This post has plagued me because of it’s sensitivity and some disturbing details. The only benefit from my abuse starting at the young age of 5, is that I remember things in bits and pieces. At first it started with my first perpetrator, someone close to me that should’ve been my protector. Till this day if you ask this individual about the activities that occurred he would profess it was two people experimenting. I on the other hand saw it all too differently. He was older and he was family. That equaled maturity and knowledge as an older person then I. After a short period of time my first perpetrator was joined by another family member and will be known as perpetrator 2. Most of the time the two would gang up on me while our families were in the next room having parties. I would find myself laying in a bed with my eyes closed tightly while my body was being fondled and molested till I cried out in pain. I was so confused but as the time went by I knew when the offenses were going to occur. I knew when I heard my bedroom door creep open at odd hours of the night or when I found out that a party was planned. I didn’t know what to do other then close my eyes, tighten up my body and wait for it all to be over. Once they were completed with their assault to their satisfaction I had very little comfort in knowing there will be a next time and I was powerless to change or stop it.
After several years, perpetrator 2 was no longer in the picture. This gave me great comfort. I thought that with this change the assaults would stop but I was so very, very wrong. My first perpetrator came up with a new game to play with me, against my will. It was time for perpetrator 1 to bring in his friends and offer up his younger family member as bait. Now the tables had turned and my original torture, which I learned to expect became a new and scary torment. Now I never knew who was coming, when it was coming and how severe the violation would be. I just remember thinking that this was never ending and I was doomed to be someones toy. To feel things that I didn’t welcome, to see things that weren’t for my eyes, and to fear things that no child should know. This is when I believe my view on boys as a teen and even my view of men as an adult was tainted forever. Not knowing what this trauma truly left behind as the perpetrators became bored and moved on. And the paranoia and mental torture of protecting my own children would haunt me.
Even as I write these words I can feel the ache in my gut for the little girl that lost her childhood and gained a permanent scar on her heart and mind forever.