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Found 13 results

  1. Blog pilot: Conquer

    I don't know the first thing about writing a blog. All I know is I survived. There is more of me broken than functional - but something small, somewhere inside me persists that that will not always be the case. So here I am, writing about it. (For all intents and purposes, and I still wan't nothing to do with them, my abuser will be called "X") I was with someone, who didn't care. I was with SEVERAL someones who didn't care, at least about me. However, this one in particular had brought me lower than I have ever been. We met under incredibly ordinary circumstances, nowhere I would consider special, and he was so handsome, confident, driven and direct. He knew what he wanted in life. He was charming and exotic, and I was definitely interested. He approached me, we exchanged numbers and I stepped on the path that many of you readers unfortunately have traveled. I like to think it was because I was young, or maybe that I was naive that I didn't see all the red flags. Down the road though I genuinely believed it was my fault that everything went down as it did because I wasn't strong enough and felt like I couldn't say no - even when I did. He used me however he pleased - regardless of if I said "no". He'd just go for it; wherever he wanted, however he wanted, and on his terms. Most of the time I'd go along with it because it was easier, less hassle and would be over with sooner. I felt obliged - I was with him. I remember searching for help and seeing articles of people staying in crazy relationships - but when you're with someone long enough, certain things become the norm, and you adapt and become numb. That's what I did. How could I leave the one I loved? The one I'd given up everything for? I was so invested, I left everything for him and his family. I spent countless hours helping his family run/build a business for free (which is still successful), writing their business plan, legalities, taking his siblings to school, getting things for the business, taking care of the animals, helping his mom with things around the house, working at a new job one of his brothers had finagled for me because he liked the lady who was later my boss(so I felt indebted to X's oldest brother). You name it. I had obligations, they depended on me and I began to live with them because I didn't want to let them down, and I wanted to matter so badly (This I chalk up to my home life as well as how X treated me). Also, I felt obligated. How could I say no? I was scared to say no. I fought endlessly with my mother about my living situation and defended him because I believed that I loved him, that he was really worth it, loved me and would treat me better when I deserved it. He still doesn't know everything that happened to me. Really, I don't think anybody does. Not even my therapist. I refused to admit that I was raped when coming out of the hospital because I didn't want to see X or deal with him or any of my other aggressors again and if I caused them real trouble they'd come after me. I refused to see his dark side! I countered it with good qualities or at least mentally altered his qualities into good ones just so I could get by. I tried everything I could to make us work because a committed relationship is something you've gotta work at right? I knew I was so helpful to these people, and that was good for me but I also knew I was incredibly disposable at the same time. I couldn't just LEAVE, could I? Well, X wasn't my first assailant and I hadn't had any REAL lessons in creating boundaries or learning to say no at this point in life. I was the perfect prey and I hated myself because I didn't know what I was doing wrong or what it was that I couldn't see. I was the pretty, caged canary forced to sing at his leisure...either that or he was the prowling cat looking to eat its favorite parts one piece at a time. He'd force himself on me, occasionally promising "just one more time" - swearing that it would be the last - but it never stopped and it only got worse. All the way until the only way I thought I could end it would be dying. Yes. Dying. "Dying? Isn't that extreme? Couldn't you just leave?" No. No, because in my mind there was no way out. I tried to leave, but he was so good at the mind games. He'd have me crawling back saying sorry, feeling guilty that I had left and grateful that I had returned, often turning to extremes to get me to come back. When things would get so bad he'd make grand gestures to show he'd "changed" and every damn time I'd believe him. There was no way that all of this was happening and he didn't see it as wrong. Surely he would change, wouldn't he? For me? For love? Spoiler alert: It got worse. He wasn't just sexually abusive and emotionally - physical abuse came swiftly after discussing marriage. You have to understand that THIS was my world of relationships. I didn't really SEE how horrendous this was because I didn't know any better, and I was numb. Whatever better there was out there just wasn't for me or didn't exist. I still grieve that I wasn't loved the way I deserved. For many a partner I was mistreated, abused, and expected to be fine. It was a never ending roller coaster of feeling strong and then weak on a loop from standing up after being broken. The day I decided to die, I had moved out, but come back to say sorry because I didn't tell him when I was leaving. I told him I was leaving him, but I didn't say when or how or where. I thought he was going to kill me. He glared saying "how could you do this to me, I loved you" while standing in the bathroom doorway because he came back while I loaded everything into my mother's truck. Do understand how messed up I was that I felt like I needed to go back to say how SORRY I was for leaving HIM??? I stayed the night, and he said he wouldn't take me back. If HE of all people who cared the least and yet the most about me didn't want me back - no one would. I officially lost my value and that morning I didn't go to work, I hid a large kitchen knife in my waistband and told everyone there (his brothers were living with us at the time for free and I was the only source of income because he refused to get another job after leaving his other one) I was going to shower. Blood can't