I've been reading the survivor stories here and at welcometobarbados for three months now and finally got the courage to write my own here. This is really scary, so please bear with me.
When I was little, everyone called me Nakai. In fact, my namesake called me Nakai Unega. It's Cherokee for pure white wild rose. I had light blonde hair and big blue eyes. I believed in magic and fairy tales. That was when the meanest insult you could get was when a little boy would stick his tongue out at you, and a band-aid fixed everything. I miss that. I really miss that.
One day, when I was still a little girl (well, eleven years old), I met a little boy. I really liked him because he treated me like a big girl. He treated me like a woman. At eleven years old, I thought I was pretty hot stuff because I had a boyfriend. One day, Sean and I were sitting alone on a couch while all the adults were in another part of the building having a conference of some sort. Sean gave me my first kiss, which was more than fine with me. But then he started doing a little more. I was only eleven, so I didn't really know what was going on. All I knew was that whatever it was, it wasn't right. I didn't like his hands down my shirt. They didn't belong there. I told him no and moved away from him. I can still remember that pre-pubescant voice of his squeaking out in more of a tease than a concern, "What, you don't like me playing down there?" All I could do was shake my head. "Well, we'll just have to break you in a li'l more, now won't we?" At that point, he started doing it more and wouldn't let me go. I didn't want to scream because that might upset the adults. I just prayed for the conference to be over soon. I continued to tell him no, but it was to no avail. I sat there in his arms, shaking in fear. I finally got to go home. That was the night I learned to cry myself to sleep. What did I do when I got home, you ask? I did what any eleven year old girl would do! I called my best friend and told her everything. I told her how bad it felt and how I said no but he wouldn't stop. She did what any eleven year old best friend would do: She called Sean and told him that if she ever heard about him doing that to me or any other girl, she'd take a butcher knife and make him wish he'd been a girl in the first place! Then she broke up with him for me.
A few months later, I saw Sean at a party. He was with his sister and her friends, who were trusted buddies of mine. I'd had a boyfriend since Sean and he'd done the same thing. I just kept pushing guys away, but I never felt any shame for it. Until that night, that is. Sean came to me and asked to speak alone. I reluctantly agreed. He screamed at me for "telling everyone we knew" that he'd put his hand down my shirt, and that I was a lying w***e. I wasn't worth his time or energy. He'd tried so hard to please me and now I threw that in his face. At about that point, I left. I couldn't stand to hear any more of it. I just wanted to cry, but I managed to keep from it. As I was walking back to the main party room, his sister and her friends found me. I started to run into her arms for comfort. She greeted me with, "You cheap little slut! Why on earth did you spread all these false rumors about my brother? He would never do anything like that. And even if he had, it would be your fault. You're a b***h." Well that did it for me. I went back to my best friend and cried for the rest of the evening. I trusted these girls, and some of them still hate me, nearly five years later.
For the past four and a half years, the pattern has continued. Every guy I've dated has done this to me. In fact, there have been several I haven't dated that did this too. Friends' brothers, brother's friends...guys at church, guys at school, guys in organizations I work with...they've all been like this. I went through a period of anorexia right after Sean. That lasted 28 months. After that and the suicide attempts, there was the cutting. Thankfully, that only lasted a few months. I was taken on and off of different medicines for depression. I moved a little more than a year ago, but the pattern moved with me. I've had several guys here, and they've all been like that or worse. One was abusive. I remember all his harsh words and the way I felt when he slapped or bit me. He bit me in the places that were easy to cover though.
In the last three months, I have realized that none of this was my fault. I sometimes wish it were so I could blame myself and try to fix it. That might make it a little easier to bear. I finally told my dad about all this a few weeks ago. I had to beg him not to tell my mother, who has called me a hussy all my life. I'm on medicine for PTSD now, but it hasn't really helped. I still have the nightmares and the flashbacks. I am still afraid of the dark, and I don't think I'll ever stop hanging my head in shame when I talk about this. There are good days and bad days. On the good days, I can go through the day without a flashback that makes me cry. Sometimes, I can even sleep at night.
I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of not being what God wants me to be. I really miss that little girl. Her name was Nakai. She had bright blonde hair and big blue eyes. She believed in magic and fairy tales. She left about four and a half years ago. I really miss her. I want her back, but I don't think I'll ever see her again.
I don't really know how to start this thing out. I have wanted to write out my whole story for quite some time, and I gave an attempt at it, but I didn't think that story was as well written as it should have been. The other thing is that I have never ever in my whole entire life told anyone even any of the details of what happened to me, they have all just been stuck in my head. That was where I wanted to keep them, I didn't ever want anyone to know what had happened to me. I figured it was in the past and that was where it should stay. It didn't really wanna stay in the past, and I can't blame me for not wanting it to stay there. A person can't just ignore things and pretend that things will get better, you have to do something about it to fix it. Anyway enough ranting, on with the story.
