Child Abuse Story From Janetta

by Janetta
(Iowa, USA)

I survived...I don't know how, I don't know why...but I survived. Where do I go from here? Why do I feel like the little girl when I'm now in my 30's? How do I truly move beyond and use what happened to me for good instead of letting it run my life?

I still have a difficult time verbally saying "sexual abuse". It hasn't even been 15 years since I escaped. I graduated High School and left the evil behind. Yet, I'm still haunted by the abuse that included physical and mental as well as the sexual.

As far back as I can remember, I was abused in some way, shape or form. It started out as verbal, quickly moved to physical and then to the sexual when I was about three. It was when my brother entered the world. The prodigal son was born and I was chopped liver. Fed to the wolves or however you want to look at it.

I'm not going to go into a lot of details because there are very sick people out there that read things like this and find some sort of kicks. But from one victim to another, I want to share some of the things I have gone through over the years.

As a young girl in grade school, I was very confused. I lied so much. I guess it was to gain friends because I didn't think I was good enough to really have friends. I put up barriers (my lies) because at home I was so beaten down and told I was worthless that at school, I never knew I was anything better than that. (For any teachers reading this, take note!) When the lies weren't enough and I had so many friends that I felt overwhelmed (why would they want to be my friend when all I do is lie?), I turned to stealing. I never felt like I had anything neat at home and the more "new" stuff I could get, I would be happier, right? The teachers caught on to my lies and stealing. I was even held back a year because my grades suffered. So many RED FLAGS at such a young age. But I lived in a small community, everyone knew my family and thought they were just wonderful...ha, nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors.

As I got older the abuse continued. The sexual abuse when into a whole new stage when I was eight. I never wanted to be in the house. I would spend my summers outside with the farm animals, horse back riding, walking through the pasture, playing in the creek and pretending I was someone else from somewhere else. It was one of my ways to cope. It was something I continued to do until I was in my upper teens. That and playing with Barbie Dolls.

Depression overwhelmed me and by the age of 13, I was pregnant...not by choice and not by any guy I was dating. It was my father's baby inside his baby girl. Once he found out, he took me to another farmer who was also a vet and a very painful abortion was performed. How was I to cope with the abuse, pregnancy and now an abortion? About a week later when I was back on my feet...a little, I found every pill I could find and I started popping pills before I went to bed. Unfortunately, the overdose failed and I threw up in the night. My mother thinking it was just the flu, she came in and cleaned my bedding while I passed out on the floor of my room.

In Junior High I checked out books about abuse. I was so confused about what things are considered abuse and what wasn't. I checked out those books and read them and reread them. I would sneak them home and read them when nobody was around. I would make a book cover for them and read them in study hall (instead of using a study hall for it's purpose).

I tried so hard to get help once I knew that what I was going through wasn't normal. I craved normal. I craved the opportunities to go to someone else's house for birthday parties or overnighters. Once again, my family was known as "good people" and when I told the school counselor about the mental and physical abuse, she didn't believe me and called my folks. Needless to say, that didn't go over well.

I struggled. Kids made fun of me. I became more and more chunky. When I turned 16 I got a job so I could be gone for evenings and be away from the house. Since I could drive, I even attempted going to church. It was another outlet for me to get out. When I was banned from taking the car to church, I would walk the 3 miles to get there or I would get a ride. Not having the car didn't stop me.

I hit another downward spiral at age 16, though. I tried really hard to get a boyfriend because if I could find a guy to be with, I wouldn't have to endure what was happening to me at home...however I slept with every guy I dated because I was looking for love and approval. I found out real quick that boys at that age are in a relationship for sex and nothing more. Saddened by constant rejection, gaining anger with God and quickly losing faith, I quit my job in the middle of a shift, went to the town celebration and a guy from my school approached me. He had a friend and they were looking for some fun. I didn't feel right about it, but I agreed. I later lied and said I was raped.

It was only a matter of time before the cops were gonna put things together. I was so scared and knew I had screwed up so badly that I found my evil dad's pistol, loaded it, cocked it and put it to my mouth. My finger was tight on the trigger and I slowly repositioned the barrel so it had a good angle into my brain. Tears streamed down my face. The pain from EVERYTHING came flooding back to me. I already felt like a huge disappointment to my family, but this would give them more credit and proof that I was truly a disturbed young lady that was a totally huge disappointment. I moved the barrel from my mouth to the side of my head. If I shot it, would I bleed to death or would I die instantly? The song, "My Heart Will Go On" came out of nowhere and played so loudly in my ears it was like hearing it on the stereo. I brought the gun down, loosened my finger from the trigger and cried the hardest I had ever cried before. I decided I was gonna take whatever was coming to me from the "rape". Maybe another RED FLAG to the public was what I needed.

I was arrested about two weeks later from school. I sat in jail for three days with the only visitor being my youth pastor. Surprisingly enough, I got off easy since I did serve some time. But how could I go back to school? How were people gonna treat me? Guess they weren't going to treat me any different than before...and they didn't. And it certainty wasn't any worse.

After I graduated High School, the best man I had ever had in my life, helped me move away from the farm. It was the first day of my new life!

I was 19, had my own place, no job, a boyfriend in a suburb away, no money to get a phone and a country girl now in the city. It didn't take me long to gain employment at a department store where I made barely enough to pay rent, food and gas for the car. I kept trying to set money back, but car repairs came up or I needed this or that. Just keeping busy and trying to survive this new adventure was tough that it was easier for me to take a weekend to go back to the farm and be close to what I was use to since that was normal.

The relationship with that great guy ended, I was alone in the city and still didn't know my way around very well. As long as I stayed in the burb I was use to, I was fine.

I got a room mate. It was a single mom that I worked with. We got an apartment and since she drove me up the wall, I started going out and dating men. It's a wonder I didn't get killed in the process. One man liked to beat me during sex, another was old enough to be my grandpa, some lived in bad areas of the city...the list goes on.

My goal wasn't to go to college. I hated High School and besides, I didn't know what I wanted to go to school for. I didn't feel I was smart enough anyway. I lost my job at the department store shortly after I met a nice guy. He was charming, beautiful blue eyes, very caring and sweet...I moved in with him in the later part of August and he proposed to my in October after only knowing me since July. We married the following October. But this guy had his own sets of issues. A porn addict.

I hated porn. The thought of any of it made me ill. How could someone get their kicks from that junk? He did. If he could sneak it, he got off with it.

We were married for nine years and I was actually in it for the long haul. Part of my vows was, "in sickness and in health". I tried to help him past the sickness, because all I ever wanted was him to be healthy. It never happened.

Now, this pretty much brings us to 2011 where I'm days away from the divorce being final. I still struggle with my looks, what people think of me, how am I to survive without a man, rejection once again and yet I'm trying to be the best mom I can be for my child.

I do know that I'm a lot stronger than I was 12 years ago, but I still have a long though road ahead. The past never goes away, no matter how much you try to run from it. So, I have to accept it and know that I have to get help for myself when I need it and find ways to move beyond all the hurts.

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Note from Darlene: If I have not left a comment on your story, please understand that it is not personal; it's just that my hectic schedule no longer permits me to do so.

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