clot if it's still wet. I closed the broken bathroom door, and went to work. The first few cuts were almost nice because the pain was better than the emptiness I felt and I felt alive, but my body shortly decided to numb the area and I was able to go deeper and farther running my arms and the backs of my ankles under water to prevent the clotting. One of our dogs pushed open the door because I was crying, I pushed them out and got blood on his face. X saw this and screamed at me "What did I tell you??? WHAT did I tell you?!" He told me that if I was gonna go die I should do it outside by the parking spot of our duplex. So, I proceeded to the door to go do so and he slammed the door in my face to prevent me from going out and hit me so hard across the face. The force that he hit me with registered, but I was light headed and numb from blood loss and filled with adrenaline and anger - so I didn't feel it and I hit him back - which I had never done, at least like this. I had lost so much blood in my arms that my hands were in fists and curling back to my body downwards, so hitting him was more like swinging a club or dead arm, and I couldn't feel it, but I know it was hard - and he hit back, even harder. We went at it for a moment as he continued to say that all he cared about was how much the blood on the carpet was gonna cost him, how stupid I was, how all this was gonna make him look, what he was supposed to tell people about what happened, etc. One of his brothers came to wrap me up and I wouldn't let him, I just kept screaming that I wanted to die. I had no value, I had no self worth, and the people that had ever claimed to love me did unspeakable things to me. I was nothing. I passed out from blood loss, his brother took me to the hospital because X wanted to shower and get spiffed up before going to the hospital. How do I know this? He said so "YOU go take her to the hospital. I need to go take a shower first." I just wanted to die. I gave everything I had and I had no will to live. I hated him. I hated that I loved him. I hated that I loved him and he didn't give a _____ about me. I did everything for him and his family, and he couldn't have cared less. Maybe he could have? He could have not come at all. He could have just locked the door behind me while I died outside, but as far as I'm concerned I was nothing to him and it was his appearance he was trying to save. It was never about ME, it was always about HIM. I had small moments of consciousness like being carried to the emergency room by his one good brother Q, being put in the wheelchair, getting my 20+ staples, seeing X & Q standing in the hallway, X looking and smelling like he was going to a formal event.... X never visited or called me in recovery/rehab, and his reasons for why were lies. I called him to see if he was coming, and he always said he would, but never did and had the cleverest of excuses which were validated as lies by S. I went to therapy and rehab and never admitted to being repeatedly raped, or abused. I didn't want to get him in trouble, nor did I want to get involved with the police, court, or with any of the other miserable people who had done similar things to me. I knew that If I caused problems, especially legal problems which would compromise their business and a dozen other things, I knew that they'd come after me. I blocked his number and cut as many ties as I could conceive and one day he called me from a number I didn't recognize. He wanted me back. He was making a grand gesture again for change that we could be happy and promising all the things I wanted to hear. However, enough was enough, and I said no. I said no and when he persisted I reinforced my no, with REASONS! I wasn't helpless anymore. I was done, I was out, and in my own little way I had won. in rehab and therapy I didn't want to confess or share my abusive truths because I wanted to escape the pain, block it out, pretend it never happened, and I couldn't do that if I ever saw them again, especially a court hearing or someone coming after me because X was in jail etc. Many of my exes were incredibly physical while others were strictly verbal and emotional and I didn't have a clue on how to get better. I just went into rehab as a depressed teenager who had a lousy home life, low self esteem, particularly bad relationship and break up, self harmed, and opted for suicide. My brain did a miraculously terribly thing which was block out all my traumatic events. Miraculous because there were times after my safety plan was made and I was released from the hospital's rehab facility that I was normal. I didn't have that darkness haunting or plaguing me. However, it created abrupt triggers when my brain made connections to real life and my barricaded memories, like it dug under the wall and leaked it out. Because of it, I get the worst PTSD episodes and I am back in the moments where I am not safe. I'm starting to master not suppressing, and learning not to be overwhelmed, but let's be real here, it still happens more than I'd like to admit. This caused me problems in my marriage which is now over - which is an entirely different can of worms as he was very mentally controlling and abusive - thank goodness and am now in the arms of the sweetest, most gentle man who is my best friend, know no bounds of building me up, making sure I know I'm his top priority, understands why I may react in strange ways, knows my pain and why I am the way I am - and I could never be more grateful for the love, and compassion he gives me without guile or expectancy. Dear reader, Just because hell was your romping ground doesn't mean you can't find your way to heaven. There is hope even when there is none and if you look you will always be able to find it. Dark times and hard times can make for a beautifully strong, unstoppable, unyielding spirit and mind. I am still healing, but I'm in a safe place, and SO much more of a person than I was. What once was a whisper is now a shout and the times that ensnared me made me who I am now. I can stand up for myself, I know my worth, I know more aspects of myself. I am weak no longer. I came out strong and I conquered. You can conquer too. I needed help, but ulitimately it was up to me to make decisions towards a better destination. Only I could save myself. I am my own hero.
