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Growing up, I was homeschooled. In third grade, my dad lost his job and my mom went back to work. So now my dad was in charge of my younger brother and me while my mom was at work. Everyday when he was done with his lunch, he would go to the master bedroom to rest. Since my brother and I were younger, he made us come in to the room with him so we wouldn't be unsupervised. We had to be quiet, and it was a king sized bed so we would just nap with him. This went on for a while and was fine. In fourth grade, my brother and I didn't feel like napping, so we would quietly get up and mess around a little. Eventually, my brother started sneaking out of the bedroom to go watch TV quietly. I knew if my parents found out, we would be in big trouble. I refused to go with him and tried unsuccessfully to get him to stay in the room. This became a daily occurrence, and my dad noticed. However, he didn't mention it to my brother. I don't remember how it started, or when the first time was. I know he sort of groomed me a bit, but I don't remember which things he did first. I'll try to go in order just using context and logic, but I really don't remember what order these events occurred in. I had been going through a growth spurt and was having back pains. So bad that I was brought to the doctor. It turned out I had slight scoliosis. Almost daily I would have lower back pain. My dad (obviously) knew this and used it to his advantage. When I would be alone in the bedroom with him (during 'naptime'), he would ask me if I wanted him to massage my back for me. Of course I did. I don't remember if this next detail happened right away, or if he waited awhile before going further, but he would ask me to take my shirt off. I hadn't started going through puberty yet, so I wasn't even wearing a training bra or anything. I didn't think that was too unusual, and was fine with it since I had sensory issues anyway and did not care to feel my clothes being rubbed against my skin. I don't remember exactly how the conversation went, but at some point my dad asked me if I wanted him to show me what girls do with their boyfriends. He told me I was getting older (I wasn't even ten yet) and that in a couple years or so I might be old enough to have a boyfriend. That really excited me and made me feel like I was finally starting to grow up. I did want to know what girls do when they're with their boyfriends, and I assumed this must be something every dad did with their daughters. I thought it was some kind of rite of passage. I had no idea what he was going to 'show' me. I was very sheltered and had no clue what sex was. I didn't have any clue what girls do with guys other than kissing. I didn't even know what French kissing was. I just thought everyone pecked their SO on the lips. My dad told me if we did, I couldn't tell my mom anything about it. He reminded me how strict she was and told me she wouldn't think I was ready for years. That made sense to me, and since I didn't want to have to wait, I agreed to let him 'teach' me. I figured that whatever he was going to do, it would be OK since he was my father and they're supposed to do what's safe for you and you're not supposed to disobey your parents anyway. I don't remember where the conversation went after that or what we did. I don't remember how he started 'showing' me. I know that when my brother would leave the room, he would have me get up and lock the door behind him so he wouldnt be able to get back in. Then I would go back to lay in the bed with him. He would ask me to take my shirt off and lay on my stomach. I remember throwing clothes on the floor after taking them off. He would massage my back, and after awhile he would say 'lay on your back', so I would. He would then massage my stomach. I had never asked him to do that and he hadn't asked permission. He just told me he was going to do that. I thought that was a little odd, but it wasn't hurting anyone so I let him. I think after that he would move his way up. I have no idea why, I had no bust. I hadn't started puberty yet. I remember he would lick his fingers and then trace them around my nipples. I don't quite remember how I felt about it at the time, but later on thinking about that would be a trigger and I would experience phantom touches on my nipples when triggered. It would only be a few seconds, (the phantom touches) but it was enough to make me feel disgusted and freaked out. I would cringe and shake my head as if to snap myself out of it. Any time I would hear people talking about playing with nipples, I would be triggered. Anytime I had to recount this detail of my past to a therapist, I would be triggered. Later on I was able to work through that and now I don't have any problems with it. Anyway, I know that at the time I definitely didn't enjoy it, but I let him. I don't think I felt grossed out at the time (other than the fact that he was using his spit), but like I said, I don't really remember. Another thing I remember is that he would grind on me and it would hurt. I didn't like it at all. I let him though because he was telling me what to do and you aren't supposed to disobey your parents. I would be sore from him grinding for awhile afterwards. If I remember correctly, he would take off his pants and leave his boxer briefs on. However, as he abused me day after day, I'm sure there were a number of different combinations of which clothes we were or weren't wearing. I just remembered clothes being put on the floor. Not really which clothes. I know he would have me take my pants off and I'm pretty sure that he would have me take my underwear off too. Like, I remember my panties being on the floor, but that's an isolated memory from that time and it might have been from later when my mom asked me to give her a pair to possibly be used as evidence. It's been over ten years now, so all my memories from then are just little flashes and short isolated ones where I don't know how the situation ended or began. I don't know when I lost these memories, since I know I had them the following year after it occurred. Well, I think that is enough for this post. Thank you if you read this.
This virus has caused a core subject of my abuse, shame and emotional abuse. Tw.....When I was seven our town was hit by a flood, our street was flooded and we had no water so we used a bucket for 3 or 4 days so I ended up sick, constipated, causing my mother to shame me in front of my dad and my older brother, which was my normal , then my friend Susie came over to ask me to play and my mom said not until I pooped in the bucket, I felt such deep shame, I still do, she installed that shame in me, I grew up ashamed of my body, of just being. I never told anyone but the reason I could not go in the bucket, was it reminded me of an the outhouse my dad had assaulted me in, this is so hard to fight against this flood of shame that effects every facet of my life.