Well, it seems like there are a lot of stories here, and I am not sure if this will be read.
Right now, I am 15. I have just recently (within the past two weeks) told my parents of a childhood of sexual abuse. It went on off and on, throughout all my years of being younger, up until age 10. This person was my best friends older brother. We lived next door to him, then when we moved, we lived around the corner. I saw this person every day.
First, at a young age, he would get on top of me, feel me, and kiss me. It gradually got worse. It developed to him with his pants down and me being forced to touch him and him doing the same to me, underneath my clothes. As far as I remember, it got to the point where he would force me to perform oral sex on him. When is started, I remember him just saying it was a game and completely normal, and as it got worse, he would hit me and threaten me and tell me never to say anything. I remember, while being forced to have him penis in my mouth, hearing my mother and his mother in the kitchen downstairs at the other end of the house talking and laughing and having a great time. I would wonder, at my very young age, probably around 6, "Why are they letting this happen to me ... what did I do to have this pain brought upon me .. is it really okay? ... "
My memory is very bad and vague with many things, but the remembrance of this is too clear. I remember more and more every day, and it scares me to think that if one day I will remember things I don't want to know. About 6 months ago to a year, I started self-mutilating. I hated myself, this secret I had to keep. Having this occur for my 'innocent' years of life now make me have many insecurities. I am afraid to have any type of relationship with a guy. I do not like them, and I am scared. I do not trust people easily to any degree .. and I blame myself. I grew up blaming myself, for he would blame me. I thought "Why didn't I stop it, why didn't I tell someone" I realize that I didn't know what was going on, and that they fear of him hitting me would always be in my mind, but those reasons fail to convince me.
Just coming forth with the abuse and the cutting to my parents, they don't understand. All though I wish they did. Thus, probably, the need I have to talk to someone about it. I realize the severity of mine cannot compare to a lot of these stories I have just read, all though I encourage anyone who would like to talk to me or reply if they like. I would be more than happy.
im = Punxgrl14
I have been reading these stories for the past several hours and am amazed and impressed by the courage I've found here. I am 26 years old and a survivor of life-long sexual, emotional, physical, spiritual, and ritual abuse.
My earliest memory of the abuse was when I was 3 years old. It was at our fishing camp. My father was holding the back of my head and forcing his penis into my tiny mouth. I just remember vomiting on him and him slapping me for it. The abuse continued on a regular basis getting progressively worse. He raped me for the first time when I was only six. Only after he had a vasectomy. He said he didn't want to make me have a baby.
Then the ritual abuse started. You see, Daddy was a member of a cult. And I became the sexual toy of all of the male members. I'm sure there were female members too, but I just don't remember them. There's still a lot I don't remember. This continued for probably 12 years. I became a member at 13. When I started my period. You see, blood was very important to them. My whole life was just a big blur. Something would happen one day and would be gone from my memory the next. I was a mess. I started self-mutilating at the age of 12. I was completely and totally numb emotionally and physical pain was the only way I knew I was still alive.
I finally began speaking about some of the things done to me when I was about 20. But I didn't tell or even remember the whole story until about a year and a half ago. I was hospitalized around 20 time over 5 year period. Luckily I was finally able to find a social worker at the last hospital I was in who believed me and let me tell my story to her. Just relating the whole mess to another person and having her still care about me healed so many wounds. I was totally brainwashed by my family. I had never known anything except sick relationships and abuse.
It has now been over a year since my last hospitalization and since the last time I cut myself. I am truly well on my way to being okay. I am okay. There are so many young people who have submitted stories to this site and I encourage them to keep talking. Don't stop being true to yourselves. That's the key to healing. I am proud of us all for living to tell our stories.
Feel free to e-mail me, just please put FOR SUSAN in the subject box. This is my mother's e-mail address and she chooses to remain completely oblivious to the truth about my life.
Well, my story. I'm really scared about writing this but I think I need to.
It happened when I was fifteen. I was walking home from a friends house around eleven one night and a car pulled up along side of me. Three guys, about college age or older jumped out of the car and pulled me in. While in the car they punched my in the face and choked me with one of their belts.
After a while they pulled of the road and into a field where they dragged me out of the car and kept on hitting me. They kicked me in the ribs over and over and shoved dirt down my mouth. Then they tied my arms behind my back and my feet to small trees so my legs were spread apart. I knew what they were going to do and I fought as hard as I could, but they just kept hitting me. All three raped me, they did as much damage as they could it seems.
Afterward they got back in their car and left, I had been unconscious long before it was over. I woke up in the hospital a few days later, my face had to be reconstructed, I had five broken ribs, my esophagus was crushed, and I had severe internal damage. My parents told me that I should just pretend that it never happened, not to press charges or even try to find who the guys were.
Today, physically I've made a full recovery, I even row on the crew team here at school. But emotionally I am destroyed, I have an alcohol problem, I have attempted suicide several times, and I am sleep around a lot here on campus. I'm called the gay slut everyday to my face over and over. I hate who I am and I hate what I've become. Life cannot possibly be any worse, I cry every night, for hours on end, I just need to be redeemed I mean who is going to pay for this?
The only thing that gets me through each day is the music of Tori and my few close friends. Tori's music has made me realize that it is ok to be angry and she has helped me accept who I am and what has happen to me. Thank you Tori! Thank you to every survivor out there who has shared their story, that has helped me so much just knowing there are others like me. Be strong and God bless everyone
IM = AXboy81, feel free to IM me any time.