  2. New to Site

    Hi. I am a man of 58 years. I have struggled daily in my life to rid myself of my flaws that caused me to be abused. Then I had an epiphany in 07 and realised at gut lever that I had been abused because who my abusers were and not because of who I am. I had a violent father who never showed my anything but disgust. I was boy enough. as I grew it got worse and I much preferred girls for friends tho up till about 12 my bfs were boys. I travelled the world, always changing schools, always the new boy and always bullied. I only learned from all of this, my dad's growing violence too, was how to disassociate. by 13 I was self harming. Then I lived in Australian outback and no one took any notice. I really was a fish out of water. Imagine dumping a posh, soft boy into small town Texas or something. Any very masculine community. The now is this: My disabilites grew until I could no longer walk more than a few feet and certainly cnnot stand still with agony. This meant my dream was denied me-dog showing. Just as I was reaching to top, owning the top winner in her bredd in 09. You don't need to know just that I dreamed all my life for it and then the plug was pulled. I went into a dpression and I very nearly killed myself. Every thing fell apart. I believed I had conned myse;f, those had helped me recover had conned me. I was now in a wheel chair and could find no hope at all. Now 3 years later, 100lbs heavier, I fell mentally better, no suicidal thoughts yet I still have found no hope or purpose. I am also a knit wear designer, yarn painter, and knitter and reasonably well known all though after 3 or so years of doing nothin g, I am probably forgotten. I am truly stuck and don't know what to do. On a psotive note, I have a won derful husband to whom I been legally fully married to for 5 years and together 36 years. He adores me and treats me very well and has been with me every step of a v ery painful journey. We have no money troubles. I know stupid people who envy me, ignoring my 24/7 pain and the many meds I take 4 times a day. I do take succour from the fact that science has shown that victims/survivors of trauma end up, in a high percen tage, with health problems such mine. My neurologist says I have brain damge like boxers get because of having my head hit too often as child by my dad. I think the depression is over, I am still taking the med for it. I was always anti the idea of chemical imbalance and of pills for it. Not anymore. I felt the pills working and a month later I no longer wanted to die. Sorry this has been so long.
  3. so ive been posting positive quotes all over the walls in my bedroom/drawing room to keep positivity in my face all the time. see, im working on trying to quiet the negative voices in my head. the problem was how i got my start in life. i was left in the care of a bully (my birth. other B) that knew how to lie, manipulate, and con anyone she came in contact with. in front of people, she was charismatic, funny, charming, witty, the perfect parent. B was not this person with me. after, many many many years of trying to analyze and over analyzing my upbringing, ive found one conclusion that may work. i grew up with someone who behaved like a cult leader. B didnt start off physically beating me, verballing abusing me, emotionally crippling me. she was nice, let me sleep in her bed when i had nightmares, would hug me, tell me she loved me. i believed it. then my brother was born when i was 4 and things changed. slowly the love was rescinded, no more hugs. now came the indoctrination. it was yelling, put downs, then build you up a little only to knock you down. it was calling of names instead of encouragement when doing homework then praise when completed. it was beatings for minor things or because B was irritated. as i got older, i didnt need B to say things anymore, she lives in my head and heart. now, i call myself names, put myself down, tell myself negative things about myself. and if i didnt meet my wife years back i would still be following her like a good cult member. but, i still hear her voice, see her face, feel her hands and fist. thats why im posting the quotes. i need something, anything to quiet those voices. one of them mentioned seeing the good, positive in myself. i have 19 years to conquer. so im trying to find my positives from those years moving forward. so, im going to list my positives, at the ones i believe. im very loyal to those i care for i am a good artist i love strongly when i open myself up i am very shy in person i like to give help more than receive any help i am independent to an extent i love to think logically and outside the box im working on building this list, on focusing on this list during the very bad times, on continuing believing this list.
