Took My Innocence
I was raised very strict. I was blessed with two wonderful parents. I was born in 1970 the youngest out of 4 children. In the late 70s my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer who suffered so bad. I remember as a little girl coming home from school and it was like I could smell it as I opened the door. You could hear him hollering in the middle of the night from the pain. In the 70s technology was not like it is today. If someone was in intensive care it was mandatory someone had to be there, which meant he could not work and nor could my mother having and wanting also to stay with him. We had no income.
My father as a strict religious man didn't believe in women wearing pants so I had to wear dresses and that consisted of about 3. We lived in the country in a small town and we all went to the same church religiously. My mother's best friend and her husband lived within walking distance. He was a preacher had a big family and a son that broke all of my innocence. He was about 17. I was about 6 years old. He was just a mean person. He molested me for a very long time, not by penetration but with his hands so bad my stomach would hurt and my privates stayed swollen and irritated. My brother was only two years older than I was and he used to even do it in front of him. I remember turning my head instead of having to look in my brother's eyes as the guy played as long as he wanted and done what he wanted. Him as a little boy would see him coming, then come running, grab my hand and hide me in the woods.
Being poor and having to wear dresses I was made fun of. They would take my books away from me and me knowing if I didn't have the book the teacher said we would have to pay for them, me knowing we didn't have the money to pay for them would let all the kids hit me, do whatever they wanted to do for how ever long they wanted. There wasn't one day I got off the bus I didn't have one or two bruises a day. Didn't remember anyone from the first to fifth grade. As an adult everyone I went to school with then remembered me but I didn't remember anyone. I guess I didn't tell because I didn't want to be a burden. I would think of my daddy suffering and hollering in the middle of the night that's the only reason I know of.
With the bruises I had on a daily basis, the preacher's son down the road became a regular basis. I was wetting the bed, not being able to hold my urine or trying to hold it because of the tremendous swelling and irritation. I had days I couldn't walk, so the days of getting hit daily at school became nothing at all. I don't think I felt them anymore. My parents I'm sure were thinking I just wouldn't get up to go to the bathroom. But this day is one that I so remember from my heart. It came to where I couldn't sleep from hurting. My privates was swelled to a bad extent. I couldn't even take a bath. In came a big snow, and it was cold outside and from being so tired I fell asleep on the church bench and I tinkled and it ran down the bench on my daddy. My daddy whipped us hard. We didn't get many, but when we did we did…I have to say this before I tell you this part, and that's that (My Daddy Didn't know)…he took me outside. I remember him getting two long switches and I had to stand out in the cold snow with urine going down my legs, my privates swelled beyond belief and as my daddy whipped me remember the tip of the switch hitting my private area and I was hollering oh daddy no...I was just thinking in my heart He Didn't know!!
My father went back in the hospital again, then come one of the most remembering days of my life. The preacher's son came. I had started just laying down before he ever got to me because it was so regular. My sister just so happen on this day as I laid down, opened the door as soon as he got there and almost caught him. She ask him, What are you doing? He said, nothing. But it scared him and it never happened again. It was over.
We moved away from the small town to live closer to my aunt's so Mother could have some help. My father passed away in 1981. Today I have post traumatic stress disorder. Usually comes when a certain thing happens to you for a long time, are too tragic. All because and from the bruises at school on my daily ride on the bus to and from school, because of being poor are from the sexual abuse.
Today I have a good life. Having post traumatic stress disorder, I worry more, am protective over my sons. They grown up now, but I depend on them for love that's not of their understanding. A psychologist told me I want and need them so much because I want to be their protector. I am blessed today and I share this story to tell all parents, pay attention. This was a preacher's son. He took all my innocence as a little girl, and this is ~ My Story~