by Band Back Together | Dec 19, 2014 | Child Sexual Abuse, Shame, Uncategorized |
I’ve been keeping this a secret for years. The only thing I know is how to keep it a secret. I was molested as a child by two people, different times and no one in my family knows. Not my mom. Not my dad. Not my brothers.
How do you open up about this to someone you love? How will they believe anything you say? How will they believe you after all the years that has passed? Why is it easier to let your best friends know, but not your family?
I don’t want to tell my family because who knows what will happen after. I’m scared. I’m scared they won’t believe me and call me a liar. I’m scared what they might do to them.
But I still want to tell them. I just don’t know how. If I tell them, it’ll set me free. A huge weight lifted from my shoulders. This is probably the one thing keeping me from moving on.
It hurts me to hurt my family, but it hurts me more to keep this from my family. I think about it too much when I shouldn’t, but I don’t know what to do. I’m clueless.
by Band Back Together | Nov 19, 2014 | Cancer and Neoplasia, Child Sexual Abuse, Childhood Bullying, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Fear, Pet Loss, Suicide, Teen Suicide, Violence |
I am a seventeen year old girl. For quite some time, I had been experiencing strange feelings. Around ten months ago, I had an illness that lasted for three months. No doctor could tell the exact reason. Some of them said it was related to some kind of mental disturbance. I thought about my life at that moment. Everything was fine, so I ignored it.
Six months later, I found myself having trouble sleeping, isolating myself from people, and having suicidal thoughts. Everything in my life was amazing then. I couldn’t figure out what was causing this, and because I failed to understand myself, everyone else did too. Three months later, during a chemistry test, I went blank and felt like a corpse.
I had figured it out, I had been raped.
It had started when I was nine years old. My mother had been transferred to a different state than where my father lived. We were living with my uncle and his family. I was very innocent, and was irritated and let down by my cousins who constantly mocked at me for everything I did.
One day, while my mom was at work, one of my male cousins came into my room and locked the door. He asked me to play with him. I was glad someone wanted to play with me. He wanted to play house, so he played the role of my husband. As the time to sleep came, he lay next to me and felt me all over, making me uncomfortable. He groped my tiny breasts and kissed me repeatedly. I felt so bad, I asked him to leave. I didn’t really know what all was happening, but I knew it wasn’t right. From then on, I avoided being with him alone. Time passed, we moved back in with my dad, and the incident was soon forgotten.
When I was twelve, I was at another uncle’s house. My mom went out for sometime, and I was alone with my uncle. He sat beside me and hugged me. Then, he started touching me everywhere, and slid his hands inside my shirt. I ran away and stayed in the bathroom until my mom returned. I thought about telling her, but I was worried she wouldn’t believe me, so I didn’t say anything.
The next year, we stayed at my grandfather’s house, without our parents. One night, my aunt’s husband woke me up in the middle of the night by running his fingers up and down my legs. I was horrified and ran to the bathroom. My younger sister was sleeping in the same room, so I went back to the room, praying he wouldn’t still be there. I didn’t want to shout because my sister would wake up, and she was too young to witness this. He kept trying to feel my body under my clothes, so I kicked him very hard. I warned him to back off or else I would shout.
The next day, when I was combing my hair, he grabbed my breasts from behind and kissed my neck and back. I was bewildered. I stayed quiet because I was afraid my mom would not believe me and our family would fall apart. I was relieved when my parents came back.
Two months later, my aunt invited us to her place. My mother went out with my aunt to shop, and my father was busy with some work. I was on the computer with my back to the door, my aunt’s husbad came in and locked the door. Before I could think of an escape, he made me lie on the couch and kissed my lips. He French kissed me and touched every part of my body. I shouted, but nobody seemed to hear. I was saved when the doorbell suddenly rang. I felt like telling my mom about it, but just couldn’t. I told a trusted cousin about it, and the problem stopped.
When I was 15, I had a boyfriend. I was falling for him and thought I could trust him. One day, we had gone on a drive when he turned into a deserted street and stopped the car. I asked him what was wrong, and he started to kiss me. I kissed him back. He went further and took off my shirt. I was shocked and asked him to stop, but he got on top of me, unbuttoned both of our pants, and stuck out his penis. I told him I was on my period, and I begged him not to do it. He got off me.
