Sunday December 6th, 1981, my birthday. A day that everyone should be happy about and celebrate. I hate it. For me it represents the day I went to hell. Born to an unwed 16yr old mother & a 18 year old woman beater drunk sperm donor was not the parents I had in mind I assure you! I was unwanted, grandparents begged my mother for an abortion, but once I was born that did change. I was the apple of my grandfather's eye til his death in 2013. Life was less than ordinary, welfare home, everyone else raising this child that was me, bounced around like a yo-yo, caught in between 2 parents who couldn't get their shit together, thrown into the Children's Aid Service and sent to foster homes and by this time I was only 2....My mother left him, got her own place and life was going good until a few months later...My mother went to pick me up from his visitation, i was crying & screaming and no one apparently knew why. My mother took me home tried to change me to see if that was my issue. I fought as hard as i could for as young as I was to not let her take my bottoms off. Without hesitation she took me to the hospital. After being sedated the doctors were able to examine me. The diagnosis "severe sexual trauma to the vagina" ....Thankfully I had (well thought i had) no memories of the events that took place that weekend or the man i then called dad. I grew up calling another man Dad, never knew I had another one. I never saw my biological father again...that is until I found out everything.
At 13 years old in the spring of that year, my parents were out galavanting around town as they regularly did on the weekends. I was left to babysit my then 9 yr old brother. We had this huge spare room upstairs that was just full of old boxes of toys, momentos, family heirlooms etc....I came across a big red velvet heart shaped box, looked like it was a empty box of chocolates from valentines day...so i opened it. Little did I know opening that box was gonna change the rest of my life. As i sifted through papers, pictures, legal documents & handwritten letters, my jaw was completely on the floor. I was in tears, i couldn't speak. In front of me was custody papers, letters to & from my mom & who i knew as dad while he was in jail for an unknown reason to this day, in front of me was my REAL last name, a card from a funeral home with my unknown older brother's information, and none of this information had anything stating the sexual trauma so I still was what I thought unaware of it. My life was a giant lie!
Information in hand I hid it all in my room under my nightstand and contemplated for weeks how I would address this to my parents. I had to think about it cause immediately when I found out, some things in my life made sense. As i got older i always had these snippits of memories that I honestly didn't think was mine. I had horrible nightmares about really bad things, so bad I pissed the bed out of fear every night til i was around 9 or 10. I never told anyone about the dreams, i just took what I got for peeing the bed and that was that. I think it was because I was scared to say what i was dreaming about or maybe didn't know how to. But anyways after weeks of contemplation the day came. In those weeks I completely changed! I went from a well behaved no issue kid to a angry rebel beyond belief. Me & my stepfather got in an argument, he stormed out & my mom screamed "What the fuck is wrong with you lately?" So i marched upstairs grabbed those papers, threw them in her face & told her to start explaining! I've never to this day seen the same look on my mother's face. She came clean, dad came home & so did he. It was true, most of my life was a lie. I wasn't even walking around with my own last name.
We tried our best to move on from that situation & resume a semi normal life. Within a month I eventually told my mom about the dreams I had and she came clean about it. I was indeed dreaming about my life as a child, being beaten, being touched, it was horrifying, but now i was armed with the why so that helped, over time the dreams got less and less, but I still have them occasionally to this day.
But wait the story isn't over.....
Now that is was out in the open.....naturally my relationship with my stepfather changed. But I never thought it would change the way it did. Just before my 14th birthday was when he stopped playing the "daddy" role & started playing the sick pervert! He found out I was smoking so we made a deal he would buy my smokes and hide it from mom but I had to listen & do what I was told. I thought no big deal, raking leaves, dishes, washing the car maybe ya know regular chores. Ok done deal! No instead after about 2 months he started sneaking in my room before he left for work and touching me inappropriately...I'm a heavy sleeper too so god only knows how long this was happening before he started waking me up! I was terrified, I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to ruin my family, i stopped taking the smokes, but that didn't stop him, he never raped me but he touched me EVERYWHERE until I was 15, I packed what I could and ran away out my bedroom window in the middle of the night. I went & stayed with a guy friend & his dad as I confided in them about what was happening at home & they seemed genuine & i thought they wanted to help. Boy was I wrong!
I was forced to sit indoors with 24/7 supervision, I had to wash the laundry by hand in the tub, i couldn't use the phone, talk to neighbors etc...I was a fucking prisoner. But in some sort of way I thought it was better than being molested, that was until a few weeks later....The father held me down while the son raped me repeatedly for 5 weeks! The only thing he didnt do to me was use foreign objects & kill me. Everything good inside of me died right then.....It wasn't until I snapped and started throwing chairs through windows that the police were called & I went back home to my hell again. I stayed for about 6 months and then I left, moved 3 1/2 hours away. I still at this time had not told my mom about what my stepfather was doing.
The life since then has never been the same. The next 15 years to come never got better. I battled being beat multiple times, homeless, a number of addictions, cancer, severe depression, developed agorophobia(which I've now 65% overcome), panic/anxiety attacks, infertility, being raped twice again, a laundry list of useless relationships, trust issues, anger issues. All of which I will get into in future blog entries. But for now I leave you with this.......
My only purpose for opening up after all these years is to help someone. I'm at a point where I want to take all this anger & bad experience & do something good with it. If 1 person reads this & they see what I've overcome & they realize "hey I got this too" then that's good enough for me!
I'm done playing a victim. This time I'm gonna be a survivor!