SURVIVING THE MEMORIES SITE FOR SURVIVORS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT

DIANNA'S STORY



My name is Dianna, I am 31 years old and an incest survivor.
 
My whole life has been one abuse after another, if someone outside of me wasn't abusing me, I was abusing myself. My father started abusing me at a very young age, how young, I don't know, I've been told by psychiatrists that it probably started shortly after I was born.
 
The sexual abuse I endured was extremely traumatic and painful. The first memory I have of the abuse was me sitting on my fathers knee supposed to be napping but his hand was in my underwear touching me. I was about 4 at the time. I remember my mom sitting right there in the same room and looking back, I can't see how she didn't notice anything.
 
I can remember going to bed and waiting to here his footsteps come toward my room, to this day, hearing ANY footsteps scares me terribly. The sexual abuse got worse and worse as the days and years went on.
 
He liked to tie to stuff, I remember him putting baby carrots inside me and him trying to eat them out of me. I remember a dead cow laying on it's side and him taking me to the barn yard where it was laying  and making me take my clothes off and lay down with the cow as he stuck the cows teet inside me. He would "get off" on this stuff and laugh at me.
 
This kind of abuse carried on for years until I ran away at 13, only for the police to return me to my parents house. I started to drink alcohol and do drugs and became "unmanageable." I would get into trouble at school, when I decided to attend that is. I can remember riding home on the bus and being terrified all the way because I knew I was going to get it when I got home.
 
I finally told my truancy officer about what was going on at home, only to be taken away and locked up in a "half way house."Being locked up in this house pounded into my head that everything was my fault, after all, I was the one locked up, not him. I began seriously self injuring when I was in that lock up and became somewhat psychotic. They used restraining methods to control me and I can remember a man restraining me and flashbacks flying through my mind, it was horrible. I got kicked out of that house, yes, I got kicked out of a half way house!
 
Looking back on it, I was seriously psychotic and in tremendous emotional pain. The court order that put me in that half way house stated that I was to either live in that house or return to live with my parents. So, when I got kicked out of the half way house, the courts sent me back to my abuser.
 
I became worse emotionally, and started my experience with psychiatric institutions. I went in and out of psychiatric institutions for years. When I wasn't hospitalized, I figured out that I was a good alcoholic who was very good at selling herself as a way to harm herself. This went on for about 5 years until I was taken and locked up in a psychiatric hospital.
 
I remember my father visiting me in that hospital and abusing me right there in my bed. I remember telling one of the staff and she didn't want to hear it, so she gave me more medication. There was a man in that hospital who ejaculated in a condom and gave it to me, once again the staff didn't want to hear about it. I was in this institution for almost 2 years. I met a wonderful man in that hospital and was married to him when we both left the hospital.
 
He suffered depression and severe physical pain from dropping an artillery shell and it ripping his arms out of the sockets when he was in the army. All day long when I was with him, I would fret about whether he would want sex that night, sex terrifies me now that I'm sober.
 
Long story, short, we had been married for 1 year and 3 months when he died suddenly from a blood clot in his lung. I became seriously depressed and ran back home to my abuser. I stayed in my room at my parents house for a year and a half. The only time I left it was to use the bathroom. The only person who entered my room was my father. I left that room pregnant with my father's child.
 
Today I have my father's son who is 4 years old. I struggle everyday to love him as mine, but he has become my reason to live. My story seems long and horrible and I haven't even mentioned the time my uncle touched me under the table while I was "helping" him play cards, or my cousin having his fingers inside me one night I woke up or the time the "hired hand" was sexually abusing me and heard my father coming down the hall so he jumped off of me and layed down on the floor beside the bed, waited for my father to finish with me, then jumped back up and finished abusing me.

I have left lots of details like this out because it is too painful to think about, let alone write about. Because of the abuse, I have developed Dissociatve Identity Disorder, (aka Multiple Personality Disorder) Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, severe anxiety and panic disorder, depression, and anorexia. My doctor calls it anorexia, but I don't, I'm not obsessed about my weight, I just get triggered when I put things in my mouth so I don't eat. I still have to put up with my father's touching and sexual abuse. I'm in the process of moving away from him, but I'll never forget what he has done to me, every morning I wake up, he will be there in my son's face, it's not fair. He has broken almost every fiber of my being and am thankful for the time's I am able to forget for a minute and enjoy a giggle about something. Someday I hope to find where I belong in this life.

I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence but it comes from within. It is there all the time.
~Anna Freud
 
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