"Shattered Youth: The Day I lost my Innocence"

[How I survived being groomed, drugged, and raped by a serial pedophile, at 16]

Many times throughout my journey down the mental health/addiction super highway, I think back to certain events and conversations from adolescence and cant help but ask the invariably loaded question that every addict has asked themselves at one point on their journey- What if? What if this hadn't happened? What if it had happened? Where would I be now, could I have avoided all those years of heartache? Did that one "what if" event undoubtedly sentence me to a life time of pain, heartaches and hopeless demoralization? Then the inevitable follow up of the what if- If only. We then start to fantasize about what we don't have, where we would be, who we would be with, slowly pushing ourselves further and further away from actual healing, blinding us the from reality and the cold hard truth, invariably, what happened DID happen and I have a choice to re-live it everyday by blaming everyone and everything around me, or I can seek healing. For me, it was way easier to blame everyone and everything than seek healing, which cost me some of the best years of my life.

[Rivals.com] popular recruiting website for high school football recruits.

2005 was a big year from me. I was named the starting Varsity QB as a sophomore at my 4A Texas HS, a high honor even to this day. I was immediately thrust into the limelight, becoming Mr. Popular, All-American Stud on campus, seemingly overnight. For a former home-school kid who didn't enter public school until 7th grade, this was a huge culture shock. But being a natural "life of the party" individual by nature, I ate it up and basked in my newfound glory. On the outside, as far as everyone was concerned, I was doing pretty damn good and had the resume to prove it. Starting QB, good student, plenty of friends, girls throwing themselves at me, friends Moms throwing themselves at me(okay that one's not true), I had it all. I could easily navigate any social circle and had more confidence than a Williamson County prosecutor who hides evidence from defense teams.

However, below the surface, their was a storm brewing.

During the fall of 2005, NBC filmed a popular TV show in our town, "Friday Night Lights". Everyone freaked the fuck out like the Beatles were in town. I never understood why people liked the Beatles so much. 4 ugly looking British dudes singing about Yellow Submarines, dropping copious amounts of acid and suddenly girls want to have their babies and men look up to them like they are Christ reincarnate? I'm good bro. Nonetheless, it was a big deal to have such a high profile show filmed in our relatively small town.

Somewhere along the way I caught the acting bug, deciding that Brad Pitt ain't got shit on me and the world was about to know who the hell Spencer Brooks Otto was. Never-mind the fact that I had zero professional experience, no agent or no connections, it was going to happen one way or another. Surprisingly-hell who am I kidding I wasn't surprised at all-it did. I have always had a ferociously tenacious determined spirit, easily accomplishing anything I put my mind to. Whether that meant booking a modeling gig with no experience, rigging my Dad's suburban in the middle of the night to go "pray" with my girlfriend(sorry Dad) or figuring out a way to avoid a long- term penitentiary sentence from any myriad of felonies committed on a daily basis, one thing rang true: when I decide to go full force-nothing can stop me. This time was no different.

I booked a featured extra role on two episodes of Friday Night Lights. It was a non-speaking role but I did accrue adequate amounts of screen-time, something I was damn proud of. Although I didn't get that coveted Academy Award nomination(assholes), I was excited to have manifested this opportunity for myself. During this process, I was told to hire a photographer in order to have professional head-shots taken for my portfolio. Easy enough I figured, so I proceeded to scour the internet. I was quickly contacted by a professional photographer who claimed to be so impressed with my look, he was willing to not only provide professional head-shots but offered to do them completely free. This is the day I learned that nothing in life is ever free.

[Friday Night Lights] popular show from NBC, where I booked two featured-extra roles.

This photographer told me to meet him at his "studio" which doubled as his apartment, in East Austin. It was less than desirable. Being a child, I knew no better, so I went. Upon arrival, this "photographer" took me into his "studio", casually offering me a Patron & Sprite(cuz thats normal) and encouraged me to sit down, gather my thoughts and get "in the zone". I woke up 4 hours later, clothes removed, lying on a strange bedroom floor, wondering what in the actual fuck just happened. At this point I gathered my things and left.

