Child Abuse Story From Simply Me

by Kel
(Utah, USA)

I am just me and I am very very proud of that fact. I'm a 14-year-old girl (so close to 15) who loves to read, hang out with my friends, surf the net, play video games, babysit, and be me! I am not a survivor of child abuse. It happened, and I hated it, but I choose to be me and not a survivor. I will not let that be me.

I was maybe seven when it happened...I don't really remember when it started. My brother molested me for about five years, so the details aren't all there.

I am the oldest girl out of a six kids. The next girl wasn't born until I was five, so I grew up with boys. We would always make up pretend lives and roles, like we were soldiers or something else that most girls my age weren't interested in. I loved playing with my older brothers and my younger one. It was fun.

When I was in first-grade, it stopped being so fun. My oldest brother, who was probably about 11 at the time, led me away from the other two, telling me that I had to be quiet because we were on a secret mission. We ended up in the bathroom, where he locked the door. I didn't think anything of it at first. Nothing happened the first few times, except him staring at me with a really weird expression.

About maybe the fifth or sixth time, he told me to get in the bathtub and close the curtains. I did not really understand. I stood there for a few minutes, then I felt someone come up behind me and put a hand up my shirt, pulling it off. I tried to scream, but he put his other hand over my mouth and hushed me. He turned me to face him, pinning me against the wall. I don't think he took off any of his clothes that time. All he did was kiss me and rub my chest.

Steadily, he would remove more clothing. Next were my pants, then my underwear, then his shirt, his pants, then finally there was no clothing between us.

The last time he did anything in the bathroom was the first time I saw his penis. I had seen my younger brothers' because we used to have to take baths together, to save time and water, and I had seen a neighbor's (he was 13) because he thought it was funny to flash me every time he saw me. It might have gotten to full-blown sex then, but I blocked most of it and can't remember much.

It never happened in the bathroom again, but every night, he would come in my room naked and make me play with his penis. He'd pinch my private parts and laughed when I cried out in pain. This continued until the summer before sixth grade. After that, he stopped and never said or did anything like that to me again.

I got over it for the most part. I can still laugh and smile. I never got depressed. I didn't need a therapist or counsellor to get stable. I stabilized myself and I'm pretty happy.

But notice I said "for the most part." There is still a part of me that won't let go. The part that gives me nightmares, the part that makes me sick to be touched for too long, the part that gives me a warning signal when a guy get's too close. The part that makes me human.

I apologize to you if you classify yourself as a survivor of abuse, but I honestly don't think that there is such a thing as a survivor of abuse. Abuse takes something away from everyone who has dealt with it. IT kills your heart and then leaves you a shell. Some people don't get over this, but it is possible to wake your heart up and move on, even if it is only a tiny itty bit, as long as you move on you'll be okay.

I think that because of what happened to me I am not the same girl I was before, during, or right after the abuse. I think that I was a different person during each stage. First an outgoing little girl who loved to talk, then a shy awkward kid, then a confused pre-teen with a mixed idea about sex, boys, and family. Now I'm simply me: a shy, read-aholic teenage girl who does horrible in school, can't stand to be touched by people I don't trust. A teen who can't wait to start a career in child care and raise a family. That's me now. A little of each person is still in me. I am really loud with friends. I'm shy around other kids my age. I don't really know how to feel about sex, my brother, and boys.

If you're reading this, thank you. Only my closest friends know about this, and I guess I did this because it feels good letting it out and telling my story.

Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Simply Me" are at the link below.

Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.