I punched him and shouted for help, but no one listened. He asked me to blow him. I didn’t know what that meant. He grabbed me by the throat, and pushed his penis inside my mouth. I understood then and punched his chest. He became violent, and he started to choke me. I knew I had to cooperate to stay safe. I begged him to stop. When I didn’t give in, he made me rub and stroke his penis. Finally he ejaculated, then he drove me home, without saying a word.
I came back home only to discover my mom had read my diary and knew I was with my boyfriend instead of at my friend’s house. I was shattered. My parents are completely against teenagers dating, so my mom acted like I had betrayed her. I didn’t have the courage then to tell her what had happened.
I opened my phone to call up my best friend, but discovered I had a text from her that said she was diagnosed with blood cancer. I was breaking down.
After ignoring his calls, I finally decided I needed to meet with my boyfriend to tell him I was done. But when we met, he took me to a corner, and without wasting any time, he shoved his finger up my vagina. I was shocked, and I ran back home.
The next day, my dog died.
I was falling into a pit, and it seemed impossible to come out. With no one to talk to about this, I decided to just shove it in some corner of my heart. That resulted in bad health and emotional problems.
This September, I finally contacted a helpline and went to a counselor who changed my life. I told my parents about everything. They listened and stood by me, without blaming me. I am making a new start with the help of my loved ones.
by Band Back Together | Sep 23, 2014 | Child Grooming, Child Neglect, Child Sexual Abuse |
I have spent a lot of time in therapy working on the issues surrounding the sexual abuse I was subjected to by my father. What he did is pretty clear cut. It was wrong. It was horrible. No one could (or should) ever think of saying what he did wasn’t wrong.
A bigger, more insidious issue, however, is my mother. She looks like a good person. It is hard to point directly at her actions and say there is anything fishy going on, but if you look at the totality of the picture, she is almost as bad as my father.
Two weeks ago, my mother was in a pretty serious car accident. She was conscious after the accident, but we were hearing diagnoses of “broken spine.” To me, that means paralysis. In that moment, I truly wished that my mother would die. That seems harsh, but there was no way in hell I could take care of her and I did not wish that on my sister.
Broken spine translated to two cracked vertebrae. She would not be paralyzed, but would require a back brace for 8-12 weeks, which she could not put on by herself because she also broke her arm and a couple fingers. My sister lives closer, and is her medical power of attorney, so she agreed to bring Mom into her home and care for her.
There is no way I could have done that. None. It was hard enough for me to feed my mother jello in the hospital. She was totally defenseless. And while she is not a violent person, it was hard for me to see her like that, knowing how she can be.
I found out that I’m her financial power of attorney, and the next day, I went to work getting the information we would need and notifying all the necessary people. One of the first calls I made was to her car insurance agent, also a close friend from what mom told me. I called and told the woman my name and my mother’s name and what had happened. The woman got really quiet, then said, “Do you have a sister?” I said yes, I had a sister, and told the woman her name. The woman said she had HIPPA guidelines to follow, but then said my mother had never talked of another daughter. She had told the woman of my sister, but never mentioned me.
I was shocked, to say the least. I spent quite a bit of time feeling terrible over that. After talking to a friend of mine who knows my mother, he reminded me that she, just like my father, groomed people. It was not for the same purpose, but it was grooming, nonetheless.
I am not wealthy or tremendously successful in the typical way that society values, and my sister is no slouch either, but for my mother to talk about me, she has to tell people what I do. “My daughter writes about the sexual abuse she endured from her father, that I knew about.”
She says she did not know, and she is sorry. I told her, she did know. And when I told her, she admitted she thought something had been going on. He was prosecuted, not so much for what he did to me, but he went to prison. This was not a case in which I never said anything. I told lots of people, my mother was just the first in line.
She was too scared, too in love, too worried about what others would think, too whatever to do anything.
So, now, after 30 years since the start of my abuse and telling, she says she is sorry and she did the best she could. In the present, though, she isn’t sorry enough to tell people she has two daughters.
You’re right mom. You are sorry. Not for your actions, but you are just generally a sorry person.
by Band Back Together | Sep 3, 2014 | Abuse, Agoraphobia, Bullying, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Conversion Disorder, Emotional Abuse, Homelessness, How To Cope With Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Myasthenia Gravis, Natural Disaster, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder |
From my first memory, I have felt like I have been made of some sort of flypaper for trauma.
I am basically housebound and have a major fear of meeting, connecting, and attaching with other people in any way other than online. People hurt.
