WE WERE CHILDREN | Full Documentary | National Film Board of Canada

I got up because I couldn’t sleep. But YouTube in their wisdom of algorithms had this in my feed. I watched it. At one point the man Glen talks of how it stays with you. It does. Always. Now I will try to work. Hugs

Ripped from their families at a young age, two survivors reveal the harrowing truth of Canada’s residential school system.

As young children, Lyna and Glen were taken from their homes and placed in church-run boarding schools. The trauma of this experience was made worse by years of untold physical, sexual and emotional abuse, the effects of which persist in their adult lives. In this emotional film, the profound impact of the Canadian government’s residential school system is conveyed unflinchingly through the eyes of two children who were forced to face hardships beyond their years. We Were Children gives voice to a national tragedy and demonstrates the incredible resilience of the human spirit.

Directed by Tim Wolochatiuk and written by Jason Sherman, We Were Children is produced by Kyle Irving for Eagle Vision Inc. and David Christensen for the National Film Board of Canada (NFB).

Warning: this film contains disturbing content and is recommended for audiences 16 years of age and older. Parental discretion, and/or watching this film within a group setting, is strongly advised. If you need counselling support, please contact Health Canada.

Some TizzyEnt clips. They are mostly short with the longest a few seconds over 5 minutes.

It happened again. Trigger warning for child physical and sexual abuse.

Last night I had gone to bed earlier than Ron, my husband as is normal. I slept on my side of the bed and Tupac slept on Ron’s side against Ron’s pillows. We have two small car type pillows and we normally put one down against Ron’s pillows with a towel over them for Tupac to lay on. He sometimes has incontinence of his bladder and at the end of the time length of his drops he tends to get drips from his anus. We are not sure if he just gets into something outside that causes it or it is his drops preventing it as Ron is not great at keeping track of the drops or his spotting.

So when Ron came to bed he started to pull back his blanket and sheets only to realize Tupac had urinated a lot. Again not his fault, he does this when deep asleep sometimes. He is old and badly injured on his lower back end. We think he got hit by a golf cart because he is terrified by them. So Ron and I changed the bed at 10 pm last night.

Ron has gone out to visit with a nurse he worked with and I started washing the sheet and blankets from last night. As I lifted the bedding up to put it in the washer the smell and sight of a pee soaked circle right in my face triggered first one and then more memories. I lost track of time, I was that boy having been peed on while on my mat in the hallway, I was the boy so proud of his first bed to be forced to beg to drink a teen male’s urine rather than have it on my first bed at age 8 … only to have them do it to me anyway. To have to kneel or stand as the males peed on my pants or in them knowing I would be given public punishment by the adopting parents for peeing myself. Forced to accept them doing to me something I had no way to stop, too small and too weak to stop to do anything, and then suffering the public punishment in front of them as they laughed and mocked me with the approval of the adopting parents.

I went to the bathroom next to the washer / dryer and threw up in the toilet. Once done with that I just sat there on the floor and cried. A damned 62 year old man, once a decorated enlisted military man who served in two branches of the service, sitting on the bathroom floor with my back to the sink cabinet sobbing for remembered past pains, hurts, and emotions I can never seem to make stay away but resurface again and again and again into eternity. They tear at me, destroy me it seems like every time.

Finally I was able to calm down. Ron was gone so I had to deal with no support. Yes I could have called Randy but I did not have my phone and even the thought to find it was something I couldn’t manage. Damn even as I try to type this I keep breaking out in tears. I sometimes wonder if the living abusers ever feel bad over what they did to me? But I know not, they were too well schooled and inducted into hate by their parents. So I finished putting stuff in the laundry, kept drying my eyes and blowing my nose.

When I got back to my Pink Palace office … which I will be leaving soon for a grand better brighter room, I took the dry up nasal spray and sat down to write this. I struggled as always … should I burden my friends with it … Well they did not do this it is not their fault. Hey they are really good people I shouldn’t throw this dirt on them and soil them with my own past it is not their fault!

