Neon Signs

By Duane Katene

Neon Signs is the life of Damian King as a sexual abuse survivor. He details this as a series of journal entries which span six years of his life. These express through fragmented thought, short stories and poetry what it feels like to have been sexually abused and how that impacts every aspect of his life. It is within these entries that he often describes himself as a neon sign because his childhood sexual abuse has attracted everything to him from suicide ideation to addiction and anxiety.

Earlier entries of his journal describe in flashbacks, images of his sexual abuse, his life after it, as well as his internal struggles to accept what has happened and to accept himself. Later entries describe more his external world and how that is affected by his childhood sexual abuse. In these entries he talks about his jobs, his educational pursuits, and his relationship with his wife and children.

This is one man’s journey of self-discovery where no thought or feeling is left unrecorded; whether that humiliates Damian or causes further pain. Each word, each sentence is an unapologetic and an uncensored look at the world through the eyes of a male sexual abuse survivor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Duane Katene
• Release date: Dec 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301958467

Duane Katene

My name is Duane Katene. I am 35 years old and was born in New Zealand. I now live in Australia. I am married with three daughters aged 7, 5 and 2. I have a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology, Graduate Certificate in TESOL and a Graduate Certificate in Arts and Media. When I'm not writing I enjoy spending time with my family, watching movies and reading.

Book preview

NEON SIGNS

(The Journal of Damian King- Sexual Abuse Survivor)

By Duane Katene

*****

Published by Duane Katene at Smashwords

Copywrite 2012 Duane Katene

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.

*****

Table of Contents

Chapter One - 2004

Chapter Two - 2005

Chapter Three - 2006

Chapter Four - 2007

Chapter Five - 2008

Chapter Six - 2009

Chapter Seven - 2010

Prologue

The following are journal entries I wrote years after I had been sexually abused.

I started this journal because I was ready to record what I had been through as a child and how that impacts my life as an adult now.

This is my personal journey which I share to give hope to all people affected by sexual abuse.

You are not alone.

Chapter One 2004

30 May 2004

In my mind I see me as a child.

I am tall for my age, skinny, with black hair, dark brown eyes and olive skin.

I am in my bedroom, reading a book about a boy and a girl. They have been given magical rings that lead them into another world at the dawn of its creation.

The words flow into my brain like a sweet melody and down into the rest of my body.

There they will remain until a time where I will need them.

But for now, I am safe.

31 May 2004

I feel a close infinity with nature.

It serves me as a brother.

It helps me to heal.

It helps me to function.

It provides much needed nutrients but most importantly it contends with the Black.

It chases it back into me, until a day when the Black becomes no more.

But for now the Black is a part of me as my heart or my lungs are.

To try and rip it out would leave me missing a part of my identity.

I need to form a stronger identity without the Black and then when the time comes to rip it out, I won’t miss it.

1 June 2004

Foe

Black thoughts slice deep into my mind,

Cutting through rationality,

Leaving me paralyzed and barely breathing,

Before they enter again,

This time more ferociously,

While I close my eyes,

My reality disappearing as a new one opens up to me.

In the new reality, I am not a man,

I am a deformed boy,

Reeking of another,

Ruined,

Worthless,

Diseased,

Twisted into Black.

2 June 2004

I AM A SEXUAL ABUSE SURVIVOR!

I need to keep reminding myself that I am not a victim anymore.

I used to be when I was 13 years old and first preyed upon by my abuser.

He, who destroyed my identity; He, who had black hair and white skin; He, whose expertise made him a man when in reality He was a boy; He, whose body always covered mine; He, who was always at his best; He, whose manipulative words seeped into my consciousness; He, who made me into an object to satisfy his craving; He, who craved for a drug called power; He, whose craving grew stronger by violating my young and innocent body while the real me detached itself.

Then something happened:

Older

Sweet 16 and never been kissed,

Only violated,

And then perverted,

Left alone while He looked for another,

Younger version of me,

Because I was older.

