by Band Back Together | Jun 7, 2016 | A Letter I Can't Send, Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Alcohol Addiction, Anger, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Child Sexual Abuse, Depression, Guilt, Inpatient Psychiatric Care, Loneliness, Self Loathing, Trust |
We all have letters we’d like to send, but know that we can’t. A letter to someone we no longer have a relationship with, a letter to a family member or friend who has died, a letter to reclaim our power or our voice from an abuser.
Letters where actual contact is just not possible.
Do you have a letter you can’t send?
Why not send it to The Band?
This is what I would like to tell my mom, and probably would if she weren’t in a fragile state. She’s been wheelchair bound since my second child was born and my daughter is now nearing junior high school. How she ended up in a wheelchair isn’t at issue at this point. Needless to say, she is simply too weak to hear this stuff.
Mom,
Did you ever wonder why I was so angry as a young man? Or why I only had a single friend when I was going through school? You should remember the angry tantrums that I used to pull. The anger I showed you was caused by a deep, horrid certainty that I was useless and doomed to failure. That I could never trust people or achieve anything of moment in life.
While a lot of this is standard fare for a teenager, you never informed dad about any incident as far as I can tell. He was never the kind of man to sit still for such nonsense. Did you stop to think when you told me as a very young child that I was a “surprise?” It didn’t take me long to figure out that “surprise” meant accident, and that you didn’t intend to make me. From that time on, I wondered if everyone would be happier without me, or if I even was truly wanted in the home.
What about the grades, Mom? You know, when I began failing in high school and you would hide the facts from Dad. Of course a child would accept help in such a way. I didn’t want to be in trouble at home AND school, after all. It’s a repeated pattern with you.
Consistently, you would “shelter” your little boy from Dad’s wrath, which was rather corporal, yet never over the top. Yet you failed entirely to protect me from sexual predators. Yes, mother I was molested as a child. I, your little boy, was fucked by a teenage girl belonging to a “trusted” family. My innocence was gone by fourth grade, Mother. Then, listening to your gossip, I learned that you never really even liked that family and thought their mother to be disgusting and immoral. Why, then, was I allowed to mix with them? Did you never wonder why I didn’t have any friends or why I quit playing with the other children from that family? I really believed that my molester was my girlfriend. You have no idea how confused and hurt I was when I saw her with a boy her own age. I had no one to confide in, and as children who are abused often feel that they would get into more trouble.
You were already struggling with demons of your own, of which I had known a little from the time I was in second grade when you were first hospitalized for “stress.” Junior high came around, and while I seemed to be okay, inside I was dying. I felt completely alone, as sex abuse survivors often do. I went through those three years with one friend who I met in fifth grade.
Then, you decided you were divorcing Dad. We moved out and lived for a few months in another town. You went back to father because, as I later found out, he bribed you. Yes, he cashed money from his retirement account and gave you a lump sum of cash to spend at your discretion. That caused me to lose a lot of respect for you. That was a single summer and back to the home. It was fucked up mom.
Junior high progressed. Even then I would have horrid angry outbursts of hopeless despair which should have caused some questions. Mom, why didn’t you do anything to get me help then?
High school came along and I gave up my choir aspirations. I didn’t have the confidence to try out for the high school choir, even though I had pulled straight A’s in all my choir work for junior high and earned a place on the Honor Choir. Indeed, I began to give up on everything then. I didn’t have many friends and had no visitors or invitations during summer breaks to anything. You never wondered why I never went steady with a girl, and asked only one out, and only then after repeated assurances that she would say yes? I pushed away my best friend in this time, in favor of what I thought were better friends. I’m lucky he forgave me, when I asked for his forgiveness.
I joined the Navy, only to flunk their psych evaluation and be sent home after five or so weeks. So there I was in the airport, defeated. You were so out of it, Mom. Dad was obviously exhausted. Apparently, it was getting near to another stay in the hospital for you. Not that they did you any good, except for to get you to decide to pretend everything was okay, so you could get out. Do you remember that ride home and the crazy things you talked about? In any case, Mother, you couldn’t handle your little boy leaving and broke down again. I needed some strength and real help then, Mom. But you, once again, were in trouble. I felt guilty by even thinking, “Dammit, I need my parents right now!” But Dad was dealing with your outbursts and insomnia. And so, once again, I kept my secrets and felt an utter failure. I know you’ve had difficulties Mama, but this isn’t about you right now.
