by Band Back Together | May 29, 2014 | Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Alcohol Addiction, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Rape/Sexual Assault |
When I was too small to be understood when I spoke, my father taught me to scream. He was a sadist, and from him I learned to fear.
When I was in junior high, I met a policeman at my school. He was just there visiting someone. I told him that my life at 11 years old was a nightmare. I told him I was being molested by my step father. I asked for help. He said he was out of his jurisdiction. His girlfriend, my teacher, told him that as far as she knew I had a good home life. She knew that because she saw me for less than an hour a day for one semester in gym class. This was a class where I never participated, or dressed for gym because I didn’t want to have to take my clothes off in front of people to shower. From the policeman I learned that no one would really believe me or help me.
From my stepfather I learned to hate my body for the sickness it inspired.
From the cops who arrested me at age 15, I learned to devalue myself and make excuses for people who treated me badly.
From my husband, I learned to hate alcoholism, addiction, and excuses. From ridicule, to assault, to spousal rape, he taught me to despise him.
There was another lesson I learned from my Grandfather. It was his story. From the Jewish boy who grew up in Budapest Hungary, who saved up money he earned as a bell hop to come to America, I learned to leave . From his story, I learned to never give up, and when all else failed, to take those I loved and go.
I know looking back he was not a great man, not even really a good or kind man. Still, he taught me what I needed most. Thank you, Grandpa, for your story.
by Band Back Together | Apr 2, 2014 | Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Estrangement |
I want to make this short and to the point, as best as I can.
My husband was abused (mentally, emotionally, physically, and sexually) by members of his family. His father sexually abused him as a child, his mother and grandparents covered up the abuse, and outside the sexual abuse incident, they themselves were physically and emotionally abusive. When we met, I didn’t know this, and he’d blocked much of it out, or pushed it down and chose not accept what happened to him. It’s taken years for him to find the strength to shut these people out of his life. It’s also taken years for me to find the strength to deny his mother and her parents access to our daughter.
I don’t want to explain why I even allowed my daughter around them in the first place. Honestly, I have no excuse and I feel like an unworthy mother for not putting my foot down harder when my husband pushed to have them in her life. His family is prominent in his hometown and thought highly of, despite the dark secrets they have hidden in all the corners (the abuse).
A few months ago I had enough, separated from him, and he went to a psychiatrist who echoed what I’d been saying for years: these are not good people and it isn’t safe for him or his daughter to be around them.
Through therapy and medication he’s been able to start coming to grips with the abuse he endured as a child, and he’s starting to break free of the emotional control they’ve had over him. It’s now been about 4 months since our daughter has spoken to or see his family, and it’s our intent that she never sees any of them again.
However …up to this point, she grew up with them in her life on a regular basis. This last month she’s begun asking when she’ll be seeing them again. She liked his grandparents especially (his grandmother was the ringleader in instigating and covering up the abuse). She’s starting to ask at least once a day to go over and visit with them.
She’s never going back over there. I will never put my child or my family in danger like that again.
But, she’s 5 years old. And I honestly don’t know how to explain to her why she won’t be seeing them again. I just don’t. I have an answer for nearly everything for her. But this situation is beyond my scope of understanding. Sometimes I think we should just come right out with it and tell her that they all hurt her Daddy when he was a little boy, but I don’t know if she’ll understand that, and I don’t want to put more on her than she needs right now. (I want to preserve some bit of her innocence, I guess.)
Has anyone else been forced to remove several family members from the lives of their children? Does anyone have any advice about how to talk to my daughter about this situation?
by Band Back Together | Mar 20, 2014 | Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Fear, Rape/Sexual Assault |
It’s been twelve years.
Twelve tortuous and painfully long years. Yet, you’re still haunting me; taunting me behind the cover of darkness each and every fucking day. Wasn’t stealing my childhood and innocence enough? Why do you have to try and ruin EVERYTHING?!
News flash. I’m not putting up with your shit anymore. You will not take another ounce of my happiness for your sick and twisted pleasure.
When I close my eyes, I expect you to be gone.
I’m done. You disgust me, you sick fuck!
When I was 11, I was first sexually assaulted by the guy who was dating my older cousin. My cousin had to work the next morning, so went to bed early. Sick Fuck Number 1 decided we (he and I) should play a game of truth or dare. I thought it sounded harmless. I was dead wrong. At first, I was excited because I idolized my cousin and wanted her boyfriend to think I was “cool,” so that I could hang out with the older kids. The dares started out normally, but then he started getting a little too daring. He would dare me to flash him, kiss him, touch myself, etc. I told him no, this wasn’t fun anymore, he was with my cousin who was sleeping right down the hall. No, no, no. I tried to get away, but he would threaten me, and then hold me there while he touched me. When that wasn’t enough, he made me watch him pleasure himself, and then do it for him.