Sent back into what had become an unfamiliar environment,

Behind a mask I cried alone,

Without comfort and love,

Misunderstood,

Desperately searching for peace,

In vain.

3 June 2004

One of the things that hurt me the most about my abuse was the loss of my identity.

Looking back I can see how with each perverted act, He ripped out piece by piece my sexual, physical, mental and emotional identity until I had none.

What was left was a pulp of darkness hidden behind a mask.

That mask deceived everybody I knew into thinking that I was normal, when in reality I was far from normal. I was in pain, so much so that my body had shut down and become numb, indifferent, a shell of whom I had once been.

A shell that had no color.

A shell that had no patterns.

A shell that that had no music.

This shell was empty.

4 June 2004

Abuser,

I wanted to develop normally. I wanted to be like the other boys. I wanted to hang with them, but I couldn’t because of what they represented.

Guardian Demon,

I didn’t want to feel different. I didn’t want to hate boys. I didn’t want a post sexual abuse existence. I wanted a pre sexual abuse existence. I wanted me back. I wanted my friends back. I wanted to be like any other boy. I didn’t want to be on the sidelines. I didn’t want to be an observer. I wanted to duplicate what other boys did but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t because I loathed how that made me feel; an enemy in an allies body.

Evil Reincarnated,

Did you really think I wanted to be one of the girls? Did you think I wanted to hear them talk about other boys? I wanted them to talk about me! I didn’t want to be the best friend. I hated it!

Monster,

Did you plan to pervert me just before my body was changing from boy to teenager? Did you realize what you were doing? Did you realize what it meant? I WAS PHYSCALLY CHANGING AND YOU TWISTED THAT NORMAL PHYSICAL CHANGE INTO AN ABNORMAL ONE!

Murderer,

I DESPISE YOU AND WISH YOU NOTHING BUT THE WORST IN LIFE!

5 June 2004

Recess

Distant memories now plague my mind,

I look around and don’t see the friendly faces anymore,

Where have they gone?

Are they hiding from me?

Am I alone to face these memories?

My mind has been kind, loving, and understanding,

But now my mind is revealing,

The distant memories I am ready to face,

And which once existed,

In the recess.

6 June 2004

After the sexual abuse had ended, I was able to bury what had happened to me deep within my unconsciousness; however, 3 years later in 1997 while I was away at university what I had buried burst through to the surface.

My life fragmented.

I went to see a Psychologist after that but I wasn’t ready to deal with what had happened to me and especially without my family to support me. So in 1998 (otherwise known as my year from HELL!) I returned home and I saw a second Psychologist.

He was a man in his fifties. He was big with grey hair. He saw my parents first. Then it was my turn.

I couldn’t look him in the eyes as I told him what had happened to me.

He listened in turn, however it wasn’t until he invited my parents in that he explained what happened to me was called sexual abuse.

I cried, partly in relief, because up until then I thought I had wanted it, after all, my body had reacted in a pleasurable way to the experience. Now I know differently.

I hadn’t wanted it; I had been manipulated to think I did.

After this session, I had many others throughout the rest of the year from hell where I was a ‘split- personality - out- of- control - hating - myself - and – everybody- around- me’ victim.

My entire life came to an absolute standstill. I could not progress further without the counseling sessions because my sexual abuse affected every aspect of my life.

I shook when I made a purchase. I couldn’t work. I couldn’t study. I had regressed. I had the abilities of a 13 year old boy within a man’s body.

6 June 2004

I see an image in my mind of my sexual abuse.

I am in a room while people are outside only a few meters away. I can see them. They are talking. Some are even laughing while dirty hands are violating me.

This image fades as another one comes into focus.

I am now in a friend’s lounge room. My guardian demon is abusing my body while my friends sleep in another room.

This image fades as yet another one comes into focus.

I am at some fancy dress party and Count Dracula is perverting me.

This image fades as a fourth one comes into focus.

I am in a kitchen while His hands touch me like I’m a participant in an experiment.