Now the basics of the story will be here, particular dates and how old I was EXACTLY I'm not sure. I just forgot it after it happened for like four years or so, so when I remembered it came back in bits and pieces. I still don't know if I have remembered it all, I can hope I have though. When I was five and six my mom babysat two boys during the summer and after school. The younger one was 8 then, it was fun to play with his GI Joes and his little matchbox cars, but he mostly played with my older sister cause they were closer in age. The older one was 11 or 12 I think and he seemed fine in the beginning as well. In fact he seemed pretty nice, my older siblings didn't really want me to play any of the games the rest of them were playing cause I was too little. But he convinced them I was okay and that I could play too. I liked that he stuck up for me sometimes and that when we were playing house he would pick me to be in his family, on more than one occasion I was his wife. I thought he was cute and that he had pretty blue eyes and if he ever needed defending I would try, it didn't happen much though, my sisters and brother liked him.
The first time I remember anything happening we were playing house and I was his wife, in our pretend world it was time to go to sleep. So we went into a bedroom and he told me to take my pants and underwear off cause that's the way you're supposed to sleep and I did, I didn't want him to stop including me in the games and I wanted him to see me like I saw him. So we just laid in the bed for a while until it was time to wake up. It was hard for me to get my clothes on in the same amount of time as everyone was just getting the covers off and leaving the bedrooms. So by the time I was finished it was almost time to go back to sleep. Again he told me to take my pants and underwear off and again I did. This time though he didn't just leave me alone, instead he started rubbing his hands on my body and feeling me all over. It made me feel dirty, like I had just done something very wrong. It seemed like it took forever, it was probably in reality pretty short that it was time to wake up again. This time I asked him if next time I could sleep with my underwear on and he said well I guess but the time after that its back to taking them off. If anything else happened that day I don't remember. I don't remember anything else about that day at all. I remember not too long after that I was very worried that something else was going to happen, but I felt like I couldn't tell anyone. It wasn't because he threatened me, but I could feel that what happened was wrong, and if it was me to blame I didn't want anyone to know about it. If he was to blame and I told someone then he probably wouldn't like me anymore, and since I had a huge crush on him that was not a good option. I didn't know what to do at all, I was scared and very worried, and people noticed I was acting differently but any time they asked me what was wrong I wouldn't tell I didn't want to get into trouble.
The next time I remember it was in this field by our house there was a big apple tree at the top of this upward sloped field. The branches hung down low and the grass grew as tall as I was back then, 3 feet or so, I don't remember exactly. He took me up there, I don't know what excuse he gave to my sisters and brother as to why he had to take me up there and why it had to be alone, but nobody even tried to go to see what was going on. So he took me up to this tree and laid some of the grass flat and told me to take my clothes off. I remember that I didn't want to and that I was scared of what might happen. I don't know if he had to talk me into doing it or not, but I do remember sitting in the grass naked with my legs spread wide apart as he stared at my crotch, looked at a playboy, and asked me some questions. I only remember one of the questions; he asked me if my sister slept like this, and I assumed he meant naked, from what I can remember I said, no she sleeps with clothes on. I still have no idea why he would ask me that, I assume it's cause he had some sort of crush on my sister but I don't actually know. He asked me to pose like a few of the girls in the magazines and I'm pretty sure I remember him touching me, I don't remember really feeling it though. Like it felt like my skin must be numb I felt the pressure of his hands but that's all if that makes any sense. When we finally came down from the field back into my yard one of my sisters asked me what we were doing. I didn't know what to say I just kinda stood there speechless and he came up with some reason that I don't remember anymore, but that was a very scary couple of seconds. I couldn't tell the truth but I didn't know what to say instead.
I remember lying on my back naked in a fort we made out of blackberry bushes with him somewhere down by my crotch, but that's all I can remember about that at all. Mostly I just remember feeling sad and scared, and nervous. I was afraid someone would find out and that I would get into trouble but I was scared that he would keep on doing things to me as well and I didn't want that. I didn't know what to do, I knew I was supposed to tell my parents, but at the same time I thought but I can't tell my parents about THIS. I don't remember when exactly it got to be more than I could take but I remember everything about that day. I was so scared, it was late afternoon on a Saturday and you could see the sun shining in the room through the blinds, the living room was dark cause none of the lights had been turned on yet, and the fan was on. Both my parents were in the living room talking, I know I must have looked very worried to them, I stood in front of them and after a couple of seconds they looked over to me and one of them asked me what was wrong. I don't remember exactly what I said, I don't remember if I started to cry but I know I must have looked very worried. The next thing I remember after that is standing in front of my house with my dad holding my hand and watching him and his dad drive away from our house.
