Defined By What I Do or Who I Am, What Makes Me Me?: What Makes Me Me?

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WHAT CONNECTS

A Thief, A Murderer, A Rapist, A Distinguished School for Boys, A Television Anchor-man, A Pedophile Cop, The Whisky Au Go Go, A Business Man and A Wiggle?

ME

Dragged by the hair just above my right ear, unable to make a sound as the pain had taken my breath away, I was lead into a store room no bigger than a broom closet. In there were some empty wooden crates with the word ‘Kirks’ painted in red across each crate. My granddads voice although usually soft was in this case demanding, strong and assertive, he pushed me into the store room and as he followed me in he closed the door behind him and proceeded to molest and abuses me.

A loud buzzing sound could be heard from outside the store room, I knew immediately that someone had entered the shop where my granddad worked. I would help out after school and on Saturday mornings, granddad would put the buzzer on whenever he had to go outside or to the boot of his car and load groceries for his home deliveries, it warned him that someone had entered the shop.

Granddad quickly opened the store room door and demanded I not move sitting me down on one of the empty soft drink crates, as he left the storeroom to attend to the customer that had walked into the store I bent down and pulled up my underwear and shorts, wiped the tears from my eyes and waited for granddad to return. After a minute or two the store room door swung open and granddad without warning slapped me hard and fast across my face, I could hear the buzzer again but this time it was the buzzing in my ear. I started to cry and could hear granddad telling me off for moving when I was told not to. I was so scared and afraid that I wet myself, this angered granddad even more calling me a dirty little dog and asking me if I knew what happens to little dogs that wee in a place they’re not supposed to. Granddad grabbed me by the back of my neck and rubbed my face in the wee that had formed a puddle on the floor between my legs.

Granddad then left the store room only to return with a mop and bucket, shoving it into my chest, he demanded I clean up the mess and filth I had made. I was still crying and found it hard to rinse out the mop as it was heavy. I seemed to be making more of a mess so granddad snatched the mop from me, pushing me to one side I slipped and fell against a shelf of tinned food knocking some of the tins onto the ground, granddad grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to the doorway of the shop and told me to get home and that he would deal with me later. Granddad kicked me up the backside as I left the store, this made me cry even more and as I walked home which was only three blocks away I felt scared, lonely and very upset, I was only seven years of age, I would turn eight the following day.

As a child I was abused by not one but two abusers, what I did and how I learnt to overcome these horrific events is what makes me who I am today. Some may read this and think of it as confronting and may even feel a little emotional, everybody has a story to tell, and this is mine.

The first person to abuse me was the only father figure I knew, my grandfather. I can still remember the time and place that this first occurred.

My grandfather was working in a corner store as a grocer and had asked me if I wanted to work with him serving lollies to the children after school and on Saturday mornings, I was very happy and looked at my mother to see if it were alright, she nodded and gave her approval. Granddad said working behind the lollie counter would help me to learn math’s, he said I would become very good at addition and subtraction. After all, there were no computers or calculators and most of the working out was done in your head. After a few short weeks I could add and subtract faster than anyone I knew, I would excel at school and be placed in higher grades due to my math’s skills.

I had been working alongside granddad in the corner store for a few months and he would pay me $2.00 per week which mum would take for safe keeping, so safe that I never saw a cent, unless I stole it.

It was a Saturday morning and I was to play soccer for the first time with a club outside of school, but rain had been falling overnight and had made the ovals unable to play on, so mum suggested I help granddad out at the store, I didn’t mind because granddad would let me eat some lollies and play the pinball machine.

It was an unusually quiet day and granddad had been boxing groceries and then running them out to his car and placing them in the boot where he would do some home deliveries on his way home, as was his usual schedule every Saturday morning. I was sitting on a stool at the lollie counter when granddad came back inside from packing groceries, he patted me on the knee and said I saw you touching yourself last night, I had no idea what he meant and looked at him strangely. You heard what I said granddad would say You were caught playing with yourself Did not, you’re a liar I said to my granddad and without warning, he slapped me across the face forcing me to tumble of the stool splitting my lip on the lollie counter as I fell towards the floor.

I was crying and could taste blood from the cut on my lip granddad quickly handed me his handkerchief and told me not to worry it was only a graze and told me never to speak to him that way ever again, just then a man walked into the shop to buy his morning paper and asked what had happened to me and if I was alright, I wanted to scream and run away but my granddad quickly told the man that I was swinging on the stool and fell off, but I would be ok, the man looked at me and said that’ll teach ya grinned picked up his paper and walked away.

