I am starting this blog in hopes of reaching some of you that may be feeling the same pain that I once felt. The pain that I sometimes feel even still. I want this to be a safe place that you can come to express your hurt, frustrations, and especially your triumphs!
So, to start I wanted to give a history of me and where I am coming from. I was born to a father who was 66, and a mother who was 33 and mentally handicapped. I had an older brother and an older sister. Soon would come a younger sister. When I was about 6 years old (as far as I can REMEMBER) my father began to sexually abuse me. He would tuck me into bed at night and then he would make me touch him, while he touched me. I remember feeling dirty and creepy. I also remember peeing my pants a few times at school at this point. I remember one day that he told me he was preparing me for when I got older, so my body would be ready for my husband. I of course didn't understand what that meant as a 7 or 8 year old, but it makes me sick now. Soon, my brother joined in and was making me do things to him as well. My parents openly had sex in their bedroom, without locking the door; so with four young kids, we walked in on them regularly while they were in the act. Confusing for a child to see and hard to understand the sanctity of it, especially while dad was doing what he was to me. Then comes in the "friendly neighbor" next door who always invited us girls over for ice cream. I have always loved ice cream, so I was excited. That is until I realized that he wanted the same thing from me that the other men in my life had wanted. My older sister didn't seem to have a problem with it, in fact she said to me "just do what he wants, and he'll give you an ice cream." So, now there is my sister pawning me off. I know that the things that were done to me were also being done to her, and I know that she suffers to this day too.
Move forward a few years. I am not sure HOW, because I don't specifically remember telling anyone, but somehow the right people found out and we were moved into foster care. I was hopeful for a real family, but I didn't trust men. I really kept my distance. It took me a long time to trust my foster brother, and feel like he was okay. Then it happened. He started coming into my room when everyone was asleep, and feeling me up. I was an active member of my church, and I fully knew it was wrong. I told him "no" several times, but I was so confused. Yes I was 15 years old, and understood that it was not right, however, I also had a past, and this boy was in a position of power over me in the family. I remember hating myself for allowing him to do that to me, and told myself the next time I would push him away, or scream. But each time I chickened out, and then one night he raped me. I screamed, but no one heard me. My younger sister whom I shared a room with was away that night, and the bedroom doors were all shut, with fans in the windows because it was a hot summer night. He left and I cried myself to sleep. ASHAMED, HURT, and SCARED. The next day I told my sister what had been happening and she told me I had to tell. She told me that I had to stop him. My younger sister was so much braver than I was, and I think that maybe it was because she didn't get the abuse that my older sister and I got, either that or she was so young that she had no recollection of it. I was afraid to tell. I had lived with this family for 6 years, and I was afraid of my world changing. I had lots of friends at church, and I didn't want to lose them. I talk to a couple of the girls about it, and they too told me to tell. Then one night just after Christmas time, he came in again to get a dose. My sister and I switched places on our bunk beds, and he approached her thinking it was me. She grabbed him and said "I know what you are doing, and if you touch my sister again, I will rip your nuts off and feed 'em to ya!" Wow, she was my hero! In the morning, she told me that if I didn't call the caseworker that day, she would. So I did it, and I never returned to that home again. My world was in a whirlwind, and when reported, he denied it and told the case worker that it was mutual, that I even initiated it sometimes. I was told that technically I was NOT raped because according to the test in the hospital, he had not penetrated deep enough for them to see. Apparently I stopped him in time. What a loud of crap! As a 16 year old girl, I was basically told that it was my fault, and I asked for it. Can you imagine the impact this has on a girl? YES, torment!
So, I was moved away and again reaffirmed that men are evil. I moved to a nice family (for real this time), but because of the crap that I was put through, I was not about to give them the time of day. I was literally "damaged goods." I was given some freedom in the home, and I went wild. I started dating and sleeping with anyone and everyone that would. After all, it was no longer MY body, and I figured I would let them do what they wanted, maybe then they would like me, and I would be popular. I didn't care about being called a slut, because once the rumors got around at the old school, and he was telling everyone I wanted it, I was being called a slut anyway. I went off to college, and added alcohol to the mix, and I became a prostitute- only I didn't get paid. Then I met a guy, who cared about me. I have always been a loyal girl, and I cared about him deeply, I loved him. But I didn't know how to love someone, heck, I didn't love myself. We were together for almost 4 years, before I chased him away. Then I met my first son's dad, and I was again in a place where I blamed everyone else, I felt sorry for myself and I was angry because I lost the one thing that meant so much to me. My self destruction was full force. I used sex as a tool to get what I wanted, I was drinking and smoking cigarettes like they were water and candy. Until that is, I got pregnant. I wanted to do it right, so I married him. This was a disaster, because when I finally got to my senses, I realized I didn't want to raise my son with a man who didn't share the same ideals as me. We divorced. And for a little while I was careless again. I slept around, and this time I got very unhappy results. I got herpes. BUT, ironically THIS is what snapped me out of my path of self-destruct. I realized that I wanted better for my son, and I started attending church regularly. I realized that GOD is not the one that did this to me, and yes what happened to me was crappy, but I am the one that made the destructive choices leading me to herpes.
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