I was surprised when he and his brother still showed up at our house on Monday, but I didn't really think much about it. It wasn't very easy after that, he never tried to include me in anything and none of my sisters or brother tried either, so most of the time I was stuck playing with my little brother, which I did NOT enjoy. Right around this time I had started first grade so I had to wait at the bus stop with him and my brother and sisters, I was again discluded from the rest of them. They'd make fun of me because of how I dressed, because of who I was friends with, all kinds of stuff, it was not fun and didn't make that time very easy at all. There was one time after school that I wanted to go outside and play with everyone else. He was the last one out of the door and he was starting to shut it and I said wait and put my hand in the door, he stopped the door for a second, looked back at my hand and continued to shut the door, pretty hard and fast. It was a metal door and it hurt pretty bad, he told everybody it was an accident and no one really saw him, I bet it could have pretty easily looked like an accident, but it wasn't. The whole rest of the school year was like that, it really sucked. After that year his parents got a divorce and he moved with his dad, I'm not sure where. After that I just seemed to forget about it, it didn't matter cause he wasn't there anymore and by then I had gotten used to not being included in the things my older brother and sisters did but I didn't care as much either.
He and his brother would show up to visit us every once in a while and it didn't seem all that weird. One time when I was 8 or so he came over and all of the sudden I remembered what he had done to me and I thought now why is he allowed over here after he did things like that and I told my parents? The only conclusion I could come to is that my parents must not have believed me, which hurt me really deeply. I thought you know how can they claim to love me if they won't even believe me. From then on there was a lot of stuff I never told them, I never thought it mattered. I mean I loved them and I knew they loved me but I always wondered how they could doubt me over something that was so incredibly important as this, what had I done so wrong to keep them from believing me. So I told them what they needed to know and I kept everything else in my personal life away from them in a lot of ways. That will always be something I regret in my later life, but there was only so much I could do. I mean no one is given instructions as to how you are supposed to deal with abuse, you just do the best you can and try not to die, in my opinion.
After that day I kept remembering more and more, I would have flashbacks and nightmares. Some days I just could not be touched because it freaked me out, I was depressed and scared. When he would come over I would do whatever I could to stay away from him but as I got older his timing seemed to get worse and worse. There was one Saturday morning that he came over early in the morning. I was ten and the only one up, watching cartoons I was in a shirt and underwear but hadn't put any pants on yet and all of the sudden knock, knock, knock on our door. Our door had glass pieces towards the top and so he could see into our house and I could see him here I was sitting on our couch and no matter what I did he was gonna see me in my underwear for a little bit. So I jumped up and grabbed a blanket, it was the first thing I found and wrapped it around me and went to answer the door. I was so frikin scared, I felt so vulnerable, and to make it all worse I had had a flashback the night before so I was already in a somewhat delicate state. So I answered the door and tried to pretend nothing was wrong, I don't think I was that convincing though. He said hi and asked how things were, I said fine, he asked me if anyone else was up, I said no, it looked like he gave me a kinda funny look, but it could have just been my imagination cause I was so on edge already. He told me to tell everyone hi and there was an uncomfortable silence for a little bit then he said well I think I'm gonna go now and I said Oh okay bye, and shut the door. As soon as I saw his car leave the driveway I went and put on some pants I felt so stupid, like if I had done just ONE thing differently I could have avoided feeling so bad and being so scared. When I was in 6th and 7th grades he seemed to come over when I was in the bath. Although most of the time I brought my clothes in with me, there were times when a shirt or a pair of underwear were accidentally dropped and I ended up coming into the room in a towel. And a lot of times it seemed like those were the times when he was there, I mean it was hard cause I had to act normal in front of my family they COULDN'T know. And it just seemed like he was laughing at me inside seeing me struggle so much.