You must realize that I was neglected by you in a few ways. Sure, you kept the house clean and meals on the table, but you never would inform my father of things that he had the right to know, like my failing grades. I was allowed to withdraw unhealthily into fantasy-like video games and television. You didn’t make me do the the things that I should have been doing, Mom. Dad could have helped you with that, if you would have let him. But I knew you, and I played you to keep the bad grades secret, just like any teenager would do, given the chance.
You did all that shit with my older sister, to the Nth degree, keeping her from facing the music for so long that she’s now a drug addict with no job, car, house, or self-respect. I escaped that because all along, since second grade, I have resented you. Yes. Resented that I couldn’t have a mommy that didn’t pick crazy fights with dad as we were watching a baseball game, eating dinner, or whatever. A mommy that wouldn’t freak out at tiny problems and scare the shit out of me with lies fashioned to keep me safe, that only served to inhibit my sense of trust in the world. A mommy who didn’t get so tired she wouldn’t talk to me or Dad and had to be taken to hospital on regular intervals.
I love ya, Mom, but you sure fucked up bad.
Four kids, one alcoholic, another a depressed, self-loathing mess (me) and a drug addict forever child. My oldest brother is the most well-balanced of the four of us, and I truly believe it’s because he spent the greater majority of his time with Father. Why did you “protect” us three from Dad so much? I have a good relationship with my father now, but my brother and sister haven’t spoken with him in years, in any meaningful way.
Do you know why dad was so grumpy all the time, mom? Because he slogged his ass of in a coal mine for twelve hours a day, six days a week and came home to either a batshit crazy or a sweet as pie wife–he never knew what to expect. He paid your way, Mom, and you resented him for it! He never made you stay home, you could have had your own money. Instead, you spent him into debt with secret credit cards, on more than one occasion. I remember the fights. They were the only ones that had any kind of justification. In other words, Dad was right!
You even kept him from forming decent relationships with the majority of his children.
Mom, I love you, but you have messed up three of your kids. That is a fact. I am now thirty six and struggle daily with feelings of empty, horrid loneliness and depression. These things are only bigger for me now, and I resent that you had every reasonable signal that something was very wrong with your child and you did …nothing. NOTHING!
I am now a father, and if one of my children began behaving the ways that I did, I would most certainly get them to someone for help. It’s not normal to rage the ways I did. Now I know it’s because of the injustice of abuse and the feeling that I wasn’t really wanted in the home.
I’m fixing these problems now, Mom, and without your help, just as before. It’s fucked, and I’m still kinda pissed off that all the signs were there. Sure, it was the early nineties. You watched enough talk shows to see at least one child psychiatrist telling parents signs of trouble in a kid. This fucking rock I’ve been toting for so goddamned long is a big bastard now. I’m pissed that I’ve had to do that carrying for so long. I’ve learned so much in my reading that I know that things wouldn’t be so bad NOW, if you would had done more THEN. Maybe you could have found yourself some decent help along the way, too.
I’m taking action now, Mom. I’m a big boy and have been taking care of myself. I’m getting the help I need, but my problems are compounded now by a failed marriage and the breakdown of my little family. This isn’t easier. Time didn’t make this shit go away. Indeed its only become worse.
I will overcome.
I love you mom. I hate you too. I don’t like it, and certainly this is going to be something that I address in therapy. But I’m doing it, finally, and that’s the point.
by Band Back Together | Jun 3, 2016 | Date/Acquaintance Rape, Fear, Guilt, Healing From A Rape or Sexual Asault, Rape/Sexual Assault |
I was date raped by two men eighteen years ago, while visiting a friend at college. I never thought of it as rape since I was drunk. I didn’t say no or resist. I was in and out of consciousness, until I finally passed out. I finally woke up to it still going on. I was very sexual after that and slept with anyone who wanted it, even if I didn’t.
A few years after that I was coerced into sex by a friend of a friend. I was alone with him at my apartment. I think he had driven me home from my friend’s house, but I don’t remember. I wasn’t drinking, and it was the afternoon. He was pressuring me to have sex and would not take no for an answer. I was afraid he would be violent if I kept resisting, so I eventually asked him if he would leave if I had sex with him. He said yes. I just laid there like I was dead, while he had sex with me.
