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Child Abuse Story From
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 This child abuse story from Jayme page was created July 23, 2007 and was originally posted to my child abuse stories page on July 13, 2007 as story #159.
The following child abuse story from Jayme depicts: sexual abuse at the hands of her brother The child abuse effects on Jayme: self-blame, guilt, shame, fear of telling and not being believed, eating disorders including anorexia and bulimia, inability to enjoy intimacy with her husband, insecurities and lack of support in her marriage, belief that she will never recover even though Jayme is now an adult
I have suffered many years in silence. Only in the past few years have I been willing to accept the truth of my past. When I was between the ages of 10 and 12, I was repeatedly sexually abused by my older brother. I have felt extreme shame and guilt my entire life. The first time was curiosity on part of both of us, however, it developed into more. I would sleep in front of my locked door at night in hopes just once he wouldn’t pick the lock. I was too scared to tell my mom, everything he did to me was “sibling rivalry. There are certain places I still refuse to visit because of the memories surrounding them. When I started Junior High, he stopped the abuse. I am not sure what exactly made it stop, but he had new friends, etc. I never truly repressed the truth, just tried to ignore it. I was considered the “prude” girl throughout high school and never even had a boyfriend. My mother passed away when I was 20 and since then my whole life spiraled. My brother and his girlfriend were pregnant with the first of three children, each pregnancy led to many prayers that it was a boy. I got married to my husband and developed insecurity beyond belief. I never enjoyed our first time together or any time since then. I wanted control and turned to food. If I could control what I ate I had some management in my life. I swung between anorexia and bulimia, hitting both high and low weights within a year. I had to shamefully admit the truth to my husband, all of it, and the support I wanted was not there. It has been six years since my mother’s death, and I don’t think I will ever fully recover. I have forgiven my brother but for some reason have never forgiven myself. |
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