These people don’t deserve to have these thoughts in their head like you do, give them a fuck break from your whining you piece of damaged shit the voice of my adoptive father screams in my head! It rings so loud along with the other names called me. The worst were when he was angry or during the abuse. But his general feeling about me he beat into me. Now I am so tired. I want to quit. I want it all to end. I want to give up.

But there is joy in my life I force myself to remember. I have my wonderful husband of nearly 35 year. I have a home, and enough income to survive. I have good things in my life. But they only cover the screams of the abused child I was, even raped after I came home from the military by them until I was able to escape to my own home and then to the safety of Ron’s protection from them.

Thank you for letting me write this. As always it is a horrible fight to do it, it is like being abused all over again to describe it. But the process of doing that, of voicing the hurt makes is so much less, drives it back into the holes it hides into. I need to write to get it out of me. I am so grateful there are people who understand this and willing to listen as I do, taking unto themselves their own memories my writing may trigger. I am so sorry I might do that to others, to hurt them. But it is the only way I know to get some relief myself. So I thank you all greatly. Hugs.

I made a mistake, read what I shouldn’t, now can not stop thinking about it.

**** Trigger warning, talk of abuse with a few graphic details. ****

I had stopped going to the male survivor site as it was causing me to spiral badly into the bad places in my head, triggering my negative emotions, getting seriously depressed and spending hours stuck in my memories, crying, then having horrible nightmares as I tried to sleep.

Look even without going to the site I still scream out in my sleep. It is agonizing because in my dreams I am struggling to verbalize the words, get them out and it feels like my mouth is locked shut, sort of my like my lips are sewn together. In my nightmares I can speak and scream normally until it gets so intense it seems I struggle to get the sounds out and they become much more guttural. That seems to be when I am getting audible in the awake world. When it seems I am able to unlock my jaws or rip my lips open is when I am in reality shouting out in my sleep. Ron had to wake me just two days ago when I was shouting help help help. I spared him the description of the abuse even though he is always willing for me to tell him the memories or nightmares because he knows it is very helpful for me to talk about it or get it out. Especially when it has just happened.

Anyway back to this morning. So a new friend who is a survivor who has been on the Male Survivor site much more than I have been and posts there often about everything going on in his life, like I do here, this person has been saying to me that they wrote about their holidays so could I go to their posts to see what had been going on with them. I went to the MS site, I started reading new posts before I got to his posts. And I never made it to Steve’s posts.

The post was about being anally raped and the person leaving their cum inside you that you try to prevent leaking out. The post and the people replying / joining the conversation all also wrote about their underwear being stained with poop and cum or in some cases blood. The conversation was about trying to get rid of or wash the evidence out before it was discovered by a mother or other who cared for them and they did not want to find out they were being abused.

I did not have this problem. My abuse was much more open and known in the house so I did not have to hide it or wash my sheets after. I did get in trouble if I wore my white underwear after without cleaning myself up which would leave stains / marks in the white underwear. So those if I saw that I would wash them myself soon as I could like the people in the conversation said they did. When the wet underwear was discovered after a few times of me doing that, I was caught in the act cleaning them. I was yelled at for it, told I was so stupid then pulled to the kitchen in front of everyone while naked, while my adoptive mother “taught me how to wipe my bottom and clean myself” after being raped. I was told to rather than lay in the bed or put my underwear on, that as soon as the person was finished with me and they did not want to use me anymore I should go empty myself. Then wipe / wash my bottom. I then had to repeat and show I knew how to do this in front of the laughing hell spawn. All that taught me was to wash and dry them before I put them in the laundry basket.

So this brings me to what I can not get out of my head this morning. Before I got side tracked by my memories and started the downward spiral, I was busy reading news articles, adding to my posting of crazy stuff that the right was doing, and gathering memes of Sunday’s meme post. Then it all came to a halt and I started to crash. Writing this out is helping. So what about the above triggered me?

