Childhood Wound Story

In year 3, aged 8, there was a boy in my year who lived just beyond the end of my block. Darren had curly brown hair, buck teeth, and freckles. He talked funny when he would breathe in. He had an older taller brother who was in high school and had entered puberty. Our Mum’s knew each other and would catch up and they expected us to play and get along. Darren regularly wrestled and fought with his older brother. If he’d wrestle with me, he could tie me in knots, and I had no idea how to resist or to stop his attacks.

One day I was riding around on bikes with Darren and his brother. We stopped at the end of my street, about 100m from his house. 

I knew Darren was a liar and a deceiver. But he also knew I believed what people said if they spoke convincingly – I was gullible. 

There was a little rust on my bike and he suggested squirting water from my bottle on the rust. I knew he was trying to deceive me, and I said that was dumb and it would make the rust worse. Initially he agreed, but then with the unspoken help of his brother, they both deceived and convinced me that water was good for removing rust. They splashed water on their bikes (that didn’t have rust). Then I splashed water on the rust on my bike. Once I’d done it, Darren and his brother turned and rode off laughing. I felt humiliated, dumb, and stupid for once again being deceived by Darren.

I decided never to trust him again or allow myself to be near him physically or emotionally. But one day at school, a disagreement between us led to Darren pulling punches and I ended up injured and crying. At the principal’s office after questioning, he was forced to apologise, but when he apologised, it was clear that didn’t mean the words a single bit.

Darren ended up training to become an anaesthetist in New Zealand, but died of an overdose of Propofol. (source)

I had not shared that story with anyone before, even my parents. I felt stupid and self-contempt for allowing myself to be "conned" by him again. I am both the victim of this story, and somehow also the villain. I think there’s something inherently wrong with me. I turn against myself. I have self-contempt. What I really desperately wanted was a friend, to be liked, desired, and pursued. Even today I welcome men, try connect with them, and connect them with others.

The men in my Journey course gave me the following feedback:

• Your glory is: relentlessly pursuing friendships. It's godly, like God.
• I honour how you seek connection, wanting to be loved. 
• It seems like you don't fully love yourself. You hate the part of you that wants connection, yet that's your superpower.