My cousin and I had always been so close, always. When I told her, she didn’t believe me. She thought I was lying, and that I threw myself at him. I was 11, I hadn’t even had my first kiss yet…
I never mentioned the incident again for 4 years
Two weeks later. I was at my dad’s lake house for the summer, same as every summer. We had neighbors up there that had kids that my 6 year old brother (6yo) and I played with regularly. We primarily hung out with the two younger kids, a 7 year old girl and 10 year ldo boy. They had an older brother who was 15, but he wanted nothing to do with the younger kids.
We often had sleep-overs and watched movies. Normal kid stuff. The parents would always be either right outside, or a few houses down at someone’s campfire. Everything was business as usual that day. We got all our blankets together and spread out in their living room for movie night. The other 3 were fast asleep, and I was just on the verge when Sick Fuck Number 2 came in for the night. I thought nothing of it and managed to fall asleep. Not long after, I woke up to Sick Fuck Number 2 on top of me with one hand up my shirt, the other traveling south, and trying to kiss me. I tried to get him off of me, but he was a football player and much heavier than I am. His little sister, who was barely two feet from me started waking up, so he bolted to his room. I was awake, terrified, for the rest of the night.
This continued for two more years. It got worse, he would get angrier, his threats more violent. I kept my mouth shut like he told me to. The only reason those sleepovers continued was because my little brother adored our neighbors, and I refused to let him go there on his own. I didn’t want to be the reason my brother wasn’t allowed to have fun.
My parents and Sick Fuck Number 2’s parents were really good friends. Still are. Years later, when it all came out in the open, you know what my parents said? “He was just being a normal teenage boy.”
It all went downhill after that first summer. I used my body to get guys to like me. I had sex with so many guys through high school because, in my eyes, that’s all I was good for. Sex has always been something dirty and ugly to me.
Now I’m 23, married with a 2 year old son, and trying to overcome my negative feelings towards sex. My husband deserves better than that, better than me always feeling dirty after something that should be beautiful. It’s tearing us apart. The sick fucks are still winning after all these years. I’m done!
by Band Back Together | Feb 4, 2014 | Adoption, Adult Adoptees, Adult Children of Narcissistic Parents, Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Cancer and Neoplasia, Child Sexual Abuse, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Emotional Abuse, Fear, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Incest, Loss, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Parent Loss, Sadness, Therapy, Trauma |
The scars of a narcissistic mother last a lifetime.
This is the brave story of an adult child of a narcissistic mother’s story.
My dear father fell ill the end of February 2013. He’d been in and out of the hospital for three months with various ailments and a discovery of an aggressive cancer. We lost my dear father on May 29th 2013.
My father cared for my 80-year old mother. He waited on her hand and foot; he’d been doing this my whole life. It was now my turn to care for my mother.
I thought I was doing what was right; I thought I was being a good daughter. I visited with her every day. Let her cry on my shoulder, took care of her needs, medication, doctor appointments, fed her, cleaned her home, took care of her pets. My brother occasionally would show up, with some type of take-out food, but scoot out quickly.
After a few weeks, I started to get the wrath of my mother. I couldn’t do anything right
…I was too slow. I forgot to do something. Then, it turned into criticism of my body and how I raise my children; she was sorry she ever adopted me. I left her home crying every day; going home to my own family filled with anxiety and stress. I felt every bit 12-years old, all over again.
I am just recently learning about Narcissism.
I was 2- 1/2 when I was adopted. My brother is 8 years older than me and my parent’s biological son. I could never remember much of my childhood before the age of 11 or 12, but do remember a few haunting memories that I tried to pass off as a nightmare. One of the reoccurring memories happened when I was 6 – my then 14-year old was brother tickling me. It progressed to him pulling up my nightie and trying to penetrate me with his penis.
I can’t remember much past that.
He was always inappropriate, showing me his penis and laughing, making a sick game of it. I can’t remember the length of time this went on. Sometimes he would be nice, then he would be plain cruel to me.
I stopped talking in 2nd grade. I was so terribly shy, so shy that I would cry if someone looked at me the wrong way. I started remembering everything when I was a preteen but I was too ashamed to tell anyone as my brother continued his cruelty. He didn’t call me by my name. He called me Moose – as in a “fat moose.” My mother allowed this. She allowed him to be cruel to me and never said anything. In fact, it was my fault he was being mean.
