Like a broken record
The hardest part is over.
So I thought.
After telling my mother and dealing with her reaction, I thought I could start moving forward. I mean all was good for a few days. My mind was full of disappointment that my mother let me down. Anger that my brother denied what he did.
The realization that my mother was this person I had always hoped she wasn't crushed me. I thought about it long and hard hoping there would be a happy outcome. At least a salvageable relationship with her. I don't feel like I was asking to much being a child wanting its mother.
The other realization was that my brother was this monster. How he could deny what he did with out a second thought made me sick. Made me see that all those times I remember his friend molesting me he sat there and enjoyed it. I start to feel angry when I think about that because for so long I looked back worrying he was possibly a victim in the situation as well. I worried more for others. He was a monster. Was he only my monster? Did he hurt anyone else, other then what I already knew? I started thinking about friends and who had been around. Living with us. This monster was safe from legal justice!
For several weeks I sat there faking it all day. Pretending I felt better. I was strong and going to move on from this and not let it get the best of me.
The truth was though, every time I got a moment of silence my mind would instantly play the memories, all that I could remember anyways, on fast forward. Over and over again.
It was torture.
How could I make it stop? Would this ever go away?
Over and over again... every moment I was alone.
Young, tiny, scared child me. There I sat on a torn up mattress that smelled of goat droppings under the porch. Garbage and dirt every where. At first I had my clothes on and he was sitting next to me. It was just the 2 of us. He had magazines full of naked people. He said he got them from the barn from moms friend. He started showing me pictures. They were doing things to each other I didn't understand. It felt so wrong to look at them. He insisted I had to see them. He asked me if I would do some of the things in the pictures to him. I told him "no." He would rub my legs and my arms and say softly, in a kind voice "please?". I would still try and say no. He then grabbed my hand gently pulling it over between his legs. At first it was over his pants. He asked again.. "please?" At this point I was numb. I became to scared to talk. To scared to move. He then pulled his pants down and forced the flesh of my hand to touch his flesh. I sat there with my eyes tightly closed as I always did. My arm and hand he had full control over was limp. My other arm snug tight against my body and my innocent little hand holding a firm tight fist. Next thing I know I'm laying down and my underwear are around my ankle and his free hand is touching my vagina. I started shaking. I was wearing a dress and it was warm outside. Summer most likely. I just remember feeling cold and shivering. This time It didn't pass as quickly. I heard him move a magazine then he put his head between my legs. I didn't understand what I was feeling. I just started crying. I said "please stop!".... "please stop!"... He stopped!
I thought it was over. He then said to me "just wait, a little longer." His head was back between my legs. I started crying out loud he stopped quickly and said "shhhhh." So I got quiet this time he took my hand again and told me to "rub it." So I did and he sat there.
Finally he stopped me. Only to touch me again. Then he stopped pulled up his pants and asked me not to tell anyone about the magazine and walked away leaving me under the porch. I took my underwear all the way off and threw them under our mobile home. When I stood up my legs were shaking and I ended up wetting my self.
As I stood there feeling the pee run down my legs. I remember being scared to go inside or back to the yard to play. I don't remember what I ended up doing but I do know it wasn't my first or last time Id be under the porch.
That memory played the most through my head. I'm unsure why exactly. I just know whenever I think about that particular time I go straight back to that mattress. My body feels exactly the way I felt then. I can smell the goat shit. The pee. Everything!
I was getting to a point where I couldn't face these memories replaying over and over again in my head.
I knew to keep moving forward I would have to find away to help them stop. I need to find away to move forward in my life. So I called a hotline. 1-800-656-4673.
The best I could I explained my story to a women who helped me get into contact with people local to where I am. People who could be there for me and help me. Guide me through all that I was feeling and dealing with. I have this outlet available to me every week. I can call and talk to someone. They listen. They help.
I was feeling so good. Then just like that finally seeing the brighter tomorrow and snap it all goes down hill again!