In the summer before I went into 8th grade my parents decided to move from Washington State to Arizona. I did not like the idea at all, it wasn't just Arizona, but it was in the middle of nowhere, literally to find a McDonalds, or any other fast food, or any major grocery stores we had to drive an hour. Nothing really got better when I was there, there wasn't many kids my age and most of them were into partying in a big way. So here was a way to try all the crazy things I had always wanted to try. I started smoking pot and drinking every weekend, sometimes more. I didn't care the least bit about schoolwork, I didn't even try in classes that were difficult for me. I was "socially promoted" to high school, but never ended up going. I did go to school, I just home schooled cause I didn't wanna have to be around people and my parents needed my help running our family bakery. I was starting to do a little better for a while, tried to stop drinking and smoking pot, I was doin okay, but something, can't remember what exactly made me want to again. So I went over to my friends house and we smoked some weed then drank for a while. Her brother was living with in her house for a while and he and I struck up a conversation, which I can say I clearly cannot remember because I was loaded. My friend ended up going to sleep cause she was toasted, and her brother and I ended up fooling around some. When he first tried to kiss me I could hardly breathe and he asked me several times if I was okay, I always answered yeah even though I really wasn't. I was scared, but at the same time I wanted to know if I could let myself do it. I had always been worried that because of what happened when I finally met a guy that I really cared about I wouldn't be able to even kiss him without freaking out. So in that respect it was a good learning experience, but we did a lot of stuff that I wasn't really all that comfortable with and I didn't care about him and he didn't care about me. I definitely felt used after that night and I had a really hard time dealing with it. He and my older sister kinda hooked up shortly after that and it was really hard to watch and be aware of what we had done, that was when I started cutting myself.
I had previously cut myself on purpose before, I had carved a "D" into my hand for my name, a peace sign into my leg, and a yin yang into my calf. But now I didn't care about the decorations at all I just wanted some way to express the pain and emotions I had inside me, and I really hurt so that's what I did. I didn't want to yell at other people if I was mad at them, so I took it all out on myself instead. I think the last time I tried to count all my self inflicted scars I had 140 or so but I don't think that's quite counting all of them. And that's only the ones that actually left scars too there are lots of them that hadn't or the scars have faded by now. On my arm near my shoulder, I have some scars from when I cut myself really deep. I was extremely pissed off and the blood ended up running all the way down my arm to my pinky and dripping off before I finished cutting myself so I was no longer angry. If anyone sees my arm they always ask me what happened it's very notice able. I have also made several suicide attempts in my life, taking pills, and cutting my wrists obviously none of them good enough to actually kill me. And I must admit a lot of them were halfhearted attempts where I knew I wasn't really gonna die, but I wished I had the courage to actually kill myself.
From the time I was 15 to 16 was good, but towards the end of the year at 16 I started getting severely depressed I cried all the time, cut myself a lot, all kinds of stuff. I'm not sure if it has anything to do with the depression but right around this same time in my life I had a flashback that I had never had before. It was a flashback of me telling my parents and I remembered that I didn't tell my parents that I had been abused, I told them about the Playboys, and that's why he was allowed back at our house. I personally find it kind of strange that they didn't think it was a little weird that a 5 yr. Old had seen these magazines but my mom doesn't even remember it, which is her coping method for disturbing things so. I dunno. My dad and I got in a fight and I decided to go home and take pills to try to kill myself, I took three handfuls of Ibuprofen and three Tylenol PM, wrote my suicide note, and didn't expect to wake up again. I did though, I ended up sleeping 12 or 13 hours and I did not feel good the rest of the day, but besides that I have had no effects that I know of. Later I decided no one really cared about me and no one would care if I didn't talk anymore. I worked with my dad at night at this time and there was a lot of time that we usually filled with talking. I however stopped talking unless I was asked a direct question I needed to answer to do my job. I didn't talk to anyone except in the circumstances explained for three days. The first two days I guess my dad thought I was upset at him but when I still wouldn't talk the third night he got mad, he demanded to know what was wrong. I didn't know what to say so I just started crying, because I was crying he decided to call my mom, it was like 3:30 in the morning. So he called my mom and had me talk to my mom, but I didn't know what to say or how to say it, I just ended up crying and crying, I felt such intense pain then it is the worst I have ever felt I can honestly say. Now I can honestly say, me not talking was more of a test than I really didn't think anyone cared, I wasn't sure if anyone cared and I figured that was a way to get it found out. After I went home that day I decided to write a note to my parents and tell them what was going on with me. I taped it to the door along with a note for my cousin to take it to my mom, she did and I heard later that when she handed my mom the envelope she said, I sure hope this isn't a suicide note. Which surprised me when I heard that, I knew I was depressed but I didn't know most people could TELL that I was. I thought it was just me suffering by myself. So it all came out into the open that I was very depressed and so my parents and I decided that maybe I would feel better if I moved back to Washington to live with my sister. I thought it would help at first, but it didn't seem to matter where I was I was depressed. So I decided the only thing I could do was go see a counselor and see what she could do to help me. By my second appointment she had found out I was sexually abused which I wasn't sure even then that I was going to tell her. I was soon diagnosed with mild to borderline depression, although cutting myself says I'm more depressed than the tests indicate, so says my counselor. And I was also diagnosed with mid-range to severe anxiety, which I wasn't all that surprised about. So soon I got on some medication, and talked a LOT about stuff I swore I would never talk about. It was really hard at some points, there was a time when she wanted me to tell my parents what had happened and I ended up really having a difficult time. I did end up telling them through an email and guess what as surprising as it sounds they didn't blame me and they both had no idea. I mean I think I knew that way deep down but it was nice to hear anyway. So now people know about me and I am doing better, I stopped seeing my counselor and I have been fine with out it. I still am on medication but it's still working and the one that worked was the first one I tried which is pretty good luck I'd say. I ended up getting my GED and am now in College which is a huge accomplishment for me, even if I am just taking two classes. Some days even now I feel like crap, I have flashbacks still sometimes and it kinda sucks some days, but other days I really love life and I am so glad I'm still here and able to appreciate it.
