It happened…
I didn’t have many role models growing up, but I did have people in my life that I knew I never wanted to be like. I was so young, just five years old. I was starting school. One day my parents went out clothes shopping. At first it started with me taking my clothes off for him. Then it got worse over the years. He made me touch him, he touched me. He forced me too look at porn magazines with him. I was so afraid. I was nine years old when he raped me for the first time. I still remember everything; the room, the dress I was wearing, the smell of the chicken my parents were barbecuing outside. When I asked him stop and told him “no,” he slapped me and told me to “stop being a cry baby.”After this I got raped continuously. I was dying more and more inside after each time. I was raped fifteen times by the time I was eleven years old. I thought it was over when I was eleven, as he said he couldn’t anymore. But he tried again when I was sixteen. I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I could fight back. I remember him coming into my room, putting his hand on my leg, and telling me I’d always be his. I tried to run but he pulled me back. I somehow got him off of me. As I ran outside to my horse, I turned and saw him coming after me. He had a look of such anger in his eyes. I told my horse to “run, boy, run!” I didn’t come back home till the sun was going down. He never got a chance to hurt me like that again, but I still held the pain of this secret inside me.
It was…
my older brother. He is seven years older than me and my parent’s favorite child. He could do no wrong. My parents left me alone with him often, but even when they were home he got me. My parents didn’t care. My brother told me all brothers and sisters did this, and to be a good sister and don’t tell – if I did he’d kill me. He was also physically abusive to me. He pushed me and even held knives to me. He was never sorry for anything he did. The day of my wedding he actually told me I should thank him for what he did to me.
It made feel…
alone, scared and damaged. I thought I did something to deserve this. I felt so ashamed. I took the pain out on myself by cutting, trying to clean my skin until I’d bleed. I developed eating disorders. I had nightmares all the time. I would cry myself to sleep hoping when I woke up my life would have been just a bad dream. That I would wake up to a loving home. It never happen. I trusted nobody. I just wanted to run away or die. The pain was too much – it hurt inside and out. It seemed nobody noticed my pain, nobody cared, and nobody was trying to save me from this hell I was living in.
I told…
at seven years old I tried telling my parents that I didn’t like being alone with him. They didn’t listen. At fifteen, they found my journal of all my painful memories. I was slapped and told I was ruining the family. They said all my brother ever did was love me. At eighteen, I told my boyfriend (my now husband). He believed me but still thought I should try to work things out with my parents . For years he tried and even let them be a part of my wedding. But finally after I had my daughter at twenty-four, I made the decision to cut them from my life. I broke my silence. I live in very small town so it was hard. Some people supported me, but others believed my family was right and I was brainwashed. They said they couldn’t believe it because my parents seem like such good, caring people. Lots of people look at me differently now. Some look at me with sadness or with a judgmental look. Others do look at me like a friend.
Telling my story and breaking my silence felt like freedom. I was finally feeling better, the ashamed feeling of guilt and pain were being replaced. Although some may not support or believe, and even though he’ll never face a day in jail, I took back my life the day I told. Nobody can take that away from me.
I survived..
during my childhood I honestly don’t know how I made it through. I just knew I needed to get out of there one day. I was able to find some peace in cooking and riding my horse. After I moved out when I was eighteen, I made it through by my love of cooking and baking, my very good friends, and reading and researching about child abuse. When I had my daughter I decided to go into therapy for PTSD. I learned a lot about how to deal with it.
I’m still healing to this day, and I know it will be a continuous journey. I am thankful every day I made it out alive. I find strength in my daughter. Healing for me means enjoy life, going outside, baking cupcakes, dancing and the small things of having a child. I survive by living life and not letting my past hold me back anymore.
I dream…
for better laws on child abuse and more awareness around child abuse.
In most states the laws are in favor of the abuser, and it is very hard for victims to get justice. When the victim doesn’t come forward in the right amount time, often the statute of limitations has ran out. Even when there is justice, the punishment doesn’t fit the crime. We need laws that actually support victims. There should be no statute of limitations in any state. There needs to be more education around child abuse along with the side effects of the abuse. More awareness is needed! So few people know the signs of abuse and what to do.
Not many places have child abuse awareness events. I’m hoping to one day hold a child abuse awareness event near where I live. I have been doing a lot of research in preparation. I also use my own Facebook page to share awareness information and tell my story. Last year I bought awareness bracelets and gave them away to all that would like to wear one.
I want…
I want those that have not experienced child abuse themselves to know that survivors judge themselves enough, that they don’t need their judgement as well! We need your support, for you to believe us and understand that healing takes time. We don’t want you to feel sorry for us or to be scared of us. To please understand that even if the abuser seems nice on the outside it can be a different story on the inside. We have gone through hell and survived. Some of us share our story, and some of us don’t. Those that do share don’t do it for attention they do it to heal and hopefully help others. Talking is therapeutic.
To other survivors: I want them to know they’re not alone and they are not the ones to blame. The shame belongs to their abuser not them. They don’t have to live in fear, they have the right to heal! All survivors can overcome this and have a wonderful, healthy, and happy life. Survivors can break the cycle of abuse and they don’t owe their abuser or those that support their abuser anything! I hope all survivors can heal, and find strength and love in their life.
I survive by living life and not letting my past hold me back anymore.
