Anonymous Story: I Don’t Want To Remember Yet (2)

When I turned 18 and I came out as Trans FTM, I thought for sure that the “What happened to you that makes you feel so guilty all the time?” The question would finally be answered, but now I know that my being trans literally has NOTHING to do with this incident but to do with my matching the outside to what’s always been inside thing. I think up until writing this right now I had NEVER actually said that part aloud…well, a-typed in a thing. I’m glad I said it though because I’ve always thought about it. Most people’s reactions to trans or queer people are them saying “They’re only like that because they were molested!”, and after seeing that people really do believe that, it really can make you think it’s true and make you feel even worse about yourself than you already do. But oh well, welcome to humanity, I guess.


As I said after this incident, my brother and I never spoke of it again. So, we continued our relationship as usual (only now I had a sudden and intense urgency to constantly beat him up, which I would. Of course, now it all makes sense).

But, we’ve been best friends since.

Now that I’m thinking of it, what probably happened was that he was entering the puberty age, and I think maybe he was scrolling through TV channels late at night. Sometimes, on HBO or Showtime, they would show dirty movies (I know this because I later discovered this when I first started puberty at around 9). I know that when I came across a dirty film for the first time (around puberty age too), THAT’S WHEN I first had any feelings of arousal and a desire to just touch myself. I began masturbating at first by humping pillows, I guess it’s animal instinct or something, or maybe I learned it from the film or maybe I subconsciously remembered it from the incident, I don’t know.

Anyway, I would hump, and I think that’s where he learned how to do all of that too. He probably didn’t have much knowledge on the matter or what was appropriate or whatever, he only knew that on TV that’s what they did and that it made you feel good.

However, I am starting to think that he WAS INDEED old enough to at least know better than to do that to your little sister. But who knows, I guess.

After none of us mentioned it again, my bro and I continued our relationship as usual, and then he had his own things going on (his coming out in high school, etc.). When he got to high school age and I was in middle school, we began to become really close. I would talk to him about crushes and he would give me advice and all of that. He would let me hang out with his friends, drive me places, we’d sing together, it was awesome. He graduated high school the same year that I entered, so by the time I got to my own high school drama, he was busy working and attempting to go to college and stuff. But we got closer because the house was in such chaos after we found out that my dad had been having a year affair with my mom’s cousin and that they had a kid together. At this point in high school was when I began to take my downhill spiral. In middle school, I remember not being able to socialize well. I got over it a bit, but then my energy transformed into self-hatred, rather than a lack of fronted confidence. I began to self-harm and developed an eating disorder. This was the first time I had ever wanted to die. I didn’t know why I just felt guilty about something like I was paying the price for something horrible that I must’ve done at some point beforehand in my youth. But I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. I guess now I know…

In high school, after finding out about the affair, my gender dysphoria and general discomfort in life were reaching their peak. My depression and severe anxiety worsened slowly.

In my junior year, my social anxiety was so severe that I missed at least 2 days from each week of school, and I left early every other day usually because of my panic attacks. I was having a minimum of 6 panic attacks PER SCHOOL DAY. I had a special pass to leave class whenever I needed to panic and then go back when I was calm. I was at most isolated, and I was just battling so many negative feelings within me. Most of them were my feelings of fear regarding my being trans, my anxieties about my parents, and my sudden nihilistic existentialism, but I always had a feeling that this wasn’t all there was to it. I was truly in a state of crisis, and it wasn’t until the multiple suicide attempts that I got help. I checked myself into a mental health hospital and I was there for 7 days, which I honestly do believe saved my life.

After I left I saw my life in an entirely new light. I was calm enough to finally accept my trans identity and that’s when I came out. Since then, I’ve started testosterone treatments and my confidence is finally existent at least a bit.

Around the same time, I had a spiritual awakening, and since then I have slowly been changing my life for the better. I’ve been debunking past traumas, wondering why I do the things I do now. I’m figuring myself out while trying to keep as busy as I can without a job or going to college. Discovering my own spirituality has really helped me.

However, My spiritual guide is my brother. We’re still so close and we hang out every day.

I’ve been remembering this incident lately and it’s been making being around him a bit weird, but I’m handling it a lot better than I ever imagined I would.

I don’t want to bring it up to a member of my family, ever. I don’t even want to remember it anymore, but it happened. This is the first time I’ve ever acknowledged the details of the event. I was willing to take this to the grave, that’s my first thought whenever I remember ANYTHING about this incident.

For those reading, I assure you that my parents are the kindest parents in the world. They never abused us, verbally, physically, or emotionally. They protected us like we were fragile, and they did the absolute best that they could’ve done. And even my brother, he is always looking after me and for what’s best for me and all of that. As I said he’s practically my best friend.

I think that’s what makes this incident hard to admit because the relationship now is so good. To me, it’s not worth ever mentioning again to a family member because everything is so good right now. He is never inappropriate with me like that now, and I’d like to hope that maybe he also believes that the events were just dreams.

Why would any of us EVER bring this up again? It’s really messed up if you think about it.

I’m still not sure what to call it other than “an incident”. I know what it was. I know the word used for it. It wasn’t rape, it never got to that, but I guess it was a form of assault, and it’s worse because it’s a child-on-child assault AND it’s technically incest.

That’s the sickest part. I think THAT is the part that sickens me the most about this. The part that will subconsciously keep me up at night, the part that makes me shutter anytime I see that word, anytime I hear an incest joke, the part that makes me afraid to trust anyone, including myself and my own thoughts and recollections. People think of incest and they picture game of thrones or something royal where families started to breed only within themselves. People think of it as a sickening thing where a brother is in love with his sister or something. They don’t ever tell you that incest is when your child brother touches you as a child when you’re too young to even realize what is happening until it’s too late.

I feel guilty because of it, dirty, and disgusting. I know that I was too young to realize what I was doing, but I SHOULD’VE KNOWN that it was BAD. I think…well, that’s what I feel, but I know that that’s not true. I was too young to know. I thought for a while that this happened because I did something to make it happen, but I know now that that’s also false.

I don’t want to face this issue yet because I can’t say what it was yet. I’m writing this, so I’m hoping it helps and that maybe I’ll get some sleep tonight. 

*one last deep breath*

It is 2 AM, and I have been writing this for about 2 hours now…

Okay…I can say it…

When I was a young child, I was molested, by someone I trusted – my own brother, who was also a child at the time.

There. It’s out.

There’s no going back now. I’ve acknowledged that this did indeed happen and that instead of running from it, I could finally face it before I implode.

I only intend to share this with therapists never anyone who is currently in my life who knows my brother. He’s a good person. He’s got so much to give this world and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let an irrelevant childhood memory that hasn’t been brought up in over a decade fuck that up.

Well, I guess that’s my story. Thank you to those who stuck around and if there is ANY advice that anyone has on how I should move forward with coping with this, my relationship with my brother, or how to overcome the social skills that I have because of this, I’d love to hear it.

Thank you for listening and I hope the vibes in your life are positive ones.

“A small gesture can turn somebody’s situation around. Support survivors by ONLY leaving a kind and thoughtful comment.”

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