Captain Ranty opens up

TAP –  Captain ranty has sent the tap blog thousands of readers for years.   I often wondered how captain ranty was able to write about the topics he covered (politics) and yet he never crossed the line into facing up to the evil of the Satanists who run the political system.  He DEALT WITH POLITICS ON A FAIRLY SUPERFICIAL LEVEL.  

he was on the point of closing his blog down, but has since opened up about a dark secret in his life, which he says he has started to deal with, after previously suppressing it.  let him describe his torment, and how he is making a good recovery now he’s opened up and shone a light into this part of his life.  I wonder where he’ll go from here.  He’s a superb writer.  I hope he gets going again as a top blogger.

my dark, dark secret…

In all the years I have been writing this blog, I have never told you a lie. I am proud of that. I am not proud of what follows.
I have something to tell you and it isn’t easy to write, and, I suspect, it won’t be easy to read. There is a good reason for telling you, dear readers, and I will explain why at the end.
Your support and advice has been staggering. The various things I have got up to (dismissed by some as pure lunacy) over the years have had, overwhelmingly, nothing but support and good wishes from most of you. I hope that you will support me in this too.
I am a victim survivor of child sexual abuse. When I was ten, eleven and twelve, I was abused by several men. The things they did were vile, and I have no intention of telling you the details. I do not need those images in my head, FFS, and I am damned sure that you don’t either.
I will tell you that when I was just 11, a staff sergeant in the Rhodesian Armed Forces gave me a pill. He said it would make me feel fantastic and, like a twat (more likely because of his grooming) I swallowed it. Just before I passed out, I have this dim memory of him saying “Stop screaming” as he tried to penetrate me. There are other, viler memories, but it won’t help you to know them.
You may be wondering why I am telling you this now. I am wondering the same fucking thing myself. In early August (cast your minds back to my End Of The Line post) I told my wife of the abuse. I told her something I had kept hidden from the world for 41 years. I kept it hidden from her for 31 years. Hell, I even kept it hidden from myself since the abuse happened. The abusers explained it all very carefully to me: “This is your fault” they said, “You are a dirty little boy”. I have felt guilty, ashamed, perverted and dirty ever since.
You may also be wondering if I told an adult. I did. I told my mother. She did not believe me. I also told the wife of the soldier. She made me sit on her sofa for nearly three hours until he returned from work. I recall being terrified the whole time. Trembling. Crying. She told him what I’d told her. He convinced her, right in front of me, that I was making the whole thing up. She believed him and they threw me out of the house. I never saw him (apart from in my nightmares) or her, ever again.
When I got to Johannesburg I found a counsellor and I have been talking with him every week for the last five weeks. Together, we are looking at my past, and how that abuse coloured-almost directed-my entire life. He tells me that I kept those awful memories repressed as a survival technique. My brain refused to allow those images to run in my head because of the harm/hurt they would cause me. In speaking out, in seeking help, my brain is also protecting me. From a massive fucking explosion.
But that explosion arrived anyway.
On the 24th September 2014 I was overwhelmed. With my wife’s depression, with my sudden speaking out about these horrific childhood experiences, and with the possible end of my marriage. I deleted my Twitter account, I attempted to delete this blog, then I planned, in minute detail, to delete myself. It was a horrible three days. It was worse for those two people that I told of my intentions. I scared the shit out of them and I will be sorry for that until the end of my time on earth. You know who you are, and I beg your forgiveness.
Anyhow, this is why I am telling you this nasty story.
My counsellor tells me that almost all paedophiles are ‘happily’ married heterosexual males. Many of these animals have ruined the lives of up to 500 young boys. Of those 500, just five will tell an adult what happened to them. Of those 500, just ONE will seek help.
And that is the reason I am writing this. I have hundreds of thousands of visitors to this blog. The majority are male (if I use commenters as a guideline) and that means that there are many more victims than I ever imagined.
My hope is that this post will encourage you to seek help. Christ knows we need help to manage those dark thoughts, and to put things into perspective, and most importantly, to move on.
Even if you don’t look for help from a counsellor, I strongly urge you to read Mike Lew’s book called Victims No Longer. It will help you to understand that it was not your fault, that you are not to blame, and that you absolutely did not ‘deserve’ to be abused. You had a right to be protected and loved by adults, not to be used as their sexual playthings. What happened to you was not right. It was not fair.
But there is hope. You can get help to rid your mind of the monsters that did these awful, unforgivable things to you.
My wife has been incredibly supportive. She encouraged me to get help and she has stood beside me all the way through this. She now knows, as I do, that those horrendous events in my childhood have affected her, and they impacted on the way I treated her, and my friends and family.
I am finally doing something about it.
If you were a victim, I really, really need you to do the same. Do not go to your grave with this. Get it out, get rid of the baggage, and get on with your life, and be happier.
Mr Google will find the organisations you need, but if you have trouble with that, please let me know and I will help wherever possible.
My counsellor specialises in male child abuse and the book I recommend is also almost entirely concerned with male survivors but there are just as many female survivors and I urge you equally vehemently, to seek help. It will change your life. For the better.

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