May I start by stating first that this is just a story of my horrible childhood typed in an attempt to help improve my mental health.
You see, I have been carrying such heavy baggage around with me from the age of 4. Not exactly what every 4yr old wants to achieve. When my biological father abandoned my mother, younger sister, and myself at the age of 3 1/2, A very large hole had been left in my heart. Mom moved in with a new boyfriend when I was 4. Things were well for a little while, until one day he chose to follow me into the bathroom. Mom was at the grocery store and he was left to care for sis and I. She had gone down for her nap so he knew that he had a wide opening of free time. Free time for him became play time for himself, torture time for me. This first ‘session’ he only touched me. He told me, however under no circumstances was I to tell anyone what he and I were doing. That was our time. I was special. I was his favorite. I was going to be taught how to be a perfect little girl. He told me that if I told anyone, then my mother would hate me because I was his favorite and not her. He said that she would want the police to come and make me live my life in jail because she would be too ashamed of me to look at me anymore.
That’s a very terrible thing to let any child feel. Could my mother really ever hate me? Well, it seemed to be kinda true when she would question me at times about different things. She seemed to have a different attitude towards me. Now I know that was probably just in my head from what he had told me. That I was imagining it to be true out of fear. I no longer wanted to be a favorite. I no longer wanted to be a good girl. If this is what rewards were like, no thank you. But then he threatened me that if I did not be his favorite, then he would make my sister his favorite. NO WAY! I was never going to let that man touch her! He never did get to her for I jumped hoops of fire to keep her away from him. I would make excuses for her not being around, and always tell her to never be in the house alone with him. Also, whenever he would take us to the parks or driving, I told her to always be the first one out of the car. To this day, unless she is driving, she is out a little before the car actually stops. I guess I did my part too well.
When I was 8yrs old, he and mom went out one night and our normal babysitters were not available. Two young adult female babysitters were to watch us this evening. When it was close to bed time, they took my sis and I to the bathroom together. I didn’t think anything odd at first for my sis and I often bathed together to save hot water. The odd, sick feeling came when they locked the door and put my sister on the counter top. They pulled down our panties and again, NO WAY! I had not worked so hard protecting her from the monster just to have someone else come and do the same things. I began kicking, biting, screaming, and scratching. When I was loose and before the other one knew what hit here, I had the door unlocked and pushed my sister out the door. I screamed for her to run as fast as she could to the neighbor and call mom right away. Just as she got out of the doorway, the girls had a hold me and slammed the door with them and me in the bathroom. I went to a different place in my head. I don’t remember what all they did to me; I just remember the feeling of shame, and wanting to vomit. My whole body hurt by the time my mom arrived at the scene. I can’t even remember if the police had been called. I do remember my mom at their door trying to get at them. I heard her threaten to kill them. My stepfather even threatened them.
Now that was ironic. He was doing worse than they had done, and on a regular basis, yet he was angry with them?!? How could he rationalize this behavior. Maybe to him they had spoiled me like meat that’s been tampered with. I was in a very bad frame of mind before my 9th birthday, and when I was explaining to my stepbrother what had happened that night, it slipped about his father. NO relief came my way still. My stepbrother began making do all the things to him that I had to do for his father. This all continued until I was 10. My stepbrother and stepsister were with their mother and had told her about what their father was doing to me. The day the police came, I shall never forget.
One police car and one plain burgundy car had pulled up in front of our house. I grew instantly sick to my stomach and knew why they were there. They stopped me from running into the house to be by my mother’s side. The female said to stay outside and keep my sister occupied while they talked to mom about a few things. Within minutes I knew that they had told her. Not by instinct did I know, but by the worst, blood-curdling scream I have ever to day heard. It haunts me still at times in my dreams. They took my sister and I away immediately after that scream, not allowing us to even get a hug goodbye.
Two years of foster homes and physical abuse by her next boyfriend have also left their scars on my life. I sought help on the 1st of October 2007. I walked to the ER while having a breakdown, and have been pro-active in getting rid of my heavy baggage. I no longer will accept carrying this baggage everywhere I go. I will no longer be haunted by the ghosts of my past. I stand up today and shout in the face of my past and scream,” NO MORE!” No more will you defeat me! No more will you haunt me! No more will you make me feel like a monster! No more will you make me feel inferior. I am a butterfly with new wings!