  4. Victim to Survivor

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  5. finally telling

    When I was 6 years old my older sister started to molest me, she use to call it "the game", it lasted for about another year or two, at least until she got a new boyfriend, then she no longer "needed me". By the time I was 7, my older cousin who was a female as well also started to molest me, saying everything we did was for fun and that everyone did it. Around that same time, my god sister who was around my age decided she wanted to play the game as well, she had learned it from our uncle. I didn't understand what was going on or that it was wrong. Through out the years, I had other encounters with different cousins, this time males. They would make me kiss them on the lips when I needed help with my homework, or teach me the game "booty tag" and just randomly grab my ass when no one was looking. It never felt right, but I never said anything because they all made it seem like it was nothing, not big deal. When I was 8 and my older sister ended up getting pregnant, and her boyfriend started to touch me, try to get me to touch him. Then one day my sister who was a year younger, told my parents that my sisters boyfriend kept trying to touch us. She hadn't grown up playing "the game" with our family so she knew this wasn’t normal or right. My parents told him that if he ever touched us again they would report him the police. And so he never did, at least for a few years. When I turned 12 he started again, but by then I was already so emotionally damaged I actually believed him when he told me that it was my fault and that everyone would be mad at me not him. So I kept quiet. But over the months it got worse, I had to go with him to pick the kids up from daycare, and he would keep trying to feel me up or would grab my arm and try to force me to grab him. I would always move away from him, even sitting in the backseat he would try to grab me. Most of the time I would end up in the trunk until the kids were in the car. He would bring his phone out and try to show me videos, clips of porn he downloaded. I would close my eyes and hope they would be gone by the time I opened them, but they never would be. I would open my eyes and he would still be holding his phone right up to my face. There were many times where i just pictured myself jumping out the car to get away form him, but I never could. All I could think about was my family. One day I got into an argument with my older sister, and I told her everything he had done since I was eight. She was really hurt because he had known everything my uncle had done to her, so she kicked him out. By the time my mom found out she took me to the station in order to file a report. But at the end nothing was ever done. My sister moved out of the house and into an apartment with him, and my mom never pressed charges. Everyone still talks to him as if nothing ever happened. My parents don’t know about everything my family did to me, only what he did, and the fact that they chose to nothing when it came to an almost stranger, I didn’t even want to imagine what they would say if I ever told them about my sister and cousins. They would probably act like I was crazy, like no one would actually ever do that in our family. Today I still think about it when I look at any of them, I see and talk to them almost on a weekly basis, and we always act like nothing ever happened. As if it were a part of my imagination. Sometimes I wonder if I did make this all up, if I'm crazy. Most day I wish I was, that this was all a figment of my imagination.
  6. A mistake

    **TRIGGER WARNING** alcohol, abuse ---- I am a drunken fool. I was leaving a party and was offered a lift to the station. A friend was going in the same direction, and said he would walk me the rest of the way to the station. He didnt take me to the station. he took me to his house. "Its not safe, the last train has left, you cannot get home. This area is not safe" "you stay here, I will look after you" I didn't know where i was, where the station was. Was it really dangerous outside? I went into the house. I was uncomfortable. I tried to leave. he restrained me. physically stopped me from leaving. and, as i drunkenly passed out, he used my body for his pleasure. i would come to semi-conciousness and feel him on my body. Pushing him off. telling him no. drifting into unconciousness. The cycle repeated. and afterwards, lying there. In shock. Frozen. I dont know how long I was lying there for. But eventually i came to. I ran. It was 4am, in a place I didn't know. But it was safer for me on the streets.
  7. Belief

    I have always been afraid to speak of my mistreatment. I carried it around with me because I was always told it was my fault. Everyone always told me who I was, I never had the chance to myself. So I have stayed silent. I took the pain and turned it into a smile. This smile wasn't just an ordinary smile, there were many elements to it. Confusion, fear, anger, sadness, hopelessness... It felt like the weight of the world and I felt it all alone. I also felt happiness. I felt it when I felt the warmth of my mothers hugs. I felt it when my friends told a joke and made me laugh until my ab musucles were sore. I felt it when I was surrounded by beautiful music and good friends. Most importantly I felt happiness through others. Giving all of my love and care for others has been easier than giving myself the love and care I needed. Something I continuously struggle with. Seven years. Seven years I have smiled that crooked smile. The deceiving smile that hides my fears. I was fourteen, a child, when he grabbed me and starting touching me places that have never been touched. He made me bleed. He took pride in his blood stained hands as I cried myself to sleep. He decided my worth. That was only the beginning. I was fifteen and he was twenty-two when he decided I was "old enough." He rubbed his lips against mine and his hands on my body. No one knew because it would have "caused trouble." He decided my worth. I was sixteen and had no worth. I had no love for myself because I was use to the abuse. I began to abuse myself. I gave myself away even though I did not want it. Everyone decided my worth. I laid there but was not present. I was hopeless. I was worthless. I was nothing. They all told me, over and over again. Through the Internet, the phone, everywhere. I was trapped. I was destructive. Several times I was taken advantage of and assaulted because I was so intoxicated and helpless. But they all knew "who I was." I was seventeen and did not want it. I laid on the bathroom floor lifeless. I can still feel the pressure of his hands digging my wrist into the floor. I was released and alone on the bathroom floor. No one knew I did not want it. No one would have believed it either. I was eighteen and a freshman in college. It was a different state, a new environment, a new start... Right? I still took the bottle and drank until I was numb. My friends left me alone with him. He seemed to be a really nice guy. They let me go off with him (he was sober) into the night. He made out with my face. He tried to take me back to his dorm but I wasn't able to walk. He laid me underneath a bridge and he left me. He left me there and called someone to get me. It was my fault. New beginnings right? I tried to forget. I tried to find comfort in a "real" relationship. I was eighteen and the emotional abuse began. All I wanted was his attention. I wanted something "normal" and I let him use and abuse me. I was verbally and emotionally abused for over a year. It felt normal. I did not know my worth, I let him decide my worth. Please do not ask me why now or why not then. Do not ask me any more details. Do not question my story because for seven years I was alone and afraid that everyone would question me and no one would believe me. I covered my face as I told him my story. I was shaking with fear, but I told him. I told him and he believed. He cared and he loved me regardless. He believed me and he started this journey with me and I feel stronger because of it. It felt as if a weight was lifted from my heart. Not everyday is a walk in the park because I told someone. My anxiety continues and my night terrors stay consistent. The only difference is I am not alone. I have found strength in my past and strength in my future with the love of my life who was the first to believe me.