If you have ever been in a similar circumstance as myself, I want you to know that you are not alone. Statistically, which is absolutely disgusting, 2-1 females experience some form of sexual assault in their life, along with 3-1 males. You are not tainted, you are not damaged goods, you are not weak, you are not a loser, you are not dirty and you most certainly are not someone else's trophy or property, although you will and do most likely feel all of the above. You are not wrong for feeling those things, you are not crazy, nor are you an outcast. The only thing you are is a victim. When we experience trauma such as sexual assault, especially as a developing child, our brain doesn't know how to process such an extreme act of violence. When normally our brain "stocks" our experiences onto their appropriate "shelf", for lack of better words, in this instance its as if this experience is left floating around, hovering in our subconscious. This experience becomes the lens in which we now see the world. Where we once were carefree and extroverted, for some reason, we are now suspicious and withdrawn. Where we once engaged in activities that brought us joy and happiness, we now find ourselves seeking out self-destructive behavior. Where we once lived life with a sense of joyous ease, a black cloud of anxiety depression and PTSD now en-captures our very being. Its as if our soul has been marked, a sort of invisible scarlet letter which taints our every move. This is the subconscious brain's way of trying to make sense of the horror we encountered. Imagine a soccer goal. Now imagine you gently kicking a soccer ball into the soccer goal. This is the process of our brain gathering and storing memories, events and every day occurrences. Now, place a 10 ft tall goalie in front of the soccer goal. Every "kick" we make is easily deflected, IE this traumatic event blocks our brains ability to process and store information. Thus starts the unfortunate, sinister cycle of trauma.

[Sexual Assault] affects a much broader percentage of the population than most realize.

Too all Parents, friends and loved ones- if you haven't been there, you haven't been there. You don't know what they are going through, you cant being to understand what they are going through and its not your job to understand what they are going through. You are not God, you are not capable of saving or healing anyone and it is not your job to do so. What might seem to you as a logical approach of trying to help your kid, friend or family member, actually is extra gasoline being poured on and already uncontrollably raging fire. In your non-addicted, non-traumatized mind, you are doing what any rational person would do to help someone. But you have to remember, the addicted, traumatized person isn't thinking or experiencing life the same way you are. This is where parents, especially, take a bad situation and make it 100X worse. When they see their efforts are not being helpful or not being appreciated, it ceases to be about the victims health and well-being and turns into being all about who's right- which inevitably translates into the victim being told they are "bad". I can tell you from the bottom of my heart- having had pistols in my mouth, razor blades deep in my arm and syringes full of enough heron to kill all of Utah due to this insinuation made by people who thought they were helping- YOU ARE NOT HELPING. You are making it worse, especially if the victim is a child. Surprisingly, I hold no hate in my heart for the man who perpetrated this sick crime in which I was victimized. Sadly, all of that hate I felt all those years was directed at my Father. My Father, the man who was tasked with protecting me and equipping me for life, thought he was helping. He thought he knew how to "handle" me. He thought he was the one who would save me. Unfortunately, my Fathers efforts helped me nearly destroy myself. Shame, anger, frustration and victim blaming were the only language my Father knew. He was and is not at fault for this, it's unfortunately the only language he was equipped with himself. Where my Father was and is at fault, is he was and is unwilling to learn a new language. This language would challenge his belief systems, unveiling sobering truths about his own life, so he decided and decides to stay on his sideline- all alone. How tragically sad. Parents, keep your own fucking house in order so when the day comes that your child needs you, your responsibility, you are equipped to actually help not harm.

[Assault] is not your fault. Your pain is real. I've realized later in life that although I didn't have a part in what happened to me, I do have a part in pursuing healing from what happened to me.

I spent years blaming myself for this tragedy. I figured I was at fault somehow because after all, I chose to put myself in this incredibly dangerous situation. Through years of therapy, prayer and heavenly grace I have been able to realize that this event in its entirety was not my fault and I have no part in it. However, I do have a part in the overall outcome. My part was choosing not to seek help when I became mature enough to realize their was a problem. When my brain, body and spirit connected the dots, I had a part in seeking healing which I chose not to do for many years. Coming to this realization has enabled me to abandon the victim mindset, which plagued and stunted my adult life, giving me the tools move forward in life. It was been my eternal grace. If you have been a victim, allow yourself a period of time to be a victim. Grieve, cry, break shit- whatever you need in order to be a victim. When the times come, only you will know when it does, seek the proper steps to move forward. If you don't know how to do that, ask. If you don't know how to ask, say that. God will honor your effort. God will meet you more than halfway and will provide you what you need, where you are, when you need. He did for me. More importantly, pray for those around you(including the perpetrator, as disgusting as it is to admit that). My experience has been that in this incredibly unnaturally difficult action is where the catalyst for my own forgiveness of others and myself hides. Lastly, just know that my heart breaks for you, but my heart also has much hope and joy for you because if I can make it out alive, peacefully joyous free and restored- so can you. Don't give up, recovery is possible.