My Story Part 1

It is hard to decide whether to start from the beginning or today. Everyday for me is a new beginning so I will start from the little girl that was 5 or 6 and had no idea how her life would be changed.

My biological father was unknown to me and my mother was young when she decided to get pregnant with me. No matter the reasons or the errs in judgment, my mother married a man and let him sign my birth certificate. This in turn made me believe that the man that lay in bed with me was my dad until I learned otherwise at the age of 14.

I was 5 or 6 years old and my mom worked nights and evenings. My "dad" would take care of me when she had to work. This usually consisted of him drinking and rough-housing with me. For some reason, this night was different in that the memory of it is fresh with me today. He took off his clothes and got into bed. He told me to come lay in bed and watch tv with him. It was strange because I can't remember seeing him naked before but I thought it must be alright. I got into bed and he lifted up the covers for me to lay with him. I got another glance of him naked and wanted to keep my distance but did not want to make him angry. He told me that if I wanted to be a big girl I would have to learn to be near a man. What little girl doesn't want to be considered a "big girl"? I lay there next to him and ended up falling asleep with him lightly touching me all over.

I woke up that night, in the darkness, only the light from the street lamp or the moon coming into the window. I woke up with pain. I woke up terrified. I woke up with this man next to me doing something I would later learn is called sodomy. He told me to touch him. He told me that I was being good and I would grow up to be a good wife someday. He kissed me. He rolled over.

I was no longer a little girl at that point. I was broken. I was bleeding. My mother was not home. I had no one to help me. I hid in the bathroom until I heard the doorknob turn and I knew my savior was home. He had to go to work so he was quickly out the door. I went to my mom and told her I was bleeding. I had no idea how to explain it and I had no idea what had happened to me. Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? I just knew that my mom was the one that could make it better.

"Mom, I hurt." I told her. I remember I was crying because I did not want her to be mad and I was so scared. She asked me where. I told her my behind hurts and she told me to show her were. I pulled down my underwear and showed her that I was bleeding. I told her what happened that night in a very censored way. I said that my "dad" had hurt me there. That he made me bleed and he was naked in bed with me. My mom quickly washed me up and rubbed a cream where there were cuts and wounds. She said, "Sometimes if you push too hard in the bathroom, you will bleed. I bet your dad was just trying to help." I was as confused as a small child could be about what happened. I knew it didn't make any sense. I knew that she had not heard me say that he done this to me. Her reaction was calm and caring. She told me to let her know if it started to bleed again and she put a maxi-pad in my underwear. We didn't discuss it that day or the next. We didn't discuss it ever.

I brought it up to my mother at age 14 when he had allegedly abused his step-children. My mom simply told me that she doesn't remember me telling her that when I was 6 or ever! She said that she remembered him being weird with me once or twice but that there was nothing major like molestation. She said he just didn't know how to deal with children and since he was a boy he had even inappropriately touched his step-sister. This was something he just dealt with in his life. His entire family knew, and wrote him off as just being "sick." We didn't speak of it again, until now. I brought it up on Monday, April 18th in the morning from my office, over email. I refused to give her details or to even type the words incest, molestation, or abuse. I simply said, "I am having trouble dealing with what he did to me from age 6 until you divorced." What he did to me? Is that what the description of almost a decade of abuse had come down to? My mom again says she had no idea anything ever happened to me. He knows what he did, as do I, and everyone else whose life he tried to destroy.

This is my way of healing the wounds that have been covered for 20+ years in scar tissue. It is now time to speak out and share with others that we are not alone in this. It happens everyday and my mother was not the only one that turned a blind eye for her own warped reasons. This is my self-help and my gift to those that need a forum to share. Women, men, old, young, all races and backgrounds. Transgendered, androgynous, gay, or straight. Incest, rape, molestation, abuse happens to too many for us to keep silent.

I will continue to blog about my vast experiences that seemed to build on this one day but ballooned into a cycle of destruction. More to come.....