  8. This Christmas 2015, with a beautiful full moon and quiet consuming victory, will be burned into my memory for eternity. My healing goals include fulfilling my family karma and ending the inherent chain of abuse. To successfully achieve this goal I must slay multiple demons that thrive upon sucking my soul into their fiery bellies only to regurgitate sabotage and betrayal. This week alone I have slayed multitudes of the blood thirsty beasts crouched in venomous fury awaiting my next breath and calculated action. The demons I speak of dwell in the hearts of my poor family. Their device is to keep the family confused and acting upon ill thoughts of denial and infatuation with magnificent lies they hold in reverence. It has been nearly 45 years since my father raped me as an eleven year old child yet the damage done is ageless. My unconditional love for my family has only allowed them to manipulate a play designed to destroy my spirit and rob me of my life. Today, I have triumphed as a survivor with a cause and will not be silenced by their ignorant whining and protests. In this lonely much misunderstood journey, I have walked alone. The depth of my pain goes to the core and cannot be consoled by common healing avenues. My role is that of the warrior and I will rest only when all children are protected from abuse. When I was young, I tried to bury these ugly memories and behave with sweet complacency. My hope was that I was demented and the abuse did not really happen. I told myself that I was subhuman and was supposed to die in early childhood. I would cry for hours on end and quietly cut myself in places that no one else would see. I believed that I was living on borrowed time. I was sure that my parents secretly wished that they had aborted me so that none of this would come to light. When I was 15 my friend K. W. and I took a joy- ride in the Suburban. When dad caught me he beat me up while screaming how much I was like him and he was going to beat it out of me. I ran away for the night; I don't remember where I went. Mom knew that there was "something wrong with me" and attempted to understand the problem. She sent me to a child psychologist . Back in the 1970's receiving psychological help was stigmatized as a placebo for crazy weak people. I shut down in the therapist's office as soon as I saw the doll house and toys on the floor. I felt disrespected as a young adult and punished as if I were a child by the experience. My problems were much more grown- up than mom could ever imagine. The truth resurfaced when I was 16. Dad approached me in the kitchen as I was readying myself for my waitress shift at the pancake house. He said; "Dasi, I am sorry that I molested you that day in the orchard.". My face must have turned red from terror and fury at the realization that this ugly image and memory that I had tried so hard to forget really happened. I kind of feel sorry for him trying to make- up but, there is a long list of reasons why that is an unreasonable response on my part. One reason is that he actually legally raped me! He always tried to minimize the event and downright denied the multiple other accounts of fondling and abuse. I found myself caught in an endless cycle of self- loathing and self destructive behaviors for which I had no support system to aid in coping. I have confronted my father, my perpetrator twice in my life with unsatisfactory results each time. The first time was in a therapist's office with my first husband there to accompany me. I was pregnant with my one and only child and was ready to end the silence to assure the safety of my unborn baby. My father confessed only to the one count of csa but, not the multiple other counts of abuse. He did however go home afterward to use this information as a weapon to inflict punishment upon my mother. He told mom that he committed csa against me but, minimized it with, "She wanted it!". He then left mom and filed for divorce. Mom was devastated and suffered from severe depression for about 5 years after. Both dad and I knew that she could not handle knowing the truth. This is the very reason I stayed silent long past the statute of limitations. Meanwhile, I made my escape from this unsavory scene by fleeing 2 states away to California with my new family. I continued to attempt to have a "normal" relationship with both my parents and brother with annual visits up north. In the second confrontation I was in my late 30's. We were considering a visit up north. I would normally get suicidal before these trips. This time my suicidal thoughts were just too overwhelming for me to cope with the trip. I called dad crying and told him how truly self destructive it was for me to come visit him. I told him about all my sufferings and that he really actually owed me big time. He responded as predicted. He claimed that he had already paid enough with his own personal suffering over the ordeal. Funny- he never even did prison time like he should have nor had his life destroyed in any visible form. The only way that he could possibly back up such an outrageous claim would be if he had to suffer the ridicule of being a registered sex criminal. I knew that there was nothing that I could do legally at that point. In fact he was enjoying the benefits of the height of his career and certainly had no intention of sharing anything with the daughter he had wronged so deeply. The daughter that had obediently protected him, his career, and the family from the legal punishment and public humiliation which he so richly deserved. It was very difficult but, I realized that for my own survival, I must cut off all communication with my father. His mother and his third wife tried everything in their power to guilt me back into seeing him. They said that he was suffering terribly and that I was being cruel to abandon him this way. (They had no concern for the deep damage that his abuse had done to me!). We went up north the following year to visit mom and my brother's family. My brother and his wife told me how it was killing dad that I had cut him off from my life. We ended up getting into an argument about it and my brother finally called me a liar. He did not believe that dad raped me and ordered me out of his house. He told me to never return and so I did not for nearly 10 years. Since that day dad confessed to my brother as well, but always adds, "She wanted it!". Thereby brainwashing, manipulating, and minimizing the crime to all the people that he has "confessed" to. He