Memories

Before I get into my post I want to thank everyone for your encouragement! You guys are awesome and made me feel more comfortable in this endeavor. One of the biggest reasons I started this is I've always felt like I needed to do something with the things I've experienced. When I was a teen I wanted to go onto The Real World and use that as my way to reach out and tell the world what it's like as a victim. Now you couldn't pay me enough to do something like that. However, the desire to expose the things you deal with as a victim is still there. One of those things are the memories that never dull. This is also the next step in healing for me. I hope it reaches people who are in similar situations, but simply sharing everything makes me feel like I'm beating the depressing effects. Brandon has encouraged me to write a book, and maybe someday I will. But being a working mom of 3 makes it hard for me to focus on that. I know that many women do it, but I can barely find some quiet time to write this!

 I titled this post Memories because I want to share my first memory. (I'll probably share a few more.) Do you remember yours? Was it good or bad? How old were you? Is it something you're comfortable sharing? I think I was 3 in my first one. I was at my grandparents house. My grandma was at work so it was just Drew (abuser) and I. They lived in a mobile home in Dixie Downs and from what I can remember it was fairly new. My grandma decorated nicely but it couldn't cover up the ugly wood paneling. I don't remember if we still lived with them at this point. There was a hallway leading to the master bedroom. I remember standing there next to Drew, we were both naked. He'd brought out the vacuum. I watched him turn it upside down and take a part off of the bottom. He pulled off a piece of metal and showed it to me. I didn't understand exactly what I was looking at so he began pointing out the shape of it. He wanted me to see the part that stuck out from the main piece because the two parts combined looked sort of barely like a penis. He explained what penises are for and that he's going to teach me about them. Then I remember him guiding me into his bedroom but the memory stops there. When I was a little older he showed me a deck of cards that had pornographic images on them. He told me that the women in the pictures is what men like, and as I get older he'd help me look that way. I remember the card vividly. There was a busty blonde woman surrounded by 4 men. She was the only one naked and the men were tying her wrists and ankles to posts. The picture really bothered me but I couldn't do anything to make him stop showing me. I was in the bathtub while this was happening. He often liked to bathe me because it was his way of being able to have me naked while my grandma was home. If I had to go to the bathroom he'd make me leave the door open while I used the toilet so he could watch me wipe up when I was done. I couldn't close the door when I changed because he'd get mad that I was shutting him out. Any attempt at privacy would make him angry. He never hit me but when I made him angry he'd take it out on me in some mortifying way the next time my grandma was gone. One morning he had just left the house to take my grandma to work. They always left me there alone when she had to go to work early. I wanted to run away but I knew he'd find me and he'd be angry. He guilted me beyond belief. He scared me out of telling on him. He made me believe my family wouldn't want me if they knew the truth. He told me he'd hurt my family if I said anything. My grandma had terrible health and he knew how much I loved her. All of her meds were provided for through his insurance, so if he wasn't around my grandma would die and it'd be my fault. I felt incredibly stuck. I have memories of him up until I was 12. These memories, and so many more, still bounce around in my head. I know these will be with me until I die. I can ease the pressure of thinking about them by talking about them. And I'm thankful for everyone who chooses to read them.

Comments

  1. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you.
    Did I mention, I love you?

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  2. This was quite hard to read. Much more hard for you to write, I'm sure. I am glad you've found a way to express your feeliings about these horrific memories. This is your blog, so I am hesitant to detract from it by expressing the feelings that reading this has evoked. I will say that I am very sorry that this happened to you. That I wasn't able to protect you and keep you safe. I love you.

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