He left for college when I was 12. Then came the wrath of my mother. She would make me weigh myself in front of her. She was very thin, an ex-model; she was an alcoholic and a very mean drunk. My father would water down her vodka in hopes she would be less volatile. She would scream at me for various reasons, none of them made sense. I just felt unloved. In fact, she made me go to a therapist at 13 because she said I had a “detachment disorder” and “could not love anyone.” Something about “not being held when I was back in my home country.”
My father tried the best he could to assure me I was pretty, smart and lovable. I always felt that from him, but he never stood up to my mother and quietly observed the maniacal behavior. I could write so much more of what happened through my childhood. (ed note: please share with us)
I am now 44 years old, married 18 years with 2 teenagers. I know I have the ability to love. I know I was mistreated because I could never treat my own kids that way. I am now in therapy to reconcile my feelings of guilt and quell my anxieties that still exist. I have never felt good enough or have been able to express myself for fear I might upset someone.
I am learning that my brother was the “golden child” and I was the scapegoat. It is all starting to make sense to me now. My therapist also believes my parents or at least my mother had knowledge of my brother’s sexual abuse towards me. Ughhh, I can’t even imagine this could be true. I have no contact with either my mother or brother as of Thanksgiving. My children tell me I seem less stressed. My husband also has noticed a huge change. I believe I am healing. I believe my father’s passing brought me to a place where I could see all the indignities I had suffered at the hands of someone I called Mom.
by Band Back Together | Sep 5, 2013 | Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Anger, Child Sexual Abuse, Fear, Marriage and Partnership, Marriage Problems, Mental Health, Self-Esteem, Stress |
The scars of childhood sexual abuse can last a lifetime.
This is his story:
With my wedding in few weeks time, I feel more vulnerable regarding my past.
I have been raped by three teachers, one neighbour’s servant for over three years. I have boyish looks which may have made me attractive to them.
My dad is an overpowering, angry man’s man and my mom is thick-headed with abusive tongue. None of my other siblings are anything attributed to normal.
Today, I keep a thick French-cut beard to hide my face. My body is shaped like a pear, which means my torso is fatty near my back and legs. This makes my confidence shatter while I’m walking.
However, I have a positive mind and never lost hope. Rather, I created a habit of forgetting everything bad, all behaviours and all piercing eyes.
Thanks to my habit of forgetting, I face many problems in this overly-competitive world. So often I feel if I’d have given a normal childhood, I’d have been much more of a achiever. I’ve finished university education and have a fantastic job. Unfortunately, the job is contractual which continues alarming and ruining the enjoyment of having a good paying job.
As anyone can understand, my threshold for patience is very low; therefore I have lowered my choices in the past. I feel angry, sad and pathetic for very small reasons; I’m known by my friends and family for having one black day in every other week.
All this explained, my wedding is up and I feel too stressed and feel like breaking down. I want to go forward but I feel this is going to be too much of a burden; like I should quit. Getting married and having children seems to be hell of a job – maybe I’m not ready.
I just wanted to share my story and could use some of your comments, The Band.
by Band Back Together | Sep 4, 2013 | Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Child Grooming, Child Sexual Abuse, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Healing From A Rape or Sexual Asault, How To Cope With Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rape/Sexual Assault, Self Injury |
The scars of child sexual abuse last a lifetime.
This is her brave story:
Hi, The Band. I’m not too sure where to start, so I’ll start here.
My uncle’s friend was a police officer. He had a daughter and we played together often; we were like a family all hanging out together.
One night, when I was I was 9 years old, I slept over at his home…everything changed..
Suddenly, I was in his bedroom, the room was dark, and he was on top of me. I started to feel him going in and out of me (sorry I’m not yet able to be specific).
It hurt so much.
I couldn’t do anything.
I couldn’t scream.
Wasn’t I supposed to do what he told me to?
I did. I turned when he told me to, I did all he told me to, and I did nothing to stop it. I just squeezed the sheets tight and hoped for it to be over. But it kept happening, like there was no end.
Finally it was over, or so I thought. Because even now that I’m 22, I still relive it over and over again.
I have PTSD with severe anxiety, seems like there’s no end to this nightmare.
Last year made it worse – my friend sexually assaulted me, I choose not to call it “rape” as it makes it seem so much worse.
I don’t know what to do or think; sometimes I don’t know how to live – I cut my wrist sometimes. Each time I promise that I won’t do it again, but it’s almost addictive especially at my low points. I don’t trust men, especially police officers – it’s ironic how those who are supposed protect us are the ones who hurt us.
I just need someone who can understand what I’m going through, someone who’ve been there, someone I can talk to, and won’t think that I’m too messed up.
I need help.
