Angelo "Owl" Diktopoulos · @OwlsChronicles
3rd Jul 2020 from TwitLonger
My story.
I've been debating posting this since the surge of allegations of assault that started two weeks ago, but at the time I didn't feel like it was appropriate for me to share my experiences; other voices were to be heard. Today, a day after the sudden passing of a true pillar of one of the communities I am a part of and have been for over 10 years now, @Byron known and revered World of Warcraft Streamer, I want to take a moment to talk about my experience with sexual assault, the impact it has on a young boy and how terrible the lack of a community of support around male victims of assault is.
First, some context.
I grew up in Greece, as the middle child of a family of 3 children. When I was 13, my parents started becoming distant with each other and having long talks, which was unusual and sooner than later was clear to be leading to a divorce. At the time, my older brother, age 16, was preparing for his final tests to go into university and my sister, age 9 was too young to really fathom what was happening. So, throughout the process of the divorce leading up to the divorce I was really the only one of my siblings "in the know", which had already started putting some pressure on me; after all, if all went according to plan, my brother would be leaving the house in the following year and with the divorce, the role of "the man of the house" would fall on my shoulders.
That pressure led to the biggest mistake of my life. Soon after the official announcement of the divorce, I felt the need to find someone that I can count on, in a similar fashion to how I felt like my family was counting on me. Someone who at the time, unbeknownst to me, had already manipulated her way through the feelings of my best friend and put me in her sights. She approached me, and knowing my situation, took advantage and established herself as my partner. What followed was 11 months of heavy emotional abuse, gaslighting and intense psychological pain. Everything I did was questioned, every move and word berated and scoffed at, every part of my psyche abused. All of it under the banner of "love".
Why did I tolerate it? Because I needed to. I felt that if at the time I didn't have her, the pressure that I felt was going to crush me, causing enough fear in me that she was the preferable choice. So I told myself I love her, and kept on moving because that's "what a man does". And I kept on moving because "men aren't allowed to feel". I couldn't talk to anyone else about what she was putting me through, since I knew that the moment I spoke up, the response would be "But girls don't do that, be a man."
And then, three weeks before our 1 year anniversary, she invited me over to her place. At the time, we had done sexual things, but we never had sex, and I had been adamant about not wanting to, until we were older. That day, that didn't matter. Using her grandmother's meds, diluted in tea, I was drugged. The first thing I felt when I woke up was a booming headache, and pain around my wrists and ankles, before realizing that they were tied to something. Opening my eyes, I found myself on her bed, arms tied to her bedpost and her straddling me. I was being raped. When she realized I had woken up, she leaned in and cupped my mouth, as she continued until she was done. After that, she leaned in and told me in her disgusting, "playful" way that "It wasn't that bad for a first time." and then untied me, gave me my clothes and told me to leave.
I was confused and I couldn't in any way process what had just happened. I walked home, which was a block away, got on my bed and cried. A lot.
What followed was a breakup, and 3 years of stalking from her. Months of taking daily, scolding showers where I would wash my body using so much force, my arms would be bleeding because I felt so unclean. I couldn't sleep. I had severe dissociative episodes. I was suicidal.
And in my mind, there was no one there for me.
Not knowing how to process that trauma, what happened next was something I'll always regret. Trying to find some self-worth, I started oversexualizing myself; both online and in person. In the following years, I was sexually active with more people than I was able to count, and even if I could, the idea of such a number brings such disgust to my head that I'd rather not get to counting. It got to the point that I was in multiple calls with multiple people a day, trying to please them in order to get some semblance of validation; because that's the only validation I knew.
I focused on video games to allow myself a new sense of self, making and playing characters that allowed me to be who I wished I was, rather who I felt I was at the time. Voice acting allowed me to be others, taking the weight of those experiences away even for a brief moment. For a bit, I was free. Thankfully, with the passing of time, I managed to create my own support group, of friends, colleagues and family and started visiting a therapist.
The events of that day, everything that led up to it and everything it led to will be scars that I will bear forever. Their weight becomes lighter by the day, but there are times that knowing how those around me failed me, through jokes about men not being able to be raped, how men are supposed to show no feelings, and how terrible and toxic the idea of masculinity that society at large holds is, still makes me weak of heart and I cry for the myriads of others that have been silenced.
I am okay now.
There are many who aren't. Please, make sure to let them know you are there.
Thank you for reading,
Angelo "Owl" Diktopoulos