Still Touchy Subject
Hello. My name is Rachel. I was born in Mesa, Arizona. I was sexually abused at the age of 5. This is my story.
I was in kindergarten; my teacher was amazing and my mother was just a few classes down teaching her class. My mom and father were married but there was always a chance of my father getting up and leaving without saying goodbye to anyone, he's my father but not the greatest dad. So, that's exactly what he did.
My father watched me after school. When he left, we had no one to rely on for my care. My mom had to quickly find someone to watch me after school, not knowing when my father would come back. She found one of his co-worker's wives who could watch me. She was a stay-at-home mom with two children, one boy who was still in a high chair and a girl just a year older than me. The dad worked with my father at the prison so he already had that serious "take no sh*t from anyone" face. I'll name the daughter "Maria".
Maria had brown curly hair, looked sweet as a sugar cookie, but she was a whole different person behind closed doors. Maria started off by verbally abusing me, calling me stupid, threatening to hurt me if I told on her for doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. Maria was already exposed to racial slangs and sexual activities, she would inform me about them. Maria's room was very cramped; she had tons of dolls, a kitchen set, a huge bed, and useless toys everywhere. The house where she lived was quite small, the kitchen and living room were connected and one hallway leading the rooms. You would think that a house that small couldn't hid abuse like his. Maria then escalated to more physical abuse, slapping me. I have no words to explain, just shock that a little girl had so much more anger than me. Of course, she threatened me if I told her parents, she would block her door with her body and threaten to hit me again. Sometimes she would hit me with her toys. I told on her once, her dad went off on her, but it never stopped her from hitting me again. I always told my mom I didn't like it over there because Maria was mean to me. But what was she supposed to do, there was no one else.
I'll name this next abuser "David". I remember when David first knocked on the front door to hang out. I can't recall the relationship between David and Maria, but they had to have been close because her mom always let him in. David was older than us, taller, and blond.
First time he came over we went straight to Marias bedroom and he locked the door. They had a very odd relationship for such young kids. I remember they started kissing and rubbing on each other, which they then showed me how to do it. I felt weirded out doing the "adult" things, I knew I wasn't supposed to act like that. She then took off her pants and he kissed her "down there" she let out moans and they then switched positions to her bending over on the bed. He put plastic silverware in her butt and vagina. To be more specific it was the silverware from her mini kitchen stove set. I declined that action to be performed to me, I said no. Maria was the more aggressive one, since she thought I was going to tell she put me in her closet and told me to shut up while they continued. I felt uncomfortable, weirded out, and left out. Maria then pulled me out of the closet and told me to pull my pants down or she would hit me. "It's supposed to feel good, better than getting slapped" I thought. David kissed and rubbed me with his hands in areas that had never been touched by anyone before. Maria then forced me to have the same thing done to me as was done to her. I hated it, I hated her, and I hated him. I was ready to go home, and that was just the first incident.
I pleaded to my mom, telling her that Maria was weird and mean, and how she hit me. These cries I made did not sound as serious as they were.
The sexual abuse went on for two months until my father returned home. He would pick me up after school and Maria would say "you should come over and play". That always scared me, but what scared me the most was when my father was late to pick me up. She would always want her mom to babysit me. I was so petrified of this little girl. She was the same size as me yet she controlled me mentally and physically. No one knew about my sexual abuse until ten years later when I told my mom. Fifteen years old and confused, I was only warned about and still warned about people older than me preying on children. "If a man or woman tries to touch you, you tell us" that was the common abuse/molestation quote you would tell to children. When I found out I was sexually abused, I felt as if I was overthinking, how could someone equal to me make me feel smaller than them?
"I found out I was sexually abused", that might be a hard quote to get around. If you've ever taken a language before, you know that it feels amazing when you can finally read a sentence and understand it. Expressing what happened to me over the internet and doing research gave me answers I wasn't looking for. I never expected to be the 1 in 4 girls that was sexually abused when she was under 18. I wondered how I could have possibly missed this, with all the signs how could I pretend that everything was ok. I cried all night long debating if I should tell my mom and how. The next morning I told my mom I need to talk to her about something important, I couldn't even spit out words without tearing up. I explained what happened to me at Maria's and what David would do to me, not as explicit though. "It sounds like you were sexually abused." That confirmation from my mother meant everything in the world to me.
I have gone through depression, triggers, and insecurity because I was sexually abused. After half a year, I finally came to peace with me being sexually abused. I still got triggered from certain things and sometimes I would have a bad day, but I was happy. Then came my father. My mom and he got divorced when I was 8. Everything turned out for the better.
During that 2-month period where I was abused, my father went back to his ex-wife whom he had had 3 kids with. Just knowing that he left me, without being worried where I would go when he was gone just lets me know how selfish he is. That is the worst thing you could ever do to your child.
After I told my mom about the abuse, I wanted no relationship with my father. He wanted to see me at a restaurant, but I blew him off. I couldn't say no, I'm not good at standing up for the emotions I'm feeling. He stopped paying child support, moved, and never gave me his address. He has since sent me some things for Christmas and invited me on a trip later this year. My mom questions why I don't want to have a relationship with my father, but she doesn't understand and that's okay.
My sexual abuse story is still a touchy subject for me to talk about today, but I feel that my story will help a lot of people who are trying to identify sexual abuse. My side effects as a child were: excessively talking about sex with friends, masturbating, making my dolls have sex, and drawing sexual scenes.