My Story

My memories start around the age of 5 as a child. All I remember my childhood being is that of sexual abuse...I do not recall one moment of happiness or laughter. My memories are like a movie trailer...bits and pieces...but I remember enough to form a picture of what happened to me. Why I do not remember the whole traumatic event is a mystery to me. I have tried numerous times to bring back the whole memory but there is a block I have put up. So I quit trying a long time ago. I remember when the abuse got severe I would go into my own little made up world in my head. I had a real mom and dad that loved me and gave me anything I wanted. I was a princess in a fairytale land. There was no pain nor tears, no fear and no need to hide. So I am guessing that my darkest memories are wrapped up in that little world as like a Pandora's box. And I may never know and that is okay. I have excepted what was done to me and am at peace with my abusers.

From age of 6 to 9/10 my father had me, what he called "whored out" to his side of the family as well as a couple of friends of his. My father never talked to me as a father should have. He would always call me his little whore. And speak to me as if I was really one with disgusting sexual talk all the time. To the outside world we appeared to be a normal family. We attended a baptist church and that is what started my seed of hatred for God. Well, my father wanted me to learn how to please other men so he had my grandfather, his dad, rape me on several occasions. And on one occasion when he took me for my "lessons" he did not have me with my grandfather...my cousins were there at my grandparents house. And they took me to the garage where they each took turns making me give them oral sex. And with that memory I will leave it at that as I cannot go any further. I do remember when they were done with me they had taken a kitten from a liter and snapped its neck in front of me and said that this would happen to me if I had ever told anyone. My father also had me with a couple of his friends and with those memories I do not remember much at all...I remember a camera and being naked at 8 maybe and we were out in the woods at a camp site of some sorts. And that is all I can remember. At 9/10 my father stopped "whoring" me out to anyone else. He said he was getting jealous of the other men that wanted to be with me. So he decided to keep me for himself. And he would have his way with me whenever he had the chance. 

At the age of 12 I finally broke down and told my mom. And as I looked back later in life, remembering her reaction to what I had told her, she was stone cold about hearing it. There was no emotion at all. She said she would talk to dad about it and then said nothing after that. I heard dad come home from work and mom confronted him and he actually did not deny it. He said yes to it and promised my mom he would stop. Well, 3 weeks or so would go by with no abuse and then dad would start in again. And I would go tell mom and this same cycle happened till I turned my dad in. In 1984, my middle brother Donnie was hit and killed by a car. This sent my mom on a downward spiral emotionally. She became a zombie, became addicted to heavy sedatives fed to her by my dad. She was always doped up pretty much till her death in 1996. With my mom a zombie my dad had free reign to do his sickness on me at anytime of the day. He even began to taunt me by telling me to go tell mom what he was doing and he would laugh at me.



Mom came in and she was told the cops would have to be called...the counselor left the room and the first words out of my moms mouth were why did you not come to me I could have stopped him. That is how delusional my mother had become over the years. I was so angry with her that a thought came to my head to ask her when did dad start abusing me. Her response is what fueled my anger towards God and life in general...she stated that she heard me screaming at 2 and she caught dad molesting me..she called a psychiatrist anonymously asking for help for dad..she was told that dad would go to prison and I would get taken away. She hung up the phone to never call back again. So for another 15 years she left me at the hands of the most evil, sickest men on the planet. She heard my screams of pain and fear. She heard my tears of want for help. But she turned her back on me that day. And from that day I turned my dad in my mom had the deepest rooted hate for me because I ruined her life, according to her.

My father was sentenced to 6 months in the county jail on a work release program. The first 3 months he got to come home after work on Fridays and had to be back at the jail by 9. The next 3 months he got to spend weekends at home. And there was no supervision at all for these visits. Although the sexual abuse and physical abuse stopped the mental and emotional abuse had increased by both my mom and dad. And even his side of the family. We went to my aunts, his sister, one time and all they did was hug and support my dad with love and kind words while looking at me with disgust and shame. I was told I was evil and should have kept my mouth shut. I ruined my dads life. Once it leaked out into society what dad had done I became the dirty slut to go to for easy sex. Not one adult comforted me. I was shoved aside like dirt. The legal system failed me, my "family" failed me, and what I thought God had failed me as well. I was a ball of hate and anger. I had tried to kill myself several times by taking sleeping pills or stealing my moms meds and shoving them down my throat but I would go into a deep sleep thanking that my pain would end only to wake up throwing up and cursing God for bringing me back to reality.

I will leave my story there and post in another blog more as I transition into adulthood. Thank you all for reading this blog. God bless.