It Happened…
I grew up with only a mother in my life my father was never in the picture. She was the only person I had in this world. I grew up seeing her get verbally and physically abused by the man that she loved. I always felt my duty was to protect her and to look after her after all she was my mother. So I did. Every time he would hit her I would call the cops on him but she always protected HIM. She always said she was ok. Couldn’t she see it wasn’t OK? I never really had a childhood…I didn’t even know what a playground was. I knew the back of a car, late at night waiting in a parking lot with my mom in the front seat, waiting for this man that she loved walk out of an apartment with another woman…but she always forgave him. She forgave his infidelity, the name calling and every black eye she had. Growing up I didn’t know happiness, love or respect. I only knew what being hurt felt like. Some five year olds remember their first day of kindergarten or a special memory. I don’t. What I do remember and what I will never forget is the day my life was forever marked. I was sexually abused at five years old until I was twelve. I don’t remember a school bus, a kindergarten teacher or a classroom desk. I remember laying down at night having my hand be pulled to touch a man and feeling confused of why this man was touching me too.
It Was…
That man that forever left a mark in my life was the same man my mom loved so much. It was that man that verbally and physically abused her. It was her future husband, the father of my siblings and the man I called my stepdad. The man I hated so much for hurting my mother and now hurting me. It was the man I protected my mother from, for so many years. My mother always thought that money can buy anything such as time and love. She was always so busy working two jobs to provide for my siblings and me. She never understood we didn’t care about the toys or any other materialistic item. We wanted (I wanted) a MOTHER. My mother never knew what a report card was or what a conference was. I took care of it all even of my siblings. I cooked, I cleaned and I raised my siblings. I just wanted her there. Her presence not being there especially at nights was his access to my room. I had sleepless nights watching my door handle hoping it wouldn’t turn. I would get beat by my sleep and awoken to this man on top of me. I FEARED him. I was frightened he would hurt my mother or even me for saying something. I mostly feared for HER life. She was all I had – so I kept it a secret for many years.
It Made Me Feel…
It impacted me so much more than I ever imagined. It affected me emotionally, mentally and physically. I hated how my body was developing at such a young age. I hated the attention I would get because of my body. Everyone recalls me as this cute girl with a beautiful smile. My smile wasn’t real. I was this girl who was shy but smiled all the time. It was to cover my sadness and painful everyday life. I don’t ever recall having dreams…but I do recall the many nightmares. I lived with fear. In my nightmares seeing my mother being beat to death but that wasn’t the only nightmare I had. My biggest nightmare soon became my reality.
I Told…
It took me seven years to finally tell someone. I told my friend (who is now to this day my best friend). I told my friend and I made her promise me to not tell anyone. Little did I know that promise wouldn’t be kept. Or I wonder was it my way of having my story be revealed? The following day I was in math class and her psychologist came in looking for me. She was seeing a psychologist due to her father’s death. As soon as I saw her walk in the room asking for me I knew my friend had told her my secret. The psychologist told me that someone that cared for me was concerned regarding my situation at home. I denied it all. She responded with words I wanted to hear for so long. She said: its ok, this isn’t your fault, don’t be scared, you can trust me, this can be stopped – you can speak up. So I did. I told her everything. Next thing I know I am in a room with detectives, children services, psychologist and my MOTHER. I told my mom everything that day. Her calmed response was so soothing to my ears. I was relieved! She said I should have told her and that she could had stopped it. She believed me – but once we got home away from everyone in that room. My worst nightmare became my reality. She didn’t believe me. My mother called me a liar, she blamed ME, and she said it was MY fault and that I had asked for it. She didn’t support me. Detectives taking the case told her my stepfather and I couldn’t be in the same house during the investigation. Who do you think left that house? Not my offender…she had ME leave the house. My mother sent me away to live with a complete stranger in which I was sleeping in the living room in a house full of men. I was always that good girl who listened to mommy. After that day things changed. I became a rebel and a runaway. I was shattered. I didn’t care for my body – a body I didn’t have a say to who could have it. So I met a guy in which I chose to give myself to. A guy who later on did three years in jail for something that my stepdad should have had paid for. My mother took advantage of the situation and told me that if I wanted this guy out of jail then I had to tell the detectives that everything I said about my stepdad wasn’t real. So I did. I believed her. I was tricked. She kept that guy in jail, my stepdad never paid for what he did to me and I was sent away to Mexico to keep shut.
I Survived…
One day in Mexico I got a phone call from this so called FATHER of mine. I thought it was a joke. A lawyer my mother had, also was my dad’s lawyer. She told my father to look for me that I needed him. So he did. He called me and told me to go live with him. To get to know him. I was so angry. Who was he to show up thirteen years later asking to meet me? I had two choices: go live with him or go back to the woman who gave me her back, my MOTHER. So I chose to go with him. I lived with him during my four years of high school. I went back with the mentality of putting my past behind me, forgetting what happened. Learning to not let it affect who I was or who I was meant to be. I never got help because my mom denied me the help of seeing a psychologist to talk about what had happened to me. So I thought I could heal myself. I lived with the everyday thought and fight of not being like my mother. I thought I had forgiven her and my stepdad. I had my children who I loved so much and a husband who loved me with all his heart. But my past came hunting me down. I never healed like I thought I had. I never forgot or forgave my mother or my stepdad. I didn’t know what love was. My past destroyed my marriage. A book I thought I had closed all of a sudden reopened. I used alcohol to ease the pain and make me forget. I felt like a failure to my children. I wanted them to have a family that I never had. It wasn’t till I hit rock bottom that I decided to finally get help and heal that open wound. I wrote a journal and I was finally able to share my story with many who didn’t know. Year 2015 I accepted Jesus into my life as my savior. He gave me that unconditional love I always searched for, He gave me peace in my heart and He showed me true meaning of forgiveness. Twenty-two years later I finally could say that that girl who once had a fake smile on her face was finally truly full of happiness and her smile was real. That is who I am today.
I Dream…
As a survivor and as a mother that I am today to my two beautiful children, I would like for parents to be better educated to protect their children as well as educate children in the difference of an appropriate and inappropriate touch. I believe as a parent we need to have a closer and open relationship with our children to strive for a strong communication. No child should be afraid to speak up. No child should keep a secret like this. I dream for a better system in getting these offenders to justice. There are many who keep this secret for years due to not knowing the support there is out there for survivors. I dream for voices to be heard and hearts to be healed. I healed when I spoke. My heart healed when I was no longer ashamed to share my story. My past is what makes me the strong woman I am today. I am a SURVIVOR… I support and address these issues by sharing my story and getting involved in organizations that support awareness for child sexual abuse.
I Want…
Every survivor should know that they are NOT ALONE. What once seemed like a dark lonely path has a bright light at the end line. We should speak up, share our stories and help others with what once we saw impossible to overcome be the reason to unite with one another. I won my battle and so can you!
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