the memory faded, well became suppressed in my mind. I guess some of you people who have read this ask yourselves why I never said anything to anyone. The early 70's was much different to how it is these day, these things were rarely reported and were never really talked about. Its only in the last 20 or so years that this sort of abuse was reported and the education and help was not available then like it is now. I guess that is not much of an excuse. Anyway, I never told anyone what had happened that day until I told my ex wife 30 years later and then could only tell her in a written letter.

Well I'll leave this part and take a rest before I continue further. Reliving this event in my life has very taxing, mentally and physically.

I am not sure if what's been written makes much sense, even today 38 years later the memory is still there, just being able to talk about it, not just here but firstly to my ex wife and also to psychiatrist has enabled me to keep moving forward in my life.

Only by facing the demons of the past can we find our angel in the future.