it didn’t matter if people were present, he’d find a way

It Happened…

at the age of 5-12, at the time I enjoyed watching cartoons, especially Courage the Cowardly Dog, I liked playing Pokémon on my Gameboy, and playing in the snow. At around age 4, I had just moved in with my mother from my grandmother’s house.  She lived with her boyfriend, and I met my half-sister (his daughter), for the first time.  I moved to Texas at 6 years old, to my aunt’s welcoming home.  Then, at age 8, I moved to a different aunt’s house (the second offender was her husband).  They were brothers.

It Was…

 my mother’s boyfriend, he lived with us, and he is the father of my two half-sisters.  Then it was my uncle, he was, and still is, married to my mother’s sister (my aunt).  They lived in front of us, and my uncle moved to Texas a few years after I did.  My mother was often at work, or across the street at my aunt’s house.  So, that was enough time for her boyfriend to have his way.  He woke me up once by trying to fit himself in my mouth.  Things are blurry at the age of 5, but I believe I remember my mother’s boyfriend saying that she would get mad if she found out, and to not tell her.  He had a tattoo of a topless woman, and he’d tell me it was my mother.   The uncle, I lived with him. He was sneaky, it didn’t matter if people were present, he’d find a way. He broke the knob and lock on my door, he’d look underneath the door to watch me shower.  When I would sleep in the same room, he’d touch me under the covers. He told me once that he could teach me how to have sex.  The uncle used grooming, he would buy me clothes, expensive shoes, candy, and as I grew older, he began to give me money.  He went out of his way to get what he thought I wanted. By that time, I was more worried that I would break the family apart, and that my own aunt would hate me, that she would throw me out.  I was the pillar that supported the family, at the expense of my innocence and sanity.

It Made Me Feel…

 disgusting, frustrated, sad, full of guilt, and shame.  I was scared that someone would find out, because then they would either call me a liar, or think I was gross.  It was scary to know he was watching me through windows, and doors.  I started dressing more like a boy. I wanted to look as undesirable as possible.  Often, I thought about running away, or committing suicide.  I remember being angry most of the time.  I still feel the need to scream some days.  I still have nightmares.

I Told…

 in 7^th grade when I mentioned it to a couple of friends, then they took me to the counselor. The counselor called up my aunt. She hesitated in believing me about my mother’s boyfriend, she even asked, “are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”  But she believed me about the uncle.  We had a brief talk about it at home, and it was never mentioned again.  I basically had no support from her.  It felt like boulders being lifted from my shoulders.  But it also felt like I was talking to a wall.  I’m certain the family knew already, they just never said anything.  I remember my mother hitting me violently with a belt for seeing me do something inappropriate, I didn’t even know it was, but she didn’t even stop to think of where I could’ve learned it.

I Survived…

because of the people who accepted me, and because I looked up so many things on the subject.  Hearing other people’s stories has made me realize that I’m not alone, and that what I feel is normal.  My friends and my sisters were there to listen to me.  I met a wonderful guy, and he accepted me for all of my flaws, and every time I need to talk about it, he listens.  I can’t afford therapy, and even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to talk about, but I can get by without it.

I Dream…

that people be educated about this matter.  That people stop seeing child sexual abuse as something that is too uncomfortable to talk about.  That way, survivors wouldn’t be that afraid of being judged or shamed.  They would have more courage to point out their offenders.  I want families to support their children if they disclose sexual abuse.  Since I am just now starting to tell the public, I don’t know what else I can do, besides tell people my story, and let them know that it happens.  I post publicly on social media about the statistics and effects of child sexual abuse.

I Want…

to tell survivors that it’s a difficult journey; healing.  But I assure you, things do get better.  There will still be grief and anger, for the things you can’t take back, for the things you couldn’t prevent, but those feelings will be felt less and less as life events distract you.  Everyone heals and copes differently. I thought what happened to me wasn’t bad because I didn’t have anxiety and such things, but any kind of abuse is evil.  It was not your fault.  To the people not affected:  There is just no way to get over it.  Don’t force forgiveness.  Look for signs and investigate. Never ignore someone trying to tell their story, it’s important for us to talk about it, and not keep those negative thoughts inside.  I read a poem once called, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.  There was a verse that caught my attention, it said,” Since then, at an uncertain hour, that agony returns: And till my ghastly tale is told, this heart within me burns.”  I find it helpful to retell my story, again and again, to rid myself of the weight of it.  Despite out hardships, we move on. We are strong and we are fearless, as we should be to protect the children.

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