Granddad told me to go to the bathroom and clean myself up, the shop had a bathroom and toilet out the back which was only used by us and the hairdresser next door. Once back inside the shop granddad told me that if anyone asks what happened I was to say I fell of the stool, he then told me that I could go home, but that we would talk more about this later. We only lived three blocks away from the corner store and I was always allowed to ride my bike to and from the store or to school and back. I would get up early and leave the house only to make sure I was home when the street lights came on, that was the unwritten rule in those days and most if not every kid new the rule.

I was scared to go straight home so I rode to a spot I had found behind a well-known motel called the Pink Poodle, it was kind of a cubby house I had made, a place I would go and eat my lollies and pretend to live, it was my safe place and only I knew where it was.

Later, whilst riding around the streets of Surfers Paradise, I bumped into Tim a friend of mine from school his dad was a priest and his mum was a house wife but she could cook the best pies and cakes and always liked it when I would visit as I would eat all of her baked goodies. Tim was a good friend, we did a lot together including things we would never speak about, like breaking into shop store rooms to steal the empty bottles only to return them to the very same shop for a 20 cent refund, we would do this every now and then until we got caught then move on to another store or service station.

After spending some time with Tim it was time to head home the street lights had been on for about 10 minutes already so I knew I was going to cop it when I got home and mum always told granddad if I had done anything wrong.

As I rode up the driveway of our home my granddad came out of the house asking where I had been I told him I was with Tim just riding around, he said to put my bike away and get inside and have a shower. Mum looked at me and said they had been worried sick as granddad had told me to go home after leaving the shop, as part of my punishment I was to miss out on playing soccer next Saturday and work with granddad at the store instead.

That next Saturday would be the start of what was to be the most traumatic time of my life. Abused, beaten and threatened I went from a young, confident boy to a nervous scared little boy who had no one to turn to; no one to ask for help and no one that would understand or listen.

I would be 9 years of age before I got to play soccer for a real club, turning up for training bare feet, white shorts and blue t-shirt, as most of the other players had, we were greeted and introduced to the coach who was a father of one of the boys, we all liked him and he would bring a big bag of oranges to each game and training session, I always ate the most and sometimes he would tell me to slow down and even give me two full oranges for me to eat on my way home. I was always well liked by both the players and their parents with some saying I would play for Australia one day.

The coach pulled me aside one afternoon just two weeks out from our first game and said I had not paid or returned the permission slip he gave me some weeks back, I told him that mum was going to come see him next training day, which she never did, a father of one of the players paid my fees and bought me my first pair of soccer boots they were Puma boots black with a picture of a blue cat on each side, although hard they were very comfortable and fitted me well, I trained in them and was able to kick the ball harder and longer than ever before, I even rode home whilst still wearing them. When I got home I told mum what had happened at training and she seemed happy for me saying that she ran out of time and had no money for me to play soccer but it was nice that someone had given me the chance.

Granddad on the other hand was angry and upset asking if I had stolen the boots or if I had asked someone to buy them for me, both answers were no. He took my new boots and threw them out of the front door down the driveway towards the street. Crying and upset my mother and granddad started to argue, the yelling at each other was horrible and worse of all it was over me, so when mum and granddad stopped arguing my mother looked at me as though she wanted to slap me across the face. That night I leapt out of my bedroom window grabbed my boots and bike and rode away, this was the first of many times I had run away from home.

My mother knew I would return after a short while, I had nowhere else to go. Arriving back home after only an hour on the run and still wearing my new boots which I had forgotten to take off after putting them on, mum told me that granddad wanted to see me and that he’s waiting for me in his bedroom.

As I waked towards my grandparents bedroom I could see my brother and sisters watching television, I approached the door of the bedroom and my granddad was sitting on his bed waiting for me with his black leather belt wrapped around his knuckles he ordered me inside the bedroom and told me to touch my toes, already crying at the sight of the belt and trembling in fear granddad struck me across the backside, I quickly stood up right, rubbing my bottom, only to be struck again with my fingers taking most of the second blow granddad then struck me again this time on the lower part of my legs which forced me to the bedroom floor only to be struck twice more across the legs.