See I could hold it in, the fluids inside me normally while laying in the bed, or in the short timeframe from when it was over until I could get to the bathroom or if outside until I could dump / empty my bowels, but that left nothing to wipe with so I would have to carry my underwear until I could do so hoping not to soil my pants. But there was one place and time I couldn’t do any of that. It was when raped and abused at school.

Please stay with me and try to understand the feelings / thinking of a small kid as I try to describe this without being too graphic. It started at school when I was 7 and continued but tapered off as I became a teenager. So imagine being 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, or 12 and being taken to a supply closet, empty room, or after school hours to the principal’s office. Once there told to drop my pants. Being fondled and touched. Then ordered to my knees to give oral sex to a male. So far none of that deals with what I wrote about above, soiling myself. But that comes from when instead of being told to kneel, I was instead told to turn around and stand on something, or picked up and draped over something, (more than once being forced to lay over the copy machine as it dug into my chest / belly while my ass was used to make the male staff / teachers happy) when I was very small I would be made to take my pants off then placed on my back on a shelf with my legs pined up as my back was bent to position my butt hole correctly for their use.

Ok I tried to put if off as long as I could. This is the part I was trying to get to and that the conversation on the site was about. After being used, trusted into sometimes with lube and sometimes without, filled with those fluids and possible messiness, my bottom full of the ejaculate of the guy who just … fucked me, I would be told to get dressed and go back to class. Of course the person who used me wanted to make the time I was away from class as short as possible if I was taken from class for the abuse. So if I had been summoned or escorted from the classroom, I would be told to get dressed quickly and return to class. I knew better than to tell. If it had been painful and hurtful, I would be told to stop crying and wipe my face on my shirt.

So this gets back to the stained underwear. I would have to put my underwear on, no choice, and go back to class not knowing if I was messy or not. I would only know my butt hurt, maybe my belly, back, or legs would also hurt. I would have to enter the classroom trying to not show anything wrong, feeling like everyone in the room was looking at me knowing what had just happened, what I had just done. Again if it was oral all I struggled with was the taste in my mouth. But if it had been anal specially if it had been forceful, in a bad position for me, or if no lube had been used, then my butt / asshole would be very sore and full of fluids. I would be forced to try to sit still, and desperately pinch my butt cheeks together as painful as that was or let the liquids mixed with poop ooze out creating both smell and stains. Most teachers soon understood and did not scold me for not paying attention or being not being still in my seat. It was the same as when I had been given a belting, spanking, or bad paddling before school, they seem to understand the pain I was in that my clothing / pants covered.

As soon as I could or when the teacher would quietly whisper in my ear asking if I needed to use the bathroom, I would leave the classroom walk carefully to the bathroom where I would rush into a toilet stall. I would also check my underwear as best I could. I would do the same as I walked or rode my bike home. I lived about a mile and half from the school. It was so much better in the warm months trying to do it in when bundled up for the cold was horrible. Because in warm months I could run in to the woods or somewhere not able to be easily seen, strip off my lower clothing and then remove my underwear, and redress. Then I could take the underwear to a brook like the one we had behind our home, wash the underwear, hang it in the sun to dry off something where I should be able to retrieve it later. Stories of what happened the few times I was caught doing this another time.

Many abuse victims just threw their soiled clothing out. I couldn’t do that. Punishment for losing my clothing was as severe as for soiling them.

So that was what has destroyed my emotions and focus for the last 7 hours. Taking the time to write this has helped me calm down and recenter. But the remembered pain of being so small, the over whelming emotion of feeling that everyone knew when I entered the classroom, and the fear that it was leaking into my underwear knowing that I would be publicly punish and possibly also privately punish if they were stained. Maybe most parents finding semen, blood, or poop stains all over the back of their child’s underwear would cause them to question what happened or rush to defend / help their son. Not mine, if they felt anything at all maybe they were happy it was happening to me. Maybe it relieved their own guilt knowing others did the same to me. I don’t know.

