It Happened…It was early in my childhood. I can’t even be sure of my age. If I pick my brain enough it usually comes back with a foggy answer of somewhere around 5 years old because it started before my parents divorced. I remember having early memories of true happiness but then I remember learning how to put on a smile so that I looked happy. A talent that still serves me today. My abuser was a child himself, a mere 7 years older than I.It Was…
My brother. Those words are still hard to write and even harder to say. My abuser was my brother. The earliest memory I have is being pulled under my bed and feeling body weight slowly weigh me down. From there only the harshest actions are ingrained in my memory. The rest becomes fuzzy. There are gaping holes in my childhood that only my nightmares fill. I don’t know how he kept me from telling. I knew it was wrong. I know I would cry and plead for him not to touch me. I knew it was yucky. I just remember fear and as crazy as it seems fear of something happening to him. He was my brother.It Made Me Feel…
Embarrassed, dirty, scared, confused.. Helpless to stop it. The list of emotions are endless. I still have fear, fear of people looking at me differently if they find out I’ve been sexually abused. Especially by a sibling. I know my abuse continued for quite some time but my brain has repressed so much of it that I can’t even tell you when it stopped. I only remember feeling “normal” close to the age of 8. I suffered a great deal growing up. I remember laying in my bed at night feeling like I couldn’t breathe. Like there was an elephant sitting squarely on my chest and would not budge. I secretly wondered why my mother could not see that something was so horribly wrong. She would never take the time to notice, she wrapped herself so tightly into her new relationship that my secret cries for help fell on deaf ears. I was more sexually educated than any child should ever be and it came out in play with friends, with my toys and I even remember being reprimanded for having a conversation about oral sex with a friend. I was 8 maybe 9 talking about oral sex and no one blinked an eyelash to why I would know such things at my age. As the years passed after the abuse ended I started to feel as if it was a normal part of my life and at times it didn’t even seem real. I felt crazy at times trying to decide whether the memories that haunted me were real or not. The feelings I began to have I never once associated with the abuse until I became older. I became riddled with anxiety, low self-esteem, fear of being alone and on my worst days as a teenager would cut myself just to feel anything. As an adult I still suffer with panic and anxiety and mild depression. Trusting anyone with my own children will always be a problem for me.I Told….
This is where I am still finding courage. And it begins with sharing this story. I am now in my 30’s and there has only been one person come into my life with whom I have been able to share the painful memories with. They understand my pain in ways that only a survivor of sexual abuse can and it has been such a relief to be able to talk to someone about it and have that support. My family is not close. I have so many unspoken issues with my mother and I have not seen or hardly spoken to my abuser in 10 years. I know I am not as strong as I need to be but my hope is that someday soon I will be able to finally let go of the weight I have been carrying for so long.I Survived…
I think being so young and having my brain shut down to protect me has helped me to survive. It completely changed the course of my life and I know that. I have accepted what happened to me and I know that is was not my fault. It took me awhile to come to terms with it. While the scars will always be on my heart, it will not conquer me. I am strong. I am a survivor.I Dream…
That no child will have to suffer. That parents will be attentive and talk to their children about body safety. I dream of a world where survivors of any abuse can come forward and have the support of their family and community. That no one will have to feel ashamed or humiliated or have their bravery met with disbelief.I Want…
People to talk about it. I want body safety rules discussed and pinned up on the fridges of every home with children so it is always at the forefront of their minds. I want parents to pay attention to the signs.. To know the signs and to act when there are feelings of something not being right. I want every child to know that no one has the right to touch them inappropriately.. or to force themselves upon them. I want children to know to scream and yell if they have to so that someone takes notice of them. I want them to know it’s ok to tell and that it is not their fault. I want a world where children can grow up to be the people they were meant to be before abuse re-wired them.
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I Am Still Finding Courage
