Chapter One-My Father
I don't actually know the first time that I was molested. The first memory that I have is of my father leaning me against a door while he played with himself. I was three years old. The same age as my daughter is now. The next time that I remember any sexual abuse is when I was about seven. I was living in a camper with my mom, my dad, and my younger brother. I remember that we always had to take "naps". When my brother was asleep, my dad would make me get into his bed and we would "play". This went on for the whole time that we lived in the camper. I even remember when my dad asked my mom how to douche a little girl and she told him how. Somehow I always think my mom knew.
The next memory I have is about two years later. We were living in Japan at the time (my father was military). I remember my dad putting my brother down for a nap. He took me into the living room and put on some porno. Then we undressed and he put me in the sixty-nine position and performed oral sex on me while I performed on him. My brother woke up and walked in on us (he was about 6) and my dad screamed for him to forget what he saw and go back to his nap. I have another memory of him playing with my vagina and tickling my clitoris. I remember giggling and telling him that it tickled (did I like it?).
The last memory I have of his abuse is when I was about nine. I had gone to the doctor with my mother and while I was waiting for her I read this Spiderman comic book (I will always remember that comic book). It was about a boy who was being molested by his babysitter. It said it was wrong (did I already know this?). My dad took me into the bedroom and unzipped my blue jean shorts. I told him that I wanted to go watch TV. He wanted to know why I didn't love him anymore. I told him about the comic book and that I knew other little girls didn't do this with their daddies. He let me go. Eventually, my father went to prison and spent 7 years there for my abuse. He was released when I was seventeen. I still see him today because we live in the same town.
Chapter Two-My Stepfather
Where my dad left off my stepdad picked up. There wasn't even a month in between. He and my mom were having an affair. He slept over at our house when my dad was out on deployment (my step-dad was military, too). He put his hand under the edge of my panties and cupped my vagina. I woke up and rolled away so that he couldn't touch me. He groped around for a few minutes trying to get back into my panties, but he gave up. (Why was I sleeping in my mom's bed anyway?) I told my mom the next day (wonderful courage that so evades me now). He explained to my mom that he thought his hand was on my stomach (not a very good liar). And the subject was dropped.
My next memory is after we had moved back to the states. Maybe a year or so later. It was the 4th of July weekend (I remember cause we were going camping). He came into my bed while I was asleep (where was my mother, oh, at work, as usual) and tried to fondle me. I told him I had to go to the bathroom and went and got into my brother's bed. Not long after that he beat me severely with a belt for some minor infraction. I ran away (well, I ran upstairs to the neighbors. Does that count?) and told Miss Mary that my step-dad beat me and also touched me. She called the police (bless her even though they didn't help me). They came and took humiliating pictures of me and asked me awful questions. I was only 11 at the time. They took him to jail. I went back downstairs to sleep.
I woke up the next morning to my brother beating the $%#^ out of me. He was the only dad we had left... He came home three days later and we were set up with a family advocate (yeah, the system sucks in Washington, too). We moved to Maine. And it kept happening. I told my mom again. Her response, "Well, do you want me to divorce him. There are five of us with the boys. Do you really think I could support us?" Great decision for a thirteen year old to have to make. I got put into counseling again. My mother took me out because I was being brainwashed...okaaaay. I tried to kill myself. I ended up in mental hospital. My brother thought he should try suicide. I got to go on cool trips and stay away from home all the time (oh little brother, if you only knew).
I was released on the condition that I would spend the summer at my grandmother's. So I slept for a whole summer...the first I can remember. Then we moved to Charleston, SC. And it started again. Only this time he got "smart". He learned to come in only when I was sleeping. I began taking my youngest brother to bed with me in the hopes that he would leave me alone. And that worked...hardly. I don't remember much for awhile. Things are all jumbled in my head. There was the time I woke up to the shadow man masturbating in my doorway. There was the time I woke up with my finger in his a##. Man did I wash good then.... I put a can of hairspray (AquaNet) under my pillow and swore I would spray him in the eyes if he came in. ...false courage. I would wear my mothers old nursing nightgowns to bed (they buttoned down the front). I would wake up with them totally unbuttoned...now how did that happen.
