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Found 7 results

  1. Explaining

    How do you explain to someone that you don't want attention? You don't want the award, you just want to keep working. My whole life has been filled with moments where I should have just sat down and taken pride and what I accomplished, but I learned to keep moving. Attention brought to me was bad, because that meant I was seen I don't want to be seen I just want to keep going. That's what he taught me. Not to take pride in what I earned because I didn't really earn it, or if people saw me then they would see what happened. What they did to me. Which is even worse. But how do you explain that to someone? You don't.
  2. 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.
  3. empty

    Sometimes I can go months doing well or at least being able to fake it. But then it randomly gets harder. I feel like i can't breath, I'm suffocating and I don't know what to do. People notice I act differently but no one ever asks. They see the scars but more their eyes past them quickly, pretending as if they never saw. Some of my friends know, but we also don't talk about it, they know why I act the way I do sometimes, but sometimes they forget and don't understand why my mood changes or why I don't like being touched. I'm going home this weekend, no one understands why I never look forward to it, why I can't stand being there for more than a day. Sometimes I just want to forget about everything and leave. Get in my car and drive far away. To not tell anyone and leave everything behind. But I know I never can, I could never leave my family that way. As much as I despise being there, I can never leave. That's why I always go back.
  4. 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?
  5. Me Vs. Me

    This is my first entry. I hardly come here; I always have the same unanswered questions. Perhaps they are only ones I can figure out myself? I've come to the point where I'm seriously questioning talking to my mom. We've butted heads through the years as a result of my experiences. You see, when things got tough, and I was involved in things beyond my control, I alienated my family. I was a young teenager at the time, and thought I was protecting them. At the time, there really were no other options, and I have come to terms with that. I've stopped saying "I should have...". So what now? Sometimes I feel as if I'm over what happened to me, but I'm not okay with how it caused my interactions to be among my family. My mother especially refers to those years as me being a typical dramatic teenager, lazy, dishonest, and secretive. The thing about that is I was FORCED to lie. I was given orders, and only trying to keep her out of it. I tried my best to hide everything from my parents and siblings. I was dishonest, but not by choice. I was secretive, but not by choice. Dramatic? I was trapped inside a Lifetime movie, and felt so alone; who wouldn't be emotional and upset? It didn't help that I was drugged over a period of time as a means to subdue me. No, not hardcore drugs, I mean some type of sedative that kept me in a dizzy, foggy, forgetful state. Often times I passed out, which led to my mom thinking I slept all the time. I'm angry that my mother didn't understand me, and still doesn't understand me today. We are closer now that it is all over, but she still sees me as that girl...and it bothers me. I feel like I lied to her all those years, and as if she deserves to know the truth. I know if I had a child, I would want them to be honest with me, but at the same time, I know it would crush me. Isn't it wrong of me to do that to her? I want her to tell me that it's okay, and that it wasn't my fault. I want her to understand why I am so cautious and "grown up". What I don't want, is to hurt her. It wasn't her fault, or mine. If anything, it was her and the rest of my family that kept me going through those years. They made it worth the fight. They taught me to never give up, and to stand up for what I believe. Who am I now? I'm quiet around my dad and step mom- couldn't bare it if they knew. I don't drink at all- I want nothing to do with any substance that can alter my state of mind. I always want to be in control...never again want that foggy feeling or draining feeling. I know that a little wouldn't get me drunk or anything, but I just feel like now that I have a choice what to have in my body, I don't want that. I'm tired of being asked why I don't drink. What if my mom didn't believe me? What if she looked at me as if I were a wounded animal? I couldn't bare that. I'm not wounded anymore. I am strong now. What if she told my dad because she thought he deserves to know? My older sister was attacked by an ex of hers, and he almost did..you know what...and even that crushed my parents. They were so stressed and I feel as if my parents don't look at her the same. As if she's weak maybe? Or as if she put herself in a bad position? She didn't, she just trusted him, and nobody can blame her for that. But for me, I literally had no say in being involved. It just happened. I am a positive person, but still very realistic. I'm a logical thinker. I am tired of hearing how "naive" I am, or listening to her tell stories that she doesn't understand! I want more than anything to be understood. What do I do? Please give me advice.
  6. New And Supported:)

    Hi, I'm newbeginnings21. I was attacked on Aug 31, 2013 and after weeks of dark and despair and loneliness, decided to seek out some support and love from other survivors.This is my first day posting and having full access here. I have posted a lot since i've had so much pent up, but I just want to say thank you to everyone who has replied, messaged me, and talked to me in chat. I feel so welcome and like I'm not just a random poster who will never have her stories read. You guys are awesome. Thank you.
  7. Daddy

    I used to race to the front door when I'd hear you come home, I would greet you excitedly with a hug and a smile I was daddy's little girl, it didn't take much to make you proud - Nor did it take much to make you angry and hostile. As I grew older it was much more of a challenge, Making you proud and appeasing you were a definition combined. I appeased you one moment, then suddenly disappointed, And proud again the next moment in your shifty state of mind. Unpredictably temperamental and distant you became, Tensions growing stronger between us year after year. Always intimidated, yet ever-longing to make you proud, I remember when that need to please became motivated by fear. Where once the motivation was a rewarding "good girl!", Time and alcohol transformed the father I once knew. Rarely the recognition for simply doing my best now, It seems you are disappointed no matter what I do. I was daddy's little girl, what happened to that? Nowadays the best we seem to be able to muster Are attitudes towards each other that are somewhat civil, And, if I may add, just barely cutting the mustard. I'm done wondering what I can do to make you proud, I'm no longer a child - I'm my own woman now I have a need to live for me, follow my heart, my dreams, Sort things out for myself, despite not yet knowing how. I'm in love with an amazing man of whom you seem to disapprove, I want to be with him forever - oh how I'd love to have your blessing, But I don't need your approval in order to be happy, And as nice as that would be, I seem to be digressing - I just wish the daddy I once had could come out for just a second, To tell me he still loves me, and that my efforts weren't in vain. To tell me he is proud of me, and will be no matter what, Because he loves his little girl, and that's the way it will remain. Sadly that fantasy of mine will never materialize to reality, We've grown far too much apart - our stubborn natures much the same. We each find fault in each other and deny the fault the other found, Until one of us admits defeat, blame becomes our game.
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