What This Comes Back To, Always

I rarely ever talk about myself on the blog. I try to make this my public face, but there are times where my private life spills over into my spiritual/political life.

And that was in evidence today by when I returned from the doctor and I drove past the house where the abuse transpired. Though they have painted the house a much more uplifting lighter shade of green, the dark shadow of pure evil still lurks behind the walls and the bedrooms.

I'm going to hint at what happened to me very vaguely because this blog is increasingly a more and more public forum by which all can view this information and have done so over the past several months.

So I will very tenderly say this. The Hitler figure, the abuser, he is dead. And as much as I would like to believe in a hell, I do not, but if there is hell below, I hope he is in it.

And I was not the only one, either. The trauma of the past week has made me understand what happened exactly. I was forced, by a man, Mr. DeJohn, to have sex with his two boys, his daughter, his wife, and himself. He watched. He was the ringleader. He was rather like Charles Manson if you read about how he directed his orgies of broken and often sexually abused followers, many of which were women who had been sexually abused themselves.

Again, this blog is meant as my public face, but how quickly my public face and my private face are intertwined.

I will post more about this on Male Survivor, and if you are so inclined to read it, I'm sure you will. But it will be rather disturbing, because it is a very disturbing story.