Just more from my childhood I have to deal with. Anyway, no more meme hunting today, nor news about the stuff the right is doing. Today I am going to answer comments and concentrate on the love and out pouring of support I get from this community. Oh and tomorrow I have a doctor’s appointment. Hugs.

My view on HATE

I talk about hate, the word, the personal cost, and what it means to me. I talk about why I tried to remove hate from myself despite my childhood of abuse. I read something Randy wrote, and I praise his skill at writing. Hugs

I had planned to do several videos today. But to be upfront with everyone this one took a lot out of me. It came very close to my own personhood. It talked about a journey I took in private emotionally and only a few close people were part of it. I felt both very drained after doing it and also found it very cathartic.

After my mini stroke some time ago, I couldn’t even pronounce the word cathartic to Ron when talking to him about the post and how it felt. I could see it, taste the word on my tongue but couldn’t get the sounds out of my mouth. I had to go to the computer and run the word through the sound program and then I could only pronounce it if I heard it with in 10 seconds. After that I struggled and Ron felt so bad for me he came over and hugged me. That is the result of being poor in the US and needing healthcare you don’t get in time. But let’s talk bad about other countries that provide their people with healthcare, mistakenly claiming they have long wait times.

Yes I am glad I made the video but in truth it delayed other videos I wanted to make and I was very fearful of making this one. See in this video I expose myself in a very vulnerable way. I admit I am human and while everyone knows I was abused it is nebulas to them. They don’t know the details of the abuse nor how it really twisted inside me … and they really would like to keep it that way.

No I am not blaming anyone nor casting dispersion on anyone. It is easy to be sympathetic but far more so if the horror doesn’t touch something emotional deep inside us. In this video I am trying to reach that feeling deep inside. If it upsets you I am sorry but ask you to examine why it does upset you. That is really the point about hate I am trying to make. Many people hate and they don’t need to be abused to feel that way. Just listen to Fox or other right wing media, it is all built on hate of one thing or the other. They never really push their cause, just what they hate. Grown men attacking a barbie movie … to prove how manly they are?

So I made the post. I would appreciate the comments, good, bad, and the ugly. It will help me grow. Both as a person and as someone who wants to do videos. Thank you. As always best wishes for everyone and hugs for those that want them.

I am so tired of the lies about immigrants to please the maga bastards.

OK this is me just ranting before bed. Sorry. See I was an abused kid. Most of you who come here already know and don’t need any extra help in that to show you how badly I was abused. So I don’t need to show you more than my occasionally over the top ranting about my childhood abuse or the republicans claiming the republicans are stealing kids at the border … which is really what the republicans did. They separated parents from children and then gave the children to Christian adoption agencies to sell for profit. I wonder how their god feels about that. But please let’s keep talking about how Biden lost all these kids … who were never lost. Does any one else mind they are doing this????? Because as a human trafficked sexually abused and traded person … I fucking sure DO! Hugs.

https://apnews.com/article/fact-check-misinformation-migrant-children-missing-7ab0cea2fd2238346197429e952baa8b

https://www.usnews.com/news/us/articles/2024-10-02/fact-focus-claims-that-more-than-300-000-migrant-children-are-missing-lack-context

I am so very very tired and sorry if I hurt anyone tonight. It just hurts what the republicans are doing and keep doing. They hurt adults … They hurt kids. They care for no one.

I wrote this post days ago and fell asleep before I could publish it. Hugs

WA man accused of tying noose around teen’s neck because he said he was gay

https://www.fox13seattle.com/news/man-ties-noose-around-teen-neck

OK this is what the right wing regressive movement is all about. A teen happy with who he was and his friend who may or may not be gay as well, both being harassed and threatened for simply being open about themselves. They were harming no one, but some asshole right wing adult took offense and wanted to teach them fear for being different from straight cis folk. This is the right wing / Christian nationalism desire for a 1950s fake culture of only the things they demand be accepted being seen in society. I remember a person I knew who was elderly asking me why we gays just couldn’t stay in the closet and not let anyone know, it was better then. I asked for whom? The answer was those straight cis happy people.

