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 | Apr 1, 2014 | Childhood Bullying, Coping With Bullying, Forgiveness, How To Heal From Being Bullied, Loneliness, Parent Loss, Self-Esteem |
Hi, I found your web site yesterday and decided it is time to seek friends who understand me and what I went through.
I was bullied in third grade on up to graduation. I talk to friends about it and they tell me I need to forgive the bullies. I have, but the pain resurfaces at times. Sometimes, I cry and just feel so alone and sad.
I had friends until the middle of third grade. One day, we were out on the playground, and all the girls in my class got around me. They pushed me, and I couldn’t get away. After that day, I had no girl friends in my class. The boys were always nice to me. My parents went to the bullies’ houses and talked with the parents, but they all still treated me differently from that day on.
In fifth grade, I went out for basketball where I met a bully on the other team. She hated me. She was there again in sixth grade, still hating me. In seventh grade I was put in her same section because they ran out of room in the higher section. What a sad reason to put someone where it would be scary. No one from my elementary school was in my section. I was alone with the tough kids, and I was scared to death. I found out later, that girl and some others were doing drugs.
In ninth grade, my daddy died, and I was even more alone. One night, I couldn’t breathe. Mom called the ambulance. I was taken to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with allergies and a cold. As I think back, I wonder if it was a panic attack.
In tenth grade, my entire English class was busted for drugs, except me. I never did drugs.
In high school, I finally started making friends, but I had to be careful. I didn’t want to get too close to one friend because she was loose. I didn’t need her reputation adding to my problems. I met another friend in summer school. She had been picked on too, but we didn’t have the same classes.
After I turned 16 and learned to drive, I learned to square dance. I always wanted to learn how. The other people there were older then me, and became parents and grandparents to me. I finally felt accepted.
I identify with Joseph in the Bible. What people meant as harm to him, God turned around for good. God always kept me safe and protected. If it weren’t for the situation I was in, who knows what trouble I could have gotten in. I have forgiven my bullies, but the pain and scars are still there, and will always be there. Sometimes the loneliness gets so great, I just sit and cry.
I have a wonderful hubby, sons, and mom, and I know they don’t understand me. I have been reading about triggers, and how they can take you right back to a bad situation. That is what I have been dealing with for the past two days. I have been crying a lot. After a church meeting last year, I asked to sit down with some ladies. One of them old me it was a private conversation, which triggered me right back to feeling like being left out in school. I ended up leaving that church because it was too painful and brought up too many triggers.
I love people, being around them and talking to them. I went to broadcasting school, and it brought me out of my shyness. Mom says that was priceless. I was once told that I was treated the way I was because the kids thought I was a snob. It made me laugh because it was just the opposite. I wasn’t a snob, just extremely shy with low self-esteem.
Thanks for listening, God bless.
by Band Back Together | Mar 31, 2014 | Date/Acquaintance Rape, Fear, Healing From A Rape or Sexual Asault, Intimate Partner Rape, Rape/Sexual Assault |
I remember kissing you, contemplating telling you that I felt I was falling in love with you, but deciding better of it. I remember knowing I shouldn’t go to your friend’s apartment but not wanting to leave the party immediately. I remember getting there and thinking, “Now he’ll finally hold me, I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”
I remember you being angry that I didn’t want to have sex.
After all, what was I doing in this apartment if I didn’t want to have sex with you? Why would I have kissed you if I wasn’t willing to go all the way? It’s not like it was anything we hadn’t done before! Didn’t I like you? I practically owed it to you, didn’t I?
But I didn’t want to give it to you. I lay down with you, kissed you, and told you that I was sorry but I just didn’t think going further was a good idea.
Then your hands were on my breasts. I moved them away, and you brought them back. Away, back, away, back. Then under my bra, pulling and squeezing. Again, I moved your hands away, you brought them back. You took off your pants and put my hand on your penis, I quickly pulled away.
Now my adrenaline was kicking in, and my breathing increased.
You paused.
“Are you afraid of me?” you asked.
“Oh, sorry,” I whispered, not really answering. I didn’t know what to say, or what was happening. But I was afraid of you.
You kissed me again and I kissed you back, then I settled down, hoping for some sleep. Your hands came back.
Why didn’t I say no? Or stop?
The words trapped inside my throat, I felt weak, overwhelmed. Although my voice failed me, my body hadn’t. I pushed your hands away. You removed them from my breasts and settled them on my stomach, perhaps a little farther south than I would have preferred, but this was an improvement.
Until it wasn’t.
You only quickly fondled me over my clothes before putting your hands under my dress and leggings. I felt a surge of panic race as I pulled your hands away only to have them back. Was I pushing against you this time? I can’t remember. This time you seemed stronger, angrier, more determined. You put a finger inside me and I squirmed to get away.
I’d made it as far as rolling onto my stomach to try to crawl to other side of the couch before you put your free hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down onto your fingers. I reached down and grabbed your hand, using all my might to get your fingers out of me while simultaneously trying to pull away from you. All this time,m you wouldn’t fucking budge. I couldn’t move you at all. I couldn’t move myself at all. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Then you were taking off my leggings and underwear and putting your mouth on me, which I had told you I didn’t like. That was when I knew that you knew, but you were angry and didn’t care. I was furious and powerless and terrified of you, the person I thought I knew and could trust and would be with one day.