Laying there crying and holding myself as tight as I could mum came into the room and told granddad that I had had enough and for me to go for a bath, get changed and go to bed, in the background I could hear an argument of sorts between the family and again it was over me I knew this wouldn’t be the end of it. Very upset, angry, hurt and in some pain I stood on my tippy toes and looked at my legs and bottom in the bathroom mirror I noticed large welt type marks that had turned itchy under the warm water of the bath.

Trying not to scratch and whilst laying in the top bunk of my bed mum came into the bedroom and asked that I go and say sorry to granddad before he goes to bed, still with tears in my eyes, I got down from the bunk bed and proceeded to the lounge where granddad was sitting watching television. I walked up beside his chair and said sorry; he picked me up and sat me on his knee pushing me back towards his chest we both sat there watching television. My mother would walk past as did my nana and they would comment how cute I looked, not noticing the fear in my eyes and the constant trembling of my small frail body.

Another Saturday morning was fast approaching and I had put the previous week behind me thinking it was all over. Just like the previous Saturday granddad was packing his car with groceries and I was watching the shop, when granddad returned he said have you thought about what I asked you last week I didn’t want to think about it and so I said no he smiled and said you have so I was scared and he asked me again have you been playing with yourself in a whispered voice I said yes this seemed to please him and prompted him to ask me to show him where and what I do when I’m playing with myself.

Trembling with fear I placed my hands on my lap and slowly started to rub my upper thighs, frustrated at what he saw granddad reached down between my legs and squeezed my private part so tight that I nearly past out, whilst holding me in a vice like grip with pain rushing up and down my spine he would say no one was to ever know about our little talks or what we did in private, he asked me if I understood and made me promise which I did immediately, hoping for him to release his grip which he eventually did. I was sore and in much pain I found it hard to pee and would often have to sit instead of stand sometimes I would cry whilst going to the toilet as the pain became unbearable and I would not for one second seek help or talk to anyone about this as it was far too embarrassing.

From that day on my granddad would, every chance he had or felt like it, ask me the same disturbing question then proceed to put his hands where I most hated them and continue to abuse me. After he had finished he would grab me by the hair or back off the neck and squeeze me so tight that my eyes would start to water, it was as though he was disgusted with either me or himself after each time he abused me.

A few days after my eighth birthday a new bike was waiting for me out the front of the house, it was lime green with black wheels and silver spokes, I loved that bike. Mum was happy and said granddad was going to take me down to a park that he knows has a bike track on it so you can ride your new bike around and get used to it, as it was a lot bigger than my previous bike. Although excited I was terrified when I found out that he was only taking me and not my brother or sisters, I knew that when anyone else was around I was safe and this day I would not be. During the drive towards the park my granddad would start up conversations such as how’s soccer, school and your friends, as I spoke about these things in general my granddad would seem interested and ask questions, it was like having a grown up conversation without anything bad happening or being said.

On arriving at the park my granddad would get my new bike out of the boot of the car and hand it to me where I would walk it through the gates of the park towards a concrete pathway that resembled a racing track, huge foot prints made out of concrete and painted white were made to look like a giant had visited the park with little children playing on them trying to jump from one foot print to another, a large duck pond situated in the middle of the park housed ducks and birds of all types that were being fed by the visitors or just admired, there were swings for kids to play on and BBQ tables and chairs spread across the park for people to sit and have lunch, at the end of the park you could see a river that ran along one side with kids splashing about or sitting on blow up air mattresses just having fun.

Granddad had told me to go for a ride whilst he would sit at one of the park benches and set out a quick snack. After riding around the pathway several times granddad called me over to the park bench where he had placed a can of soft drink and a bag of crisps near to where I was to sit, I was very happy and immediately fell in love with the park I would call big foot.

During my snack of crisps and soda granddad handed me a white paper bag I opened it and pulled out a pair of blue and red swimmers he told me to put them on and that I could join the other kids and go for a swim. I looked around and could see other people and so I asked if I could go to the toilet to change my granddad said no and that I was to get changed here beside him. I was a little scared but more embarrassed that some of the other kids might see me, moving my shorts from my waist to my ankles leaving only a shirt and underwear on my granddad told me to hurry up leaned towards me pulling my underwear down and helping me to put on my new swimmers which he was pleased with and I was happy to join the other kids in the river having fun.

I had only just dived into the water when