One of the co-founders of the Florida don’t say gay bill that started all this was a hyper fundamentalist Christian who publically said he wrote the bill because he was upset and disgusted that kids were coming out to their peers and being accepted instead of ostracized, humiliated, and beaten up. He hated that students, young kids were not targeted for abuse by other kids and teachers. That stuck with me and burned deeply. The reason is below.

One day I in science class led by a large what today we would call a maga person teacher, after class ended and I gathered my stuff and started to exit the room I was attacked by a very large kid and his friends. I was small, about 60 pounds, not even five foot. I got smashed in the face and body, hit till I fell to the floor. I knew this feeling, I got it at home, so I did what I did then, covered my face already full of blood, curled up tight and took the kicks and blows. Before the bell rang again they moved off and I started to uncurl when the teacher grabbed by my shoulder and wrenched me around to face him. Through tearing blurry eyes I watched as he told me, “This is what you get for being a fagot and I hope they do it again and again” I went to the bathroom and tried to wash up and stop the blood. I sat a few classes in the bathroom. I got marked absent for those classes but no one asked why. This the world this person who wrote the “Don’t say gay” bill wants to bring back, that they are proud of. Hugs. Scottie

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By FOX 13 Seattle Digital Team

Published October 23, 2024 12:01pm PDT

Kitsap County

FOX 13 Seattle

Video at link above

WA man accused of tying noose around teen’s neck because he said he was gay

A 38-year-old man was arrested this week in Kitsap County after deputies say he tied a noose around a 14-year-old boy’s neck because the teen said he was gay.

On Monday, Oct. 21, the man overheard his 13-year-old son and his son’s friend talking, and asked if he was gay.

Video at link above

According to the Kitsap County Sheriff’s Office, the teen said, “yes,” and the man wrapped the rope around his throat. The teen managed to escape.

Deputies said the man also lassoed his son with the rope a few minutes later, and he also escaped.

Video at link above

The 14-year-old boy went home and told his mother about the incident, and she reported it to the sheriff’s office.

Deputies arrested the man, and the Kitsap County Sheriff’s Office said he was charged with a hate crime and two counts of second-degree assault.

WA man accused of tying noose around 14-year-old boy who said he was gay

The Kitsap County, Washington man was arrested Oct. 21 and accused of a hate crime. The 38-year-old man is accused of tying a noose around a 14-year-old before lassoing his own 13-year-old son.

The man was arraigned on Tuesday with bail set at $50,000.

Cops: WA Man Put Noose On Teen Son’s Gay Friend

October 24, 2024 Crime, LGBT News

Seattle’s ABC affiliate reports:

A 38-year-old Bremerton man was arrested Monday in connection with an alleged assault involving two boys, including his biological son, according to the Kitsap County Sheriff’s Office. Joseph Sweeney faces multiple charges, including second-degree assault and a hate crime.

The arrest followed allegations that Sweeney assaulted the two boys on October 20. According to the court documents, Sweeney asked his 13-year-old son’s friend if he was gay; when the teen said, “Yes, is it a crime to be gay in this house?” deputies said Sweeney put a noose around his neck and tightened it.

Sweeney allegedly recorded both boys with his cell phone while telling them to kiss each other in an effort to humiliate them, detectives said in the court documents. A search of Sweeney’s residence also led to the discovery of a firearm, which he is prohibited from possessing due to a prior domestic violence protection order issued in Kansas City in 2023.

Read the full article.

Moral Arguments Were Always a Waste of Time

This was really difficult to get through. As angry as I get just speaking these words, they don’t express a fraction of my true feelings. I don’t know if there are words for that. I don’t know if this will help, but I feel helpless, so I’m using my platform, which is something most people don’t have. At first, I wondered if it conflicted with my previous video, but after some contemplation, I realized that it doesn’t. My previous video never advocated disregarding injustice and atrocity. It never advocated abdicating righteous indignation. It was an anti-hate video. On the contrary, my commitment against hatred is what compelled me to make this video.

