Hey,
You are reading this because you've either stumbled across this by accident, you've been sent this post or I have directly sent you this link.
Before I go on, my family are aware of what I have been through and are aware of this being written, however - I would like to ask for privacy in that you don't share this with the wider internet for the time being.
My story is going to be formally published online over the next few weeks. I'll talk more about this below.
I've never known how to start sentences, conversations, friendships and basically anything, so here we are.
What I am going to say is going to go one of several ways, but I'm going to continue a trend of facing things head on.
Something happened to me over the course of 2 years from when I was 10-12 and I know it changed the way I was with a lot of people so I am very apologetic If I was a bad person to you.
I am sharing my story of something so personal that happened to me, that immediately changed everything.
So,
I am 22 years old.
I grew up a happy, bubbly, energetic curious boy.
I was obsessed with pandas, my heart melted when I saw a panda photo or a toy panda!
I am proud that my love for pandas hasn't changed, despite so much changing.
Although I was a happy, bubbly boy, I also had no confidence and found it incredibly difficult to voice my opinions and understand both thoughts and feelings.
It started when I was 10 years old, I was in Year 5 in Primary School.
Although I was bullied a lot until that point, life was good. I felt happy.
A feeling I now know I wouldn't feel for a long long time.
It was in April 2011 where my class teacher arranged for a weekly Sex Education lesson every Friday afternoon. I remember feeling very anxious before the first session.
I realise this was one of the last times I was innocent.
I remember going home after the first session feeling incredibly strange, but I didn't think much would change, it's only knowledge right?
I got home and followed the normal Friday routine - get changed, have some sweets, watch some TV and then have dinner. It happened after watching TV whilst mum was cooking dinner.
I loved my family with every single cell and whenever I had to say goodbye even for a short time, I immediately burst into tears.
I often found this embarrasing as a child as I thought I was a wuss, or a crybaby.
I now realise that I just liked having the close relationships with those around me.
As I loved my family so much, I didn't think anyone would hurt me.
A close family member that I lived with, let me know I could confide in them if I had any questions or if I wanted to talk about what I had been taught.
It was something so new to me, so I did have a few questions but at the same time - I was very anxious about how I would approach the subject, and me being me - It was difficult to express what was going on in my mind. I now realise this was a big red flag and I should have spoken to my parents, but we can't change the past can we?
I eventually opened up and the family member answered the questions I had.
I only remember being taught the very basics which did not include what consent was.
I wish I could have had better education on this, but again - we can't change the past.
My abuse started the same day I started having these lessons. Ironic?
The family member who I confided in, started to do things to me.
It fucking pains me to admit this, the family member wasn't an uncle, or an aunt.
It was my sister.
She named it "fun", she said to not tell mum and dad.
For 9 years, I didn't know what happened, I thought it was normal. But now I am older, I know it was not normal and I am aware of what happened.
I was raped.
Whilst this was going on, my mood started to fluctuate more than what was normal (even with taking into account puberty) and my mental health began to nosedrive.
I didn't even know what "Mental Health" was, and I didn't understand my own feelings so I did what I knew - bottled everything up. 10/10 would not recommend this.
It happened over the course of 2 years, and all of a sudden - it stopped.
However, my mental health still declined without a concern being raised.
I lived as I knew how to until 2020. The year when COVID kicked off.
At that time, I was struggling with depression and anxiety a fair amount and wasn't easy.
I started a new job in February 2020 and I was getting to grips with my role, my team and learning new skills. I loved my job and I put all my energy into it.
The company I worked for during this time were amazing and were supportive of the time.
During this time, I was at home with family day in, day out.
As life likes to be a pain in the ass - all the memories of what happened started to flood in, drowning me without warning.
It felt like all my trauma rose to the surface with the feelings I thought I had buried.
I was fortunate enough to be able to move out of the family home and start my journey of independant living a few hours away (Liverpool).
I know I have grown a lot as a person by this.
However, It didn't take long for the memories to rise and push me underwater, even deeper than before.
Although I was living in a HMO at this time, I felt incredibly alone.
I remember vividly breaking into a million peaces on the 28th October 2020 around 12AM, after watching a Harry Potter film. Not knowing, this was the first time I had watched a Harry Potter film on my own after what had happened.
I realise now, watching this film was a trigger to what happened.
That was a dark, dark night and I remember not sleeping and feeling like death warmed up when I started work the next morning.
6 months from when I originally moved out, I was doing OK workwise but mentally - I began to sink into my darkest place and I was not coping. I was broken. I knew I was in trouble.
I realised I had lost so much; innocence, childhood, happy memories and most of all - myself. I lost who I was, and I was grieving little Lewis.
I can't express how painful this was.
Each day, I woke up breathing whilst not knowing who is breathing.
I would feel so so lost; I could see a photo of the little me, a teenage me and present me not knowing who they were. I didn't know what was happening.
After a few months, I found that I needed to do something about what I was going through. The thing was though, I just didn't know what to do, who to talk to, who to trust. It was a mindfuck.
It was my sister that did what she did and I loved her, but I hated her, I felt upset, but I felt angry. I felt so many emotions.
But there was a silent part in me that told me that I needed to at least ask for some help. But I didn't want to hurt anyone and I knew that as soon as I opened my mouth, I would ultimately start a mass demolition which I really did NOT want to do!
I eventually opened up to my best friend where she and her mum listened to me, cared for me and supported me whilst I was starting to understand what was going on.
A few months passed and I again started to nosedive, so my best friend and her mum helped me get in touch with a private counsellor, as I was not in the position to wait for NHS Support.
My counsellor has been amazing and I still have sessions (not as regularly).
After a few months, my best friend and her mum helped me find the courage to tell my parents what had hapened.
I never had a true friend before, so I was taken aback when I felt so much support from both my friend and her mum.
Telling my parents what happened wasn't a quick process and was the hardest thing I had done to date.
I believed that by sharing what had happened, I would break the family and would hurt everyone.
I now realise that I was wrong.
Although it has been difficult, It has vastly helped in my recovery.
Telling my parents what happened took an unbelievable amount of strength, more than I thought I had.
2 years on, I've realised quite a bit.
- I can relax.
- I can appreciate good days.
- I feel more confident.
- I can say no.
- I can look back at good memories and focus on only them.
- I have a life with goals.
- I know this is a part of me, but It isn't all that I am.
Most importantly after so long, I can see the little Lewis in me.
Little Lewis would be proud of me.
I have a long way to go but I know I am ready to share what happened to me, to own what happened to me and to take control.
I am now working with a charity called Something to Say which was founded by a man called Jeremy Indika who also unfortunately experienced sexual abuse as a child.
My role is to help develop the online webstore with the aim on creating more awareness of this issue.
There is a lot more to this story but I want to start off telling what I feel comfortable with.
Telling my story on the internet is scary as you never know what you may face, but I know the truth and I'm not hiding anymore.
I have a phrase/paragraph that I tell myself:
You took on so much that was never yours to carry.
We can set it down whenever you are ready.
We will work through each package one at a time.
We will hold you when you struggle.
We will listen when you need someone to talk to.
We will comfort you when you feel alone.