Hi. I am a 24-year old man living in Toronto, Canada.

My story of molestation was unknown to absolutely everyone. I guess that the only way I could deal with it was through denial - not denying the incident occurred, but not believing that it had an impact on my life and influenced my behavioral patterns.

A recent bout of depression brought on by feelings of severe isolation led to a blowout with one of my close friends. I basically flew into a rage, saying things like "If you don't want to talk to me, or spend time with me, fine! Just say the word!" Her reply was "Um, take a pill ..." and many reassurances that nothing was wrong.

A get-together with her led to a heart-to-heart conversation, where I finally revealed that I had been attacked several times as a pre-teen boy, likely at age six or seven. The memory is clear, but the time lime is somewhat confused.

I was cornered by an aunt in these situations, and mast*rbated by her. At that age, proper sexual 'function' doesn't seem to be the norm - I seem to remember it being 'ticklish' and giggling during the attacks. The aunt seemed to enjoy herself as well.

I trembled uncontrollably even thinking about just 'how' to come out with my story, and during my revelation, as I became noticeably more uncomfortable, she reached across the table and gently held my hand as I spoke. For the first time in at least eight years, I was able to cry. I didn't care that we were in a coffee shop smack dab in the middle of downtown Toronto. Once that release was triggered, it couldn't be stopped.

The next few days led to even more depression. Why? Fear that by making this revelation, I would be stigmatized by my friend and be thought of as 'different' or 'labeled' somehow.

After some further reassurance, things slowly began to improve. I haven't bottomed out since the revelation, and slowly my friends are beginning to understand that yes, deep down I am a good person, and that my occasional flip-outs are a consequence of what happened to me so long ago. I haven't felt isolated since then, simply because my friends are unselfishly trying to be somewhat more accessible to me, even if it means an occasional phone call to my work place just to see how I'm doing.

Now that I know some of the 'symptoms' of abuse, I can deal with controlling them. For example, self-mutilation. I used to have a habit (and still do, to some degree) of cutting my flesh. It used to be on the palms of my hands, but has since migrated to my feet. I obsess with my fingernails as well, often trimming them so short that bleeding results. I also have a bad habit of cutting away pimples, especially on my face. The end result is that they take twice as long to heal, but such is life.

I also suffer from pen*s-phobia. I am very self-conscious when it comes to my gen*talia, which makes having any kind of relationship rather difficult. I can't use public urinals, for it seems that whenever I try to urinate, I can't. The reflex just doesn't work when other people are in the washroom. When they leave, I'm OK and can relieve myself normally.

Counseling may help. I still haven't sought it. I'm not sure why, but I think that my problems are so deep-rooted, changing them would result in my personality changing so drastically, I'd be a different person altogether. Whether or not that's a good thing is undecided. For certain, once I'm ready to take that step and get professional help, I know that I have my friends behind me to back me up.