I think I’m done trying to make moral arguments. They all feel like bad faith now, like a waste of time. I guess if I ever do bring them up again, I’ll really have to consider who exactly I’m trying to convince, because some people have proven to be so completely delusional or dishonest, that it would be useless to argue – like talking to a tree.

Two videos about my abuse, about my current sleep issues, and about me trying to help a fellow survivor

Hi everyone. I spent the late morning / early afternoon making a couple videos. I was talking about what was keeping me busy and occupied the last couple of weeks. But these videos touch on my hurts, my pain, not news. One is shorter because when Ron came to the door, I meant to hit the pause button but hit the stop recording one. I am using new equipment, so if there is any sound or video issues, please let me know. Hugs. Scottie

I talk about my own childhood abuse and helping a friend with his own abuse issues first part.

Me speaking about my abuse and trying to help a friend who was abused also. I also explain my time management issues.

This is what happened to me.

The below is my response to a thread on the Male Survivor site where people were talking about intervening if they saw something suspicious but not outright abuse with a child. One guy commented that what if the adult later took it out on the child. Sorry but these are the memories and never seeming to stop thoughts I am dealing with right now. Hugs. Scottie

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Hi. That is what happened to me. I was driving my snowmobile to a basket making shop to cut up cardboard for the owner. It was a job a kid could do and earn a little money. The owner was friends with my parents. I hit ice, couldn’t completely stop in time, bumped the bumper of a large car. No damage to the car but the cowling / hood of the snowmobile was broken badly. That meant I had to call my AF (the male of the couple who adopted me, the woman is AM, their children are the hell spawn) who showed up at the place while I was inside cutting the cardboard in a separate area of the shop. He came in and started to beat me. My AF is a large man with huge arms and shoulders who was a barroom brawler when younger. The man who owned the shop was a former Marine and taller than the AF but maybe as strong. He heard my cries and AF swearing at me, rushed in to the area I was being beaten, grabbed the AF and pushed him to the wall away from me. It might have got worse but the other workers were now watching. I never saw what happened as very quickly someone grabbed me and took me to the other part of the shop and got me calmed down. I was so relieved. The owner came to tell me that the AF had left and they were going to fix my machine at the shop, so someone would drop me off at home. Then came the time I had to go home.

There was no one there to protect me. I walked through the door and closed it, and the fist smashed into my face throwing me back into the door. He picked me up and slammed me into the door, then turned around still holding me and threw me down on the floor. He was furious raging about me embarrassing him, and he would teach me not to go crying to others. Had I not learned it before never to tell, take like the … I was. The beating was bad with slaps, punches, and kicks, the sexual torture horrible starting with oral and going to hurt rape anal, and the humiliating thing he made me do after he finished in me was just more salt in my wounds. At least after he finished I knew it would be over, he had spent his rage but his anger would simmer until the next time. I was in bed in my little tiny room hardly big enough for a small bunk bed having been warned to keep my sniveling quiet so the AM wouldn’t be upset when she got home. I was told not to come out or let him see me again that day / night. I heard him yelling telling the AM that I was grounded and wouldn’t get supper for smashing the snowmobile and disobeying him. He told her only that he punished me. She never checked on me. The next day trying to move and get up was horrible. The AM seen me and told me to stay home from school. I was terrified because the AF would be home from work soon as he worked nights. As soon as she left I took a small pack with water / soda and stole snacks from the pantry and went into the woods to hide for the day. After the weekend I went back to school. Same story, I got hurt fighting with other kids, or fell off my bike going very fast, or one of the other ones I was practiced at telling such as fell down the stairs in a home that had no stairs. I was terrified to touch the snowmobile after that.

Unless you can get the child or abused person away from the abuser intervening might make it much worse for them when no one is there to stand up for them. Best wishes. Scottie

Best Wishes and Hugs,

Scottie

Scottiesplaytime.com