One simple message
So I thought.
After telling my mother and dealing with her reaction, I thought I could start moving forward. I mean all was good for a few days. My mind was full of disappointment that my mother let me down. Anger that my brother denied what he did.
The realization that my mother was this person I had always hoped she wasn't crushed me. I thought about it long and hard hoping there would be a happy outcome. At least a salvageable relationship with her. I don't feel like I was asking to much being a child wanting its mother.
The other realization was that my brother was this monster. How he could deny what he did with out a second thought made me sick. Made me see that all those times I remember his friend molesting me he sat there and enjoyed it. I start to feel angry when I think about that because for so long I looked back worrying he was possibly a victim in the situation as well. I worried more for others. He was a monster. Was he only my monster? Did he hurt anyone else, other then what I already knew? I started thinking about friends and who had been around. Living with us. This monster was safe from legal justice!
For several weeks I sat there faking it all day. Pretending I felt better. I was strong and going to move on from this and not let it get the best of me.
The truth was though, every time I got a moment of silence my mind would instantly play the memories, all that I could remember anyways, on fast forward. Over and over again.
It was torture.
How could I make it stop? Would this ever go away?
Over and over again... every moment I was alone.
Young, tiny, scared child me. There I sat on a torn up mattress that smelled of goat droppings under the porch. Garbage and dirt every where. At first I had my clothes on and he was sitting next to me. It was just the 2 of us. He had magazines full of naked people. He said he got them from the barn from moms friend. He started showing me pictures. They were doing things to each other I didn't understand. It felt so wrong to look at them. He insisted I had to see them. He asked me if I would do some of the things in the pictures to him. I told him "no." He would rub my legs and my arms and say softly, in a kind voice "please?". I would still try and say no. He then grabbed my hand gently pulling it over between his legs. At first it was over his pants. He asked again.. "please?" At this point I was numb. I became to scared to talk. To scared to move. He then pulled his pants down and forced the flesh of my hand to touch his flesh. I sat there with my eyes tightly closed as I always did. My arm and hand he had full control over was limp. My other arm snug tight against my body and my innocent little hand holding a firm tight fist. Next thing I know I'm laying down and my underwear are around my ankle and his free hand is touching my vagina. I started shaking. I was wearing a dress and it was warm outside. Summer most likely. I just remember feeling cold and shivering. This time It didn't pass as quickly. I heard him move a magazine then he put his head between my legs. I didn't understand what I was feeling. I just started crying. I said "please stop!".... "please stop!"... He stopped!
I thought it was over. He then said to me "just wait, a little longer." His head was back between my legs. I started crying out loud he stopped quickly and said "shhhhh." So I got quiet this time he took my hand again and told me to "rub it." So I did and he sat there.
Finally he stopped me. Only to touch me again. Then he stopped pulled up his pants and asked me not to tell anyone about the magazine and walked away leaving me under the porch. I took my underwear all the way off and threw them under our mobile home. When I stood up my legs were shaking and I ended up wetting my self.
As I stood there feeling the pee run down my legs. I remember being scared to go inside or back to the yard to play. I don't remember what I ended up doing but I do know it wasn't my first or last time Id be under the porch.
That memory played the most through my head. I'm unsure why exactly. I just know whenever I think about that particular time I go straight back to that mattress. My body feels exactly the way I felt then. I can smell the goat shit. The pee. Everything!
I was getting to a point where I couldn't face these memories replaying over and over again in my head.
I knew to keep moving forward I would have to find away to help them stop. I need to find away to move forward in my life. So I called a hotline. 1-800-656-4673.
The best I could I explained my story to a women who helped me get into contact with people local to where I am. People who could be there for me and help me. Guide me through all that I was feeling and dealing with. I have this outlet available to me every week. I can call and talk to someone. They listen. They help.
I was feeling so good. Then just like that finally seeing the brighter tomorrow and snap it all goes down hill again!
One simple message
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