If
only they’d known this in 1955.
To the flight controllers at NASA in the eighties who probably wrote about me on the men’s room walls, like they did in the Daily Texan newsroom in Austin in the seventies, and to all the women who gunned for me after what I did with their husbands, I'm sorry.
The quote below regards victims who went in front of the Board to describe the impact rapes by Franciscans had on their lives:
“It is important to keep in
mind that children develop a sense and understanding of sexuality from authority
figures, and that boys came to the seminary at age 13 or 14 years, when they
were uniformly young and impressionable.”
For some the sexual abuse “was
immediate profound trauma, indelibly imprinted in their consciousness. For others, it was not until later in life
that memories returned, sparked by an upsetting occurrence that triggered
traumatic flashbacks. Although these
episodes were painful, they often provided relief through a new found
understanding of the difficulties and struggles in their lives.”
Yep, that about describes it.
For some reason reading those
words empower me a bit, because it stands to reason that sex abuse has an even
more profound effect when it happens at age five or so, as it did to me, so I have
to stop hating myself for what it made of me.
I hope some of the people who knew me in the seventies and eighties and grew to hate me for having sex with their husbands, brothers, bosses, etcetera, will read the quote, and maybe understand.
I went through life thinking
I’d been touched by an Angel in a very private place, so to speak, and since it
happened at such an early age, the effect was indeed at a DNA level. I felt I had a purpose in life, to share that early
sexual experience with everyone I encountered.
So to all those people in Texas and all the rest, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I had impulses I could not
control. Hopefully this journalism that
I am doing about pedophile priests and how their sex crimes affected their victims
will reach some of my own victims and help them think less bad of me.
Because I left a trail of
victims behind.
I was a sexual predator from
age six on, it's just after age six, I didn't know how to do it, so
instead got very fat, obese, size 16 at age eight. As soon as I reached 13 or so - puberty - I
slimmed down, and the sexual compulsion kicked in. Soon I was bouncing on men’s laps just like
when I was six years old. I have 40
years of My Life as a Slut left in my head to live with as a result. I think of it as a punishment.
( Me in 2014: I felt like it was a punishment back in 2011 when I wrote this.
Now I think of it as a hell of a story to write. )
For me it was like the gonging
of a huge church tower bell had been ringing and ringing in the background all
my life.
(Wow, I keep
finding that reference to a gong in a bell tower in these journals.)
When I realized Father Horne
had set the whole mania in motion with his diddling fingers, it stopped, the gonging
of the bell stopped.
And I became a completely different
person. Today I'm more like Jane Wyatt
than Jane Mansfield, if only I could have been that person for my whole life.
But I couldn't. And since my sex life caused me to lose every
job I had and end every possibility of a marriage, I have nothing to my name in
old age but my story.
(Please click my PayPal button
with high fives as my story is my only asset)
Click My PayPal button, please
This post that I copied from a 2009 journal was found in a 2011 journal, all of which I'm mining for first drafts, as I post online this serial book full of backstory that will just keep going and going and going. . .
-Kay Ebeling
-Kay Ebeling
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