According to the last pro I saw, I have C-PTSD with conversion disorder. My trauma timeline (a literal timeline of traumatic incidents, memories, etc that we built in therapy) began at age 2. I have a history of long-term, consistent psychological/emotional abuses from multiple family members, gaslighting, covert pseudo-incestual victimization, and a mixed bag of years of homelessness/poverty as well as clusters of single-event traumas (natural disaster, single-incident sexual assaults from an early age on, spousal/partner abuse, bullying in school, hell – you name it). The longest consistent abusive relationship I had lasted from birth until I was 31.
I also spent long periods of my youth in and out of hospitals with various physical illnesses. (I don’t think that’s a coincidence, either.) Doctors and hospitals are some of my biggest triggers.
I have lots of triggers.
I began converting when I was 22, only I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time. Since then, I’ve had some symptoms come and go and others that have never left, like constant neuralgia. I was told it was like my body went all “TILT” and some of my systems got fried. I spent some time wheelchair-bound, unable to walk.
So besides the severe PTSD symptoms, I also have neuralgia, myasthenia gravis, and tremors.
My biggest triggers, besides the medical world at-large, are pretty basic and direct. Others are really complex:
- any governmental/bureaucratic institution (like court, the Medicaid office, the police, the DMV),
- phone calls or visitors when not scheduled ahead of time
- sudden, loud noises
- being touched without my permission
- alpha-type individuals with large, forceful personalities
- being late in any way
- having to “explain myself” without reason
- being judged
- severe storms that could produce tornadoes
- certain smells, words and phrases
- anything unexpected
That last one is almost the hardest one of all to deal with. Sometimes I feel almost a kind of autism or something. Like my today has to be just like my yesterday – or at least as planned, and if not – if something throws a monkey wrench into my plan for today, I totally lose my shit. It can be something as simple as a bill that was higher than it should be or oversleeping. Not that sleep is something I get a lot of, but sometimes the insomnia flips itself inside out and all I do is sleep. Though at least with insomnia, I don’t oversleep, so I prefer it.
I heard this line once, from a favorite show of mine, “People with this thing (PTSD), they don’t believe in a just Universe.” Man, ain’t that the truth.
As I’m sure it is with everyone, my story is unique. There isn’t a single situation I have ever experienced that isn’t somehow affected by this damn illness. I don’t know how to let any of it go, either.
I also do not know how to relax. Other than right after orgasm. Which on the one hand, makes orgasm extra nice (when I can get one – yes, of course I have trouble there, too) but on the other hand, as soon as my body goes back to normal, I’m back to tension and worry. My muscles hurt all the time because I’m constantly tensed up.
I get bothered by things that have anything to do with control. Control being mine, that is. Of course, I can’t handle when I have no control, either.
I am on disability, and housebound as I said before, so I spend a lot of time with distraction. I have a couple of hobbies that bring me as much peace as possible, but sometimes even they don’t help.
I have bad days and better days. Once in a while, I have a good day. I never just kick back and enjoy a good day, though, ’cause I seem to be suspicious of it. It’s like I’m thinking, “What is going to come along and ruin this?” …because something usually does. It’s that no-relaxing thing.
It’s like if you’re on letter M, and letters A through L have been horrible? You can’t exactly just get cozy on M… and even thinking about what fun letter T would be would be all kinds of dangerous.
I guess that about covers it. Separating out the ingredients of the soup of this illness is really tough sometimes.
I don’t know if in future I’ll post specific events or not. Thanks for letting me put this all down like this, though.
While I am terrified of people, I am usually pretty lonely.
It’s like so much of it all has some vicious cycle to it, doesn’t it?
by Band Back Together | Aug 15, 2014 | Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse |
First off, can I do this, The Band?
Today, my therapist told me I was ready to read/do this workbook. She said I was emotionally and mentally stable enough to try and retrain my brain as far as sex goes. To me, its dirty and wrong due to my childhood sexual abuse. This book is about accepting and coming to terms that I was abused and how to sort out all the emotions and issues that has caused and continues to cause.
I am starting it immediately and will update in case anyone wants to see how it works for me.
If you are like me and have warped feelings and opinions on sex after being abused, know that it is a normal response to an abnormal event. I never want sex and it’s created a barrier between my husband and I for a long time. I hope this workbook helps me fix that.
Anyways, here is the amazon link if you want to check it out. I am in no way shape or form associated with them, I just learned about this book today from my therapist and wanted to share it with The Band since there are so many like me out there unfortunately.
The Courage to Heal: A Guide For Women and Men Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse
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.