never took responsibility for his criminal behaviors. It has been 20 years since I had last seen my father. My paternal grandmother died long ago. Cutting out my father meant that I sadly had to cut off grandma too. My brother and I have since attempted to have a reasonable friendly relationship. It has been awkward and quite uncomfortable at times. My father and brother have also had a very strained relationship in that 20 years and rarely ever saw each other. I had heard through the grapevine that dad has suffered several mini strokes over the past few years. I was informed that he had undergone a major personality shift and would really like to see me again. I have done much healing work on myself and was ready to have some closure with dad. I also want to protect any young people from being sexually assaulted by him. I came prepared for the worst and had done a lot of work- up with my therapist for this visit of redemption. I knew that this could be the final battle with uncertain results or maybe a new beginning with possibly much deserved retribution due to me. I was able to arrange a visit with dad and his current wife last weekend. He has had some mini strokes and has become as gentle as a kitten as a result. This only makes him even more dangerous to any children that he may be around. His mental illness has certainly not gone away as evidenced by the fact that he was checking out my breasts last Saturday. He obviously has never had self control and is only worse than ever now. It was nice to be able to have some quality time with him at his best. It is unfortunate that it required such a dramatic drop in his mental status to be able to have a pleasant time with him. He was normally always mentally abusive and toyingly mean. Now he cannot hold a train of thought long enough to be mentally tormenting anymore. He would attempt to tell me stories about people that I knew from our past but then quickly forget what he was talking about. We went out on the river and he complained of the cold. The man I used to know would never show such weakness even if his toes froze off from frost bite. He can still drive but got us all lost twice on the back roads. Again, he is an accomplished outdoors-man and never got lost on back roads before. All together we had a pleasant visit aside from me having a couple of short PTSD episodes from the experience. I have to be able to talk to his current wife about protecting her grandchildren from this man. She and I are only now getting to know each other. They were only newlyweds when I broke things off with him 20 years ago. She and I had met only once or twice back then. Now that communication lines are open again I intend to call once a week or so until she and I have a good rapport. When I feel that the time is right I will attempt to remind her that it is not safe for her grand kids to be left alone with him. Now that I am strong enough, I will do everything in my power to protect any and all children from him. His csa is no secret among my closer relatives but now I understand that there must be other survivors out there, somewhere. I have not found the other survivors to date. However, from here on I can protect all children from falling prey to him until he dies. It is so sad how the laws protect perpetrators but not survivors or future victims. On Christmas day I reported to mom how my visit with dad went. She is not happy that I have reopened communications with him and his wife. I pointed out to her how the chain of abuse works. I elaborated upon the people that I suspect contributed to the inherited problem and behaviors in my brother and his son that are red flags as well. There is a story about my paternal grandmother giving birth to stillborn twins. My father is the eldest living sibling and I believe that the twins came sometime after him. Anyway, apparently her father made her throw the twins down the outhouse. Talk about dysfunction, huh?! Naturally this was horribly traumatic to my grandmother to be forced into such an act. Well, this makes me think. Were the twins really stillborn and who was the real father anyway? Certainly no part of that story was "normal". I also suspect my paternal grandmother of csa, as does my mother. There was another story about my second eldest uncle. He was out hunting with a friend and supposedly they were crossing a barbed wire fence when the rifle fell down accidentally shooting his friend to death. This brother also was notorious for acting out with his violent temper. He is also suspected of spousal abuse. I am quite familiar with this temper for both me and my brother have inherited a milder version of this problem. All these siblings were raised in the country hunting and fishing daily nearly from birth. They all knew about basic gun safety while hunting. (Side note; one of the favorite games that the boys played was to throw knives "at" each other to see how close they could get to each other.) Granted things were different in eastern Washington back in the 1940s- 1950s but, this goes to family history of dysfunction and abuse. I cited other examples of dad's neglect and abuse toward my brother and me, not to mention our pets. He would take us out fishing in cold weather and make us sit on the bottom of the freezing cold and wet aluminum canoe. I remember begging to go back to the shore and I would be shivering with purple fingers and toes. My teeth would be chattering so hard that I could barely talk. Dad would tell me to shut up and sit my butt back down on the freezing bottom of the canoe. If anything, telling him that I was cold would make him keep us out there longer not shorter. I reminded mom about the stories above related to the high statistics of csa in minors by age 18, the chain of abuse and people in our family that fit the profile, and perpetrators mostly being repeat offenders. I told her that she needs to look at things for herself and not just take people's word for things especially when its all so fishy. She broke down and told me that she could not take anymore! She said that I should just focus on healing myself and leave the rest of the family out of it! She is protecting the males in the family and refusing to see that since they have sided with dad, a known perpetrator, on several occasions that it leaves them open to suspicion as well. I told her that perpetrators will cover for each other. I have been told to shut up by all the males in my family at this point. Of course, I won't shut up until every