I never considered myself a victim, or thought of either of these events as rape.
I always blamed myself and thought of them as my own fault for being stupid and easy. I am married and much older now, and in the past few weeks these incidents came back in my memory. I am now thinking of them as rape and starting to be very upset. How can this be affecting me eighteen years later?
by Band Back Together | May 27, 2016 | Breakups, Feelings, Guilt, Romantic Relationships |
I broke off our relationship last night. You were growing very attached. I wasn’t. I tried to make it about me, but I hurt you worse.
I am a flawed man, but not an evil one.
I’m sorry.
by Band Back Together | May 18, 2016 | Anxiety, Guilt, Psychological Manipulation |
Dear Jealous Person Who I Trusted To Be My Friend,
I have had to call in sick from work for the last two days because I have been feeling dizzy. My anxiety tricks my body like this, especially when I have been obsessing over how I have to defend myself to you. I realize I can’t, and am grateful that I did not let you get too close to my true friends, as I might have lost them as well. I am trying to see the positive, and I am grateful that spending more time at the gym means I have some new friends.
I used to feel guilty for falling for someone younger than me, but am grateful I asked him out. At least I could mend my broken heart. I have been out of your clutches for six months, and as I go over the friendship in my head, I realize the jealousy was there from Day 1.
I wonder what comments you made that triggered the end to my place in our group of friends. I now see how you manipulated people and put them down. I sometimes think I am crazy, but as I look back on the friendship we had, I hear the criticisms you made. I see how many times when I was happy you chose that moment to decide you wanted to go home, making me leave with you. I left at the same time as you because I was your friend, but now as I look back, I realize you couldn’t handle it when I was getting more attention than you were.
My headache is already disappearing and I feel like a weight has lifted off my shoulders as I write this.
Part of me wishes that our mutual friends believed me, but you have done your manipulating too well and have played the victim. I wish you well, but not at my expense. I am relieved to have escaped your clutches and can see my life is changing, and I am moving on. Part of me wishes you could see me now and how I have progressed, but that means I am still seeking your approval. I no longer need to do that. I am writing this, hopefully, as a final closure. Good luck in your future, and I hope the next pretty girl who crosses your path is treated more kindly than I was.
Your Former Friend
by Band Back Together | May 10, 2016 | Anxiety, Fear, Guilt, Rape/Sexual Assault, Sexual Coercion, Teen Sexuality |
About a week and a half ago, I did something that I regret so very deeply that it’s consuming my life. To give you a bit of background, I’m a 17 year old girl. A senior in high school who’s always been known as a good girl; the nice girl. I’ve always gotten good grades, practices good judgement, and has bright future ahead of her.
There’s a boy – a freshman – at my school, who I’ll call Jake. We’d had a kind of jokey, flirty relationship. Sure, he’s cute, but I knew from the start that he was bad news, plus he’s four years younger than me.
One night, he asked me if I wanted to come over to chill with him and his friend Adam. I made the mistake of sneaking out of the safety of my own house to go see him.
I made it very clear beforehand that I was not looking to do anything sexual with him, and he reassured me that he just wanted to chill and smoke some cigarettes.
I told my other freshman guy friend, Matthew, what was going on, and he warned me not to go because he was afraid I’d get raped. It’s not that I didn’t take him seriously, but I took it as an exaggeration.
I was smart, rape wouldn’t happen to me.
But still, once I’d snuck out, Matthew suggested I come pick him up and we could drive around and talk.
I knew hanging out with Jake was a bad idea because I don’t even smoke. I drove past Jake’s house, contemplating just going back home, before I finally decided to just do it. When I got to his room, Jake was playing video games and Adam was lying on the bed, using his phone.
I sat down on the bed and we talked for a bit before Jake handed me a cigarette. I politely refused, but he eventually convinced me to take just a puff of his.
After that I refused any more. Adam asked me to come cuddle, which I brushed off as a joke. Then they brought up my ex – still a bit of a sore spot. Adam asked if we were still dating, to which I said no. He said, “Well then, come cuddle with me.”