I guess the biggest statement I wanted to make with this story is that even if your abuse isn't as serious as some other peoples it can still affect you. I don't mean to undermine anyone else's stories those who have been abused especially severely deserve nothing but sympathy and respect for making it through. I wouldn't consider the abuse I faced really all that severe, but if affected me a lot, it affected my whole life and the way I acted. I remember several of my family members saying, what happened to you when you were little you used to be so happy, now you're always depressed, if only they had known that I had so much to mourn over. I have seen several people say, well it only happened once so it wasn't really abuse. Well I would say that it is abuse and if one person is able to seek help even though this person feels like the abuse wasn't that serious, I'll have accomplished enough to die happily.
We met through online personals. We talked for only a couple weeks then we met on New Year's Day of this year. Everything started out fine, he'd open doors for me etc. Then i caught him talking to other women online telling them that he'd meet them etc. well we were engaged when i found this out and i feel once you're engaged you aren't single anymore and unless you are only friends then the only woman you should be around besides your mom or sisters and her mom or sisters is her. it was around the end of april when it happened.
we were left alone in my house. i was watching sally trying to figure out a way to talk to him. i had a word processor sitting on my bed and he asked me how to use it so i showed him and went back to the living room. i heard some typing and then he told me to go read. i did. it read "i want you right now!!!" in big letters. I deleted it and went back to the living room. During the commercial I went to the bathroom and saw him clearing off my bed. No caution flags went up in my head because we'd been alone before and he never tried anything. then i heard him telling me to come on meaning go to my room and i said no. this went on for about 5 minutes. my back was hurting so i decided to lay down on the floor to see if i could get comfortable then i felt a tugging at my pants and he was dragging me across the floor. the whole time he was saying come on and i was saying no. then i went to push him away and he pinned me against the wall and told me that it didn't matter how much i fought him because he would still be able to overpower me. then he started pushing me along the wall to my room. i kept saying no, he said "your mouth is saying no, but your heart is saying yes." i was sure i was bieng pretty clear with the NOs. he finally got me into my room and closed the door. he stood there and started to undress. then he started undressing me.
i figured he had already been abusive to me before and that if i didn't give in i'd be hurt more than just emotionally. so i let him do what he wanted. it hurt badly. i was a virgin and it turned out it was time for my period so i bled alot. when he was done he told me to go get a pad and clean up. i went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet trying to decide what to do and he knocked on the door and asked if i was ok. i said yes hoping he'd go away. after i cleaned up i decided that i was going to report him, but when i went to get the phone he was still there. he said are you sure you're going to be alright and i said yes. then he had the nerve to kiss me and leave.
my sister came home soon afterwards. so i never called the police. i didn't want my family to know what happened. i still don't. a policeman came to our house that day too because a kid down the street pulled a gun on my nieces. i didn't report him then because my sister was around and i was still scared. he came around alot after that and kept tabs on me. he had me stay with him while his parents were on vacation and i just gave it to him when he wanted it so he wouldn't hurt me. i had a pregnancy scare, but luckily it was negative. he has been divorced twice and his one ex wife divorced him because he beat on her. i fear he's an online predator and is out there looking for other women to do this to. i fear it may have happened to one other woman, but i can't prove it. he has personal ads all over the place online and he'll get you to trust him and tell him sensitive things and he strikes as soon as you let your guard down. i don't want to go to court and i don't want him to know it was me who reported him. i just don't want this to happen to anyone else. can someone e-mail me and tell me how to report him anonymously? my e-mail is firstname.lastname@example.org. please help me keep the ones that haven't had to experience this pain safe.