last child is protected and safe from abuse. The only exception here is my son, who bless his heart, has grown into a mature and respectful adult. He is well liked and has many friends throughout the southern California area. He honors women and is a kind,loving, and devoted partner. He is in a long term relationship with a beautiful woman who mirrors the same respect and kindness as well. Their relationship is an inspiration to me and I hold as a model for what a functional relationship actually looks like. I harbored and protected him away from all the family dysfunction for all of his childhood. It looks like that decision payed off. What I learned from these events is that neither complacent niceness, deep depression spiked with PTSD, nor suicidal thoughts eased by self mutilation, or even outright anger and confrontation could possibly cool my internal volcano. The school system failed me, social services failed me, the legal system had failed me, and most importantly my family had failed me. I had protected them all those years and they have reaped many benefits while I got the shaft. My family always put the whole thing back on me as being "my problem" and therefore skirted their part in perpetuating the chain of abuse. They have not shown an adequate attempt to educate themselves on the subject yet. I have advised them to join aftersilence.org so as to become a functional supportive network and allies in prevention. I eagerly await that day! They prefer to make unreasonable proclamations based on naive concepts and obsolete stigmas. Furthermore, the more I give statistics, quote professional statements, and report personal experiences and observations, the more they continue to betray me on a larger and larger scale. The whole family is now on this journey with me I am no longer alone. The big question is; are they strong enough to survive the truth the way that I was forced to for all these years?
  9. The Beginning

    In the beginning, I was naive. I didn't listen to anything my parents would tell me about safety because I just knew that nothing bad would ever happen to me. My mom would always grab me and hold me before I walked out the door. "Come back to me in one piece." She would always tell me. I always brushed it off. I was too special to be one of those kids. I would always make it home. I made it through years of carelessness and foolishness. My favorite holiday growing up was Christmas. All of my siblings would get together with their kids and spouses and we would just have a ball. My dad would cook some big elaborate meal and we sat down to eat it as a family. One of the only times a year we ate as a family. Then, when we were completely done with our celebration, my siblings and I would all go over to my brother's home with his kids and wife. One year, 2009, we celebrated Christmas a day early because my mom had to work on Christmas. It was a wonderful day. I got everything I asked for, being the youngest child and all. By far the best celebration we ever had. Like every year, when we were done, two of my brothers and I went to his house to play our new Xbox games and watch our new seasons of Family Guy. We will call the older of the two, J and the younger of the two, A. We were at J's house. His wife took the kids to her mother's so they could celebrate Christmas the next morning with them. My brother gave me his laptop and told me to go to my nephews' room so they wouldn't disturb me and vice versa. My nephews had bunk-beds, so I climbed up to the top, excited about getting to watch my new DVD's. I would come out of the room every once in a while to grab something to drink. Once, there was a man standing out there with my brothers. J told him he couldn't stay that night since I was there. I guess J and his wife had a roommate and this was her boyfriend. They had the same name, but spelled differently. She is C and he is K. Anyways, I noticed the look K kept giving me. I felt a little sketchy about it, but didn't think twice about it. I was only 12 and no one had ever bothered to look at me with sensual eyes before. Or even dangerous eyes. I retreated back to the room and continued to watch. Then, at around 1:30 Christmas Morning, K came into the room. He brought me a drink and asked if I wanted it. He told me him and C went to the McDonald's right down the street and they didn't want the drink. I told him no thanks. He kept staring at me. Told me how beautiful I was. He grabbed a lock of my long curly hair and twirled it in his fingers. I asked him not to touch me because I didn't feel comfortable. He then asked me to come down to his level and talk and I refused. I wanted to leave, but there was no way out. Next thing I know, he's got his hands under my arms and is picking me up off the bed (these beds aren't very tall, the child who slept on top of it was only 6). I'm kicking and screaming, telling him to get off of me and begging for someone to help me. He brought me out into the walk-in closet in the living room and pulled out a knife. He pushed it against my left hip and covered my mouth. I'll never forget his cold-blooded voice. "Scream, and I'll use this." He dug it in a little, enough to make it bleed. Then he pulled down my sweats and panties and before I know it, he was inside of me. I wanted to scream so bad. I started bleeding down there too, and I didn't understand what was going on. I never knew that I would bleed. I thought I was dying...I HOPED I was dying. I wanted nothing more than my brothers to come in and save the day. But no one was there for me when I needed them most. I know it didn't really last for hours, but that's what it felt like. It felt like forever for him to get off me. He finished inside of me and then told me not to tell anyone or he would kill me. I laid there, sobbing, glad it was over. I waited in the closet until I knew for sure that he left. I walked out of the closet and went to the bathroom. I made myself look presentable and walked right back out into the living room. There they were, my brothers. They walked to the McDonald's THEMSELVES and got a ton of food. I smiled and pretended to be okay, but I was limping. A noticed and asked what was wrong and I just told him I jumped off the bunk a little too fast. That night I slept extra close to J. I woke up really sore and I forced him to bring me home. I never went back to stay with him after that. That wonderful Christmas Day was tainted and I have NEVER been able to enjoy another Christmas since.