I agreed because I thought, “Why not? Fuck my ex.”
Well, eventually, he started getting handsy. I’d push his hand away each time, but he was persistent. He moved my hand to his crotch, and I would try to pull away, but he kept pushing it back.
It was never really forceful, just very persistent.
I kept saying “no” and “stop.”
He kept asking over and over if I’d perform sexual favors for him. He even tried to shove my head down toward his penis a few times. I kept refusing, and he’d always ask why.
I felt that I didn’t really owe him an explanation, so I would either say “Because,” or I would tell him that he was too young for me. He would say “Because why” and I would say “I don’t know.” He would ask how I didn’t know and I would just turn away. Then he would repeat this over and over. It was just plain annoying.
He continued to try and touch me.
Each time I moved his hand away, he got more persistent. Long story short, I eventually gave up and just let it happen. I ended up giving him a hand job, and letting him finger me. I wanted to stop, but he flat out told me I was not allowed to leave until he came.
Jake was in the room the entire time, and although he asked multiple times if I wanted to come see something or do something else, he didn’t do anything to stop Adam, even though I clearly did not want to be doing this.
After I left there, I wasn’t entirely aware of what had just happened. All I could think was “What have I done?” and “Why did I let that happen?”
After doing further research, I’ve determined that I was sexually coerced, which can be a form of sexual assault.
I’m having a lot of trouble coping with this.
I feel dirty, I feel like a whore, even though I know that I’m not. I’ve never had sex. I’ve never even given a blowjob. The only other person I’ve ever done these things with was my ex, and it was completely consensual.
I’m so beyond upset that I let this happen to me. These sexual acts are things that are supposed to be special, not something that I’d let just anyone do.
But I did.
I let this stupid, douchebag, horny freshman boy do this to me. I know that it was not my fault that it happened, but I can’t help but feel so, so, so guilty. Guilty that I snuck out, guilty I’d even gone there in the first place.
Matthew warned me beforehand, for Christ’s sake. I could have hung out with him and everything would be perfectly fine right now. But instead, I’m consumed by regret and guilt and all of these awful feelings, and I’m stuck.
I feel like I can’t enjoy anything anymore because all of this is just looming over me. The only person who knows what happened, besides Jake and Adam, is Matthew. I constantly replay it in my mind, and I constantly want to talk about it with him, and I feel like I’m bothering him.
I feel like everyone would be so ashamed of me if they knew what happened. I want to tell them so badly, but my friends would look down on me, and my mother would be so incredibly disappointed. It would break her heart if she knew I was sexually assaulted. And I’m scared that no guy will be able to respect me again.
How will I handle a future relationship?
Do I tell him that this happened to me, or do I pretend like it never happened?
Will he judge me?
It was just one mistake, but I don’t know how I’m going to live with myself. I can’t help but feel like I’m smarter than this. I should have been smarter than to go over there, smarter than to let this happen.
But it happened, and I can’t change the past.
I need help dealing with this.
I’ve been acting like everything’s okay with the hope that eventually, it will feel that way. But it just seems so hard to believe that it ever will.
I want the anxiety to stop. I want to know that I will feel okay again. I have so much to look forward to; college next year, but I feel this is something that will drag me down forever.
I never thought of myself as the victim, but now that I am, what do I do?
by Band Back Together | May 9, 2016 | Anxiety, Child Grooming, Child Sexual Abuse, Depression, Fear, Guilt, Shame |
I’m currently 22 years old, and for so long, I felt as if I had my childhood taken from me.
Before I explain my story, I do want to say that I didn’t realize that my mind was capable of taking what had happen to me and hiding it away inside me.
I still felt guilt and random depression … yet I thought I was ‘over’ it.
I was not.
Once you understand what is bothering you, it can be fixed.
When I was a little girl, around the age of 6, I looked up to my uncle. He’d take me to the store all the time to pick out whatever I wanted, he let me eat candy when my mom wouldn’t have been okay with it, he stood up for me if I was in trouble, and he showed me attention when most of my family didn’t at that time.
I loved my uncle, and he had gained my trust. He was the kind of guy you could count on. He was always being there for everyone. He was the man who you could call at 3AM if your car broke down, and he would come help you – maybe even buy you a new car.
