Neverending Sexual Abuse

by Chelsea
(Texas, USA)

Sexual abuse is one hell of an epidemic

A learned behavior that some victims mimic
And although others don’t act out in that way
Side effects are there to stay

Like wondering how to trust again
When a part of them is shattered
Beaten, bruised
And battered
Or living with the nightmares
Of a day one thought "he cares"
Only to find out his true motive
One which is insensitive

And what about that child in me
Longing to know what it’s like to be free
From so much confusion buried inside me
Little girl, just 9 years old
I finally remembered
I finally told

--------

This poem is something that I wrote not too long ago, when yet again I felt the affects of lifelong sexual abuse. This is the third time that I have written on this website and each time I write my story in a different way. This is because as I grow as a person, I see this story differently.

It all started when I was 4 years old. My mom was involved with a guy who had 2 boys, J--- and E---. Around this time, I cannot remember my mom being around, and I have yet to figure out where she was. J--- would pick me up, take me to his room, and molest me as I slept every night until my mom left his dad. I never told my mom, but I remember trying, saying "J--- loves me" to my brother. He told me to be quiet and I never spoke about it again.

When I turned 8, though, I started to remember and I eventually told my mom what had happened. It had been so long and my mom didn't even know J---'s last name, so there was no way that they could find him. Sometimes I wonder if he has hurt other young girls like me and I get somewhat upset because I feel like I should have said something - even though I know that I was only a child at the time and I didn't have a clue that it was wrong.

The next time something happened, it was a guy at church. JK. He didn't molest me or rape me and sometimes I don't even know if it was abuse at all. What I do know is how this made me feel. One day when I was 10, JK had gotten a little black and white tv and I had asked him for weeks to give it to me. I didn't really want the tv, but I wanted the attention I understood when I asked for it and he said "no." The day he decided to give it to me, I decided I didn't want it, but he asked me to come with him to his car anyways. We walked around the side of the church and as we got closer to his car he grabbed me and started kissing me on the lips. I told him to stop, and I tried to turn around and leave, but he wouldn't let me. Remember, this is a 65-year-old man and a 12 year old girl. I can still feel his beard on my face and it makes me cringe.

After that, my neighbor did the same thing at a park that we would go to in order to walk our dogs. I also liked going with him because I liked the attention. However, looking back I know there were red flags that I wish I had caught, like playing in a little creek and having visions of him holding me under until I died. I feel a little sorry for that 11-year-old girl.

By this time, lines were becoming blurred. Once you experience something so many times, it becomes second nature. I began to not feel anything - I began to add people to the list. "Well, let's just add another person to the list of people who have inappropriately touched me and move on with my life."

My 18th year was a crazy year. I turned 18 in September 2011 and by October I had started experimenting with drugs, alcohol, marijuana, and anything else I could get my hands on. This didn't last long because I knew it wouldn't end well so I stopped while I could. That first week, I was raped by the person who introduced me to meth. I didn't know until about a week later.

In March 2012 my mom passed away and that was immediately followed by my dad sexually assaulting me. (i.e. putting his hands under my shirt and ... groping me.. while I slept). By this time, I became so used to what kept happening that I would just blow it off. None of the people that I have talked about so far had gotten in any trouble, despite my making reports and speaking out.

I did decide to make a report in the end, but all I got was alienation from my family, and my dad disowned me for a while until I stopped talking about it.

It doesn't stop there, but I won't go into detail about every time. I was in a sexually abusive relationship, and after my fiancé died I was raped by his best friend.

I don't write all of this to get sympathy, or for people to feel sorry for me. I think a part of me needs to write it out in order to heal from it. To this day, I'm still trying to figure out how it happened this many times. On one hand, after a while I had to have put myself in those situations - so it in a way is my fault. Though on the other hand, 6 out of 7 of these happened before I turned 19 so how can I hold myself responsible. I guess I also try to minimize it by saying some part of each of those experiences made it not abuse, but a figment of my imagination. I definitely think I blame myself for a lot of it, but how do I not? If it had happened once, fine- not my fault. Twice, nope still not my fault. But SEVEN times (and counting)? I can't even fathom how that ISN'T my fault! I don't get it. Its confusing, frustrating, and more than that it's draining. I try to live a life focused on others. I try to put my feelings aside and try to prevent someone else from feeling the same way that I have in my life. I guess, though, that it is just fact that this will always be with me in some way.



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