I started acting out. I snuck out and met an eighteen year old guy. My reward? Being beaten by my mother and stepfather with a plastic balloon stick until my legs from my butt to my ankles were marred with what I like to call "tiger stripes". How could anyone not notice? Just before we had to go to a family reunion, I invented a bunch of makeup "bruises" and showed them to my boyfriend. He told my mom. She wanted to know what was going on, so I told her everything...again. She still didn't get it. AND she conveniently had to work when we were so supposed to go to the reunion. So now I had to go with HIM and my brothers (3 of them by now). He fondled me the whole way there and the whole way back (from south carolina to texas).
I wrote to my aunt in Myrtle Beach. She sent me a lock for my door. I installed it and my mother, in a rage, uninstalled it. So much for that idea. Now for the finale...or is it? I was looking for some CDs when a friend was over. I looked in HIS bag and found an odd ziplock bag. Oh My God! They were nude photos of me, taken in my sleep. Now, Now, Now I finally had the concrete proof. I went to my friend's house and told her mother (how many times had I told now). She called the cops they arrested my stepdad. JOY!! It was over....not enough evidence to convict. WHAT!!!!! I emptied four bottles of pills. I took them ALL. I wanted to die. I got put back into a hospital. And they sent me home two weeks later. I jumped in front of a car. I went back into the hospital. My aunt offered to let me live with her. I begged, I pleaded, to no avail. I went home in a month.
Finally, I told my school counselor, Ms. Parker (I wish I could find her now). She hid me in an old storage room in the back of the library for 6 hours until my mom agreed to let me go live with my aunt. My social worker bawled me out and told me that I was an ungrateful, spoiled brat! How's that for the system? I haven't seen my step dad since then.
Chapter 3-My Mother
There are only so many things I can say about my mother. She knew. I KNOW that she knew. Yet in a copy of the files that I got from Naval Investigative Services (NIS). My mother states in her deposition that "[my daughter] always had it in for my husband. She even told me that she would get him someday. She has always been too imaginative." Thanks for all the abuse Mom and the great way that you protected me. You beat me, you allowed me to be molested by not one of your husbands, but two. Motherly love, isn't it twisted?
Chapter 4-Up To Now
I moved out of my aunt's house when I was seventeen to move in with my boyfriend of three months. It was a very controlling relationship which lasted for 11 months. I then met another bum, and slept with him after about three weeks. I now have a beautiful three year old girl to show for it, so I really can't say that I regret it. I recently wrote a letter to my stepfather. This was a new beginning for me. I am also looking into starting a Survivor's of Incest Anonymous group in my area (it is still so surprising how few resources there are where I live).
I am beginning to heal. I am beginning to live. I no longer sleep with a night-light. I am married and he is wonderful, although he doesn't always understand why I need to do all of this. It will take time, but it will be time well invested. I hope my story has helped someone. I pray that we all someday get the peace that we so deserve. We are SURVIVORS. We are strong. And we are worth it. God love you and bless you.
With best regards,
I've been reading through for a while now. And I even changed my email and s/n, just so I could submit my story. I don't really like to talk about it. I am still ashamed about this all. Eventually I feel I will open up. No one knows. Who ever reads this please write me and whether you are a survivor or not. I think I need help. Or just someone to talk too, about it all. Please write. Thanks.
I probably won't put much in here to start as I feel like I have just now started being a survivor before now I was just going through the motions. I will give a few of the basics though to let you know what got me to this point.
I was recently assaulted while on the job and though the man did not succeed in what he said he wanted he did damage none the less, he brought back what I thought I had gotten past and now the wounds are fresh again. But now I think I am going to heal them right this time because I am seeking help and do have support and I'm not being quite in fear about it.
I am still having a very hard time with it all and am still very afraid to be left alone and due to current events have stopped feeling safe at work as well even though they have put me in the office now instead of out in the field. Well I think that is as much as I can write for now, though as I heal I will put more in here.