A long way down

Before anything else -- I did it! I went out there and started a book blog. You can check it out over here. It's pretty sparse at the moment, but I have quite a few entries planned and a thing that I hope people will enjoy.

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Last week, I posted on my Facebook Wall the agonizing last words of programmer Bill Zeller. It's a suicide note written by Zeller, wherein he recounts being sexually-abused as a child and the damage it has inflicted upon him for the rest of his life.

It's a well-written farewell note, and I particularly related to this part the most:

I've told different people a lot of things, but I've never told anyone about what happened to me, ever, for obvious reasons...It feels incredibly lonely to realize you can never share something with someone and have it be between just the two of you. I don't blame anyone in particular, I guess it's just how people are. Even if I felt like this is something I could have shared, I have no interest in being part of a friendship or relationship where the other person views me as the damaged and contaminated person that I am.

I've had my share of childhood trauma, and trust me when I say that it isn't being forced to sing in front of a group of visiting relatives. What I've found out from the five times (yes, I've only told it that many times) I've shared this trauma is that...it only results to more trauma.

The first time I told it was to friends I had when I was a kid. That...ended up badly. Let's leave it at that.

The second time I told it was to a classmate in freshman year, who then insisted that I tell it to our other friends. Other friends then went on to be...not receptive, to put it mildly. That sure taught me to shut my piehole.

The fourth time I told it was in junior year, when I was in a particularly vulnerable situation and was quite frankly overwhelmed by the presence of a guy that I liked. I felt that I was around people I could trust and who would sympathize with me. While I wasn't mocked, I didn't exactly get any sympathy either. More like an apathetic shrug.

The fifth and final time I told it to someone face to face, I was told that I was just using it as an excuse. That stung. On the bright side, the person was extremely apologetic afterwards, and I've learned to dismiss it as just the product of us being stupid kids.

But I did tell myself, never again. Evidently, trusting people with that kind of pain will really just get you a whole bag of nothing in return.

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To continue with this delightfully morbid note, check out this depressing item from Valleywag: Facebook suicide note gets mocked, turns out to be real.