Well, little did I know, being so young, that it was all nothing but a setup … a setup that took years of gaining everyone’s trust, going to church every Sunday, gaining a reputation as a well-known man of the community, with many people who looked up to him.
I don’t recall the exact day the child sexual abuse began but I do remember being told that I could trust him.
He’d say things like, “I’m helping you,” and “I’d never hurt you.” For a while, he didn’t touch me, but he’d gained my trust, expecting that I wouldn’t tell anyone about the child sexual abuse.
I didn’t tell a soul.
At first, I was so young that I felt as if something was just kinda … off, but I wasn’t sure if it was wrong or not.
The child sexual abuse went on for years.
Every time the kids’ cartoon Tom and Jerry would come on TV, he’d have me go into the den and lay on the couch. His wife would normally be cooking in the kitchen or off doing something during that time.
There were glass mirrors in the TV stand that he would open a certain way if his wife was home, so he could see her reflection off the glass if she was coming that way.
He would make me lay on my belly while he touched and rubbed my body. He never had sexual intercourse with me.
This would go on for years, almost every single day. He always complimented me while he would touch, and after a while I finally started to realize that what he was doing to me was wrong.
Even then, after years of having dealt with that man, I still was scared to tell anyone … mainly because I knew the family loved him.
He’d won everyone over, and I thought nobody would believe me so I had to act like everything was fine.
I remember running from him the last time he tried to sexually abuse me and I told him I was going to tell the woman who lived across from him as his wife was gone that day.
My mind will not allow me to remember what he did or said but I didn’t leave. I didn’t go back to his house after that day. I talked my mom into letting me ride the school bus to a friend’s house instead of my uncle’s.
I didn’t explain why.
I still held in what happen to me, and I didn’t tell until I turned 18 years old. I was working at a new job, in which I had to be around new people and older men, which gave me flashbacks to my childhood. I called my mother and finally told her the truth. We kept it to ourselves, it felt better to at least tell someone what happen.
Then, as I got older, I was put on medication to cope with depression and anxiety. I never understood why until I went back to his house to get my closure with him; to FINALLY him how I felt.
By this point, I was an adult with a child of my own and a fiancée. I went into his home by myself, while a close friend waited in the car. I walked in ready to get it over with.
At this point the man was now 80 years old, yet still was aware of what he done to me. I started my conversation by telling him that I wanted to understand why he did that to me, and I told him that what he did was wrong.
He actually admitted to what he did, yet wouldn’t apologize.
He told me that he saw nothing wrong with it. He also said me, “Well, you’re engaged, about to be married soon, so I see nothing wrong with it.“
Once he said that, my mouth dropped open.
He actually expected a thank you from me!
His eyes confirmed that. He had the audacity to explain that he’d groomed me as a child; that he prepared me for my future husband. I explained how wrong he was.
I made it very clear that he had nothing to do with my engagement, nor my life, aside from my anxiety issues. It seemed to surprise him that I’d said that. It seemed, in a way, to hurt him.
I never got my apology from that man, which wouldn’t have been a meaningful one anyway. However, I did leave that day feeling as if a weight was lifted off of me.
It made me view life better after getting to stand up for myself.
It may sound crazy, but just breathing felt good again. The trees looked more alive and beautiful than before. I could actually laugh with my friends and family without feeling like I was faking it all the time.
I realized that the sexual abuse wasn’t my fault. It’s never the child’s fault, no matter what. Adults know better, a child is still learning and understanding. It’s always wrong for any man to preform any sexual act on a child, whether it’s verbal or physical, it’s always wrong.
It’s going to cause you to think; it might out bring feelings you’ve hidden for years, that just come out of the blue. And yet, I firmly believe that you can overcome the madness.
You’ll probably never understand why it happened. Being abused as a child makes the saying that “everything happens for a reason” feel untrue. I believe there’s an end to all bad.
There’s also karma, which I believe will be much more powerful then him answering to me.
There is a definition for “grooming.” Being groomed for child sexual abuse does exist, and it is wrong.
Never be afraid to speak, run, tell your doctor, teacher, someone you know can – and will – help.
There can be a stop to the childhood sexual abuse. Never believe the lies of the ones who want to bring you down or hurt you.