And then you stopped. I knew what was coming but I wasn’t sure what to do. I was in shock.
And then you were inside me. I felt so betrayed: “Are you fucking serious?” I said to no one in particular.
Then, “Don’t you have a condom?” This wasn’t consent, this was resignation.
You moved away and I could hear you going through your pockets. I took the opportunity to pull my leggings and underwear up and my dress back down and rolled into the fetal position. I’d only bought myself a couple seconds. I could hear you jerking off to work yourself back up again. Still, what could I do? I was so far from home or anywhere I knew – it was a choice of staying there or sleeping on the streets. Leaving was potentially more dangerous than staying. But why didn’t I scream? Those thirty seconds could have changed everything.
Satisfied with your erection, you turned me over and took off my leggings. I hated you so much. When you started fucking me I could feel that you hated me, too. There was none of the playful intimacy that colored our previous consensual encounters. You fucking me as hard as you could, making sure that it hurt so that I knew what a bitch I was for leading you on, and me digging my nails down your back as hard and as deep as possible so that you knew how much I fucking hated you.
I was silent, but I could feel a soul-wrenching scream burn up in my chest. Every warm feeling I’d had towards you curled up and died. I lied there whimpering and trying to hurt you as much as you were hurting me.
For a moment, you hesitated. “Are you crying?”
“No,”I whispered.
But I wanted to.
by Band Back Together | Mar 21, 2014 | Depression, Loss, Pet Loss, Sadness |
You hear about people losing homes to fires all the time on the news, but you never hear about how the people are doing afterward.
I lost my home December 3rd, 2013, and I feel as if my whole life has been stolen from me. I’m having a hard time carrying on. This can’t be my life. I sleep maybe four or five hours a night, then I wake with the worst feeling of despair, thinking about the things we lost.
The fire took my 10 cats, that I loved dearly. Two may be missing – I go back to the property and search every evening, but have had no luck. Our home was in a rural area, and I have posters hung on poles nearby, but there are just farmers and some homes in the area, miles away from any vets or pet stores.
I’m grieving my cats, but also my home. All of my things are gone. People tell you it’s just material things, and you can get new, but I don’t want new. I was happy with my old things. I can’t get back the afghan my grandma made me, or the yearbooks that were signed by my best school friend, who died last January.
I’m stuck in a rental home until we get our land cleared and a new home. I’m surrounded by unfamiliar people, things, even different clothes. We even have a different car now because our car is what started the fire. It caught fire under the hood and spread to the garage door. I ask myself questions like, “Where did my life go?” or just “Why?” or “How are all my cats gone all at once?”
Our house looks as if it were hit with a bomb. I didn’t know the metal in your windows could melt and twist like that. Firefighters put a huge hole in our bedroom window. The things I had hanging on the wall there are gone. Even the pot of chili I had on the stove is gone. Papers my son brought home from school that I had on the fridge aren’t there now. My son’s toys and the toy box just melted all together.
I’ve had my piano since I was 7 and began taking lessons. The top has been taken off. The varnish looks like it melted. Some keys are sticking up. I’ll probably need a new one.
All the ceiling has been torn off. A lot is just hanging down. The study above the garage is just a burnt black room with no roof. It rains and snows in my study. Pages from my books burnt and laying in the yard. All my music melted.
Only one of the arms and the metal bed springs are left of the wooden daybed where the cats loved to lay. My telescope that I put together myself is gone – it was mostly plastic and wood. The whole place is beyond repair. It has to be knocked down. That brings up another whole set of emotions. Ten years of life there turned to rubble and going to be discarded in a dump.
I was having panic attacks. Self-talk is helping, but I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. I’ve never been so depressed and anxious in my life. I used to love my life. Just five days before it happened, I had a wonderful Thanksgiving with family. I felt so blessed to be surrounded by all I loved, and in abundance. It was all taken from me in 3 hours. It still feels like a strange dream. I wonder if I will ever feel happy again, if I’ll ever even smile.
The days are long. I always used to be busy, so they used to speed by, but now I plod through the day at this rental home doing a little cleaning just to get the day over with.
I’m not myself. I don’t feel like interacting with anyone. I can’t afford counseling. I try to journal and read self-help books, but I still feel so dead inside.
One thing I’ve learned from this already is who is on my side and who’s not. My relations to various people have changed. I’ve had to distance myself from some family members who were hurtful or whose words just make me feel worse. Many people don’t seem to understand just how huge this loss is. It’s loss at multiple levels, pet loss, home loss, things that were special, my daily routine is gone. It’s a huge change.
To say it’s all unreal is an understatement. I don’t know what the future holds. We’ve picked out a double wide home already and have much of the paper work done to get it. We just have to wait on the destruction of our old house. We’re having a hard time finding a local company to do that. And as much as I hate it, it has to be done. I will take my sister’s cat and am thinking about a kitten to keep it company, but in my heart right now I’m just wanting the ones I lost back. I don’t think anything would give me any happiness now but to get my two missing cats back.
For now, I’m just trying to get through each day, one day at a time. I don’t know how I’m going to pick myself up from this, but I have to move on somehow. Each day is a day further away in time, and hopefully a day closer to getting my life back together again.
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!