  10. Americans Overseas Domestic Violence Crisis Center And the Sexual Assault Support & Help For Americans Abroad Program, SASHAA. http://www.866uswomen.org/ Our Global Campaign To Empower Americans Experiencing Domestic Violence Abroad began in the fall of 2009 in Europe and, during the next three years, will be expanding to Asia, Central America, South America, and Northern Africa. The Americans Overseas Domestic Violence Crisis Center can be reached internationally toll-free from 175 countries. To contact the toll-free crisis line from overseas, first dial your AT&T USADirect access number and at the prompt, enter our phone number: 866-USWOMEN (879-6636). To find your AT&T USADirect access number, please click here. The center serves abused Americans, mostly women and children, in both civilian and military populations overseas. Get Help International Toll-Free Crisis Line Americans Overseas Domestic Violence Crisis Center advocates are available on the international toll free domestic violence crisis line 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. To contact the toll-free crisis line from the United States and Canada, simply dial 1-866-USWOMEN (879-6636) When you have finished speaking to an Americans Overseas Domestic Violence Crisis Center advocate, hang up and then lift the receiver, dial any number and hang up again. This way, if someone presses the redial button on the phone, they will not be connected to Americans Overseas Domestic Violence Crisis Center.
  11. hi everyone. my name is rachel and i am 17 years old, 18 soon cant wait! anyways the reason i joined this page is because i recent started having flash backs and feeling terribly guilty for allowiong my attacker to get away with what he did but the reason i allowed him to was because he was my uncle and i love my granny very much and didnt have the heart to send her son to prison or whatever punishment he would have gotten for sexually abusing me. there are 5 female cousins including myself that are related to this man and it turns out he got to us all and i was the last girl he got to. he is a taxi driver and i see him sometimes with young girls some my age some 11-13 (ages he abused me at) in the back of his taxi cab and i just got scared wondering is he touching them too.. i am just here to talk to people who know how i feel to know that i am not alone and there are some good people out there.
  12. I'm A Male Survivor - And Here's My Blog

    Hi everyone, I'm so glad a forum like this exists where people can share their stories and help each other on their road to recovery. I thought, as a male survivor of childhood sexual abuse, it might be helpful for me (and others) to write a blog about it - there seems to be a remarkably small number of men talking out about their experiences on the internet as a whole. I started a blog yesterday and didn't expect to write much in it, but I wrote eight articles in the first day alone and it's really helped to exorcise some of the old demons, as it were. My name's Oliver [or at least, that's the name I use in the blog - it's actually my middle name], I'm 30 and I'm British. Here's my blog, for those who are interested. Start at the bottom, as usual - http://ithinkimreadytowin.tumblr.com/ Warning, of course: it may be triggering, so please be careful. Best wishes, Oliver
  13. Manipulating Apologies

    You said that you were sorry, You said it wouldn't happen again, That the alcohol was behind it, That you would make amends You said that you were sorry, Indeed it happened once more, You made us empty promises The same ones from before You said that you were sorry, You requested another chance For a short time things improved, Followed by the same old song and dance You said that you were sorry, But by then it was too late I was much too scared to leave, My fear had sealed my fate You said that you were sorry, I knew your words were lies, Your previous actions and words Created many hidden cries You said that you were sorry, But your drinking rarely ceased The violence unpredictable, My hopes for peace decreased You said that you were sorry, But what were you apologizing for? The verbal abuse, keeping us up, Maybe for slamming that door? You said that you were sorry, But the damage has been done Your violent actions over the years Built up in my memory one by one You said that you were sorry, Being arrested taught you a lot, In the back of my mind I know You're only sorry you got caught Don't say that you're sorry, The words long lost their meaning I don't believe your kind actions Are anything less than scheming.
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