I had an acupuncture appointment this morning with the specific intention to help elevate my mood and help my energy levels. While in the midst of the treatment, a buried memory from years past emerged: 

I was around 5 or 6 years old living in Hawaii with my parents (prior to their divorce). We rented a room in Kalihi (a suburb of Honolulu) at a house of a middle-class Filipino family. The owners included a mom, dad, young daughter near my age and their son in their early-to-mid 20s. 

I think I may have been sexually abused by their son. But in my memory, it seemed like I knew I was always gay and I wanted to explore his body. The memories are a bit fragmented:

• A playful shower with him.
• A nude men’s magazine he showed me.
• When he was “asleep”, I recall crawling under the blankets as he protested and I proceeded to explore his body.

I also remember my father finding out and going ballistic on him. There was a lot of screaming and yelling. I think I was told I couldn’t hang around him anymore and we soon moved out. I also remember seeing a cardboard cut-out of Sesame Street’s The Count and how much I enjoyed playing with the cut-out.

When we first moved into the place, it was in the evening. I remember holding some glasses in the dark. I must’ve slipped or lost my footing. I ended up breaking those glasses and cutting my arm. The gash was large and I was taken into the emergency room for some stitches.

Even now the scar still shows on my left arm. Some scars don’t go away, I guess. Their with you for the rest of your life.